After ten 5-mile laps around Seaton on New Year's Eve in 1999 I felt that the end of 2000 should be celebrated with something a touch more adventurous. And so the Coast To Coast was born: nearly 50 miles, only half on road and hilly in places, from Quantock's Head on the North Somerset coast to Seaton. Having originally scheduled it for December 30th we had to postpone it due to dodgy driving (and running) conditions. Unfortunately one of the three of us up for it (Phil) injured himself a few days beforehand and had to pull out.
So Jos (our support driver - any excuse to take the Landrover for a spin!), Meredydd (who is in to more extreme tests of endurance than most runners) and I left Axminster at 6:30 on a Sunday morning, picked up Nick (relatively sane) at Taunton then continued to the beach at Quantock's Head.
After collecting a pebble to carry down to Seaton (!) we were off, climbing the Quantocks up a lovely coombe and coming out on top to wonderful views. The trig point had to be climbed by yours truly (the first of four such ascents) but the others declined the challenge. This was Nick's regular stomping ground so we let him guide us through the network of tracks along the crest of the hills, eight miles of glorious running in the sun.
Jos had made the first support point with no trouble but the second proved more tricky and she phoned (mobiles can sometimes be very useful!) to say she'd go directly to the third point. Then we realised that the map for that leg was in the Landrover! Nick was leaving us for his Sunday lunch so Meredydd and I set off to test my memory of the map I had last looked at a few days previously! After taking what we later discovered was a wrong turn we asked another runner the way but you know what runners are like!
We finally got to the main road we wanted but over a mile from our meeting point so plodded along at a none-too-brisk pace. I was a bit down (the road was uninspiring after those lovely tracks on the hills) but Meredydd was exceptionally quiet. We arrived at the checkpoint just before Jos so perhaps it was just as well we had got lost or we'd have been hanging around getting cold. (In all fairness to her I have to say that it can be very difficult navigating alone in a vehicle, particularly along country lanes.) Meredydd's shoes had been very uncomfortable, the studs of his adidas Davos putting pressure on his feet, so he skipped the next leg and decided to consign the shoes to the bin. (In contrast, my Saucony Grid Approach were fine all the way!)
That next stretch was a real downer: uninspiring urban running through Taunton, boringly flat and on my lonesome. I looked for a loo in the town but only found a locked one. Ho hum! I later passed a group of runners making very good speed the other way and wondered what they thought of me plodding along. (It definitely felt like plodding but the average pace for that leg was about 7:30 miling which doesn't seem too bad under the circumstances.) I half wished they'd ask me where I was going but they didn't!
I eventually reached the support point and set off with Meredydd, now in his Walsh PBs. I still felt pretty down but perked up after disappearing into the woods for a few minutes! We walked more than was probably necessary but it certainly helped as I was feeling good by the time we climbed Neroche Castle. We were now over half way with no more big climbs and I felt that nothing could stop us.
There was a lot of road ahead (about nine miles) so Meredydd changed into trainers and we got on with it. It was very pleasant on the country lanes except that my calves ached on the flat bits which made me wonder whether a 24 hour track race would actually be a lot more painful than the Bob Graham Round! We passed quickly through a couple more support points by which time I was on home ground. Down by the River Yarty we found a 10'x10' piece of road about 30' into a field which got us thinking about the power of floodwaters! After another quick stop at Kilmington, Jos went to collect Phil from his house and they met us at Whitford so he could join in the last few miles. We trundled down the river and even ran all the way up through Colyford!
After a final brief stop in Harepath Road it was the final mile down to the sea. We started steadily enough but then Meredydd wound up the pace (he's used to longer distances so had probably only just got warmed up!) and we got to Fisherman's Gap at what felt like six-minute miling ... what a way to end a fifty-miler!
I clambered over the barrier, jogged down to the water's edge and flung my pebble out to sea.