Gwynneth Tan - Can ( A Very New Hellrunner ! )

It was the morning of the Hell Runner run. My stomach churned from the prospect of completing a course on military training ground. Andrew Patterson’s soothing words to me 8 weeks back of “of course you can train in 8 weeks, there is plenty of time to get fit enough” no longer seemed so reassuring. I was part of a motley crew of 5 from the Running Shoos team waiting for breakfast in the Little Chef. There we strategically planned our run, surrounded by tables of sinewy seasoned runners from running clubs. We were a hockey player (kerri woodrow), a free diver (arnaud palu), a smoker (regis mosseron) and a frazzled mummy (me) and we were looking to our part-time marathon runner (eamonn haughian) for last minute direction and guidance. Our aim was simple: run as a team; to finish the run, and not to come last!

It took us an hour to drive a mile to the parking area from the A3. We fought our way against the tide of over a thousand runners who had started the race and ran half a mile to the Running Shoos tent to pick up our entrant numbers and clips.

The sky was blue and the sun warm, and the rolling hills and woodland of Longmoor military camp provided us with stunning scenery. Our strategy of walking up the inclines and running down on the other side worked well as we started to catch up with everyone else. When we reached the drinks station at halfway point after fifty minutes, the course and our competition were a lot less daunting, and we congratulated ourselves by high-fives; there had been lots of hills, but the ground was dry and the whites of our clothes were still pristine.

At the point where I thought we might be coming into the home-stretch, I even suggested increasing our pace. And then we hit the ‘Bogs of Doom’. [400] yards of freezing-cold black, stagnant, foul-smelling bog full of mud, massive branch roots and rock. I very nearly fell face first into the bog taking with me the unsuspecting runner in front of me. After the ‘Bogs of Doom’ came a chest-deep river and more steep hills. We stunk and our legs felt like lead from the shock of the cold water, but somehow we found our rhythm again until we reached the mile-long ‘Hills of Hell’, made up of never-ending sand dunes.

Yet the feeling of crossing the finish line can only be described as euphoria; the sense of achievement huge. The course had been challenging but fantastic fun, and running as a team had given us many laughs. Would I do it again? Without question!