And so it was that at 5.30am on a very cold September morning the four of us assembled behind the Big Bank in preparation for the trip to Yeovil. By now, one way or another I am sure you are all aware that this was to be no ordinary journey to Huish, but rather to raise money for charity and commemorate the memory of Adam Stansfield.
The idea had come from nowhere in the immediate aftermath of Adam’s untimely death and now here I was contemplating the unthinkable, the best part of two marathons over probably some of the most undulating and torturous countryside in the country not to mention some incredibly dangerous roads. I had been joined by Adam’s brother Paul and Ryan and Paul, two cyclists as well as several well wishers who were probably thinking they should’ve stayed in bed as the temperature needle hovered only marginally above freezing.
We set off in pitch black, down Pinhoe Road and out along the new link road towards the Met Office and the M5 before joining the old A30. As we travelled we talked at length about any number of things from City, to running but also what Adam would’ve made of our self-imposed challenge.
With the odd encouraging toot of the horn we started to settle into a rhythm. At less than 10 miles Paul B was feeling faint, it didn’t bode well with still the best part of 40 miles to go. Paul, Ryan and meself reassured as best we could that it was probably something to do with body clocks and we set off again towards Honiton.
Unbeknown to us, at some point Ryan and the now re-energised Paul B must’ve took a wrong turn as inexplicably we didn’t see them for the best part of 5 miles. This seemed implausible, not least because we weren’t exactly travelling at world record pace and there were some pretty lengthy downhill stretches… Just outside Honiton we were reunited with the cyclists who had somehow found themselves on the A30 before having to scramble down a cutting and over a barbed wire fence to rejoin the course.
At around 8 o’clock we hit Honiton, feeling quietly confident that at this pace we’d be in Yeovil in time for the charity football match! Leaving Honiton and with words of encouragement from the townsfolk we were hit with our first monster hill: Northcote. I may be prone to exaggeration at times but I find it hard to believe that there can be any steeper hills in the south west. Whilst Paul and I managed to keep running to the summit it felt pretty good to know that our cyclists had needed to get off and push in order to get to the top.
Between Honiton and Stockland we probably enjoyed the most tranquil and peaceful section of the route as we ran through tree-lined lanes and up and down the valley towards the village stopping off for strategically placed bottles of water (deposited the previous day by me and my mum) and a combination of nutrigrain and mars bars. Climbing out of Stockland we knew Chard wasn’t a million miles away (well obviously) and we were soon joined by the Stansfield support crew who provided yet more encouragement, energy gels and the promise of massages.
Somewhere around this time, Paul confessed that the longest he’d run in training for this was 17 or so miles and with this in mind it was all the more remarkable that we completed our first marathon in 3.45 of running (and all before breakfast). At Chard we stopped for our first proper break: well earnt after over four hours running. We were greeted by many of Paul’s family as well as my wife, mum and little girl who slept right through completely ignorant to her father’s suffering.
After a massage, wee and bite to eat (not all at the same time I might add), we were off again with Crewkerne our next milestone. If Northcote is the highest hill in the world ever, then the climb to Cricket St Thomas must be the longest. After what felt like an hour’s running we crested the summit and started to drop back down towards Crewkerne joined now by Cara who would be running the last 15 or so miles to Yeovil. By this stage we were all tiring and we started to be strung out along the A30 with Cara generally leading from the front and me doing my best to trudge along immediately behind.
It must’ve been some point around this time that I knew I wouldn’t give up though, seeing Paul’s determination and will to keep going at all costs I decided I would reach Yeovil and without so much as a word of moaning (very unusual for me!!). He was truly an inspiration, most people will never attempt a marathon let alone nearly two with just six weeks of preparation and with this in mind the numbing pain in my right foot and my aching muscles seemed to pale into insignificance.
I’d like to say Crewkerne came along soon enough but it didn’t but all the same we did reach the small market town by lunch and dined on flapjacks and isotonic drinks whilst dreaming of burgers of questionable origin and cheap beer at Huish Park. With little more than 10 miles to go there was no question of giving up and after a slightly longer pit-stop than anticipated we began the final leg of the journey.
Personally I have run thousands of miles over the past four years but never more than 26.2 at one time but as the miles ticked by evermore slowly I could say to myself ‘only’ 10 kilometres to go and so on. At East Chinnock we were tipped off of a short cut which would cut the journey down to 45 or so miles instead of 47, it was gleefully accepted until we saw the incline of Chinnock Hollow which would surely also make the nominations list of scariest hill in the south west awards 2010.
It was approaching 2 o’clock by now and waves of cars overtook us as we meandered along, half in a state of stupor. The support we received was amazing from the passing motorists and before we knew it we could see something resembling civilisation and Huish Park. Taking the scenic route through the industrial estate and past Asda and B&Q we soaked up yet more applause and encouragement before FINALLY turning into the car park for the football club.
We’d done it, and were met by a fair few family and friends and well-wishers not to mention ‘Clem’ from the Football League Show (another ‘dream’ realised!). After posing for more pictures than I can remember being taken on my wedding day we were ushered inside the ground and could finally rest.
I can’t tell you what it meant to me, to have done this other than to say its something which will stick with me forever and for which I am so thankful to have shared with Paul, Cara, Ryan, Paul B and so many family and friends. I can’t think of any better way to commemorate Adam’s memory.
Thank you to everybody who supported us.
