My hobby is ultra marathon running, and this is all about the last race that I took part in. Officially an ultra marathon is any distance longer than the standard marathon distance of 42 kilometres but generally speaking it’s the distances of 100 km and above that are considered genuine ultra marathons. This account is of the Spartathlon, an ultra marathon of some 246 km, and as such is the longest single stage point to point race in the world.

Although I wasn’t thinking of participating in the Spartathlon until September 2008, the opportunity presented itself in September of 2007 and hence I found myself at the base of the Acropolis in Athens on Friday 28th September, surrounded by ultra marathon runners from all over the world, all with the same objective: To arrive in Sparta. Some of the athletes would be competing to win, but most, like me would simply be trying to cover the distance within the official time limit.

The race is based on the story of Pheidippides, the messenger who was sent by the Athenian forces to ask for help from the Spartans when the Athenians were under attack from the invading Persian forces in 490 BC. According to the account by the Ancient Greek historian Herodotus, Pheidippides set out from Athens at first light and arrived in Sparta at dusk the following day. The distance between Athens and Sparta is 246 kilometres and the modern Spartathlon formalises this distance by imposing a demanding time limit of exactly 36 hours.

This race though, is not just tough for the actual distance it covers, neither for the brutal time limits imposed by the organisation. It is also run in late September, and in that part of the world at that time of the year the temperature is often between 35 and 40ºC. In short, it is known as the most gruelling race on the planet and is considered as one of the most prized sporting events in the world. There are not many athletes that finish, and even fewer in a position to actually compete in it. Indeed, any athlete that finishes the Spartathlon can be extremely pleased with themselves.

On the start line I was excited by the prospect of the battle to come, but also strangely relaxed. This was the 6th ultra marathon this year, and having finished the previous one, the Mont Blanc ultra in the Alps just one month before I no longer suffered from pre race anxiety at the prospect of such long distances. However, the school had made a large sacrifice in allowing me to be here, and I was acutely conscious of the expectations that the students had of me. I certainly didn’t want to let anyone down.

The race started and we all ran through the early morning Athens rush hour traffic. It was chaos, with the police holding up what seemed like the whole of Athens so that the Spartathlon could start accordingly. Clearly, not all the drivers found this acceptable and the noise from the horns was more from angry drivers not getting to work on time rather than to encourage the athletes.

Ultra marathons are run much slower than marathons, which is well within a pace that allows you to talk. This is really great as all the runners were talking to each other and the noise of the multitude of different languages being spoken was incredible. Previously we had all been in the same hotel and most of us already knew each other. This was probably the single most delightful experience of my trip to Greece, the truly international flavour of the event and the opportunity to talk to so many like minded souls from all over the world. Most of the time I would be talking in English but the first 20 or so kilometres of this race were to be spent babbling on in Spanish to one of Mexico’s top ultra runners Vicente Vertiz. Vicente was a truly likeable person and I don’t think we stopped talking during the whole time that we ran together. However, in the hustle and bustle of one of the check points we lost contact and I was then on my own. I hadn’t realised this at the time but Vicente was soon to run into serious problems that forced him to pull out.

At the marathon distance or thereabouts I found myself in the company of Steve, an English runner who like me was only here to see if he was up to the challenge. We ran together for some 20 kms, sharing previous experiences but then he dropped behind as the heat of the mid day sun started to take its toll. Like Vicente, he too was to pull out due to heat exhaustion. At this point I still felt strong and kept on going.

A little further on I was running alongside Carlos from Argentina, the Argentinean accent was difficult for me at first but I soon became accustomed to it and we interchanged many words. The Argentineans had their own support crew and it was delightful that they soon started cheering me on too, but somewhere on the road I also lost contact with them and I was on my own again, with the sun beating down, reflecting off the white limestone cliffs giving the impression of running in an oven. The scenery was gob smacking with 200 M cliffs to the right of me and what seamed like a ships graveyard in a cobalt blue Aegean Sea to the left. In the distance I could see the Peloponnesian Mountains which I would have to cross later in the race.

In the mid afternoon the temperatures oscillated between 35 and 40 ºC. This I knew from the road side thermometers and I was conscious that I was dehydrating rapidly, but just as serious was my inability to eat anything solid. Running this far not only requires lots of liquid but you also need to be constantly refuelling the body. I simply could not get enough liquid down and food wouldn’t even enter my dry mouth and throat. I started to pull on my reserves and try to get through this low point as best as I could. This is when ultra running becomes a mind game, your body starts to shut down but your mind has to stay in control and force it beyond what it is normally prepared to do. It is a game I play well and experience of many ultras has taught me just how to do it. I hung in and started to dig deep. The early evening saw me cross the 100 km point and the evening was starting to cool off. I entered a truly beautiful part of Greece, with vineyards and fig trees all around me and as far as the eye could see. Little by little I started to re hydrate but the absence of food in my body was becoming a serious problem and I started to have difficulties in maintaining balance. At this point I had half an hour before I timed out and decided to use it with the objective of recovering. I started walking and tried my hardest to force food down my neck, but soon I was up against the time barrier and so I was forced to run again.

The relative rest seemed to have done the trick and for some 15 minutes I thought that I had cracked it. The sun set and the night kicked in. It started to cool off and I really did think that I had recovered from the low but then it came, with no warning and from where it came I really don’t know but I ran into the ‘wall’. That evil wall that lurks in every single marathon or ultra marathon in the world, searching for athletes to smash into, and it found me with a vengeance. It was all I could do to keep myself on my feet and it hurt. If there was anything in my stomach I would have vomited, but it was empty. In fact, I was empty and there was nothing left. I slowed right down and just concentrated on the ankles of the runner in front of me. It was all I could do. I guess he was having a tough time too as I was able to keep up with him, but then we both missed a turn on the road and when we rectified our mistake we were 20 minutes outside the time limit. When we finally reached the next check point he pulled out. When the race official asked me if I was pulling out I asked him if he was actually pulling me out. He said ‘no’, and that theoretically I could even get back in the race if I ran fast. I knew my time was up but I was determined not to give up. Giving up would be a failure so I ran on, into the black of the night with a body that had gone beyond empty. I really didn’t know where the energy came from, but I went on all the same, my body had completely broken down but my mind was still in control. If the mind stays in control you can go on forever but the progress was really slow, and I don’t know if it could be classified as running as it seemed more of a shuffle than anything else. After another half an hour or so, the race official pulled up in a car and told me that my time was up. It was over and I was being pulled out. I had run a mere 115 kms, not even half way.

I was not disappointed however; I knew that I had given my best and that on the day I was simply not up to the challenge. Indeed, about two thirds of the athletes weren’t up to it either and just over 100 of the 400 that started actually made it to the finish line in Sparta. Many were even carried away in ambulances; at least I was spared that experience! The Spartathlon retained its reputation for being the most brutal race on the planet, true to Spartan philosophy where only the very toughest, fittest and mentally strongest athletes actually make it to the finish. That’s the deal, only the very best.

My story with this race doesn’t finish here though, I’ll be back. I made many mistakes with this first attempt, small mistakes that in any other race would not add up to anything but here they were critical errors that ultimately lead to me failing on the course. The experience gained though will be invaluable for the next attempt but if I am being honest I really don’t know if I will ever be able to finish this race. It really is extremely difficult and I really don’t know if I am that good. Many of the very best ultra runners in the world have tried this race several times and failed; I know, I spoke to them. But just finishing is not the point, it’s all about finding your limit and pushing it beyond anything that you could possibly imagine. It’s all about exploring the thin line that divides bravery from madness and still staying in control. It’s about mental toughness and about pushing yourself to your limit. In short it’s all about giving your very best and I still believe that I can finish. I just know that I can.

Finally, I need to say that this would not have been possible if not for the support of the Head, Glen Mundy and of the Board in the form of Victor Ortiz. They both not only gave me the opportunity to live one of my dreams but they also gave me the encouragement to ‘give it a go’. Sunland International School was represented in one of the most prestigious ultra races in the international scene and it was an honour to be there. I would also like to thank publicly all of the students that I teach for their unconditional moral support, I just hope that they understand what this game is actually all about but I would also like to encourage them to believe in themselves and pursue their own dreams, no matter how difficult they may appear.

Mark Woolley