Simon Wheatcroft (center) keeps his pace through the Cotswold 100, thanks to two dedicated volunteers.

Editor’s note: This is the ninth installment in a series of guest blog posts by Simon Wheatcroft, who trained for a 100-mile ultramarathon, despite being legally blind for the past 11 years. For future updates, follow Simon on Twitter or check out Adapting to Going Blind and Blind100.

My ultramarathon ended in a DNF. At mile 83, the decision was made for me, as I was unable to support my own body weight. It was time to stop, but boy, was that 83 miles an adventure.

For me, the race started with much more promise.

A quick toilet break put me at the start line with four seconds to spare. I started at the back of the pack with my guide runners. Our intention all along was to catch people a few miles down the road. I began the race strong, keeping on pace and making sure to follow my nutrition plan and enjoy the summer day. With a forecast of light rain in the early evening, I was incredibly positive and chatted with my first round of pacers.

We ran through rarely used country roads, keeping a constant pace, but at this point no one was in sight. This did cause us to get a little lost, but within a minute we were back on track.

After eight miles, I had caught my first runner. We chatted for a while and decided to stick together for a few miles. Arriving at the first checkpoint, I was in great condition and it felt like I had only run to the end of the street.

We were lost, and not by a small distance, either. We had missed a turn way back. I tried to stay positive, but the rain began to hit us hard.

The second leg of the race had one of the steepest inclines, so I had decided to reduce pace heavily and make it up during the later portion of the race. That was the plan. (Unfortunately, it didn’t pan out like that.)

Running the steep declines, I had made up some serious time and was well ahead of my pace, allowing me to catch the next few runners.

I was feeling fantastic as we pulled out of Checkpoint 2, heading toward the quarter-way mark. The light drizzle arrived but it didn’t seem to bad, so I declined my waterproof shoes for fear of overheating. My support vehicle drove off to collect some new guide runners, and we carried on at our gentle pace.

We knew the route for the race had small arrows placed on lampposts at random intervals. On this particular section, there seemed to be a real lack of location markers. We were told that if we were ever in doubt to just keep running.

This turned out to be our downfall. We were lost, and not by a small distance, either. We had missed a turn way back. I tried to stay positive, but the rain began to hit us hard.

As the rain continued, I just couldn’t stay positive. We had lost 40 to 50 minutes and my nutrition timings were beginning to slip. I decided to ring my wife, as the rain poured down and the negative thoughts of
losing time and position were hitting me hard. No matter how hard I tried I couldn’t shake the thought of getting lost.

I reached the 30-mile checkpoint at a new low.

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