This edition claimed to be the biggest ultra ever to be held in the UK (2000 starters across four distances) and had the most female starters of any UK ultra. Race to The Stones follows the ancient Ridgeway path, finishing at Avebury stone circle.

I had a race plan that I thought could get me to the finish in between nine and ten hours. But I overestimated my fitness, and underestimated how taxing the course is. Worse, I made the rookie error of ignoring my own plan and starting too fast.

There were some very competitive runners lining up at the start, and the pace was immediately quicker than I had planned for. For the first 10k, I let the pack move away from me, knowing that I’d be able to overtake people later if I just waited for them to slow down.

The fast pace stretched the pack out, so when I found myself in a loose group of four runners, I decided to stick them for a while even though I was averaging about 20 seconds per kilometre faster than I wanted to go. A few times, I decided it would be wise to let them drop me so I could slacken off my pace, but then I’d catch them at the next aid station and get drawn back into the race.

20-25km was a flat stretch along the Thames Path before the first long climb of the day. This is where my little group finally broke up, which was a relief, as I knew that from 20 miles the fatigue was sure to be setting in.

The halfway aid station was impressive, with a huge campsite set up for runners doing the stage race. I allowed myself my first sit-down and ate a few crisps to get some salt in me.

I had the lap-counter on my watch set to buzz every 7km to remined me to take a gel. So far, this had been working well. However, I had a bit of a scare at 57km: I’d planned to meet my local friend, who I had been staying with, at a road crossing to pick up my gels for the second half of the race. But when I arrived, there was no sign of her.

Luckily, it was just a miscommunication, she was at a different spot we had discussed, 5km further along the trail. By this point, I was very much feeling the effects of starting too fast, but I was also beginning to overtake a few runners who were struggling even more than I was.

At around 83km, the wheels fell of altogether. On the course elevation profile, it looked like a short but very steep climb, which would have been a good excuse to walk for a while. In reality, it was a long grind. I was crashing badly, and it was a struggle to keep moving at all.

At the final checkpoint I drank a cup of tea with three sugars and had a bite of Kinder Bueno from the aid station. I had a few minutes sit down before resolving to grind out the final 12km.

This is where I got a second wind. With 10km left I knew it was net downhill to the finish, no excuse to stop for walk-breaks. I’d told myself I was going to have to work hard today, now was my last chance to do it.

Honestly, at times during this race I felt like this should be my last 100k, that I shouldn’t run trails anymore, that I should accept that I’m not as strong as I’d like to be or as strong as I used to be. I knew that 90% of the struggle I was having was mental, but I also knew that if I told myself that my heart just wasn’t in it, that would become a self-fulfilling prophecy.

This race was a lesson in humility, as soon as I stopped worrying about pace and position, and focused on putting one foot in front of the other, the final 10km flew by, even though the ground was rocky, uneven, and difficult to run on.

The stone circle was an even more impressive sight than I remember from having run through here once before (I don’t know why I didn’t remember how rough these trails can be). I even managed a little celebration on the finish line.