The 2018 London 2 Brighton Challenge: A Stroll From Capital to Coast

'Walking is man's best medicine'- Hippocrates

When I originally signed up for the London 2 Brighton Challenge all the way back in August/ September, it seemed as if I was attempting a feat that would overwhelm me, condemning me to a state of total collapse and despair. I was worried that I was rushing into a challenge that I wasn't prepared for, mentally or physically, and I would be letting down Battersea Dogs & Cats Home. 100 km is a long way (no shit, Sherlock) and the way I was tackling the challenge meant no camping and overnight rest; this massive distance had to be done in a more or less continuous state. This would be no walk in the park... apart from when I actually had to walk through parks. Yet, at 2:19 on the morning of Sunday 27 May, I crossed the finish line at Brighton Racecourse, bringing my adventure to an end. My feet were tired, my legs were heavy and my Captain America vest was a bit smelly. But 100 km had been walked, and it felt so good.

Strike a pose

Much to my annoyance, however, was the fact that this challenge did not start directly outside of my front door. It would have made things a lot easier if I could swing out of bed at 07:55 and be walking by 08:00, but that would defeat the point of the London 2 Brighton Challenge, even though Farnham 2 Brighton has a much better ring to it. Action Challenge, if you need someone to organise such an event, then don't be afraid to get in contact. Instead, I would have to make my way up to Richmond for early registration and stay overnight through the glorious tool that is Airbnb, as it would certainly cause less stress in the morning as there would be no rushing around. Arriving in Richmond at around 3, I took in the sights and sounds of this London borough, treating myself to a Ve-Gain shake from Joe & the Juice, having a lovely conversation with one of the RSPCA volunteers tactically placed along the high streets, and taking a walk along the Thames Path. Sadly, I was carried away in the joy of spreading my legs as I walked so far that I ended up at the entrance to Kew Gardens, only a stone's throw from where I would be staying that night. So I turned around and made my way back towards Richmond, to Old Deer Park in order to register for the challenge before retiring to Costa and a delicious skinny latte as a reward for my explorations. I sat outside and observed the Friday evening rush of commuters making their way home, their demeanour relaxed with a bank holiday weekend on the horizon. I felt at peace, and relished in it as I knew that I would be far from relaxed come 08:00 tomorrow.

All for a good cause 

I returned to Kew and met my host Swapnil, who treated me to a cup of tea and a lovely chat as I settled down into his humble abode. To find a place so affordable and convenient was certainly an act on par with divine intervention, with Kew offering attraction such as their renowned botanical gardens and The National Archives, and Richmond only a 25 minute walk away. It was as if the stars were aligning to provide me with the perfect start to the challenge even before I had begun the gruelling journey of capital to coast. Morale was already through the roof, and my previous nerves subsided as I was keen to get moving. If I could, I would have set off then and there, although that would be slightly annoying for those organising the event as they would have to contend with a rogue walker who saw himself above the law of set start times. So I settled down for the night and drifted off, my body getting its last decent bit of rest before all hell broke loose tomorrow morning.

The alarm went off at 4:30. I sprang out of bed and began my final preparations, making a breakfast that would satisfy my slow energy burning needs. Toast topped with peanut butter and a banana, with Weetabix and an apple filled me up perfectly; I could feel the raw energy coursing through my veins. If my power levels were taken, they would have been well over 9000. I left Kew just before 7, as the city began to wake up all around me and I was silently envious of those driving around. They could cover 100 km without even breaking a sweat. Fighting back the urge to slash their tyres, I returned to Old Deer Park to prepare for my 08:00 start. The atmosphere was electric, as walkers and runners prepared themselves for the torture that lay ahead and bangers such as 'Don't Stop Believin'' by Journey played out on the speakers. After a Zumba style warm up, the clock ticked down towards 08:00, and before I knew it my legs were carrying me towards Brighton. It had begun. Armed with more podcasts than I could possibly imagine, I was on my way to Brighton.

Bring it oooonnnnn

PART 1: A STROLL DOWN BY THE RIVER 

Leg 1 was 25 km long at a climb of 115 m, with a 12 km rest stop at Green Lane Recreation Ground giving a chance for participants to catch their breath and take on some nourishment. My early pace wasn't fantastic, and I feared that my legs maybe really weren't up to the challenge. Not even the satisfying moment of passing the 1 km sign could keep my mind from coming back to thoughts of potential failure.  Fellow walkers began to pull ahead, with a couple more or less sprinting ahead and being out of sight by the time I had reached 5 km. Yet I began to get up to speed along the busy Thames Path and through Kingston, averting my gaze from Las Iguanas and Nando's that were enticing me in. My mouth watered about the prospect of tucking into a hot and spicy bit of chicken early in the morning, but I had a challenge to complete. I managed to check in (at every rest stop, you were required to be 'scanned' in for the sake of tracking progress and whereabouts) to Green Lane at 09:56 at a speed of 6.17 km/h, banishing the slightly shaky start. A quick toilet break and a Dextro Energy tablet (orange flavoured, obviously) gave me the boost I needed to tackle the modest but still deceptive climb in altitude.

The first stop

Oaks Park and the first major rest stop was only 13 km away, and I was determined to get their as fast as I could to take on some more food and take a longer rest than the 2 minute respite at Green Lane. I made my way through the sprawling urban landscape, crossing roads and taking in the applause of residents who had turned up to support the participants, which certainly boosted morale further. Through landmarks such as Nonsuch Park, I felt much more at ease with the challenge ahead with the sun shining brightly in the sky. Before I knew it, the kilometre distance markers had climbed into the 20s, and as I approached Oaks Park the volunteers for the challenge formed a guard of honour and clapped the weary travellers through. Much like a humble footballer who had just won the Premier League, I clapped back and raised my hands in thanks. For some, this was the end of their journey if they had signed up for the first quarter challenge, but this was just the first step. With my pit crew/ family ready with snacks and tales of how they were going to Subway for lunch, I tucked into a can of Tuna and further boosted my energy levels with an apple and a protein bar. I had reached the 25 km mark at 12:00, walking at 6.33 km/h on this part of the leg. I was flying.

God, I love tuna

PART 2: ASCENDING DIFFICULTY

I certainly flew out of the gate to begin the second leg, which would be the longest one of the day at 31 km. A 477 m ascent meant that the stakes were literally rising, as I began to leave the urban sprawl of London through Coulsdon and move into the countryside and the North Downs. The change in terrain was a shock to the system as the nice even tarmac was replaced by narrow grass paths and sudden drops of ravine-like proportions. Indeed, walking through Happy Valley felt like some sort of ironic twist as the sun became more of an annoyance than a morale booster. The lay of the land had a major impact on my pace, as I crossed the M25 and reached New Henshaw Farm (40.5 km) at 14:56 at an average pace of 5.10 km/h. I knew that I would have to make up time somewhere along the route, so more snacks were taken on board, along with a water top-up, to get me to the next major rest stop at Tulleys Farm in Crawley. While the terrain stayed the same to the first half of this leg, the hills were not as steep, much to the rejoicing of my lower body. It was now that I began to incorporate small jogging intervals to keep both my pace at a good level and stop my legs from properly seizing up (sounds stupid really, making your legs do more work to keep them alive, but it worked). Then, out of the blue, I came across the smallest yet greatest 'rest stop' across the whole route; it was the 50 km point. Just outside of the incredibly named pub The Curious Pig in the Parlour, a volunteer handed out cups of water and offered his congratulations on having reached this far. It may not have been the most elaborate point of interest on the route, but it was comforting to get past the 50 km mark.

You beautiful bastard

A steady climb then followed the Curious Pig and the 50 km sign, gradually climbing towards Copthorne and the next rest stop at Tulleys Farm (56 km). Only 6 measly kilometres stood between me and some proper food, which was made even more enticing by the sheer delirium that I had already walked 50 km in a day. I mean, wow! I would have happily stopped there and then since that's an achievement in its own right, but I was in for the long haul. Every kilometre marker only put a bigger smile on my face, which certainly has a positive impact on my walking pace. As soon as I reached the 54 km mark, I began to break into a light jog to not just boost my stats, but also to draw me ever closer to that beautiful rest stop at Tulleys Farm. Passing through a small wooded enclosure, I crossed one final road and was once again greeted by the army of volunteers cheering me through. I had reached this rest stop at 17:38, averaging 5.92 km/h on this part of the journey. Once more, the team were there to receive me, and sat down beside me as I fervently consumed my magnificent mix of pasta, tuna, salad and vegetables, washing it down with as much water as I could readily consume. More fruit and protein was taken on board and I relaxed in my seat, for this was the first time I had sat down all day. A change in clothes was also a breath of fresh air, removing my sweat covered Battersea shirt and dirty socks and changing into my Captain America vest and a fresh pair of socks. It was a well-deserved break and, once water supplies were replenished, I set off to continue my journey, as the sun began to set and the humid afternoon was replaced by the cooler evening.

Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more

PART 3: A STORM APPROACHES

I was now on the third leg, this time covering 24 km with a 363 m ascent. It was strange to now be walking in fresh clothes, and actually required some recuperation as I had become accustomed to walking in the same shirt and socks for the last 56 km. This part of the route was undulating (i.e. going up and down constantly), which makes pacing yourself quite a challenge. I gauged onto this quickly as I passed by Worth Abbey and the 60 km mark, and once again my mind was full of thoughts on dropping significantly in pace and facing the prospect of walking a large remainder of the route in the dark. Yet I persevered past Wakehurst Place towards the 67 km stop at Ardingly College, with a steep incline bringing me into the village of Ardingly itself. Yet at the top of the hill, as I turned right past a church, I was greeted by a mother and her young daughter giving out free sweets to the crazy individuals taking on this titanic event. This was perhaps one of the best surprises of the day, and I had a large smile on my face as I took a small handful of Skittles for a tactical energy boost. Passing through a field of sheep and the college grounds, I arrived at the halfway mark on this leg, now preparing myself for walking in the dark. It was 20:08, and the sun was disappearing rapidly. My speed from Tulleys Farm to Ardingly College stood at 4.42 km/h, with that steep incline slowly me down significantly. Perhaps a more rapid ascent and less time taking pictures of sheep would have given me a few more precious minutes of walking in daylight.

My new friends

Walkers were now sent off in small groups with the night drawing in, and I found myself grouped with two potentially insane people who had chosen to run the course rather than have a leisurely stroll. As soon as we had escaped the boggy River's Wood, the two disappeared off at haste, yet I knew that I would catch up since only the truly fit/ mad could keep up a rapid pace. As soon as I reached Lindfield (72 km), the sun has gone to bed and I now had to endure the rest of the walk in the dark. Rain had been forecast in the days prior to the weekend, and I was keen to get as close to the finish as possible and avoid the brunt of the incoming storm. I could feel a chill in the air as I moved through more countryside and into Scaynes Hill (76 km), as I began to pick up the pace with Wivelsfield School and the 80 km rest stop drawing ever closer. The only time my eyes diverted from the road ahead was to glance at the score in the Champions League Final and read of how Gareth Bale had scored a screamer, Mohamed Salah had gone off injured and Loris Karius had just put in a rather poor performance. Keep your head up Loris; I still love you.

We all make mistakes; leave the poor guy alone

Along the way, I came across one of the joggers who I had set off with from Ardingly, who now required my assistance to escort her through a field of potentially hostile horses. I was more than happy to do so, content in the knowledge that I had done my good deed for the day. Then the heavens opened, and in the last 2 kilometres before Wivelsfield I was stuck behind slow ambling walkers on a narrow track. I knew that I would find myself in such a position at some point, so I turned on the afterburners and made my way past them, apologising and wishing them luck as I moved through. The rain continued to lash down, and at times I thought I would lose my footing on the slippery surface beneath me. Nevertheless, I reached the 80 km mark and the end of the leg, yet received no warm welcome as I had done beforehand. The upbeat atmosphere at Tulleys Farm seemed so long ago now, replaced by a feeling of tiredness and mental anguish. Rain continued to pour as I came in to Wivelsfield School at 22:45, having averaged 4.97 km/h. As I recomposed myself for the final stretch, I had to convince myself that I could finish this. I would not be beaten.

Just a tad damp

PART 4: THE FINAL PUSH

Lightning danced across the sky as I made my way out with a new group of walkers. This was the last leg of the route, and it was mercifully the shortest at 20 km, albeit with a 372 m climb in altitude. With two rest stops in between Wivelsfield and the finish at Brighton Racecourse, it appeared that this final push may not be as arduous as I first thought. Plumpton College was only 8 km away, along flat yet dark and damp roads that took our small group closer to the finish. It was now that I decided that enough was enough; it was time to finish this thing. I quickened my pace and left the rest of the group behind as I willed my legs to keep moving. To break the monotonous walking feeling, I broke into small jogging bursts to not just get me to Brighton faster, but also to assist in ignoring the small pains that were now sweeping through my legs. To give up now would be a disaster, with the finish line now so temptingly close. Indeed, packing it in now would make the whole thing worthless, and I'm sure my family would not be too pleased to have followed me all day just for me to give up and go home. The college was a welcome sight, as my shattered body arrived at 00:13, slightly shaken by the 5.42 km/h pace that I had maintained since Wivelsfield. But now came the true test, for now I was in the heart of the South Downs, which could only mean one thing... steep inclines.

Right outside of Plumpton College was the steepest and most rapid incline of the whole challenge, and would certainly break the spirit of anyone. The easing of the rain was a welcomed treat, but to climb over 100 m over the distance of just over 1 km meant that it was only a hollow victory. I now had to go into overdrive, since any lapse in concentration and pace would sap away all momentum and leave me stranded on the side of this horrendous hill. Yet I made it to the top, a large smile emerging on my face as I began to gradually descend towards the small village of Falmer, obviously named after the enemies you encounter in Skyrim. It was at this moment, however, that disaster struck. In the middle of Zack Twamley talking about the French Revolution on his podcast When Diplomacy Fails, my iPod ran out of charge. All I could hear now was the rustling of the trees as the wind blew through them, only broken by my short sharp bursts of breath. I now had to entertain myself for the last leg of the journey as I held a small moment of silence for my fallen comrade. Some would have broken down in tears; I vowed to avenge my iPod, and finish this challenge in its memory.

He's OK now, don't worry

The rest stop in Falmer was only a small water stop, manned by two volunteers who were more than happy to have some company in the dead of night outside this sleepy village in East Sussex. With this stop situated at the 94 km mark, I knew that this was really it. My adventure was about to come to an end, with my burning desire to finish now shining more brightly than the head torch I was wearing. The last small incline went by quickly, as the markers passed by. 95... 96... 97. Excitement began to build as I quickened my pace further. I passed by more walkers who were trudging along the road into Brighton, telling them how fantastic they had done and that Brighton was now so tantalisingly close. The terrain was now gradually declining, which only made me go faster. I could see the city of Brighton in the distance, with small flashing red lights far in the distance indicating that I really had just walked from capital to coast. I crossed one final road and the last pink arrow took me onto the racecourse. In the distance I could hear the faint sound of music, the grandstand illuminating the night and beckoning all weary travellers towards it. This really was the final stretch, and I had one final moment of glee as I strolled triumphantly down the track. I passed the furlong markings, which acted as a beautifully subtle countdown of how close I was to finishing. I came around the final bend and exited the track, with the finish line now right in front of me. My gaze turned upwards as I passed under the glorious word; 'FINISH'. I had arrived.

Achievement unlocked

I was scanned for one final time at 02:19, meaning that I had finished the London 2 Brighton Challenge at an easy to remember 18 hours, 19 minutes and 20 seconds. The average speed across the last gruelling 12 km was 5.73 km/h, yet I was not fussed by speed or overall time. What was important to me was that I had made it; I had battled through self-doubt, inconvenient weather and the unfortunate demise of my iPod to reach Brighton Racecourse. With a medal around my neck and a finishers' shirt gripped tightly in my hand, my family warmly congratulated me on what I had achieved. To sweeten the moment further, a breakfast vendor was on sight and I happily made myself a fried egg and tomato sandwich, since the instant porridge that I originally had my eye on would mean finding hot water and further delaying my return home. I took a seat and demolished it in the way that Ed Miliband does to his bacon sandwiches. Before I knew it, I was in the back of the car and, with The Archers playing loudly, I collapsed into a well-deserved nap. By 04:00, the Goscomb clan had made it back to Farnham, tired but proud of their accomplishments (well, my accomplishment, but they were my support team after all). A speedy shower was my last strenuous act of the day as I greeted my bed like an old friend, knowing full well that I would have the best damn stretch of my life as soon as I arose.

I had returned to my feral state

The consensus among the family in the days following 'Ben's Epic Adventure' was that it all felt like a dream. Fatigue probably still has a stranglehold on the household, made worse by the arrival of a bank holiday weekend disrupting normal schedules even further. To be awake for so long and covering a lot of miles in such a short space of time would sap away someones energy rapidly; only a crate of Red Bull could keep my father awake. As I write out this post, I wiggle my feet around, with a large blister plaster on the heel of my left foot and Deep Heat sprayed onto my right to combat a slight niggle. I move my shoulders and neck around to deal with the slight discomfort of carrying a large bag for 18 hours, not to mention the slight sunburn suffered when I rolled up my sleeves to not only expose my nicely toned arms, but also to walk more comfortably across the humid hills. Even a simple walk into Farnham to get milk and bread filled me with dread as my mind moved back to memories of walking up steep rain soaked inclines in the middle of the night. But can you blame me really? I just walked 100 km in a day, cut me some slack!

Yet even with a battered body and a general unwillingness to move, it was an incredible experience. I had walked 100 km in just over 18 hours, climbed 1045 m in altitude across that distance and had an excellent chance to explore places in England that I have never ventured to before. Walking through Nonsuch Park, for example, got my historical senses tingling as I recalled of how Nonsuch Palace had once been situated on these grounds. Built by Henry VIII in 1538 to rival the French monarch Francis I's Château de Chambord, it was demolished in 1682 due to being a drain on monetary resources. Putting the building projects of this Tudor monarch aside, it was actually refreshing to be able to walk through this park as it allowed my mind to draw attention away from the heaviness of my legs and instead focus on a nice bit of history. Turns out history isn't all that useless after all.

A very happy historian

Completing the challenge was a considerable high point (as was the climb up towards Falmer in the middle of the night, but this is no time for puns), yet the organisation of the event itself is also worth celebrating. To herd 2000 walkers and runners across such a long route requires maximum effort from all involved, whether it's scanning times, making sure the route is labelled with arrows and glow sticks and even just clapping through competitors at rest stops. Action Challenge, the company who runs the Ultra Challenge series, are more than capable of organising such an event, as they also run events such as the Isle of Wight Challenge and the Thames Path Challenge. To all those who spent their weekends lining the route, serving food and being a shoulder to cry on, I give all of my thanks and praise. Also, the playlist at the major rest stops were also perfect; hearing One Direction's 'Live While We're Young' was the boost I needed at 25 km. 

The support of family and friends shouldn't go unheeded as well, since having extra snacks on hand is never a bad idea. Much like a band of stalkers, my family followed me across the route to help in whatever way they could. With my brother giving me Formula 1 style texts such as the advice of changing to wets and watching out for a very speedy Sebastian Vettel, it was encouraging to know that there would be a warm welcome for me at whatever rest stop I arrived at (except for the 12 km one- bad form on their part, really). They were more than willing to take any extra weight off my shoulders, and had a good chuckle as I wolfed down whatever food I could, which usually then allowed unflattering photos of me to be taken. Probably one of my greatest flaws is not being able to photograph brilliantly, as I will give evidence for below. In terms of donations, I can't readily express my gratitude in people departing with their hard earned cash to help Battersea. Your kindness is inspiring! If you haven't donated, the page is still active- so follow the link and be a hero.

I look like I'm about to cry

With the London 2 Brighton Challenge completed, I can take pride in everything I have done prior to this insane yet rewarding feat. Intense strength and cardio training, long walks with a weighted jacket or heavy books in my bag, and numerous other boring health stuff allowed me to arrive at Richmond more or less prepared. Indeed, when checking the timing and tracking component on the London 2 Brighton website (this is where I managed to find my pace and arrival times), it turns out I was the first of the 08:00 starters to finish. I had beaten back the keen beans that had power walked ahead out of Old Deer Park and the joggers who were brave enough to put their bodies through such turmoil. My mother was worried that I wasn't ready, but that's what mothers do really. Having averaged an overall speed of 5.46 km/h, it was certainly a decent effort. The long walk also allowed me to think about what lies ahead for me, with my ordeal now more or less over and my future still up in the air. I have some ideas in mind, but it will require some very careful planning. But if I can thrash out a 100 km walk in just over 18 hours, then the sky is the limit. Crossing the whole of Surrey, venturing into West Sussex and finally making my way into East Sussex not only shows how easy it is to make your way across England (think of the environment, kids), but also that anything is possible with the right amount of effort and spirit. Take heed, my dear friends. 

Ben G 😁 xo

P.S. Best picture I took all weekend was the windmill in Outwood. Not only was the weather gorgeous, but it's also a very important landmark. Built in 1665, it is the oldest working windmill in Britain! Wowzers (not sarcastic)!

Big fan of windmills

P.P.S. My feet still hurt. Please send me love.