The Pilgrims Challenge is not a race I have been particularly keen on doing but, in the interest of getting prepped for MDS, I thought I should push myself and do it. Not only as good time-on-feet training but as a test of mental endurance. The race is 33 miles (55km) along the North Downs Way from Farnham to Redhill, where competitors can sleep overnight in a sports centre on the floor before running it back the next morning. What’s not to like?!

As a slightly extreme person, I decided to forgo a drop bag and carry my full MDS kit in its current form (minus some food but with winter gear in), netting out at a tidy 8kg pack weight. My thinking was to make myself as uncomfortable as possible and treat this as my main test run for kit, sleeping setup and generally being uncomfortable. I didn’t bring spare trainers for day two or luxuries like a towel to shower. I was also keen to meet fellow MDS runners and knew this would be a good opportunity to do so.

So off to Farnham I went, in the wind and rain, after a week of rain, knowing full well that it was going to be a mud bath along the NDW again.

On arrival, I managed to meet a Kent-based chap called Lewis IRL, who is running MDS and who I’ve chatted to over Insta and Strava, before we set off. But he, and most of the field, were quicker to get moving than me and before long I was trudging the miles out solo with my 8kg pack. It became clear little to no one else had a similar pack weight to mine and I was flying solo in my extreme pack run along the muddy trails of Surrey. I met a couple of other people along the way running MDS who were great to chat with and had a similar mindset. But when I hit the 20km mark, I realised I had made a mistake. This pack was a killer. I told myself then and there that pack weight is going to be a make or break factor for MDS. I knew it already but perhaps, as a broader-shouldered chap who is used to carrying weight, I thought a few luxuries wouldn’t break me. I was wrong.

What’s funny is that in training I often wear a 10kg vest and I’ve done plenty of 10–15km runs with no issues. This was lighter and yes, the conditions were much more testing, but it was brutal on my neck, back and shoulders. My dreams of shooting 35mm in the desert were gone on the Pilgrims Way and the reality check was probably worth its weight in gold straight away.

The remainder of day one is a bit of a blur. I definitely got a second wind around 30km in and, other than the hell that is Box Hill and another sharp incline towards the end, despite the pain in my shoulders I did manage to push on and smash through those remaining kilometres without getting too annoyed. I finished feeling like I had a lot left to give from a cardio, endurance and legs perspective. It was, for once, my upper body that was feeling the brutality of it all.

I quickly made a plan for day two. I was going to fashion a drop bag from a carrier bag and get rid of at least half my pack weight. I wanted to have an easier, better day on the trails for the second day. Another day of training, but a different kind.

The evening at the sports centre was good. Lewis and I got to chat at length and bond a little. Meeting other MDS competitors and trading stories of kit, training and concerns was nice. Totally worth it just for that. Sleeping on the floor of a gym could have been a lot worse, to be honest. The wet kit and mud were probably more of an annoyance than anything else. Yes, it was hard to get to sleep and no, I didn’t get a good night, but no more than having a baby or toddler in your bed with you, which I’ve had intermittent training for over the past two years.

Day two and Lewis wanted to stick with me. Despite him being faster and fitter, he wanted an easier day on the trails and, hell, the company and time to bond were good to have. We quickly agreed to ensure we were tent mates at MDS and hotel buddies after the race. Good to have a friendly face lined up for the desert.

With my pack now weighing at least half what it did, I was well up for a better day two and felt like I had a lot to give in my legs. We got going and, after a stretch out, it wasn’t all that bad at all. There were moments in the first 10km, with two big inclines early on now we were running it in reverse, but overall it was steady going. Until, for me, coming down Box Hill, I started to get some pain in my big toes. Dreaded toe bang, where I wear slightly too-big trail shoes. This was worse in my right foot and by 15km it was becoming a concern. I waited for the next aid station but by the time I got there the pain had eased due to easier terrain. In hindsight, and at MDS, I should have nipped this there and then and sorted it. But I left it and pushed on.

We hit a solid 6:00/km pace a couple of times and things were going well but again, any downhill or thick mud and my toes suddenly took another beating. Frustratingly, just as we were getting some momentum and pace together, my water bottle was pissing water and salt all over me. An equipment failure I could do without in the desert. After getting through four brands of straw bottles, I officially gave up on them. Anyhow, by the time we were over 25km in, I knew I was going to have to leave my shoes on and just suck it up until the end. Time to dig deep, Toe Boy.

Along the way we were lucky enough to bump into experienced ultra runners Susie Chan and Sophie Raworth, both of whom have completed Marathon des Sables themselves. We stuck with them for a few minutes to get some vital tips from their first-hand experiences before they quickly disappeared further up the field.

Whilst I was slowing the pace considerably, my new tent mate stuck with me. However, at the 40km mark I pleaded with him to go ahead. This was becoming a nightmare and a world of pain. I can honestly say I have not felt pain like it running before. It was a hot, burning sensation in both big toes, like I was running on bare nerve endings. Swearing and hobbling, I kept putting one foot in front of the other. At times I would try and break into a run, audibly screaming in pain. I sought out thick mud and puddles at every opportunity to soak my feet in cold water, numbing and masking the pain for a matter of seconds, albeit a welcome relief.

The last 5km took me almost an hour and a half. I could crawl it quicker on a good day.

But I finished.

It was ugly. I had to really push myself and, God, I wanted out. I wanted out not just because of the pain but because of the fear of how this damage might ruin my MDS hopes. But I pushed those negative thoughts to one side and convinced myself this was the training I needed to be doing, making myself as uncomfortable as possible. Pushing through something so agonising was brutal but, again, another valuable lesson.