Andy’s Oner Win

This March was the wettest in 40 years, perfect Oner weather then…

Back in January I decided I wanted to do the Oner again. But having been hampered with various issues, it was going to be a last minute thing as to whether I raced or not.

I’ve been struggling on and off with achilles issues for quite some time, and been battling some form of back injury that’s caused/causing issues down my left leg for the last year too, with no scan shedding any light to date. Then 2/3 weeks out from the race I managed to pick up a groin strain too to add to the pile. Not ideal, as I really wanted to come have another crack at this after DNS last year.

It got to two weeks out from the race and I decided I’d just enter and hope for the best. But the groin gradually got worse rather than better, and up until I think the Thursday I was definitely not going to be racing. Managed a couple of uncomfortable runs on race week, but really didn’t feel good.

Go to Friday though and I decided ‘well I’d go and do a little run tomorrow anyway, so just as well start and see how far I go before having to stop.’

I looked back at my training for the year and turns out I’d averaged just 23 miles a week for 2023, and the month or so before, that, even less. So wasn’t in particularly fine form regardless of injury status. But I like to think I’ve always got a little something in the locker.

The plan was to maybe make it as far as I could go without my groin being totally destroyed, then stop when it started to get too sore. I figured I’d make it to the Fleet, or Portland at best, then call it a day, go home and watch the boxing.

Events like this I’ll always just set out at my own pace, focus on my own ‘stuff’ and see where I end up. So did just that. Started at the front, cracked on, stayed within myself, and just ticked the miles off.

The hills over the first section aren’t too bad at all. Even the new extra one they sneaked in to add an extra mile or so and some more elevation. Cheers for that. There was a reasonable bit of mud, a little rain, and then the most annoying part of the course – the beach and swamp section around West Bexington.

The mud thereafter was pretty savage and I took the first of several tumbles through Langton Herring, smashing onto my left side, caking myself top to toe. All through the Fleet section it only got worse with mud, but its flat, and I’d made a good shoe choice and actually quite like it down there in those conditions and run it often.

By the time I got to Ferrybridge I think I had a decent lead, felt real strong pace and fitness wise, the legs felt good…but the groin was really getting sore.

Popped my head into the checkpoint at Osprey, then about half way between there and the hill, decided it was time to call it a day as I was pretty uncomfortable now.

Got half way up the hill, and very nearly turned around, but having just seen my crew man driving off toward the Bill I figured I needed to get there anyway so cracked on. By the top of that hill I was 100% ‘out’ soon as I got to The Bill.

Limped on down there, got to my buddy’s truck, ‘That’s me mate, groins sore as f… now so game over’. Which I was fine – I was only ever anticipating getting to there at best. So a shame but no stress.

‘You sure mate’

‘Yeh sure’

‘Ok. Sure you’re sure?’

Bailing out at that point was a call I could have lived with. I wasn’t fit. I was injured. Was in pain – but not the good kind you get in these events. And up until 24h earlier, wasn’t even going to be starting. But still I kept asking myself ‘am I just being a pussy saying it’s time to stop?’

I’d bailed out of a 100 miler once, 55 miles in, and although that felt like the right call, ultimately, I’d let my head and a disorder I suffer with beat me. Then wrote a ruthlessly honest ‘after action report’ which lives in my bedside cabinet and gets read from time to time.

Before this race I’d been telling myself, whenever I get a thought of stopping, whether its injury, fatigue, or mindset related - just ask myself ‘can I bank 2 more miles?’ If the answer is yes. Bank the miles. Then re-ask the question. If the answer’s yes? Bank the miles. Repeat that enough times and eventually you’ll beat your inner wimp into submission and that question no longer even needs asking. You just bank the miles. That voice realises it can’t beat you. So off it goes.

‘Na fuck it. Meet me up on the road bit in a couple of miles and if it’s no worse we’ll do a bit more.’

Running down ‘the chute’ to Osprey was sore, but back at Osprey, groin not much worse I decided to carry on. By the time I got onto the Seafront, I was actually feeling pretty good. Groin was manageable. Legs felt great, and I felt like I was running well and holding a solid pace.

I was now however having that internal conversation with myself of ‘mate, you’ve got a horrific 35-40 miles left, basically no way your groin’s gonna take that, so just sack it off now’.

Then also rationalising that further with ‘you’re well in the lead, and you’d defo win this if you weren’t injured, people will understand that’.

Fuck you. Two. More. Miles.

Before the race I knew if I got to Osmington and hadn’t had to stick my head torch on, I’d be in a good position time wise. And literally Osmington was the point I stuck it on.

And in my head somehow miraculously, I was actually feeling pretty great at this point. Legs were good. Head was good. Mindset was good. Well fuelled. And that groin issue was actually subsiding somewhat. Game on.

Up and down over the rollercoaster on the way to Lulworth was a bit cheeky, fair bit of mud as well as of course the actual climbs. I struggled a bit with pain on the decents, and was starting to feel the lack of fitness on the climbs too.

Once you get the ranges at Lulworth out of the way you get to what I’d say is the worst bit of the course. The lead up to Warbarrow is a massive twat especially, although I found the decent even worse, slipping all over the place in the mud.

From there you’ve got some staircases and climbs to contend with. I’d fallen down another couple of times, and also stacked it on a stair decent but managed to grab a railing thankfully.

The climb up to St Aldhelms Head did me in a fair bit and when I got to the CP there, I was feeling pretty trashed and ready to finish. But knew that the hard work was done, from and there were no more major climbs.

What I’d forgotten however, is the state of the ground in that stretch. Literally couldn’t run at times, slipping and sliding all over the place. Absolutely nails. And without going into details, by now lets say I was having some ‘tummy issues’ which ultimately culminated in around 10 ‘comfort stops’ in the back 15 miles or so.

This all was literally the toughest part of the whole course for me.

The mud here was unrelenting and I’d lost so much time slipping, sliding and shitting, (at least around half an hour from the latter!) that by now I was actually pretty worried I was gonna get caught and passed. I was convinced I’d seen 4 head torches less than a mile behind me. So in between the necessary stops, was trying to keep a reasonable pace.

Once you drop into the seafront at Swanage its nice and flat, followed by a bit of a slog up out of Swanage, before a steady decent taking you to the sand.

Eventually I landed on Studland beach, still convinced people were nearby. I’d actually seen a head torch maybe 400m behind me on the beach, then the next time I looked round it was gone. ‘Some sneaky bastard’s gonna creap up on me and whip round me for the win, then I’ve basically done all this for nothing. Speed up.’ Those last 2-3 miles there seemed to take an age, and the lights ahead of me didn’t seem to get any closer.

Eventually managed to get myself to the boardwalk, crossed the line, taking 10 mins or so off the previous record myself and my man Scotty set in 2019, and was pleased to sit down for a minute, say thanks to the lovely Claire, then head on home to not get any sleep.

You could ask every participant about their race, or their journey, and get completely different answers. Unique stories. But a couple of things I’m sure will be consistent in anyone’s thoughts on the event are that the course is brutal but beautiful. The whole thing is organised super well. Claire, James and the whole team are fantastic, and that the race as a whole is as honest as it is hard.