Hellrunner is probably the toughest race I’ve done to date. It’s as exhausting as Tough Guy without any of the silliness or distractions of obstacles. The course itself has, apparently, been made tougher than last year by upping the distance to about 11 miles and putting more hills in the way. The weather was chilly, overcast and windless - near perfect conditions for running and despite not having done any sort of exercise for two weeks, I was looking forward to the race.

The multi-terrain course was a mix of moorland and woodland for the most part. The tracks we ran were obviously used to vehicles and were trenches more than paths, waterlogged and woody. For the first couple of miles, the slopes were gentle enough but quickly increased in gradient at about the same time as the surface became more sand than earth. The problem with sand is that it’s not firm and you have to work that much harder. I also find it makes my calves work harder and it wasn’t long before I started feeling them tighten up. The undulations started to become more pronounced and when we reached the forest, they became steep hills covered in loose rocks. The descents were just as steep and sure footing was required, especially if going at speed which I tend to do as one foot wrong was going to lead to an embarrassing mouth full of mud.

Leaving the forest (after about an 1h15m for me), a large sign announced “You are entering the Wetlands” and they weren’t lying. The Wetlands consisted of a bog that, while not on a par with the general consistency and stinkiness of Tough Guy mud, earned a 10 out of 10 for effort owing to the fact that it was knee deep – or thigh deep for some people. The race slowed right down at this point as people struggled to wade through the energy sapping terrain to the other side.

After another 5/10 minutes or so of running through woods I could hear cheering in the distance and, believing the finish line to be only minutes away, picked up the pace a little, finding energy reserves I wasn’t sure I had. But turning the last bend out of the forest, we found it was anything but the finish that confronted us. Instead we had a series of repetitive shuttle runs up and down sand dunes. My legs were protesting in agony and I wish I could say that I managed to run up each one but I had no power left in my legs and my calves were screaming so much that I was reduced to walking up the dunes. The torture over, we hit the last section which was mercifully flat and only a few minutes away from the finish and my last, customary sprint for the line.

My final time was 1h 35m 18s for the 11 mile course which I’m reasonably pleased with (despite the fact that I still ache two days later). I’m getting quite into this adventure racing lark and still have the (comparitively flat) Grim challenge to do in December. My mate, who has done the last couple with me (and habitually races in blue while I race in black so we shall henceforth be known as the Bruise Brothers), is touting the Karrimoor International Mountain Marathon as a challenge next year as it’s the granddaddy of adventure racing but I’m prepared to leave it for a while. Or at least until I sort my calves out!