Low degree of expectation, high degree of commitment. That was the standard set when I left with Dave from Hardy’s Cottage. Bockhampton is well worth a visit. A couple of miles from Dorchester and the site is kept by the National Trust. The cottage itself, built in the classic style of its time, is surrounded by landscapes that would not look out of place in Lord of the Rings.
The Hardy Way is waymarked for its 217-mile journey—from birth to death. The irony isn’t lost on us as we depart.
The forest floor is cloaked in late fall leaves—a recurring theme for the rest of the session. Sometimes, these leaves provide a welcome springboard; at other times, they ambush us, concealing wet, muddy surfaces beneath.
From the outset, we are focused on the long haul, setting a pace that doesn’t alarm the brain into gasping for breath. The run is rhythmical, avoiding the dampened tempo often invited by softer ground.
The route itself is a mixed bag of terrains: farmland, fire trails, Jurassic hills, tarmac B roads, heathland, classic rural lanes, forested paths, and rolling terrain. Nothing is ever truly steep or flat.
The First 50K
During the first 50 kilometers, which brought us to Lulworth, we experienced nearly all these terrains. One section, however, cost us significant time. After the checkpoint near Wool, we encountered two waymarked routes for the Hardy Way. The first, our GPX route, included a loop crossing a floodplain. Attempting it, we quickly found it impassable.
Sanjay and I retraced our steps 200 meters back to the car and crossed a field into Cole Wood, now forever known as the “Forest of Doom.” This wood has the perfect conditions—under a thick canopy—for brambles to thrive.
“Get your waterproofs on, Sanjay.”
“I don’t have them with me. It’s fine; I’m used to this in India.” Six minutes later, I have it logged on Strava, and Sanjay has received a leg shave courtesy of the Barber of Seville. We’ve covered just 400 meters. It took us over 20 minutes to travel a single mile.
At Lulworth Village, I met Tom and Helen, who were on crewing duty. I gave them a quick schedule update, explaining that the “Forest of Doom” had delayed us. Despite the setback, I focused on maintaining the pace demanded by the route. Greg and Si joined for run crew, and we pressed on through the Jurassic hills toward Wareham.
A couple of miles in to the hills, I felt strong, as I should. This terrain was my playground for UTMB training. At Kimmeridge Quarry, we met Helen and Tom again. By this point, the weather had turned worse, with rain stinging our faces as coastal gusts swept in. Shelley and Julian made a surprise visit as we descended to Blue Pool. Shelley joined us for an hour, doing an incredible job leading us through the bogs of Furzebrook and Stoborough Heath.
We arrived in Wareham, escorted by Julian, who blared music from his car while we ran up Wareham High Street. At the train station, I changed socks again. This was critical: feet and stomach were two factors I wouldn’t allow to derail this attempt. Keeping my feet in good condition, despite the wet terrain, was essential. Frequent sock changes paid off—my feet were in better shape when I stopped than when I began!
Wareham to Wimborne
Wareham marks the 80-kilometer point, but I still hadn’t settled in my mind. My subdued demeanor masked the enormity of what lay ahead. Breaking the journey into manageable mental chunks was proving difficult. At 12 hours in, I shifted focus to solving my stomach issues.
In Wareham Forest, heading toward Lytchett and Morden, Pete and Aaron took over pacing and navigation duties. Running with two pacers made a world of difference. One would scout ahead to confirm the route, while the other stayed beside me to nudge the pace.
All the way to Wimborne, my stomach rejected everything. For a period, I consumed only water and shot bloks. With the current pace, I wasn’t panicked; the body can endure a long time with little intake. I attempted a bathroom break, gut massage, and deep breathing, but nothing helped. In Wimborne, Helen and I continued problem-solving. Finally, at Witchampton (75 miles in), I took a solid 30-minute nap. With Gaviscon, hot water, and plain food, I started feeling somewhat normal again. Shot bloks saved the day. Helen problem solved this one! The shot bloks were a gift from Si at Up and Running! 🙏
Wimborne to Shaftesbury
By morning, I felt better. Paul joined Pete, and we pushed on to Cranborne. The trails here are stunning, threading between farm fields as dawn broke. My feet, hips, and back were in great condition, but my quads and left knee were sore.
This was unexpected. I’d conquered 109 miles and 32,000 feet of mountains at UTMB without such issues. Why now? I realized that the constant variability of the terrain—mud, waterlogged ground, uneven paths—was taxing my ligaments and tendons.
Cranborne (84 miles in) came after 22 hours. I maintained the 4 mph average I’d set, but I could no longer ignore the knee pain. The descent to Tollard Royal was particularly challenging, but Paul set an encouraging tone, helping me maintain steady progress.
At Tollard Royal, I had a moment of vulnerability, shedding a few tears under my dry robe. After regrouping with the crew, we tackled the Larmer loop, bringing me to 98 miles. For the first time in 27 hours, I genuinely believed I could finish.
The end, and it's only half way
Leaving Shaftesbury with Mark, optimism carried me for a while. But near Marnhull, crossing a series of sodden fields, reality hit hard. The ground was saturated, turning each step into a strain on my knee ligaments and tendons. It took us 28 minutes to cover a single kilometer. Reaching the roadside, I tipped my hat to the Hardy Way. Mark called in for Phil to pick up and I wriggled into the survival bag to ensure the body remained warm. The knee was in a lot of complaint. This journey had seen the effort begin. It will require finishing. Unbeknown at the time, the crew chat was plotting how we can clean up the whole operation next year. Such was the energy and enthusiasm for the session adventure.
Helen, with complete trust and belief, threw her heart and soul at this session. For that is worth pushing to the max to ensure it is not wasted energy.
Phil B: what a legend to have taken my ‘brain fart’ of a schedule and plan , turn it into a work of art that brought 20+ people together into coordinated fashion and created a brilliant atmosphere for all to enjoy their own moments.
The team. Shelley. Julian . Sarah. Tatiana. Teresa. Tom. Philippa. Sam. Pete. Greg. Sanjay. Leigh. Paul. Aaron. John. Dave. Si. Mark. Nick. Ron, Virginie. All who gave their time, energy and resource to help get this into action and help my attempt to get it done.
The Hardy Way is on the list for 2025. If not by me, then someone will crack it. When it’s done, it will start something special in this Southern domain of trail running. A round that is noteworthy. There are some special trails to be enjoyed. Special sites to be seen. A special challenge to be endured.
The Hardy Way Round. A gem of the South.
South to North is cracked. 😉 North to South to be used for training in Winter. A date to be confirmed for another attempt in 2025. Thanks for the messages of support and encouragement. A massive team enterprise so perhaps next time we will get a few more trying. That way better odds of someone getting round. 🙃
To stop, there had to be a point which you decided to continue nonetheless. I am pleased that I continued through that point.
Thanks for all the positivity in taking on this challenge.
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