Three weeks after the Giant’s Head half marathon, and it was time for “the big one” – Race to the Stones. This was the second event added to my 2026 calendar, way back in October 2025, and inspired by watching a YouTube video: I’d previously been unaware of it.
So I watched that video, and the decision to have a go myself came pretty swiftly after. It had what I want from an event – a run through terrain that is personally meaningful, not crazy amounts of up and down, and crucially a sensible cut-off time. At 14+ hours, I was certain I could finish comfortably within that.
Race to the Stones is actually several races in one, as these things tend to be. There was the full 100k starting in Lewknor, which could be tackled either as a single continuous effort, or split over two days at 50k per day. Each of those days’ 50k then formed a standalone race too. In all cases, the race runs along the Ridgeway national trail, apart form some minor logistical deviations into and out of pit stops or event bases.
It was memories of the Ridgeway that was the main motivation for doing the event, and the choice of the second day 50k was an easy one – that was the one that actually goes to “the stones”.
This would be my second ultra, having walked my first one – the North Downs 50 – and as I was planning to run a significant proportion of it, it would be almost nailed on as a PB for the distance. Not that that was really the goal: all of the races I’ve entered for this year I am doing for the enjoyment rather than the time.
Because the run had an early start (6am on a Sunday morning), this meant staying the night before, and realistically who wants to then travel home right after running 50k, so we made it a two night weekend break, staying at a Premier Inn in Swindon. This had the advantage of being more cost effective, but at the expense of a 40 minute drive to the start on the day, and the consequent earlier wake up time (4am).
The course has a more benign gradient profile than the Giant’s Head, or indeed the North Downs fastpack I did the week before. The RTTS day 2 course has around 650m of ascent (compared with 610m for Giant’s Head) and spread over more than twice the distance.
Looking at it ahead of the run, only one thing bothered me – the climb from about 33km, the biggest single climb of the day, hitting at about the point that my legs tend to want to stop.
I had a terrible night’s sleep on the Saturday – mostly due to the heatwave, and was awake and up 15 minutes before my 04:15 alarm. Luckily I’d done all the preparation and faffing the night before, so didn’t have to concentrate – I simply had to pick up and put on the things laid out on the extra bed in the room. Then my wife drove us to the start near Wantage.
Also luckily, we’d stopped by on our journey to Swindon the day before, to pick up my race pack, so all I really had to do was position myself at the start. Which I did, after a last use of the facilities.
And then we were off.
The temperature at 6am was about 18C, but it was forecast to rise to 31C, and so I quite consciously went out a little harder than I would otherwise do, hoping to make the most of the cooler times. I don’t feel that this really hurt me later on, but it certainly did flatter my early expectations of what I might be able to do in terms of finish time.
Either way, confidence was high as we climbed up to Hackpen Hill. The first aid station at just over 5 miles (8.3km) cost me only 4 minutes – in, grab some jaffa cakes, fill my water, and then out again.
A bit more undulation brought me to Uffington Castle, and the first real sight of prehistoric remains.
My wife was due to meet me near here, and I encountered her on her way back from a look at Waylands Smithy. At this stage, 14km in, I didn’t really need anything other than a cool damp cloth, so it was a very short pause. On to Waylands Smithy itself, which was a very small detour off the path.
The views opened up a bit for the next stretch.
I rolled into the second aid station at 21km, a 7 minute stop to use the facilities, and a more extensive refill of water. Then off to cross over the M4 and climb up to Liddington Hill.
Memories of the first day of walking the Ridgeway back in 2023, as it was near here that I camped that first night.
…and then the halfway marker…
The run down to Ogbourne St George, for my second meet up with my wife at around 32km, seemed to take forever, and getting through Ogbourne was a slow process. Finally, I saw my wife ahead, and the car was right next to her, so as well as a cool cloth it was the chance for my first sit down break of the run. I was conscious that the hardest part of the race was coming up next.
And I wasn’t wrong – the climb up to Barbury Castle wasn’t ever steep, but it was too much to run, especially in the heat. It was here that my poles really came into their own, both for momentum walking the climbs, but also when running the flats and downs. I don’t usually run with poles, and really noticed the increase in momentum, although it needed a lot more concentration to maintain the rhythm.
Aid station 3 was just before Barbury Castle, at 38km – a point at which I was confident of finishing, but would be up against it to get what I’d consider a good time. Here I had a much longer stop, taking the opportunity to have a change of socks, for the momentary illusion of freshness on my sore feet.
Under way again, and I was now really counting down the distance to the finish, whilst also trying not to fixate on it. The music came out at this point. The trail became harder to run – a lot more rutted and bumpy, making maintaining a decent running rhythm on tired legs much harder. And the bumpiness made it harder to use the poles to good effect, and it was here that they got put away, never to come out again.
I reached a hard right turn and could see Avebury below, and specifically the finish at the farm on the outskirts. I tried to run a little bit more, but the combination of the heat and the knowledge that it wouldn’t really help my time that much, just made me revert back to walking.
Into Avebury and down to the turnaround point.
Then back up the track about 1km before turning off to run through a field and the final long avenue to the finish line.
Straight over to the PB bell – I didn’t know my exact time, but I knew I’d knocked a lot off my previous 50k time (over 2 hours).
All I really wanted at this point was a cold drink, but the bar refused to take my money because their card machine thought my card was in the wrong country. They wouldn’t take cash either. It took a different card failing to convince them. If I’d had the energy I’d have hauled the barman over the bar to beat some sense into him. It was a relief to finally cradle my nice cold pint, even if it was only Strongbow. I may also have positioned myself suspiciously close to the ice cream van…
Somewhat revived by indifferent, but cold, apple-derived beverages we headed for the car, stopping off for a picture with some of the stones, I’d just raced to.
Amazingly, my legs didn’t feel too bad the next day: a bit tired, yes sure, but no real stiffness, which I’m taking as a good sign. Certainly nothing like how trashed they felt after merely walking my first ultra.
The plan now is to carry as much of this current form through the summer as I can – my next event in September is another ultra, albeit an almost flat one – if I decide to still do it. I don’t need to do it, as such, but it is unfinished business, having cancelled my entry last year.
Before that, I have my rewalk of the South Downs Way to finish, and a slightly longer trip somewhere hilly, both of which will be happening in the next 2-3 weeks.
