Adventure Runner: Arc of Attrition 2026

Distance: 74.7km / 46.4 miles (tracked)
Elevation: 3,336m / 10,945 feet (tracked)
Elapsed Time: 9:43:16 (official)
Estimated calories: 6,211
Position: DNF
Total finishers (within 36-hour cutoff): 261, of 630 starters (59% DNF)
Race results
Event homepage

Caerthillian Cove, Lizard

Chasing the gold

I was back for my second bite at the apple. A year ago, I'd competed in the Arc100 for the first time. It was an event I'd really wanted to take on, in a beautiful and unique part of the country. Its reputation for being tough and unforgiving had only increased the appeal. Arriving with some knowledge of the area and familiarity with the brutal challenge of the coast paths, I hadn't underestimated the challenge, but had let complacency slip in and arrived without a strong race plan. By 25-miles in, the lack of a fuelling strategy found me out, and I found myself struggling. Into day 2, from 63 miles onwards, I'd found myself in a whole lot of bother with dehydration on the longest section between checkpoints. Then the knee problems hit. I struggled round the last quarter of the route at a plod, trying to jog but often walking. I'd missed my target time of sub-30 hours by 1hr 45 mins, but I'll afford myself some credit; only 50% of people finished, and I was mid-pack for those that did. I'd earned myself a silver buckle, and motivation for revenge.

January 2026 arrived. I'd been planning how I wanted to take on this race since a DNF at 13 Valleys in September. I was doing some varied training, not just bashing out miles, including some difficult terrain, night running and bad conditions. I'd been working with a physio to strengthen the right muscles, in order to avoid another round of knee problems. I'd been eating better and avoiding booze in order to shed some weight, even carrying that discipline through most of Christmas (allowing some days of excess, of course). I'd resolved to turn up well-rested, hydrated and with a strong race plan. When I arrived in 2025, I was trained enough to get that gold, but I'd blown it; this time I wanted to be ready.

As ever, I reached my taper weeks feeling that the training was inadequate, but I stuck with the plan. Resting my muscles was key, and good sleep for the final week. Surprisingly, I actually managed a few nights of decent sleep on that final week, and my watch indicated for several days, including race day, that my training readiness was "prime", and my training status was "peaking" - Garmin's way of saying I was ready to race. I'd almost cracked it - but I hadn't allowed enough to refine the race plan. A last minute frenzy of packing and planning did at least let me set off with all the right kit, but my fuelling options were still under consideration when we set off on the long drive to Cornwall.

The Race

The weather predictions had been dire as race day approached; progressively more rain droplets appeared on the forecast, with higher percentages of likelihood, and the winds looked worse and worse. Storm Ingrid was presenting as rain and gusty winds for the full race duration. I wasn't worried by some rainfall, but I knew that continuous rain could be immensely challenging, especially coupled with strong winds. At least the temperature looked moderate, at 7-9 degrees, including overnight. I hoped that the unpredictability of coastal weather would bring something different. Last year, the named storm had been forecast to continue beyond race start, and yet I'd found myself changing into t-shirt and shorts on the startline, in warm sunshine.

Race start at Coverack

A packed start line

Leg 1: Coverack - Lizard Point

Friday 1300hrs, 0 miles

The skies had turned fully grey as we travelled over on the coach. While I queued for the loo at the start line, the heavens opened. We were released on to the main street with rain firing sideways into our faces. The sea was raucous, but I wasn't looking much as I tried not to trip over anyone. We were funneled out of the village between the cottages and on to the coast path, already slipping around in mud. It would take a while for the field to spread out.

I'd laboured the decision about what to wear from the start. It was a tricky call as it would be wet, but not cold; you don't want to be wet from either rain or sweat, yet staying warm is essential. I was in full length clothes and covered with lightweight waterproofs, erring on the side of warm. It just about worked out; I was dressed right for the downpours, but when the rain stopped, I was able to regulate my temperature by removing or putting on my hat and gloves and adjusting my zips.

Dinas Cove

A close field descending to Downas Cove

Plenty of mud early on, before the heavy rain hit

I was surprised that by the time I reached Cadgwith, around 6 miles in, the field was already spreading a lot. I'd started quite far forward and held a good pace, so was clear of the worst of the congestion in wave 1. I passed Claire, my wife, on the road out of the village and gave a one line report that it was going well.

As I neared the Lizard, the waves of Housel Bay were impressive, though not as ferocious as 2025. The rain had mostly cleared, contrary to the forecast, and I was taking quite a few photos of the impressive scenery.

Housel Bay, Lizard

Leg 2: Lizard Point - Porthleven

Friday 1505hrs, 10.5 miles

I arrived at the checkpoint quite focused - no skipping the essentials this time. I'd drank two full bottles of Tailwind during the first leg, and I set about refilling those bottles, mixing in the nutrition powder. I'd also eaten something during each hour, as planned. I felt slightly pressured by the speed other runners were getting through the checkpoint, but focused on my own race. Drink an extra cup. Eat a couple of things. Take a minute for a loo stop.

So far, so good, and the scenery got more beautiful with a little sunlight breaking through. The trails were decent and it was fun picking through the little coves. Claire waved me by near Kynance Cove. I noted that I was starting to feel the miles now, having cleared half marathon distance. A contributing factor in my knee problem is weakness around my glute medius and, coupled with limited hip mobility, things get uncomfortable fairly early on in these races. I'd hoped to be feeling strong further into the race. At least I was otherwise feeling fit.

Up on Kynance Cliff and along to Mullion, the ground was getting a bit muddy, with the path being less clearly-defined. I'd been feeling a bit sick, and the task of forcing the fluids down was getting tough already. I tried to stay on top of eating too, nibbling through an energy bar every hour. It was pretty unpleasant. I was looking forward to the easier option of hot food at Porthleven.

Kynance Cove

Bogs on Kynance Cliff

Path becoming a stream

Feeling stiff and already a bit weary, at just over 20 miles, I was in darkness as I hit Porthleven Sands. I pushed through the soft, tailing another runner, as we approached Loe Bar - this is where the beach becomes a sand bar, separating the sea from The Loe, a freshwater lake. In 2024, I reached this beach in daylight, but this year we had started an hour later. It was hard work keeping momentum across the long beach, with the sand giving way to every step, but I held pace with the other runner, and we didn't drop to a walk until we reached the concrete ramp at the far end.

Approaching Mullion Cove

Porthleven Sands, approach Loe Bar

There was a long section along the cliff top before reaching the houses on the edge of Porthleven, then a further stretch to get round to the town. Such were my struggles with fuelling and weariness that I had started feeling desperation for that first proper rest. Approaching 5 hours in and near to marathon distance, it wasn't unreasonable for the challenge to have begun, but it was the same point as last year, and worse. I could feel my emotions unravelling. I knew this was about food - it always is - but I hadn't managed to solve it better this time, even strictly following a plan. When I reached Claire, outside the marquee, I slumped against her, reduced to a sobbing wreck.

Leg 3: Porthleven - Penzance

Friday 1809hrs, 25 miles

Claire guided me into the tent, and without any free chairs available, we found a strip of cardboard I could collapse on to. She gathered some hot food and drink for me, meanwhile a videographer saw the opportunity to capture the reality of this challenge, and got some footage of my pathetic state for one of the video reels. As I expected, a plate of hot food and a drink was the fix. I also changed my sodden t-shirt and put on fresh socks, knowing that staying warm and avoiding blisters were key.

It was a slow start from the checkpoint. I was definitely into endurance pace, any feelings of freshness had long since departed, but this was familiar territory; I had to remind myself that it is not a linear experience, things would feel better later than now. The hostile weather had returned, with strong winds and driving rain. Having passed Trewavas Head, the route took me along the roads adjacent to Praa Sands. I passed Claire in a car park, and then had to persuade another runner to follow the flags rather than his GPS; whilst the original route involved clambering around the rocks and stream in front of the beach cafe, with the savage sea crashing into the front, I knew we couldn't be doing that today.

A few of us were running near to each other for an extended period after Praa. The trails were on mud, with no rock underneath to provide grip, and the rain shower had created a brown soup on top of the trails. It became really difficult to stay upright. I was shifting to the left or right of the trail to find some grippier grass, but still found myself sliding around. I didn't fall, but it was adding huge strain to my muscles and was exhausting. I paused briefly for a breather, letting some other runners through, but then hung on fairly closely, not wanting to drop off the pace. But my knee had become quite unhappy with what had probably been well over an hour of sliding around, and eventually I had to walk for a while, letting the other runners disappear off.

By the time I reached the concrete path approaching Marazion, I couldn't run at all. The rain was driving in hard, and big waves were causing spray over the front. I was feeling despondent; same old problem, and relatively early in the race. I couldn't do anything except hold a walk, knowing it was a long and very tedious section to Penzance - a concrete path between the railway and the sea. More and more runners passed me, checking I was ok. I wasn't, but there was no help that could be given, and I was moving.

Marazion, glancing out to St Michael's Mount

Having reached the edge of Penzance, it was still a horribly long and tedious walk to the checkpoint. By the time I reached it, soaked to the bone, I knew I was getting quite seriously cold. I was shivering hard when I walked in to the building, and while a volunteer got me food and drinks, I put on a dry t-shirt. I only had wet long-sleeved tops left, so I put on my insulated gilet and sat for a while to warm. It only partially worked. I'd had my knee elevated, but it was showing little improvement; the extended period walking on it had done damage.

I laboured the decision to leave the checkpoint. Despite experience of wet races and long runs, knowledge of my kit and carrying all the mandated layers, I wasn't coping with the conditions. I was reassured by having support nearby, but I still needed to be generating enough heat to stay warm. With all my layers and my insulated gilet on, I left the checkpoint, hoping that moving quicker would generate some heat, but within a few minutes I knew it wasn't working, so I turned back to the building to try to warm up more. I considered a sleep to help my knee - I was a long way ahead of the cutoffs - but the room with space available was too cold and I was too wet. The only way I could continue in the race was if I could run. I conferred with Claire, and we came up with a plan: I'd continue through Mousehole and Lamorna. If I stopped at either of those places, she would collect me; if I continued onward to the checkpoint at Porthcurno, she could assume I was back in the game, and she'd see me at Land's End.

Leg 4: Penzance - Porthcurno

Friday 2238 hrs, 40 miles

I'd arrived at Penzance behind my schedule, of course, but still 10 minutes within my estimated timing for a 30-hour effort. However, I'd spent a very long time at the checkpoint, so that margin had long gone. I had to write off any likelihood of a gold, and now I was unconvinced that a finish was possible. Having regretted my decision to pull out of 13 Valleys without exhausting every avenue, I was determined to give it all I had.

It was miserable plodding along the road at Mousehole. I was trying a slow jog, but frequently reverting to a walk because of my knee. The heavy rain and gusty winds continued. Eventually rejoining the trail, it became a whole lot more interesting, but not something I was able to enjoy in that state. I struggled my way over rocky sections, repeatedly letting others pass. It was no longer those running who were passing, but simply those managing a brisker walk. Up on Kemyel Cliff, I remembered the exposed section from last year, and knew I needed to take care. I was struggling to negotiate the rocks with my hurting knee, and didn't trust it a lot as I went across the narrow sections with a dangerous drop to the raging sea. This section was making it clear to me that not only was it unfeasible to cover another 55 miles, but the terrain wasn't going to let me get to the next checkpoint. I messaged Claire to meet me at Lamorna. I hobbled down to the bay, where a supporter vacated a little wooden booth so I could stay warm, as I waited to be collected. I delayed notifying race control until I was actually in the car but there was no hesitating over this decision, I was out.

DNF at Lamorna Cove

Epilogue

We headed for the Land's End checkpoint so I could get dry and warm and eat some food, as well as return my tracker. I wasn't feeling the same disappointment as 13 Valleys, perhaps because I'd tried everything I could to continue, and a little because the prospect of continuing was daunting and unpleasant - aside from my knee, having just experienced being very cold, it felt like a very long night to be traversing the cliffs around Land's End. Were I keeping warm and feeling strong, the prospect of a gold buckle achievement might have pulled me along, but limping to the finish wasn't my target.

Without a race finish since July, and 3 DNFs, it would be easy to get demoralised at this point. With just two months until the Northern Traverse, I could feel despair, but I don't. I've been making progress with the physio work, this was just an extreme test I wasn't ready for. Back to training, trust the process, and go again. 180 miles? Piece of cake.

Post-race

After a decent sleep at Land's End, we decided to tour along the second half of the route and back to the finish line. For anyone who made it through the harsh conditions of Friday night, or anyone running the Arc 50, they'd have enjoyed some far more moderate conditions through Saturday - the worst of the rain and winds were gone. I had to settle for enjoying a crab sandwich and a coffee in St Ives.