Rat Race, The Wall: My First Ultra, My First DNF, and The Return

Merrily running along on the second attempt at Race Race the Wall.

In 2016, I found myself at the start line of my first ultra marathon, not out of grand ambition, but almost by accident.

I had purchased a Rat Race season pass that year, back when they offered access to all their events for a single fee. My calendar quickly filled with adventure races, obstacle course races, and epic challenges across the country. But The Wall, with its imposing 70-mile route along Hadrian’s Wall, wasn’t originally on my hit list. I was a 26-mile (MAX) OCR girl, not someone who casually signed up for ultras.

The Accidental Commitment

The decision to do The Wall wasn’t exactly strategic. A few months before the race, the guy I was dating and two of our friends brought it up in conversation, saying they fancied giving it a go. It was already included in my pass, so I figured, “Why not? What is the worst that can happen?”.

I told myself it would be fine. After all, we had 24 hours to complete it. In my mind, walking 70 miles sounded perfectly doable. No time pressure, no need to run. It was the ultimate way to dip my toe into the ultra world.

Training… or Lack Thereof

I didn’t train for The Wall in any specific way. I was racing almost every weekend, OCRs, Rat Race events, marathons, and other endurance challenges, so I leaned heavily on my general fitness base. One of my friends who was doing the event said she planned to walk the entire event. So, in solidarity, myself, Nathan, and Robin agreed to do the same. We’d walk the whole thing. Seventy miles of walking? Easy.

Looking back, that mindset was mistake number one.

Race Day 2016: Blissful Ignorance

The Wall begins in Carlisle and tracks east across some of the UK’s most historic and scenic terrain, ending in Newcastle. It’s a fully supported, waymarked journey designed to be achievable at 3mph, with a finish rate over 90%. In theory, the perfect first ultra.

The four of us arrived at the start line early, joking and laughing. I felt relaxed, unnervingly so. This was going to be a long day out with friends, taking selfies, eating snacks, and walking through the countryside. I remember watching others doing proper warm-ups, stretching, and clearly mentally preparing. Meanwhile, we lined up near the back, grinning. When people asked about our strategy, we just said, “Oh, we’re walking the whole thing!” as if it were a badge of honour.

The gun went off, and the serious ultra-runners trotted away. We ambled over the line with huge smiles and absolutely no clue how hard this was going to be.

All very chipper at the start line

The First Miles: High Hopes and Group Selfies

The early miles were, honestly, lovely. Gentle country lanes, sunshine, good company. We were warned that walking might risk missing the cut-offs, but we brushed it off. We were out to enjoy ourselves and that is what power walking was for.

I do remember the odd urge to run. Watching the herd move ahead triggered my competitive streak, but I resisted. Physically, mentally, we were fine. Spirits were high, we took selfies every mile to commemorate the mile and spur us on, we chatted and sang, we were having a grand old time.

One of the many selfies taken at each mile. Here we ended up with the sweeper for the race walking with us.

At mile 12, things started to shift. Kayla, one of our four, began doubting herself. She told us she didn’t think she’d finish but would go as far as she could. This was the first crack in the ranks when we figured out that perhaps we had all bitten off more than we could chew. However, we were still enjoying ourselves, especially at the pit stops. Rat Race pit stops were an event in themselves. Jam-packed with food, drinks, and cheery volunteers,  these were a highlight and a huge morale boost. I remember scoffing sandwiches every few miles, delighted at the spread.

The Middle Miles: Cracks Begin to Show

By mile 16, Kayla officially bowed out. She planned to rejoin us later at a major pit stop around mile 45. I felt sad and abandoned. We’d walked with her (even though she had not asked us to) made the whole race about solidarity, and she’d left us. I was hangry at the time, which didn’t help, but I reminded myself I wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for these friends and that forcing people to carry on is not exactly supportive! We all gave Kalya a hug and vowed to see her later on in the event, where she could rejoin us.

So the remaining three of us, Nathan, Robin and I picked up the pace, alternating between power-walking and jogging, aware that we were cutting it quite fine to the cut-off points. We noticed the lack of Kayla's sense of humour and personality for the next few miles, she was missed.

And then there were three.

Hadrian’s Wall was stunning, and the sunny weather made it even more magical.

Halfway.

However, seeing the halfway sign was a bit of an eye opener, we had been going for hours and we were only half way, I was a little bit shocked. I was tired now, mentally from being out for so long rather than physically and to be perfectly honest, I was bored with walking on roads and paths.

The Night Shift: The Unravelling Begins

Around mile 45, we reunited with Kayla. That checkpoint had hot food, a place to change, and suddenly everything felt possible again. I pulled on warm clothes, devoured hot food, and was ready to crush the night leg. We scoffed down all the food, changed into our warm kit and I was reborn, we COULD do this! The four of us went off singing as we walked, catching Kayla up on the miles she had missed, glad to have our teammate back. However, spirits started to dwindle as the night crept in.

At mile 50, things got quiet. Three of us had been out for so long now, and the night brought a creeping chill and silence.

By mile 55, Kayla dropped again. This time for good. Her absence was a blow, she’d brought a lot of energy and sass. And now we were truly entering the night shift with over half a marathon left to go.

Reunited with Kayla and night gear on, ready to go!

Selfies every mile continued well into the night

Robin began cramping badly. We got into a dangerous rhythm: walk, stretch, walk, stop, stretch. We weren’t moving fast enough anymore. Our bodies were cooling down. Mentally, we were also beginning to stop with our bodies now trundling at a glacial pace. At one point, I had a panic attack, a total shock. I’d never had one before. Nathan talked me through it, calmed me down, and we carried on. However, it was clear that I was beginning to struggle with being out this long.

At mile 60, Robin could go no further from cramp setting in. He insisted Nathan and I leave him behind.

The Final Blow

Nathan and I ploughed on, determined to cross the finish line, but also dreaming of sleep. Trundling through the dead of night with our head torches lighting up the floor in front of us was no longer an adventure. Walking, stretching, walking, stretching, trying to relieve the pain from our legs pounding the tarmac all day.

I was not happy. I was hungry again, and I wanted to sleep. It turns out I am not a nice person when both these things need attention, and I am unprepared!

At mile 65 nathan and I stopped at the last check point and food stop. We made the critical mistake of sitting down. I remember holding that warm cup of soup like it was treasure. We were tired but still optimistic, 5 miles left, we could walk it in a couple of hours. Then Nathan tried to stand up. And collapsed into the chair with excruciating cramps.

“Have you had any salt today?” The station medic asked.

“No, is that a thing?” I asked, totally clueless.

It is a thing, a vital thing. Without enough salt, your body cramps and eventually shuts down. That was exactly what was happening to Nathan, and beginning to happen to me.

We sat for a few minutes, hoping that Nathan's cramp would pass. He urged me to go on without him once he realised he was not finishing. However, he had helped me through my panic attack, and I felt obliged to help him now. I sat and waited with him, trying to keep spirits high, and then I went to stand up to get some more biscuits…my calf cramped.

The Decision to Stop

We didn’t get pulled. Our bodies just said “no.”

The cramp, the exhaustion, the cold… it all compounded. We were done.

I felt furious and looked for somewhere to shift the blame to. First, I blamed Kayla for us walking the first few miles (ridiculous, I know). Then I blamed Nathan for getting cramp (ridiculous, I know!). Then, finally, I turned inward. I had underestimated the challenge, disrespected the distance, and thought fitness alone would carry me through.

As we were driven to the finish line in a minibus, I sat quietly watching the Newcastle lights twinkle on the horizon. I was upset, yes. But I was already planning to return.

Sleeping in the Barracks: Post-Race Reflections

We arrived at the finish location, a navy barracks,  and unrolled sleeping bags in the sports hall. It felt like the most comfortable floor I’d ever laid on.

I stared at the ceiling for a while, thoughts whirring. Despite the DNF, I’d had fun for the most part, laughing and joking with friends in the sun. I’d also been introduced to the world of ultras. I’d learned about salt tablets (now a staple), fueling, pacing, and most importantly, respect for events.

I needed to take these trinkets of knowledge and learn from them to ensure this didn’t happen again.

“We live and learn”, I thought to myself as Nathan snored gently next to me.

Redemption: The Wall 2017

Robin and I made a pact a few weeks after: we’d be back in 2017, and we’d finish it properly.

We trained smarter, if not necessarily harder. I had the Great Wall of China Marathon on my radar, so I was running more races and racking up higher mileage which made training a bit easier. I was also a bit more au faut with different events and the imprtance of specific training after all the events that had gone wrong in 2016.

At the start line in 2017, I wasn’t cocky, I was focused. We ran the early parts, knowing we needed to bank time before the night shift created the mental dip. We took salt tablets in the searing heat, fuelled regularly, and avoided the stretching trap that had killed us before.

Unlike 2016, we were surrounded by other runners, chatting, laughing, and helping each other along. We weren’t isolated. We were in it. We were going to finish.

Having a great time pretending to be proper ultra runners.

Crossing the Line

There was no drama. No panic. Just a steady, relentless push forward.

When we reached that final checkpoint where Nathan and I had stopped the year before, Robin and I didn’t sit. We grabbed food and kept moving.“Robin, do not sit down!” I chuckled, but also being deadly serious. “This is were it all ended last year and we can’t come back a third year”

Crossing the finish line in Newcastle felt surreal. Emotional in so many ways (probably because it was near midnight!) but it felt incredible to overcome something that had battered me the year before. I had redeemed my DNF and no longer felt like a failure.

Finishing the Wall ultra 2017

Reflections on My First Ultra (and First DNF)

These two years taught me more than I could’ve imagined:

• Resilience is earned.

• Pacing is everything.

• Fueling and salts matter more than you'd ever think.

• Ego has no place in ultras.

• Failure is a teacher, not a verdict.

To the 2016 version of me? I’d say: “Don’t be so cocky. Respect the challenge. But also, don’t beat yourself up. That race taught you exactly what you needed to know to come back and finish strong.”

Advice for First-Time Ultra Runners (and DNF Survivors)

1. Respect the distance. Even if it's “walkable,” it’s not easy.

2. Train for time on feet, not just distance.

3. Salt is your friend. Use electrolyte tabs or salt capsules in heat.

4. Stay moving. Don’t sit for long at aid stations.

5. Mindset is everything. Your brain will want to quit before your legs do.

6. Learn from your DNFs. They’re not failures, they’re education.

7. Surround yourself with the right people. Supportive teammates can lift you when the miles drag. Appreciate that you will also be called upon to help and support them in return.

8. Fuel properly, early and often. Don’t wait until you’re hungry.

9. Don’t compare. Everyone’s journey through ultras is personal.

10. You can always come back. And when you do, it’ll mean even more.

Running The Wall was the start of a journey I never expected. It humbled me, taught me, broke me down, and built me back up stronger. If you’re reading this because you're facing your first ultra, or your first DNF,  know this: you are not alone. Sometimes things just don’t go to plan, but failures do not define us, they make us stronger. Chances are there were a few lessons you needed to learn like me!

Remember to have FUN!