Well don't ask how I came to sign up for this race, it had been a desire of mine for many a year to ‘have a go’ at the Spartathlon. In the beginning, as Greek mythology tells it, in 490 BC- Pheidippides (an Athenian messenger) was sent by his Generals, from Athens to Sparta to secure help for the reinforcement of the Athenian forces against the Asiatic incursion. Pheidippides arrived in Sparta on the very next day of his departure from Athens, 36 hours later in fact.

Many years later in 1982 to be precise, a British RAF Wing commander "Mr. John Foden" ( a lover of Greece, and a student of Greek history) wondered if modern man could run the 256kms from Athens to Sparta in 36 hours. Thus he and four other colleagues set off from Athens to run the distance to Sparta, finishing at the statue of King Leonidas some 36 hours later and A MAGNIFICENCE EVENT WAS BORN. It was today in 2004 that was my concern. As my wife and I were flying out to Athens from Birmingham, thoughts of brave Paula Radcliffe and her agonising end in the Olympic marathon came flooding back to me. It was the heat and the terrain that put paid to her brave effort on the 26 mile run- I had to endure that for almost 153 miles "non-stop!!” As we booked into our hotel, the nervous anticipation became stronger. As I registered at the race HQ those damn butterflies were break-dancing in my stomach. My wife kept reassuring me that "at least I was having a go, and whatever the outcome-I would still be her hero" (Bless her).

Runners from all over the world were present, some who had finished the gruelling run many, many times and some whom had tried many times, but had not experienced the joy off reaching the finish in Sparta. The race was just a day away, and I tried to look relaxed- not bothered, undaunted, but my wife could see right through me and did her best to calm me on the eve of this race. We had met John Foden, the man who had started this event many years ago, and as my wife was worried about driving in Greece, John offered to take her to Sparta in his car, before driving back out to show support to the runners that were still in the race. The day before the race was spent ‘chilling out’ in the roof-top swimming pool of our hotel, and admiring the views of Glyfada from the roof top garden and bar. I went through the programme of events again and again. The organizers had really put on a week of special programmes for all runners, ranging from meals to coach trips. As runners were from all over the world, it was a great way to get to know other competitors and as the week wore on, the language barrier disappeared as we all communicated a lot better than we did at the beginning of the week. So, Thursday evening I had packed all my kit into the boxes allocated for each checkpoint along the way, these items would be there waiting for me at my preferred points of the race. My drinks bottles, energy gels, extra vest and shorts, and just in case, an extra pair of shoes (which I didn’t need anyway). I had spent a few hours in my hotel room plotting what I would need and where, this job was usually done by my mates at Sneyd Striders- and boy did I need them now!! As I agonized over what to have where on in the race, the nerves started kicking in even stronger- dare I imagine that I would reach checkpoint 72 ( some 6 mile from the finish in Sparta).

After doing all I could in my pre-race preparation, I went to bed, only to get about three hours sleep, I had never felt like this before, never had I felt so worried about anything in my life. Had I done the right training? Had I done too much, or not enough training? The thoughts went through my mind repeatedly as I tried to get to sleep, as I say I did manage about three hours sleep in the end. Friday morning, oh boy, I ate very little breakfast, I just wanted to get this over and done with and hopefully be successful. John Foden, being the great man he is, inspired me to think I'd give it my best and the man himself wished me success. He didn’t wish me luck, as he said "A man like you doesn’t need luck, so I wish you success.” His words helped ease the nerves. I slowly took my place on the coach that was taking us to the Acropolis and the start of this great journey.  As we made our way there, I still kept wondering if I had the strength and endurance to make the whole distance. At the start there was a massive crowd, T.V. crews, and other media were there to capture the beginning of an epic race The Japanese runners had their own TV crew following them, as Ultra running is huge over Japan, as is the SPARTATHLON.

My Wife waved me on my way as the race began and we set of bound for Sparta, my plan was to do just enough to get me through this race within the time limit, so I was horrified to find that within the first mile I WAS IN FIFTH PLACE !! Easing back on the pace, I allowed the lead runners to disappear into the distance and I ran at a good but sensible pace However, at certain points of the race it was so easy to let yourself get carried away, as passing cars would sound their horns in admiration and crowds of onlookers would cheer you on. The more they cheered, the faster you would find yourself running. The first day was hot and humid, but it was bearable to run in. I just wanted to get the first day over with and then plan to run a little faster in the cool night air. The course was surrounded by stunning views, and lots of hills, one huge hill was to take us over the Corinth canal,  my thoughts of the race at this point was how strong the camaraderie was between all runners even though we were from different countries, it made this race more special. I was helped to pace myself by the information boards at each checkpoint, these had the checkpoint number, the time it closed, the distance to the next checkpoint, and the time that one would be closing- so I ‘passed the time’ by estimating how long it would take me to reach each checkpoint ( silly ,I know). Now this race was one of which runners would pass each other over and over again, so it was no surprise that I bumped into two other British runners; John and Jackson. These guys were great, and enjoying every step of the race.

However, Jackson had felt the need to retire from the race after battling an injury for some distance. John had passed me on a huge hill , of which I could see him in the distance, but couldn’t catch up with him, he was going well, really well. I caught up with him in a village, only because the local children had thrust pens and paper in front of us asking for our autographs, we felt really honoured being asked for our autographs, this signified just how much respect this event commands for each competitor. As the evening drew on, we did run together which was great company for us both, and we passed some time discussing anything and everything.

However, the hills got steeper and longer, John had got us to adopt a ‘run, walk’ up these steep climbs, but he was so much stronger than me on the climbs, my plan to run a little quicker through the night when it will be cooler, was thwarted by the continuous uphill plod!  As we approached the 100-mile stage of the race, we realised that we had to climb over "Mount Sangor", a steep and rocky uphill straggle that seemed endless. However, the view from the top was well worth the climb , I say the view from the top, it was early hours of Saturday morning and lit up only by the light from the moon- but the lights in the distance that were from towns and villages made a stunning kaleidoscope of colours.  As the day broke, we were becoming fed up with the food that was available to us at the checkpoints, not the organizers fault, as you can imagine- we were craving something different, "Any chance of a bag of chips"? The support from the checkpoints were fantastic, these folks couldn’t do enough for us runners, but as I was finding it hard to digest food, I was feeling a little weaker than I should- so I started chomping on sugar cubes, this disgusted some runners, "How can you eat sugar cubes?" They asked. It gave me the fuel I needed to get me through what was to be a bad patch, and more importantly, I got my appetite back and was eating normally again.

Alas, John was not so fortunate, he had not felt too well for quite some time, and told me to go on ahead; he would catch up with me if he could recover. From now on, I was on my own, having to get my head around the fact that there were still another forty four miles to go before I got to Sparta, and the finish at King Leonidas statue. I was still able to motivate myself by thinking of Sneyd Striders and imagining them cheering me on from checkpoint to checkpoint. I ran alone for quite some time, with a line of runners behind me in the distance, but alas, a line of runners in the distance ahead of me too!

The second day (Saturday) was to be just as hot as the previous day. I had discarded my running hat some hours earlier ( to my regret, and my wife's disgust), the heat was taking effect, my face was red with sunburn, in fact it was so bad that officials at each checkpoint were sponging my face and head with cold water even though I never asked them to. I was still timing myself between each checkpoint, and was keeping a good thirty minutes ‘cushion’ all the way. I had the thought that I was doing just enough to make it all the way within the time limit of 36 hours. However, I hit yet another steep hill, so I walked up it, only to find that man- John Foden  ( the one and only) waiting at the next checkpoint. He was quick to point out that time was going to against me. If I didn’t pluck up the courage to run up part of these hills- in fact the hill (mountain more like) that I was planning to walk up, had a steep uphill climb that went on for 9 km. " Walk for that long Glyn and time will slip past you, and you may get to the last checkpoint ,only to find it closed and yourself out of the race." John said. "NO WAY, NO WAY, I ouldn’t get that near to the finish then be timed out. So now I was on a mission, I Would reach Sparta and in the time limit too, or I'd die doing it- so I ran, then marched, then ran then marched up each agonising hill for the next 9km, and the one after that ( about 5km). With about 20 miles to the finish, I was unaware that the line of runners behind had, one by one failed to reach certain checkpoints in the allotted times, therefore they were pulled out of the race. So the runners behind were getting smaller in numbers as each checkpoint passed, in fact by now I lost all sense of time and reality, just trying to focus on the road ahead. At this time, John Foden pointed out that I was last but one in the race, and needed to find something, anything from somewhere and quick! I kept saying to myself "I don't want to be last, not last to finish", now bear in mind that there were 140 or more runners who had quit a long time ago, so to reach the finish in whatever position would be an achievement anyway, but this did not suffice. So I went into a near sprint with about 6 miles to go from the finish. I was passing runners who looked at me surprised, they were on their last legs, but I, it seemed, had got a new pair from somewhere. John Foden jumped with delight, " Go for it Glyn, go for it." he shouted from a checkpoint that I was running past. I ran into Sparta with an escort of kids on mountain bikes, and a convoy of cars behind me, as no-one tried to pass me (a mark of respect for a weary runner).

Cars horns blasted, police sirens wailed as to inform the waiting crowd at the finish of my approach. All of a sudden, I could see the statue of King Leonidas, right in front of me. I sprinted, even though my legs were screaming in pain and the closer I got, the faster I ran, sprinting up the few steps to the monument with the cheers of the huge crowds ringing in my ears. I touched the statue of King Leonidas signalling that I had completed my aim of running the whole of this gruelling run. People were even hanging out of windows to cheer my achievement. Two young girls dressed as Greek Goddess’s were on hand to crown me with my ‘olive wreath’ and give me water from the Evrotas River. What a feeling, I had finished in a time of 35 hours and 24 minutes, not a record-breaking time at the least, but I had endured the most punishing hills and mountains. Lets face it 153 miles flat would be gruelling, but over this terrain it was tough, then the heat- need I go on? But I had followed in the steps of an ancient messenger, a modern day Pheiddides if you like, as some would say .... all that finish can claim with pride that they are- ALMOST A GOD .