In January, I experienced a significant turning point in my life. While I’m generally not one for New Year resolutions, I do enjoy establishing goals and pushing my limits. So, when a running friend shared information about the Atlantic Coast Challenge at the exact moment I was contemplating new challenges, it felt serendipitous. Without overthinking it, I signed up on a whim, aware that pondering it further would likely deter me.
What Is The Atlantic Coast Challenge?
The Atlantic Coast Challenge is a multi-day ultramarathon event in Cornwall, organized by Votwo Events. Spanning three days, the challenge begins just outside Padstow, tracing the South West Coastal Path before culminating at Lands End. Participants can run, jog, hike, walk, or even crawl—whatever it takes to cover a marathon each day across challenging and uneven terrain, replete with steep climbs and descents. Remind me again why I thought this was a good idea?!
This is not an event you can simply join without preparation; it requires serious training and dedication. Prior to this, my longest run had been around 17 miles, but now I was looking at a total of 80 miles over three days. The reality of this hit hard, but it was still January, and the event was in October—I had time to get ready. I pushed thoughts of it aside for the immediate future. I maintained a routine of running 15-20 miles weekly and planned significant hikes to keep fit, so I wasn’t overly concerned.
As summer approached, my training intensified. I had already completed substantial hiking miles—trekking around the Isle of Wight with friends over three days and traversing the Serpent Trail earlier in the year—so my endurance was solid. However, I needed to focus on longer runs and incorporate back-to-back running sessions to acclimate to running on tired legs.
Yet, halfway through my training, I developed sciatica, which was a literal pain in my backside. At one point, I wasn’t even sure I’d make it to the starting line. But being my organized, control-oriented self, I took action. I consulted a physiotherapist (shout out to the incredible Body and Mind Physio in Petersfield!), started weekly Pilates, stretched daily, underwent a running gait analysis, did strength training, and made sure to rest while limiting prolonged sitting. Gradually, the sciatica improved, but my confidence waned as I had missed some long runs, making me unsure of my capability. With just weeks to go before the Atlantic Coast Challenge, my friends and I embarked on a 22-mile run/walk from Petersfield to Hayling Island, alternating between a mile of running and a mile of walking. This helped me build mileage while being gentle on my back, gradually restoring my confidence.
Prepared with the right training and gear, I had mentally steeled myself for the greatest challenge of my life. It was time to embrace Cornwall and get this done!
Day 1: Constantine Bay – Perranporth (26.2 miles)
We were lucky to have a wonderful house in Porthleven that belonged to friends of a friend, providing us with a comfortable base with many of the luxuries of home. When signing up for the Atlantic Coast Challenge, participants can opt for accommodations in a static caravan at St Ives Caravan Park, the event headquarters where daily registration occurs. However, I’d much prefer a warm, cozy house to sleep in—it’s the difference between traditional camping and glamping, and I know which side I’m on.
On race day, I woke at 5 a.m. to darkness outside, akin to that anxious feeling before an early flight—nervous and excited. But instead of heading to a tropical destination, I faced a daunting 26-mile run. Time to tackle this challenge!
Fortunately, I managed to get a good night’s rest, a minor miracle given my history of restless sleep in unfamiliar places before significant events. Admittedly, I did wake up around 3:18 a.m. to anxiety dreams about ruining my wedding dress, arriving late to the race, and my dog being devoured by piranhas—just the usual pre-race stress. But I fell back asleep until my 5 a.m. alarm.
I forced down some porridge and a decaf coffee—neither of which I was keen on—but I knew fueling up was essential. After several trips to the bathroom and meticulously packing my gear, I left the house by 6 a.m. to head to registration. At St Ives holiday park, we collected our bib numbers, GPS trackers, and listened to the day’s briefing—followed, of course, by yet another bathroom trip. Afterward, we drove about an hour to the starting point at Trevose Head lighthouse.
While I hadn’t participated in something of this scale before, I had taken part in a few half marathons and the Great South Run, so I wasn’t completely new to the scene. I anticipated a traditional start with a marquee, a start line, maybe a whistle, or a gunshot to signal the beginning. Instead, it was just a gathering and then off we went. The Atlantic Coast Challenge is less about racing than it is about completion—it’s a genuine challenge.
And we set off. The sun was shining, with no wind—a perfect day for a run. Yet, my mind was playing tricks on me. I often try to motivate myself, but fear and self-doubt crept in. I tended to overanalyze and worry about the enormity of the event, fixating not just on the day’s run or reaching the first checkpoint, but on the entire three-day experience and how far the finish line lay. I struggled to find my breath, felt nauseous, and couldn’t maintain my pace. I kept wondering how I’d manage the remaining miles feeling like this just six miles in!
Despite my apprehensions, I pressed on. After all, every step counts. Knowing the terrain to some extent, having spent time in Mawgan Porth on a previous family holiday, only amplified my anxiety—as it all felt so far away, especially Lands End. However, once I moved past Mawgan Porth, my mindset shifted, allowing me to embrace the run more. Walking up hills and running on flatter sections helped me establish a comfortable rhythm. The scenery was breathtaking, with picturesque beach coves and cheerful individuals cheering us on, exchanging friendly words. There was no rivalry among participants; everyone was supportive, encouraging us along the way.
Day 1 concluded on what felt like possibly the world’s longest beach. We got momentarily lost in sand dunes, but eventually reoriented ourselves and crossed the beach with the finish flag finally in sight. The reward for completing my first marathon was a warm bowl of homemade lentil and tomato soup. Initially hesitant to eat it, that first sip turned out to be a nurturing boost, exactly what I needed after the long run.
Day 1 Rundown
- Start – Constantine Bay
- Checkpoint 1 – Mawgan Porth
- Checkpoint 2 – Porth
- Checkpoint 3 – Crantock Beach
- Finish – Perranporth
Day 2: Chapel Porth – St Ives Holiday Park (26.2 miles)
I awoke on Day 2 feeling significantly more optimistic. Familiarity with the day’s journey lessened the element of surprise. Yes, I was sore, tired, and still apprehensive about my abilities, but I was resolved to do my best, knowing it would be enough.
Another early start awaited us, though we enjoyed a little more sleep since today’s starting site was closer. I slept wonderfully, aided by Kalms tablets and sheer exhaustion.
The bright, sunny day came with strong winds, and I lost count of how many times I had to hold onto my cap to prevent it from blowing away. I thought I had a clever solution by securing it with hair clips, but when I needed to remove a layer due to the heat, it became a hassle when my top wouldn’t go over my head with the hat still on. In that commotion, I managed to lose my buff—an invaluable piece of gear for any runner, serving multiple purposes. I quickly decided that I wouldn’t turn back to search for it; I wasn’t about to add mileage to an already long run. To my surprise, later on, a friend spotted it hanging on some railings, a reminder of how kind the running community can be.
Let’s talk about the checkpoints. Votwo ensured that each checkpoint was amply stocked—like a buffet! Snacks included jelly beans, mini cheddars, flapjacks, chocolate bars, peanuts, bananas, crisps, and sandwiches, alongside water, squash, and even hot drinks at some stops. However, my body had different ideas about what was palatable. I envisioned mini cheddars to be my go-to snack, but they felt like chalk in my mouth during the run, leaving me unable to chew and swallow properly. Jelly beans and flapjacks fared no better, and my jam sandwich was reminiscent of something awful from a school lunchbox. Ultimately, I determined that bananas and Twixes were my best options for sustenance, even though consuming them felt like an effort. Hydrating with plenty of water and electrolytes was crucial, and I’m pleased to say that post-race, my appetite returned with a vengeance!
A notable highlight of Day 2 was spotting seals at Godrevy—a delightful moment that lifted our spirits after a series of steep climbs known as the “three bitches.” We faced another seemingly endless beach, which truly felt like the longest in the world. The finish line was in sight, but we were misled by a detour that extended our route through an industrial estate before returning to the caravan park. It was physically exhausting and mentally taxing. Eventually, we reached the Day 2 finish point, greeted with a cup of pea and mint soup—a welcome relief after another grueling day.
Day 2 Rundown
- Start – Perranporth
- Checkpoint 1 – Chapel Porth
- Checkpoint 2 – Portreath
- Checkpoint 3 – Godrevy
- Checkpoint 3a – Hayle
- Finish – St Ives Holiday Park
Day 3: Lelant – Lands End (28.5 miles)
Day 3 arrived, marking the final marathon of the challenge. This was the day we had been building toward. After two exhausting days, we faced our longest run yet, all while battling rainy weather. Admittedly, we had been fortunate with the conditions until now, but this would certainly make the challenge more arduous. My legs were fatigued, my feet sore, and my toenails felt ravaged. The previous day, taking off my socks, I feared my toenails might come off with them; thankfully, they stayed intact, but their future remained uncertain.
We started early, and thank goodness we did because this day was incredibly tough. The rain overnight rendered the course nearly impassable, leading to significant issues with mud and slippery ground. Massive boulders blocked our path, necessitating some rather creative navigation, including sitting down to slide over them due to their size. To make matters worse, the first checkpoint was much farther away than the prior ones, which felt utterly demoralizing.
To emphasize just how challenging Day 3 was, a group of seasoned participants shared that this year’s conditions were the worst they’d ever encountered in their 15 years of running this event. It took us nearly six hours to reach the second checkpoint, almost as long as it took to finish the previous two days combined. Further assessment revealed that out of the 311 who signed up for Day 3, 164 didn’t complete it—highlighting the day’s extreme difficulty!
We careened into checkpoint 2 with only 20 minutes to spare until the cut-off time—adding immense pressure. It was, however, the best-stocked checkpoint, right on a rock amidst the rugged landscape. Those bananas and Twixes never tasted so good! Refueled, we needed to increase our pace since I was determined not to let a time cut-off determine my fate. As we pushed through the rain, taking in the breathtaking scenery with tin mines, rocky formations, and waterfalls, I felt an urgent need to reach the next checkpoint before the lighting diminished further.
By the skin of our teeth, we made it to checkpoint 3, earning the chance to continue. Onward we trudged.
Seeing Lands End in the distance was both a relief and a burden. Yes, it was finally visible, but the journey there still loomed large, lined with hills and coves that needed navigating before reaching the finish line. Not going to lie, it was mentally exhausting.
With sheer determination, I sprinted the last few hundred meters to the finish line, a sudden surge of energy flooding over me as immense relief washed away the fatigue. I was utterly spent—every muscle protested, and I felt as though I had aged decades. My shoes appeared on the brink of collapse, emanating a foul odor. Receiving my medal and a Cornish pasty was surreal. I had accomplished it—me, Bex Stafferton, just an ordinary mother from Hampshire who, after a spontaneous decision back in January, had tackled such a monumental challenge. Here I was, someone who typically dislikes the fuss of events and isn’t swayed by medals, now standing proudly at the finish.
Day 3 Rundown
- Start – Lelant
- Checkpoint 1 – Zennor
- Checkpoint 2 – Brandys (rock outcrop)
- Checkpoint 3 – Cape Cornwall
- Finish – Lands End
Post Race Reflections
Upon crossing the finish line, I vowed I would never again subject myself to such a grueling experience. It proved to be the most challenging endeavor of my life—it brought me to my knees. I’d sooner give birth ten times than go through that again. Yet here I am a week later, still sore with blackened toenails, contemplating what my next challenge might be. Running is strangely addictive. It’s almost miraculous that I’m able to run at all, considering I despised it as a child and believed I could never do it as an adult. Joining my local running group, the runnyhoneys, changed everything. I completed my first 5k with them, and the rest is history. I’m now a marathon and ultra runner, and I’ve even qualified as a run leader. It’s undeniable—I am indeed a runner!
And as for the sciatica? I worried needlessly. My back didn’t bother me at all while I was in Cornwall. If anything, the discomfort from the 80-mile challenge masked any lingering pain. Running so far became my underappreciated cure for sciatica!
So, what’s next? After indulging in plenty of rest and food, I might find myself convinced to sign up for something else. Having completed this extraordinary challenge, I feel I could conquer the world. If I can endure something this demanding while battling thoughts of surrender, then I believe there’s nothing I cannot achieve. But for now, maybe I’ll just prioritize more resting and feasting!
Author Bio
Becky Stafferton is a dedicated content creator, web publisher, and blogging coach. Her mission is to promote a realistic, sustainable, and positive image of healthy living. When she’s not writing, she enjoys running through muddy trails, making endless to-do lists, sharing amusing anecdotes with her dog, renovating her countryside home, and guiding others in monetizing their blogs.