Training for the race varies wildly between competitors. Bettinson’s longest run in the build-up to his victory was a mere 12 miles; Foyster “did a lot of fast walking”; Cormack, who was scared of the dark as a child, favoured night-time runs; and Baxter attempted to simulate the boredom with lengthy treadmill sessions or by running up and down a one-mile stretch of road. He managed 48 of them one day.
Eating and drinking strategies are equally individual, but, given that runners burn about 20,000 calories during the course of the race, hunger triumphs over health. Dentists and doctors, look away now.
Pizzas, chocolate, cake and flat cola fuelled Foyster for nigh on 55 hours. Baxter polished off tube after tube of salt and vinegar crisps, all eaten on the move to save time. Jam sandwiches, flapjacks and Pot Noodles – “they really hit the spot” – kept Newton going. Raffan tucked into supermarket meal deals and butteries – a “really dense, stodgy” Scottish pastry – but describes cold custard as his “secret weapon”. Persson’s menu of quiche, sausage rolls and overnight oats seems positively gourmet by comparison.
Bettinson is powered by a concoction of Lucozade, pineapple juice and beetroot juice. He also liquifies food and puts it in baby pouches “so it’s easy to get down”. Because it is impossible to replace the energy you are burning, his plan is “fuel early and then cling on”.
As the saying goes, what goes in must come out, although most runners visibly wince when they remember a toilet situation that Newton laughingly describes as “a disgrace”.
Bettinson says: “The first time I did the Tunnel it was a little chemical kiddy loo that you’d take camping. It was in a half-collapsed tent with a broken zip. Mark deliberately put it in a puddle, so you had to get your feet wet just to get inside it, and after the first 50 miles it was like a festival loo – you had to hover over the top.”
Even if runners can cope with the boredom, darkness and sleep deprivation, pounding tarmac for longer than some weekend breaks last takes an immense physical toll.
“Of course your legs will hurt – you’re running 200 miles. What did you think was going to happen?” says Mauduit, a man whose CV also features winning a Deca Ironman – a triathlon consisting of a 23-mile swim, 1,118-mile bike ride and a 262-mile run.
“Everything after 20 miles involves pain,” says Bettinson, who admits that theory was tested when his hips were in “absolute agony” 100 miles in. “Anyone can get round it – you just have to want to.”
Newton’s approach veers towards the spiritual. “In a weird way, if you run through excruciating pain it doesn’t hurt any more,” he says, with the caveat that this approach doesn’t always translate to his partner Anna. “She’s worried I’m going to die. She has seen me in a bad state – sometimes it has been a bit messy.”
Cockbain has this advice: “The feeling of wanting to give up doesn’t last – if you put something in its place.”
Runners know better than to expect sympathy from Cockbain, whose stable of events also includes an unsupported 300-mile run from Hull to the south coast as well as a race where pairs of runners in boiler suits are chained together and have 24 hours to cover as much ground as possible. You can sense the disappointment in his voice when he recalls how The Hill, which involved climbing up and down a hill in the Peak District 55 times – equating to 160 miles – in 48 hours had to be scrapped after the pub which doubled as the checkpoint closed down.
Perhaps Bettinson sums up Cockbain best: “Mark has a motivational speech at the start of his races: ‘If you’re going too slow, speed up.'”
Baxter, a 51-year-old from Norfolk who spent 12 years in the Army and now drives lorries for a living, turned an ankle during his second attempt at the Tunnel. “It came up like an egg. I sat down for 20 minutes and I was going to quit. Mark said, ‘A twisted ankle never killed anyone’ and told me to carry on. It taught me a lot. Once I got to 150 miles I knew I was going to finish.”
Individual motivation comes in different forms, but a common thread among finishers is the time, energy and money they have invested in a race that often few people outside their close circle of family and friends know about. Nobody gets into ultra-running for the glory, least of all those taking part in Cockbain’s events.
“My wife is handling all the family by herself, working and having no fun,” says Mauduit, who rode his motorbike from Paris to take part in the Tunnel. “I’m having this five-day vacation so I should do something good with that.”
Bettinson flips the question on its head. “My why for being there is I chose to be there. I’ve paid the money, I’ve done the training, I’ve turned up. Why on earth wouldn’t I finish?”
Foyster, meanwhile, does it for the sheep. Having grown particularly fond of the animals during endurance adventures such as running the width of the UK or cycling the length of it, she now uses ultra-marathons to help raise funds for a sheep sanctuary in Lincolnshire.
“When I was struggling in the Tunnel, my friend sent me videos of the sheep. I’m thinking of them at the tough times,” she says. “Some people ask me if I have a coach. I say my coach is a sheep called Bella.”