Preparing for Your Occupational Health Assessment

Back in January, I had a significant “why not” moment. I’m typically not one for New Year’s resolutions, but I enjoy setting goals and pushing my limits. So, when a running pal suggested the Atlantic Coast Challenge on our WhatsApp group, right as I was thinking about challenging myself, it was as if the universe was sending me a sign. I immediately signed up, driven by a spur-of-the-moment decision, knowing that if I hesitated, I’d likely back out.

What Is The Atlantic Coast Challenge?

The Atlantic Coast Challenge is a multi-day ultra marathon event in Cornwall, organized by Votwo Events. Spanning three days, the route begins near Padstow, tracing the South West Coastal Path, and concludes at Lands End. You can run, jog, hike, walk, or even crawl if need be—essentially, it’s a marathon a day over wild, scenic terrains with numerous elevations in between. Why did I decide to do this again!?

This isn’t an event you can just show up for without preparation. You need serious training and commitment. The longest I’d ever run was about 17 miles. This challenge would be 80 miles over three days. Things just got very real. But hey, it was January, and the event was in October, so I had time. I somewhat put it aside, though it lingered in my thoughts. I was running 15-20 miles weekly and had some major hikes scheduled, so I wasn’t overly concerned.

As summer approached, my training intensified. I’d already tackled significant hiking miles, having embarked on a three-day hike around the Isle of Wight and traversed the Serpent trail over the year, so my endurance was in good shape. But I needed to enhance my long-distance running, which meant increasing my weekend runs and eventually introducing consecutive runs to adapt to running with tired legs.

Halfway through training, I frustratingly developed sciatica. It was literally a pain in the behind. There was a moment when I questioned if I’d even reach the start line. However, I tackled it head-on, being the organized person I am. I scheduled visits to a physio (big thanks to Body and Mind Physio in Petersfield!), began weekly Pilates, did twice-daily stretches, underwent a running gait analysis, engaged in strength exercises, took breaks, and avoided sitting for extended periods. Gradually, the sciatica eased, but my confidence had dipped. I’d missed long runs and doubted my ability to cover such distances. But I wouldn’t know unless I tried. So, with just weeks to go until the Atlantic Coast Challenge, two friends and I who were also participating decided to run/walk from Petersfield to Hayling Island, covering a total of 22 miles. We alternated between running a mile and walking a mile, which proved effective—a way to clock miles and time on our feet while being gentle on my back and rebuilding my confidence.

I’d completed the training, gathered all my gear, and mentally prepared for the toughest challenge I’d ever faced. This was it. Ready as I’d ever be. Cornwall, here we come!

Day 1: Constantine Bay to Perranporth (26.2 miles)

We fortunately stayed at a lovely Porthleven house owned by friends of a friend, providing us a great base, comfy beds, and home comforts. Participants can choose to stay in a static caravan at St Ives Caravan Park, the event HQ and registration spot each morning. But honestly, a warm, comfy house wins every time. It’s the difference between camping and glamping, and I know my preference.

On race day, I woke at 5 am. It was dark, and I felt like I do when waking early for an airport trip—a mix of nausea and anticipation. But instead of jetting to a tropical locale, I faced 26 miles. It was time to get it done!

Surprisingly, I’d slept well, a miracle since I usually sleep poorly in unfamiliar beds before big events, which worried me. Despite waking at 3:18 am from anxiety dreams about wedding dress stains, being late for the race, and my dog being eaten by piranhas, I managed to fall back asleep until my 5 am alarm.

After forcing down some porridge and decaf coffee that I didn’t want but knew I needed, I had countless bathroom breaks, packed and double-checked my kit, and left at 6 am for registration. Registration took place at St Ives holiday park, where we received our bib numbers, GPS trackers, listened to the day’s briefing, and of course, squeezed in another bathroom trip. Afterward, we drove about an hour to the starting point, Trevose Head lighthouse.

I’d participated in a few half-marathons and the Great South Run, so I wasn’t entirely new to running events. I expected some sort of starting signal—a marquee, a whistle or gun shot—something to indicate the start. But there was nothing, just turn up and go. That’s how the Atlantic Coast Challenge rolls; it’s a challenge, not a race. It’s not about the time, but about completing it.

Off we went. With the sun shining and no wind, it was a perfect running day. But my mind was playing games. I’m prone to this—overthinking, catastrophizing, wondering “what if”—and I fixated on the event’s enormity. I couldn’t focus on that day’s run or the first checkpoint; my mind was on the whole three-day distance, and it was overwhelming. I couldn’t get my breathing steady, felt nauseous, and my pace was erratic. If I felt this way in the first 6 miles, how would I survive the rest?

But I kept moving—every step counts. My mindset began shifting after passing through Mawgan Porth. I relaxed into the run, walking the hills and running the flats to find my rhythm. The scenery was breathtaking with beach coves and charming bays, and the people were friendly. There was no competition among runners; they’d say something encouraging as they passed, or run alongside for a chat. Even the public cheered us on and helped if we looked lost.

Day 1 ended on what felt like the world’s longest beach. We got briefly lost in the dunes but soon found our way and trekked across the beach, the finish flag barely visible in the distance. The reward at the end was a delicious homemade lentil and tomato soup, which I wasn’t sure I could eat but instantly revived me, like a life-giving elixir.

Day 1 Rundown

• Start: Constantine Bay
• Checkpoint 1: Mawgan Porth
• Checkpoint 2: Porth
• Checkpoint 3: Crantock Beach
• Finish: Perranporth

Day 2: Chapel Porth to St Ives Holiday Park (26.2 miles)

I awoke on Day 2 feeling much more positive. I knew what to expect, reducing the unknowns. While I was aching and tired, with lingering doubts about finishing, I resolved to give it my best, and that was enough.

Another early rise, though we had an extra half hour in bed, as today’s start wasn’t as far away. I slept well again, partly thanks to taking Kalms tablets but also because I was utterly exhausted.

It was a sunny, yet very windy day. I kept grabbing my cap to prevent it from blowing away. I thought clipping it to my hair was genius but removing a layer of clothing became a hassle as my shirt wouldn’t go over my head with the hat attached. In the process, I somehow lost my buff. Runners know the value of a buff for warmth, sweat, and as a tissue. When my nose began running, I realized it was gone, but I wasn’t retracing my steps to find it or adding any distance. To my surprise, several miles later, my friend spotted it hanging on some railings. Someone had thoughtfully picked it up, carried it ahead, and left it for me. A small gesture, but it made me smile.

Checkpoints

Votwo ensured each checkpoint was well-stocked with a variety of snacks: jelly beans, mini cheddars, flapjacks, chocolate bars, peanuts, bananas, crisps, sandwiches, and drinks like water, squash, cola, and even hot drinks at some. Yet, my body had other plans. Mini cheddars, which worked perfectly in training, felt unbearably dry and inedible. Jelly beans and flapjacks met the same fate. The jam sandwich was even worse, reminiscent of a kid’s lunchbox relic—stale and unpalatable. Through trial, bananas and Twixes emerged as the most manageable, forming my ‘lunch’ over two days. I wanted to eat more, but my stomach resisted, and I struggled to consume even the bananas and Twixes. However, I stayed hydrated, with electrolytes in my bottles, which seemed sufficient (post-race, my appetite has returned with a vengeance, compensating for lost calories!).

The day’s highlight was spotting seals at Godrevy, a much-needed boost after the brutal ‘3 bitches’—three vertical climbs with waist-high steps, back to back and relentless. Another expansive beach awaited. I retract yesterday’s claim about the longest beach; today’s 4km stretch dwarfed it, especially with the finish line in sight yet deceptive. A sneaky additional checkpoint added extra distance—past the finish line, through an industrial and housing estate, then back into the caravan park from the main entrance. Physically grueling. Mentally punishing. We trudged up what seemed like the longest driveway to finally reach the day’s end, greeted with pea and mint soup. Two days down, one to go.

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 to Lands End (28.5 miles)

Day 3. The final push. The longest distance awaited. We embarked with cumulative marathon fatigue. And it was raining. We’d been fortunate with weather until now, but this added challenge doubled today’s difficulty. The route became treacherously slippery, akin to mud skiing with walking poles. Massive boulder fields required awkward crawls and slides. Moreover, the first checkpoint was 16-17k away—all others were spaced about 10k apart—utterly soul-destroying.

For context, a group of older veteran participants, with one member who had completed the race 15 times, claimed these conditions were the worst ever. It took us 6 hours just to reach checkpoint 2, nearly as long as the entirety of previous days. Reviewing results afterward, we found that out of 311 sign-ups on day 3, 164 didn’t finish. That’s how challenging it was!

We reached checkpoint 2 with 20 minutes before cutoff—our closest shave. Snacks and drinks consumed, we pushed forward. No way would a cutoff time be my downfall. We pressed on through rain, focused on making checkpoint 3 before cutoff time; the final stretch was too dangerous in dim light.

Barely making checkpoint 3’s cutoff, we were allowed to proceed. So, onward we trudged.

Seeing Lands End was a double-edged sword—relief it was near, frustration at the daunting remaining distance with hills and coves ahead. Mentally exhausting.

Summoning a burst of energy, I managed to run the last few hundred meters, overwhelming relief washing over me as I finished. I was utterly spent. Everything ached, I felt and looked 30 years older, and my shoes were on their last legs with an appalling stench. Receiving my medal and a Cornish pasty was surreal. I’d done it. Me, Bex from Hampshire, who impulsively entered this grand challenge in January. Usually uninterested in events and medals, sofa-loving. Yet here I was—victoriously exhausted but done.

Day 3 Rundown

• Start: Lelant
• Checkpoint 1: Zennor
• Checkpoint 2: Brandys (rock outcrop)
• Checkpoint 3: Cape Cornwall
• Finish: Lands End

Post Race Ponderings

Crossing that finish line, I vowed to never tackle such a feat again. This was indisputably the toughest endeavor I’ve faced. It broke me. I’d prefer childbirth tenfold over. Yet, as I reflect a week later, still slightly achy, with blackened toenails clinging by threads, I’m contemplating my next challenge. Running is addictive. It’s remarkable I run at all, considering my childhood aversion to it. But joining the runnyhoneys, my local running group, changed that. I completed my first 5k with them, and now, I’m a marathon and ultra runner and even qualified as a run leader. Safe to say, I’m truly a runner.

As for the sciatica? Surprisingly, it didn’t trouble me in Cornwall. Jokingly, 80 miles might be a cure! Reality was likely that the overall body aches overshadowed my back pain, rendering it insignificant.

So, what’s next? Post-sitting and eating, I might consider another challenge. Achieving this monumental feat makes me feel capable of anything. But a bit more couch time and snacking first wouldn’t hurt!

Author Bio

Becky Stafferton is a full-time content creator, web publisher, and blogging coach. She constantly promotes a realistic, sustainable, and positive approach to a healthy lifestyle. When not writing, she’s found running through muddy puddles, drafting lists, having a good old moan, talking in silly voices to her dog, renovating her countryside home, and teaching others how to monetize their blogs.