1st August 2026 – RACE REPORT BY HELEN
The North Downs 50 is billed as a scenic 50km loop through Surrey’s finest countryside, starting and finishing in the rather fancy‑wah grounds of Loseley Park. I travelled down the day before, met up with my brother Mark, and we headed to sign‑on. The venue was seriously impressive: huge marquees, a slick set‑up, and an entrance lined with sunflowers glowing in the scorched August heat. All very lovely, all very Surrey, all very “oh look at the size of that house”.
We stayed in a cheap Travelodge on the outskirts of Guildford – the traditional ultra‑runner’s pre‑race accommodation – where Mark carb‑loaded with pizza and nachos. I joined him for a few nibbles but I’m hopeless at late‑night carb loading, so instead I set my alarm for 5am and inhaled a vat of porridge big enough to feed a scout troop.
A smooth start, quick briefing, and then a Jane Fonda‑style mass warm‑up which we all humoured. At 7am sharp we were off. Me and Mark had agreed to run our own races, so within a kilometre we’d already lost each other. The opening section was deep, slidey sand – the kind that steals your energy and tries to eat your ankles. I’d debated road shoes but thank goodness I didn’t. I ran for a bit with a young chap called Ricky, his first ultra, and we swapped stories while laughing at how often we nearly stacked it.
The first proper climb comes around 8km, but feeling fresh I trotted up happily and flew through the first checkpoint (11.5km) with just a quick drink and a wee. The tops were stunning – big views, rolling fields, and that hazy morning sunshine that makes everything look like a National Trust brochure.
The first half to 25km absolutely whizzed by. The porridge had done its job, but I could hear the voices of long‑distance sages (JP, I’m looking at you): keep fuelled. So I nibbled a Styrkr rice bar my brother had given me on my first ultra back in March. Instant power‑up. I charged on to the halfway checkpoint feeling strong.
A steep, techy downhill into the field before the checkpoint was rocky and rutted, and I caught my ankle – ouchy – but survived. The checkpoint itself was clearly geared towards walkers: full packed lunches, tea, coffee, sandwiches, crisps… honestly, a picnic. Great effort from the organisers, but not exactly runner‑friendly. I stuck to my now‑go to race fuel: a cinnamon raisin bagel smothered in marmite, tahini and blueberry jam. Sweet‑salty heaven. Washed it down with coke. Then, in a moment of stupidity, I inhaled two bananas.
As soon as I set off I realised I’d made a terrible mistake. I was too full and developed an instant stitch and had to slow right down, trying all the burping and tummy breathing techniques I could think of. So frustrating as I was feeling strong, “Just keep moving forward Hels!”
Around 31km still feeling a bit sick I heard Led Zeppelin behind me – wait what? Yes, actual Led Zeppelin – and there was Ricky again, jogging along with his speaker. “Hey Helen, how you doing?” Ha! We chatted and plodded, me explaining my stitch woes, and then suddenly realised we’d reached a junction with… no signs. Oh no. Off route. Some other poor bloke had followed us too. Quick map check, doubled back, a few extra minutes added – bums! But the distraction had cured my stitch, so silver linings.
The next section was a long, slow uphill through woodland and yet more dreaded sand. I’d assumed the checkpoints were evenly spaced, but checkpoint three wasn’t until past 42km – a whopping 17km from the last one. That stretch was tough: hot, draggy, and I was holding on for a wee and a drink. When I finally reached it, the loos, coke and fresh melon were a revelation. Just 8km to go. Totally doable.
The final leg had a bit too much pavement and road crossing for my liking, especially in the midday sun with temperatures in the high 20s. The drag up the old railway line back to Loseley Park felt like running through sticky treacle. Definitely a headwind. Or maybe it was the 50‑odd kilometres in my legs.
A final downhill, a burst of determination, and I was thrilled to fly into the finish in 5 hours 29 minutes. Free massage, hot salty chips and a non‑alcoholic cider were absolute bliss. Mark came in under 6 hours and was chuffed to bits.
Would I do it again? The first half was genuinely stunning. The second half less so, and that huge gap between checkpoints was a bit much. The food was more geared towards challenge hikers than runners – very different to the Centurion event I did earlier this year, which was clearly runner‑focused. But the crowd was super friendly, the organisation slick, and if you find yourself down that way and fancy a mid‑hilly, easy‑tech trail run, it’s definitely worth a look.
As for me, I’ll be hunting for another 50km where I can see if I can edge closer to that magical 5‑hour mark. The North Downs gave me a cracking day out – sandy legs, stitch drama, Led Zeppelin and all.
