Andy Hood.

There’s running, and then there’s the North Downs 50—aka 32°C of baked, dusty, sweaty, chocolate-fueled madness through the Surrey Hills. Trails twisting like nature’s own rollercoaster, tarmac that could fry an egg, and rest stops stocked with Freddos. Honestly, what’s not to love?

This wasn’t just a race; it was a return to my roots. Growing up near Guildford meant running past familiar landmarks, staying with my parents, and crossing the finish line to their cheers—priceless. My dad, of course, had to comment on how “fresh” I looked. Yeah, Dad, fresh. Not collapsed, not crumpled, just gloriously sweaty and very much alive.

The course was a scenic loop starting at Guildford sports ground, winding through Newlands Corner and Dorking, and back via postcard-perfect villages like Chilworth. Trails were firm thanks to one of the driest spells in years, but the sun was an absolute tyrant. Tarmac radiated heat like a medieval torture device, and one of the fields we ran across even caught fire the next day. Nature, you dramatic.

I was mid-training for Mont Blanc, so this ultra conveniently doubled as a 32-mile long run. Ultra running is magical like that. Meeting fellow humans like Stephen and Jelly—supporting cancer charities, swapping stories, laughing at the absurdity of it all—reminds you this sport isn’t about medals; it’s about camaraderie, chaos, and chocolate.

Speaking of chaos, my shorts stole the show. “Testicular cancer survivor” and “Check ya balls” plastered on my backside drew laughs, high-fives, and a few raised eyebrows. One guy even shared his survivor story—if my bum sparks just one lifesaving check, it’s mission accomplished.

Fueling was serious business. Maurten Drink Mix 160 and Precision Hydration PF90 gel kept my carb intake around 70–80g per hour. Calf cramp tried to make a cameo at 40K, but a quick pavement curb stretch sorted it. Formula: carbs + hydration = happy legs. Simple math, glorious results.

The finish was low-key crowd-wise, but I didn’t care. My family was front and center, I waved my ULTRA’25 banner like a champion, and our son captured every gloriously sweaty moment. Big love to Michelle, Simon, and the Ultra Challenge crew for making it all run smoother than my stride on fresh legs.

Aid stations? Life-saving. Water guns at halfway? Bliss. Fellow runners falling in the woods? Cue superhero mode. Ultra running isn’t just endurance—it’s helping each other survive the madness with dignity (or at least with slightly less dirt in your eyes).

The North Downs 50 wasn’t just another race. It was a nostalgic jaunt through history, a sweaty celebration of community, and a cheeky reminder that chocolate, Freddos, and a supportive family make everything better. Sun, sweat, and absurdly funny shorts aside, I couldn’t stop grinning at the finish line. Ultra running at its finest—and sometimes, at its cheekiest.