Fourteen and Flying: Dorset Delivers

Week 14 commenced — and into the 'second trimester', so to speak.

I did always set this challenge up as a way to, in some shape or form, mirror the endurance required through pregnancy. And if those first 13 weeks are anything to go by, then all I can say is fair play. Seriously.

This weekend, we packed up as a family and headed down to the south coast — Dorset — partly to celebrate Amy’s auntie’s 70th birthday on the Saturday, but of course, also to squeeze in a marathon on the Sunday.

We were joined by the fabulous Alice and Nick — and when I say fabulous, I mean it. Not only did they agree to take on 26.2 miles with us, but they also very generously opened up their home for the weekend. A small gesture on paper, but one that says a lot about the kind of people they are.

Dorset is fairly unfamiliar territory for me. Growing up in the east, we didn’t venture this far south too often. But I’d heard the whispers — “hilly county,” they said — and it didn’t take long after arriving to realise they weren’t wrong.

We’re no strangers to hills at this point, but still, standing there on Saturday and taking in the landscape, you could tell this one had the potential to bite. Thankfully, Alice had been kind with the route planning… relatively speaking.

Following a powerful podcast earlier in the week — one that seemed to resonate far and wide — the Bridport community really turned out. The support was incredible. We had a proper squad again, never fewer than four runners at any one time, and at points swelling to 10 or 12.

We set off from the beautiful Symondsbury Estate café at 10am, rolling out through country lanes with a few sharp early climbs to wake the legs up. Then came the long drag — out of Loders and along the old railway line towards the turning point.

Aid stations? Elite. Properly stocked, brilliantly manned by Alice's family and friends (big shout out to Alice's mum, Lenschen!), and exactly what we needed when we needed it. 

The main climb came between miles 9 and halfway, one of those deceptive ones. Not steep enough to scare you, but long enough to grind you down. Four miles of gradual uphill that just slowly chips away at the legs. Ginger cake then saved the day.

After a quick regroup at the top, we turned and headed back down — which, unsurprisingly, was far more enjoyable. Somewhere along the way, we managed to relocate Rosie, who we’d more or less abandoned in a forest earlier on. She rejoined, refreshed, and flew through the final 10 miles.

As we skirted Bridport, we were met by a brilliant surprise — a group of Alice’s friends, including Nick, who had originally promised just the final 5K… and instead jumped in for the last 14K. That kind of energy lifts everyone.

Then came the coast. Heading down towards West Bay, the wind made its presence known. Strong, relentless, straight off the sea. There were a few dark patches in there, moments where heads dropped and legs questioned things... but Alice, to her credit, never looked like wavering. Just kept moving forward.

And the views… worth every step. The Jurassic Coast really does deliver.

After taking a bit of a battering along the seafront, we turned back inland and wound our way up into Bridport, finishing where we started. Waiting for us was a big crowd and a couple of bottles of English sparkling, and honestly, it tasted like victory!

A quick pint, a fast turnaround, and then it was back up the M5 for the long drive home.

Another week done. Another one that’ll stick, and a few new friendships formed along the way.