Never go back? A friend of mine recently said, “Life’s too short and there are too many great races to do the same ones twice.” But I nearly always want to repeat the event I’ve just finished. Not straight away – that might hurt. But as post-event euphoria fades, I want it back, that exact same feeling.

A psychotherapist would probably also say I’m overly nostalgic – I’m always going back to things. I’ve lived in the Cotswolds twice. I’ve lived in Sydney twice. I did my A-levels twice. And at the end of September, despite my friend’s advice, I ran the Cotswold Way Century a second time.

The 102-mile ultramarathon follows the Cotswold Way National Trail, along the limestone escarpment and through the largest area of outstanding natural beauty in England and Wales, from Chipping Campden to Bath.

I love the idea that such a big adventure – and all these beautiful hills, trails, hill forts and vast views – exists on my doorstep. And that something so brutal happens in an area invariably described as chocolate-box pretty. Hill-faring folk may see the region as a soft touch, but there’s 12,000ft (3,700m) of climbing on the route and only five miles of flat, estimates race director Kurt Dusterhoff.

A first 100 is an amazing feeling. However, in 2013 I placed third (in 21:29) and to get an equivalent high I had to do better. I thought about the race every day for months. Now that I knew the route, and knew what 102 miles feels like, the second time would be even better. Wouldn’t it?

It’s a warm morning in Chipping Campden as I hear accents from as far away as Northern Ireland amid the 87 runners in the briefing hall. At first I run with a peloton. Early pace-setter Nathan Montague runs the uphills, while the rest of us hike them. He’s either not going to last the race, or is borderline superhuman. When the speed increases to near eight-minute miles the angel on my shoulder suggest I’ll pay for this later. The devil points out how exciting it feels.

As we climb Cleeve Common some 20 miles in, the highest point in the Cotswolds, I feel lightheaded (must be the altitude) and drop back a bit. My calves are crampy (I wish I’d listened to advice from registered dietitian and sports nutritionist Renee McGregor, who told me to take salt tablets), there’s a weird pulsing in my groin and my feet are uncomfortable – I stop to deal with them. Everything feels difficult.

I still feel wonky at the Birdlip checkpoint and think I see a man-sized chicken. No, actually, I do. It’s ubiquitous aid-station guru Rich Cranswick. But tea, cola, salty crisps and the rooster booster don’t give me the jolt I need.

It gets dark in the ancient beech woods after world-famous Cooper’s Hill. I love the simpler and quieter world of night running, the sensation of floating. At the Painswick checkpoint (47 miles) I wolf down a curry. I have felt decidedly sub-optimal for five hours now, but I’m still placed fourth. There’s a group of three in front and a group of four behind me.

I see three torches ahead on Haresfield Beacon. Game on! But when I reach them it’s only dog walkers. Gah! There’s a rave kicking off in Standish Wood and the tempting smell of cannabis wafts through trees. It’d calm my whingey leg muscles, but might not be so good for motivation.

Crossing the Stroud valley I frequently stop to stretch my bomb-ticking calves against trees, convinced I’ll be caught any moment. But at the Coaley Peak check point (58.5 miles) I’m told my pursuers may be 20-plus minutes behind.

The volunteers are amazing. They stand around on a windy hilltop all night, fetching food and drink, and being endlessly encouraging to complainy, smelly people. I start to feel better. Instead of being chased, I’m chasing.

Inexplicably, at about midnight, I suddenly feel like Popeye after a can of spinach. In flat Westridge Wood I run eight-minute miles. At the Wotton-under-Edge check point I catch Jacob Hayes, who’s also suffering. The front two have only just left. I power up with some soup.

Spookily, I catch Montague and Patrick Devine-Wright at the exact same spot (Tor Hill) as I’d caught the race leaders last year. It feels like an omen and after cursory greetings I dash impolitely past. There are still 30 miles to go, but this is my chance to break away. I bomb down a long rocky path in the woods, but I can’t shake Montague off. So we run together, until I can’t keep up. My torch starts fading and I slow to let Divine-Wright catch me up to sneakily share his light.

The next period is comical. Montague, clearly the strongest of the three, charges off ahead, but repeatedly gets lost. So we catch him up. Again. And again.

Running with others in a race is strange. You help each other, but you’re rivals too. I pull away from Devine-Wright again, but I feel conflicted. We’ve spent a lot of the race together and I’ve enjoyed his company – plus it turns out we have a mutual friend. I don’t fancy a sprint finish really (with his surname being Devine-Wright I’m fearful he might have extra powers on his side), but I don’t want to be third again either.

When he catches up I suggest finishing together. Thankfully he agrees. It means we can relax for the last few miles and enjoy views of mists swamping nearby valleys and the ethereal early morning light.

The last 10 miles were self-pitying for me in 2013, but they’re much better this time. Almost enjoyable. That’s probably due to a more efficient running technique I’ve learned from Running Reborn, meaning my quads aren’t trashed.

Our mutual friend, Alex, and his son, Otto, meet us at Weston, a Bath suburb two miles from the end. Bath is still sleeping, which means unusually there’s no fight for pavement space and we have the warm glow of the World Heritage-listed, limestone Georgian goodness to ourselves. At the Abbey, the official finish, there are handshakes, medals, prizes, silly photos and a powerful mix of relief and euphoria.

With Montague (first; 19:31) and Devine-Wright (joint second; 19:55), I’ve become one of only three people known to have covered the Cotswold Way in under 20 hours. So, yes, running all 102 miles of Cotswold Way Century feels every bit as special the second time around. In fact, I may just go back again next year, too.

Cotswold Way Century is organised by Cotswold Running. Damian Hall tweets at @damo_hall. If you prefer to travel at a more sedate pace, he’s also written a guide to walking in the Cotswolds.

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