Loop the loop the loop, for six days

I ran 300 miles around a campsite in the Ardèche for six days. I'm still processing what happened, and what it all means.

Me out on a quiet stretch of the loop. Photograph: Marietta d'Erlanger

God I’m tired. So tired, I fact, I can hardly type out these words. If you’re opening this up, intrigued to read a brilliant, insightful race report from the 6 Jours de France, then I’m sorry to say you’ll have to wait a little longer. I’m still processing so much of what happened out there on that campsite in the Ardèche in France, looping that same 1km loop over and over again - so many times that when I unexpectedly found myself back on the route the day after the race, a shiver went down my spine. I looked at the quiet road, harmless, still, empty, and I was right back there in the race, labouring along this track, rolling over that speed bump, using its downward curve to inch up my pace a tiny notch. It was that sudden, deep, unexpected familiarity you might get stepping back onto the street you grew up on. Everything came instantly flooding back, crashing over me in waves, as the road sat there quietly.

For those that don’t know, the bare facts are that I ran 301 miles (485km) in a six-day race in France. I finished in 28th position, out of 47 starters.