The Maverick Cotswolds Trail 2026

Saturday 16 May 2026

Alright, now for some Maverick memories. Leaving the house, everything was perfectly planned and the drive was great—coffee made, porridge eaten, life is good. Getting there was also lovely since it’s the Cotswolds. We were near Sudeley Castle, so the drive down was completely smooth sailing.

As usual, I left way too early. Registration for the half marathon wasn’t even open yet because the ultra runners were still on the course. So, I just wandered around, checking things out. I chatted with the guys making coffee, caught up with the DJ… Honestly, I should’ve chatted even more, not been so shy, and done a bit of self-promoting. That’s exactly why you go to these kinds of events, right? Not to be a total wallflower sitting around in some corner, but to walk up to people, banter, and mingle. I even did a quick interview, but since I wasn’t prepared, it went how it went. Note to self: you’ve got to be prepared and have your talking points ready.

The queue by the toilets was packed with ultra runners, and they were like, ‘Just run it, what are you worrying about? An ultra isn’t some crazy race, it’s all about survival and just getting through the course.’ And looking at the math, you basically need to pace an ultra like a 40-minute Parkrun. Given my pace today, I’m actually lapping the 40-minute pacer, so honestly, it’s fine. It’s totally doable. I’m definitely going to have to give it a shot.

Part 1: Pre-Race & Registration

So, I struck up a conversation with this Hungarian girl. Well, I didn’t know where she was from at first, but I saw her sitting there and asked, “Hey, what distance are you running?” She had this distinct accent. Later on, I told her to find me on Facebook because she does fitness stuff—she’s some kind of instructor. Her goal for the half marathon was two and a half hours, and that’s exactly what she clocked, so fair play to her. I didn’t see her after that because by the time she finished, I already had my medal in my pocket and was long gone.

Anyway, right before the start, Bartek went to registration and got a random number. They were supposed to be pre-assigned, but he asked the guy, “Mate, can you give me a number with at least two matching digits?” The guy gave him 2488, so he was buzzing. It turns out even though the numbers were supposedly assigned, you could actually just pick one. Good to know for the next Maverick race—you can just walk up and choose your own number. It’s brilliant.

Part 2: Strategy & The Language Barrier

As for the race itself, the start was the usual herd mentality—everyone running in a big pack. You try to make small talk, but honestly, there’s no point talking at the very beginning. The pack is still breaking up and stretching out, people are scattered, some are shy, and others haven’t even broken a sweat yet. It’s pointless. You need to wait at least the first 5k to warm up, and then the conversation actually starts flowing.

Then I caught up with these two guys flying down the hills. They told me that’s their strategy—bombing it downhill, because you have to hike the uphills anyway. And man, the inclines were brutal; sometimes you had no choice but to walk, but we tried to run downhill as fast as humanly possible.

I ran with them for a bit, and they really pulled me along. I even told them, “If we finish under an hour and a half, I’ll give you 50 quid each!” They knew it was impossible, though. They replied in English, but honestly, when you’re trying to express yourself fully and say exactly what you’re feeling, the language barrier hits you. I really need to practice my English because between the heavy breathing and the mumbling, people sometimes can’t even understand what you’re saying. You think you’re making sense, but you’re just rambling, and they’re probably thinking, ‘What on earth is this guy blabbing about?’ That’s English for you.

Part 3: The Water Station Disaster & The “Old Man”

So yeah, I kept pace with those guys for a while, and this older, grey-haired chap kept buzzing around me, back and forth.

At the first aid station, I had this massive gear fail. I was carrying a regular plastic water bottle—like a total amateur. Everyone else had Salomon hydration vests and flasks, and there I was with a squashed plastic bottle tucked into my pocket. I tried to top it up at the water station, but because the neck of the bottle was so narrow, barely anything went in. I ended up with literally three gulps of water. Total rubbish. I definitely need to upgrade to a proper flask that won’t slip out of my pocket—because the bottle eventually fell out, and I had to drink water straight from my hand like a dog. Hydration gear was a total fail; definitely needs replacing.

After that, the younger lads pulled ahead because they were fitter—and it wasn’t just age, they were just better prepared. But I stuck with the grey-haired bloke, who turned out to be around my age anyway. (Note to self: I need to dye my hair, because grey makes you look ancient!) We started chatting about how I used to be heavy, my karate background, the usual. Instead of asking questions, he just mentioned he’d always been skinny and had been running his whole life. We pushed each other hard; I’d pull away, he’d catch up, and so on.

But the best part was when he dropped a massive bombshell on me. We were talking about pacing, and I told him my goal was to cross the finish line in 1 hour 45 minutes. Then, around the 10k or 15k mark, he turns to me and goes, “Mate, you know this is a 23k race, right? Not 21k.” I was like, ‘What?! I paid for a half marathon, not 23k!’ But yeah, that’s how they map these trail races. It was a bit longer, and I hadn’t realized. So we kept running, playing cat and mouse, and passed a few other people along the way. It was clear he knew what he was doing and had saved his energy well, because in the end, he completely dropped me and finished a few spots ahead. I came in 36th, and I think he was around 30th.

Part 4: The Scenery & The Finish Line

Overall, it was incredibly scenic. The terrain was amazing—exactly my kind of running: crossing streams, stepping over rocks, running through fields. At one point, we ran through a broad bean field. I asked the British runners, “Hey, do you know what this is?” and they had no idea! I had to rack my brain for the English word—broad beans. They didn’t even know they grew broad beans here. It’s crazy how disconnected people in England have gotten from their roots.

When it came to the finish line, it was a pure sprint. Anyone in my way on that last kilometer was getting overtaken. I ran the final stretch with one guy and completely left him in the dust. By the end, no one from the half marathon overtook me. I didn’t catch anyone else ahead, but I think I passed about 15 runners from the ultra distance. They should’ve had more energy since they were only halfway through their race, but who knows.

Crossed the line, got my medal, grabbed a coffee, and had another chat with the guy from the beer stand. (Next time, I need to come prepared with proper talking points!) Then I sat down on the grass because I was looking out for this guy, Joseph. I wanted to find him on Strava, but he wasn’t on there.

He was actually the only one who walked up to me afterward to congratulate me on my lifestyle transformation and show some respect. I was blown away. I said, “Man, we’ve got to do a race together sometime!” and he was like, “Yeah, absolutely, let’s stay in touch.” I tried finding him on LinkedIn later but no luck. We’ll see if anything comes of it.

Part 5: Final Thoughts

My general takeaway from all this? I just need to bite the bullet and sign up for an ultra. No point overthinking it or tiptoeing around it. I just need to book it, smash it, and get an ultra under my belt. I’ll do a proper, official road marathon sometime down the line, but road running is a completely different ball game anyway—you’re just cruising on tarmac instead of scrambling through forests and mountains. An ultra trail is basically just a hike against the clock, anyway!