Written by James Campbell - https://jamescampbell78.wordpress.com

I came into the third race of the Hardmoors Superslam feeling really strong, which in a way is a good thing since it involved running further than I ever had in a single stage race in my life.

The training I put in had been really solid and during the taper I was feeling like I could go forever at a decent pace.  The final week of taper was a nervy and edgy affair where I tiptoed around life trying not to over exert or injure myself.  I spent the time pulling my kit and food for the race together.  My primary worry was how a piece of temporary dental work would hold up over the weekend rather than anything related to my general preparedness.

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Food for the race assembled in the car prior to setting off

The travel plan for this race was for Natalie and myself to check into our hotel in Helmsley on Friday afternoon then my crew, Dave Cook would meet us and load the two boxes and one bag of kit/food into his car before Dave and I headed off to an Air BnB he’d booked about 15 minutes from the start at Filey. All of which went pretty much like clockwork.

Over food in the Londesborough Arms in Seamer (highly recommended) Dave and I went over the plan of what I wanted and when for a final time.  In a race like this, you can’t really plan pacing, certainly not beyond the furthest distance you have run, but I pulled together a rough plan to give myself something to aim for.  The high level one in the written instructions I left Dave was:

  • Ravenscar (33km) by 1240:12:45 (4h:40m-4h:45m)
  • Saltburn (85km) by 21:00 (11h:00m)
  • Kildale (110km) by 02:00 (18h:00m)

Afterwards by discussion, but aiming for……

  • Clay Bank (124km) by 05:30 (21h:30m)
  • Lordstones (129km) by 07:00 (23h:00m)
  • Square Corner (146km) by 10:45 (26h:45m)
  • White Horse by 14:30 (30h:30m)
  • Finish by 18:00 (34h:00m)

This was based on my usual system of slightly handicapping my worst times from training and recce runs with a slightly bastardisded version of Naismith’s rule.  I’d tested some of the assumptions out on the route either solo or running with Dave and was fairly confident in the detailed splits (below) which I then factored in time to be spent at checkpoints.  As well as giving this plan to Dave, I gave a copy to Craig Davie who’d agreed to meet me at Kildale and pace me to the end and he’d be the one having to make me stick to the pacing.

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The general plan in terms of food/drink was to start with 2 Chia Charge bars and 2 Snickers bars and just top up my supplies with what I felt like each time I met with Dave.   The crew plan was as follows:

  • Scarborough/Holbeck Hill – Quick sense check for kit adjustments (e.g. if too hot, drop clothes off, if too cold, put some on)
  • Scalby Mills – Pick up poles
  • Ravenscar – Have a Pot Noodle and a few minutes rest, drop off poles
  • Robin Hood’s Bay – Pick up poles
  • Saltwick Bay – Drop off poles
  • Sandsend – Top up food and drink supplies, use toilets if needed
  • Runswick Bay – Compulsory CP but plan to spend as little time as possible here.  Just another health check
  • Staithes (Cowbar car park) – Health check, pick up poles and any kit needed for early evening weather changes
  • Saltburn (Cat Nab) – Hot food (porridge or Pot Noodle), hot drink (hot chocolate or coffee), change into night clothes and top up food and drink supplies.  Drop off poles
  • Fox & Hounds (Slapewath) – Pizza, pick up poles
  • Gribdale Gate – Food/drink top up
  • Clay Bank – Welfare check
  • Lordstones – Hot food and drink, change into fresh clothes for day and stock up on food/drink
  • Square Corner – Food and drink top up
  • White Horse – Food and drink top up

After food, Dave and I went back to our Air BnB (a nice caravan behind a farm house on the main road in Seamer) and got settled in.  I laid all my running kit out on the bed and went through a last minute check before bed.

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Having gone to bed planning on waking up at 5am, I woke up at 1am, Dave woke up at 3am (he had a crewing nightmare) and I woke up again shortly after.  At which point I got up and decided to make a cuppa and we both got a head start on getting ready for the day.  I took my time taping my feet up and cutting up spare sections of tape to patch my feet up later if needed while having a breakfast of porridge and banana.

We headed off down the road to Filey and arrived around 6:30am, I was quickly checked in, picked up my race number and tracker and we now had an hour or so to kill before the race brief.  We nipped to the Filey Brigg cafe for another coffee and mingled with other runners, keeping our distance from Race Director Jon Steele who kept telling us he was poorly.

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Pre-Race Selfie

Following the race brief, we quickly assembled at the race start and we were off, a mere 3 minutes later than the advertised time, which was really an indicator of how poorly Jon was, usually he manages to talk for another 7 minutes or so.

The going out of the Brigg for the gentle uphill towards Blue Dolphin was very firm and it was easy to get caught up in a faster pace than planned.  I ran for awhile chatting with Aaron Gourlay who is usually a lot faster than me, but for now the average pace of around 6m:30/km suited me and felt good and just before Blue Dolphin, I stopped for a walk break and to just take stock.

I got going again, and kept the pace about the same, but noticed that something was rubbing between my shoe and the top of my foot, so stopped to address it.  It seemed that my calf guard had rode up slightly and the tongue of my shoe was pushing on the folded material, easily corrected and worth stopping to make sure it was nothing serious.

I hit the cut from Cayton Bay caravan park to the beach (7.2km) at 46 minutes and felt comfortable, as I entered the field ahead of a group of runners, I took the chance to scope out where the cows that normally inhabited the field were.  Confident that they were all well away from the path, I pushed on up the hill to where the first set of supporters were.

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Cayton Bay – Photo, Scott Beaumont

I pushed on down the steps and was followed by a runner with a southern hemisphere accent who caught me on the climb back up the steep steps to Osgodby and we discussed briefly the challenges of training for a hilly race in his current town of London.  At the top of the steps, I was greeted and cheered on for the first of many times by Keith and Kristy Wise and I got a jog on up the road before turning right onto the overgrown path back down towards the clifftop.  I was overtaken here by Duncan Bruce who I’d met and overnighted with at Hardmoors 55 and we passed each other back and forth all the way into Scarborough.

As I approached Holbeck Hill, I took stock and decided that I had dressed about right for the weather (overcast and cool) and that my food supplies were OK, so shouted instructions to Dave about what I wanted at Scalby Mills and kept running.  I passed Scarborough Spa at 1h:26m, 9 minutes ahead of plan.

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Holbeck Hill – Photo, Dave Cook

I’ve never enjoyed running through Scarborough.  I find the concrete surface unforgiving and usually the crowds are an impediment to running well. Thankfully, at 9:30am the latter wasn’t much of a problem and a lack of traffic meant that I could run much of the seafront on the softer surface of the road, hopping back onto the path when a car approached.  To pass the time, I played an often used mental game of running for 10 lamp posts, then walking for 5 which allowed me to maintain a reasonable running pace, while keeping my mind off all of the negative things I associate with running this stretch.  As I arrived at Scalby Mills, it was starting to spit onto rain, so as I topped up my bottles with water and Lucozade Sport, I asked Dave to pass me my armwarmers with my poles.  This gave me the option of a warm layer in case the exposed clifftops became windy.  I left Scalby Mills at 01h:56m, still tracking 9 minutes ahead so I decided to take the next section easy and walk a little more using my poles to protect my knees on the frequent steps up and down on this stretch.

I ran for awhile with Angela Moore who was going well and again passed back and forth with Duncan Bruce but, apart from being over taken by several groups, I was mostly running alone all the way to Cloughton Wyke where I was caught by Aaron Gourlay who’d taken an unscheduled stop in Scarborough. We chatted as we moved along, both noting that the weather had warmed up and I was now giving myself regular showers with my water bottle.

I was looking forward to getting to Hayburn Wyke, where the diverted part of the Cleveland Way (to avoid a landslip on some steep steps) ran in shaded woodland and by a stream.  I arrived at Hayburn Wyke at 3h:14m now 13 minutes up on my plan and could hear a familiar voice behind me.  I was caught by Matthew Swan who is another runner I know is a bit quicker than me and I took as a sign that I needed to rein myself in a bit.  I knew that my plan already involved putting in a fast first 80km so being ahead of plan meant I needed to slow up a bit.  I let Matthew and another runner pass me and slowed to a walk through the cool woods, stopping by the stream to soak my buff, which I kind of regretted as it left it feeling a bit gritty as it dried, but it did the job of keeping my temperature down as I tackled the long road climb out of Hayburn to the farm buildings at Staintondale on the diverted section of the Cleveland Way.  I was passed by Paul Munster, which gave me a bit of comfort as Paul and I often run similar times in races.  Glad to be off the road and back onto the grass clifftop path on the Cleveland Way proper, I picked the work rate up again on the draggy uphill section that Dave and I had run together just a few weeks ago.  Running this section fairly recently had allowed me to remember cues in the landscape to measure distance and regulate effort well.  Just before Ravenscar, I was caught by Dennis Potton and we chatted all the way into the village.  Dave was parked on the road near Raven Hall, but the checkpoint was up the hill in the village hall.  This allowed me to let Dave know what I needed as I passed which was the planned Pot Noodle.  I walked towards to the checkpoint with Dennis, who met his wife on the way in and checked in.  I grabbed some coke at the checkpoint, a couple of cheese and pickle sandwiches and a bowl of rice pudding while my bottles were filled up with water and coke.  I then jogged back down to the car and eat my Pot Noodle while Dave topped up my food supplies with more Chia Charge bars and added some Wine Gums to the supplies.  As soon as I finished the Pot Noodles I downed a can of Red Bull, then dumped my cap and armwarmers as it was now way too hot for both and decided to wear my buff around my head to keep the sun off if needed.  I got Dave to apply some BodyGlide to my back as my pack had started to rub.  I ran out of Ravenscar at 4h:45m, still ahead of plan.

Running down through the woods away from Ravenscar was pleasantly cool and after spending almost an hour moving uphill, it was nice to open the legs up and run a bit.  Coming off the hill I passed last year’s 110 winner Jason Millward who was spectating, but so quickly I didn’t recognise him until I had gone past and continued down towards the clifftops again.

I was now aware that it was really hot and the top of my head was feeling the sun a little, so I put my buff over my head to give it some cover while soaking it periodically with water from my bottle.  As I made the road that led down to Stoupe Beck, I remembered I had put some money in the side pocket of my pack and decided to make a stop at Boggle Hole Youth Hostel for an ice lolly.  The promise of this kept me going down the steep steps.  On the way back up the other side of Stoupe Beck, a group caught me up, just in time for me to slip on some wet rock and take a slight fall.  The runners were treated to my choice language before making sure I was OK and passing me as we got to the top of the steps. I jogged the short distance to Boggle Hole and took the steps down very cautiously, mentally assessing my left foot (which had taken the brunt of the fall) as I went.  Things seemed OK, so I pushed on down to the youth hostel passing people enjoying meals, beer and ice cream on the way in.  I grabbed two Calippos, paid for them and stuffed one down the front of my shirt while I started up the steps out of Boggle Hole, the ice cooling my skin nicely, while I ate the other.

By the top of the Boggle Hole steps, I’d switched the Calippo from the front of my shirt to down the back and under each arm while finishing the first.  I gave it a few more minutes against my skin before eating it, which took me nicely to the top of the slippery wooden steps that drop you down into Robin Hood’s Bay.  I took these nice and slowly, breaking into a jog/trot at the bottom for a short period before the turn left up the fearsome steep section of road that takes you up to the next trail section of the Cleveland Way.  I jettisoned my empty ice lolly and Chia Charge packets into a bin and pushed on up the bank arriving at the top at 5h:43m, just 4 minutes ahead of plan.

At this point I’d planned to take my poles from Dave, at the same time, I took the chance to get my water and coke bottles topped off and got him to apply some sun cream to my ears which had started to feel hot and are prone to burning in the sun.  I moved out of Robin Hood’s Bay after a longer than planned stop of 3 and a half minutes at 5h:46m and pushed on towards Whitby.

This section was the hottest of the day in terms of weather and one I always find hard going no matter what the weather.  The track undulates and there is rarely a flat section, however today had the added bonus that the trail was not ankle deep in slippy mud.  I jogged what I could and walked the uphills making sure that I ate and drank regularly.  I chatted to several runners as they passed, including Keri Lewis, who I’d run with for awhile during HM30 in January.  As the temperature rose, the coke in my bottle began to taste too sickly sweet and I needed something else more palatable to drink.  I decided to use the stop at Saltwick Bay to grab a bottle of Erdinger Akoholfrei beer and drink it while walking through the caravan park so I could dump the bottle in a bin before pushing on.  Erdinger Alkholfrei is isotonic and is really good for dehydration, which I knew was now an issue.  Running further along, I tried to think what else I could have instead of coke.  I toyed with the idea of pouring some Erdinger into one of my bottles, but experience told me it would fizz up while I ran and most would overflow out of the bottle. I decided I’d see if Dave could pick some lemonade up en route and let me have some at Sandsend.  By now, I was really feeling the heat and looked for an opportunity to soak my buff at the next stream, however this was teeming with tadpoles, so I had to wait until the next one a bit further along where I dipped my buff, carefully avoiding getting my feet wet and pushed along further.

On the approach to Saltwick Bay, I looked over my shoulder to find a topless Dennis Potton had caught me up.  We chatted our way into Saltwick where we arrived at 7h:18m a quarter of an hour behind plan (I didn’t know this as I didn’t check at the time).  While Dave stowed my poles and opened my beer, I topped up my pockets with salted nuts and tried to eat a pot of rice pudding.  I got a mouthful in, but my stomach warned me that if I forced any more down, it would be coming straight back up.  I let Dave know this and walked with him through the caravan park drinking my glorious tasting beer.  I was passed halfway through by Matthew Swan who had bought himself an ice lolly at the park shop and on the way out of Saltwick I left my beer bottle with Gareth Barnett who’d set up a pop up water station in the car park.

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Coming into Saltwick Bay with Dennis Potton looking like a pair of Englishmen in the midday sun – Photo Dave Cook

Coming out of Saltwick, I picked up my pace from a walk to jog and ran alongside Matthew Swan and Emily Beaumont on the abbey approach.  I dug out a banana from my pocket and managed to get it down me without any complaint from my stomach, but still did not like the taste of the coke in my bottle.  Going through the church grounds at the top of the 199 steps was frustrating as I has to dodge, weave and sidestep through the crowds.  Going down the steps was worse, it seemed that no matter how careful I was descending and picking a seemingly empty line, that somebody climbing the steps with their head down, would weave into my path at the last minute.  As I reached the bottom, I headed into a shop and bought an orange ice lolly to get me through town, which was positively heaving and almost impossible to run through.  Going up the Khyber Pass towards the Whale’s Jawbone, I spotted Emily Beaumont buying a slush from a kiosk and I followed suit with the last of my change.  After climbing up the steps to the Whale’s Jawbone I could see Matthew and Emily about 100m in front of me and I tried to jog along and catch them up, but couldn’t seem to make ground.  Drinking the slush was a great change from coke in both flavour and consistency and just before the descent to the slipway behind the golf club, I decided that the slushy texture might make the coke more palatable, that and I’d be able to bin the cup while there were still bins to use.  So I poured my slush into the coke, binned the cup and had two paracetamol and a protein gel at the same time.

I walked up the bank behind the golf club, giving myself a good shower with my water bottle and trying to make ground on Emily who was still in sight, but she pulled away running at the top of the climb.  I again followed her example and began to use the long downhill drag to power an extended run into Sandsend.

On the approach, to the checkpoint, I decided what I wanted again.  I decided against taking my poles, but wanted some savoury food, so opted to take a bag of Pom Bear crisps with me.  I also ditched the foul mix of coke and slush on the run in.

Arriving at 8h:27m I wanted a quick turnaround, so I nipped to the gents while Dave filled my coke bottle with the desired lemonade.  i had another stab at eating, but nothing appealed and I jogged out of the checkpoint and was halfway up the steps before I realised I’d forgotten to pick up some crisps.  I looked back down and decided against going back for them and pushed on.

The section of disused railway line ahead looks flattish and runnable, but experience has taught me that it’s a false flat that is best approached with a fast as possible walk, saving the legs for the climb back up the steps at Deepgrove Wyke onto the clifftops.  I used this time to chat to a passing runner and eat a couple of nuts and wine gums, but again, just the attempt unsettled my stomach.  The lemonade however, was a Godsend.  Climbing the steps in the shade, I decided to try and force more food down and managed half a Chia Charge bar.  I knew from the top of the steps, there was a bit of an uphill drag before a decent runnable stretch.  I fast walked the bank then got moving into a nice jog/walk pattern.  I was again caught by Matthew and Emily who noted that my crew stops were getting like formula one pitstops.  I passed the home-made waymarker on the Cleveland Way and remember thinking that it was wrong.  In my mind, I’d mis-read it as saying 45 miles had passed since Filey and spent a couple of kms trying to puzzle it out, but this was clearly a symptom of poor concentration as the sign clearly says 37 miles.

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A reminder of the distance covered and that still to come

Pushing along the clifftops, I managed to stay in contact with Matthew and Emily until just before the descent to the Runswick Bay steps, which I again took very cautiously and feeling sympathy for the walkers coming the opposite way up these steps, from experience I know they’re hard work, even on fresh legs.  Having tiptoed across the beck at the bottom of the steps and made my way onto the beach, I carefully navigated my way to the hard sand at the edge of the water, trying to simultaneously keep my feet dry and prevent the ingress of sand into my shoes.

Coming off the beach, I spotted Kathryn Hammond, who was supporting her husband Tim and got a boost from the familar face.  I pushed hard up the steep hill that led to the checkpoint at Runswick Bay.  On the way up, I ran through what I wanted in my mind.  I wanted crisps and additional fluids.  I decided to take my soft flask with some Lucozade Sport to carry in my hand, then put in my pocket when done.  I was also going to have another go at eating something more substantial here.  I arrived at the Runswick checkpoint on 10h:03m now around 18 mins behind plan.  While Dave sorted me some bottles and crisps, I tried some more rice pudding and failed to get more than a mouthful in, so drank another can of Red Bull and headed out in under 2 mins.

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Arriving at the top of the steep bank at Runswick Bay – Photo, Dave Cook

Once back onto the trail, I got a decent jog going and the now familar pattern of being overtaken by faster runners who’d spent a little more time at the checkpoint repeated itself with Kelly Felstead and Lisa Bainbridge overtaking me in quick succession.  They were shortly followed by Emily who caught me just before Port Mulgrave, but there was no sign of Matthew, which didn’t surprise me as he’d told me earlier in the day that he was having a long stop at Runswick.  I upped the work rate pushing along towards Staithes and was quite pleased to note that the temperature was dropping fairly rapidly, the breeze coming off the sea was also picking up a little.  Just before Staithes, my concentration faltered again and I nearly took a wrong turn along a farm track while talking to some walker, thankfully, they corrected me and I gave myself a mental slapping about focus.  I pushed on down into Staithes, which was still quite busy and managed to push hard up the climb to Cowbar where my next meet point with Dave was.  As Hummersea cliff came into view ahead, I could see that it was shrouded in low cloud, so as well as my poles, I decided to ask for my armwarmers.  I reached Dave at 11h:14m, which at 70km I knew was 56 minutes behind plan.  I told Dave I’d walk on while he ran back to the car to get my armwarmers and he took my now empty soft flask in return for the poles and armwarmers.  I confirmed to him that I wanted porridge, hot chocolate and my change of clothes at Saltburn while I put my armwarmers on, then pressed on harder in pursuit of a runner I could see crossing the field ahead towards the next big climb.

As I got to the bottom of the climb, I stuffed some crisps into my mouth and worked hard up the first section, slowly reeling in the runner ahead, I caught him at the cottages that signal the end of the paved section where he had stopped to sort his feet and I used the first section of slightly flat trail to get some running done.  At the foot of the climb, I pushed harder than normal to try and make some time up and just before the top of the climb, I was breathing heavily.  I was again caught my Matthew at this point and mentioned it to him.  He expressed the opinion that it was more the hill than any reflection on form.  Matthew slowly pulled ahead into the gloomy mist, which at times provided a worrying empty void by the side of the trail where the cliff face dropped off.  I was trundling along, making sure I munched on a crisp regularly, at 12 hours I made sure that I had another protein gel and popped another couple of paracetamol, despite not feeling I really needed them.  I was now at 75km and realised that I was only a moderate effort 5k away from a 50 miles personal best.  I pushed on over the last section of the high clifftop and started on the descent, again being pleased that the trail was nice and firm, unlike the last time I was here a few weeks ago, when just staying upright was a challenge.

I passed through the farm buildings that signalled the end of the cliff proper and the start of an undulating descent that leads to the steps that drop into Skinningrove.  Coming off the farm track, I could see a pair of runners about 400m behind me.  I decided that I needed some motivation and gave myself the goal of getting through Skinningrove ahead of them.  I pushed hard down the bank and to the top of the steps, again descending these carefully.  Once at the bottom of the steps, I gave myself the goal of running all the way to the next section of beach, passing several crew cars parked up.

I walked carefully through the sand dunes, again trying to ensure no sand got into my shoes and reached the bottom of the steps up to the clifftop.  I checked my watch and 12h:50m and 79.8km.  That meant I was certainly going to make a 50 mile PB at some point along the clifftop.  I took it easy going up the steps and jogged through the 50 mile mark at exactly 13h:00m:00s then slowed to a walk up the next long drag of a hill.  I remembered from doing this section at night a couple of years ago, that it feels quite a long climb, so just took it at an easy pace.  I was passed by a the pair of runners who’d followed me down to Skinningrove and as they approached, I realised that dusk was falling quickly and my head torch was in the car with Dave.  I suddenly got worried about being benighted on the clifftop and marched a little quicker, arriving at the charm bracelet sculpture on the clifftop.  I indulged my superstition and climbed up to the sculpture touching the start charm and giving the hammer a clang against the frame, which must have amused the runners in front before following them down the path alongside the railway line.  As the path started to point down, I could finally see the bright lights of Saltburn and Redcar and surged forward with longer spells of downhill running.  It was almost dark when I arrived at Saltburn at 13h:42m.  Upon seeing Dave, my mood rose and I bounded to the car and started getting changed while Dave prepared my food and drink.  I stood chatting with Paul Burgum’s brother while liberally re-applying BodyGlide and getting changed, then stocked up my pack with food for the night section.  I grabbed my head torch and also my battery charger and wire for my watch and set it away charging while I tried and failed to eat my porridge and drank my hot chocolate.  I moved back onto coke in my bottles and was delighted to see Dee Bouderba and Jo Barrett in the car park.  Having had a quick chat and picking up my charging watch, I asked confirmed my pizza order for Slapewath with Dave bounded out of the car park and headed over to the offical checkpoint to check in with them before leaving Saltburn at 13h:53m, much quicker than planned.  There was a loud kareoke playing at Vista Mar and I remember leaving the checkpoint singing along and telling everyone I was going to sprint the steps back up onto the top, which I actually tried to do before realising and telling myself to get a grip halfway up.  I was absolutely buzzing at this point and walked on checking that my watch was charging nicely.

I joined with a group just before the woods dropping into valley gardens, but slowed and dropped behind while I re-adjusted my night clothes, which felt a little uncomfortable.  Dropping into the woods, I felt too warm and I wasn’t the only one as a runner in front had stopped to take a layer off.  I pushed on knowing things would cool soon enough and found myself in between two sizeable groups.  As we climbed out of the woods heading towards the Skelton bypass, I was overtaken by the second big group and held onto Kelly Felstead and Stephen Gibson as we passed into the housing estate in Skelton.  I was soon gapped as we climbed up the steps and across Skelton Green.  As we passed onto Airey Hill Lane, a thick fog descended and I soon found myself alone and unable to see much more than a few metres front and back.  I walked on, but it was hard to judge pace in the fog, which closed in further the higher I climbed.  It seemed to take forever to make it to the last farm houses before what I knew was a flat section followed by a downhill.  But the flat section never seemed to come and what was worse, the surface seemed to be muddier than the farm track I remembered.  I suddenly went deep into some mud and realised that in the fog, I’d somehow wandered off the track and dragged myself back left to pick up the trail again.

As the farm track turned down and into the section of field I knew I needed to cross to reach a stile that led to a better running surface, I tripped and fell, cutting my thumb.  It was a tiny cut but seemed to bleed a lot.  I sucked my thumb to clear the blood and more came and the blood had a weird taste.  I decided to just let it bleed and pushed on along the trail, now descending out of the thick murk.  I hit the top of the steps down to Slapewath and felt pretty knackered.  I was looking forward to my pizza and I had decided to make sure I ate at least one whole slice, no matter how bad I felt. I was also looking forward to getting my poles to give my legs some respite.

As I came into Slapewath, I saw Dave and he asked how it was.  I shook my head and told him it was really tough.  He re-assured me that everyone else who’d passed had said the same, this was normal.  It was just a hard section.  I eat my pizza and chucked my watch charger back into the car as my watch was now 100% charged.  I think Dave offered me some Red Bull, which I turned down and I went to get my poles, but they weren’t in the back of the car.  Dave had a look and couldn’t find them either and after a minute or so, we’d come to the conclusion that I must have left them leaned against the car while I got changed instead of putting them in the car as I’d done all day when I hadn’t physically handed them to Dave himself. Dave told me he was going to head back to Saltburn to find them and that he’d find a way of getting them to me before Roseberry if he found them.  I told myself that I couldn’t change this and that I could only deal with it positively, but as I trudged through Spa Wood, these thoughts felt empty and I let negative thoughts push their way in.  I was overtaken by a pair of 160 runner going up the concrete hill to the top of Guisborough Woods and was caught by a large group containing Elaine Wilde at the top.  This gave me a boost, as I’d paced this section for Elaine last year and running with this group seemed like a really positive thing, but going up the next hill, into yet more thickening fog, I just couldn’t hold their pace.

As I dropped down through the heather to the foot of the climb that takes you back up to the fire road which the Cleveland Way follows all the way to Highcliff Nab, I heard my phone ringing.  I pulled it out, it was Dave, he’d found my poles and was asking where I was.  I told him about 2km after Spa Wood, which meant little to him, but a voice in the background told him it was “too far”.  He handed the phone over to someone else and they asked where I was.  I looked around and couldn’t see anything but thick fog and told them I’d just dropped through the heather section.  I got a reply to the effect that he knew where I meant. I then asked “Who’s this?” and got the best reply ever, “It’s Craig you divvy, I’ll meet you at Highcliff with your poles”.  I was over the moon, Craig was exactly what I needed to get me moving again.  I told him the fog was grim and that I’d meet him behind Highcliff and pushed on.

The fog was so thick, that it didn’t feel safe to run as I couldn’t see anything around my feet that I might possible trip on.  I was passed by Andy Pickering and Joanne Abbott and we didn’t even recognise each other.  I told them I was looking for the path that forked off to Highcliff, but was worried I’d miss it and was told it was awhile away yet before they pulled off.  I got another phone call from Craig asking where I was and I told him that I thought I should be right on the fork but couldn’t see it.  The next thing I knew was that the path was heading downhill and I could see a torch ahead.  I knew then, I’d missed the turn for Highcliff, no idea how given the number of times I’d run these woods in the dark and in all weathers.  When I reached Craig, my mood lifted again.  He told me that other people had missed the turn and he’d even turned some people back from the path leading down the Tees Link towards Guisborough.

We had a bit of a walk to the paved section of path that leads to Black Nab and got a good run on, overtaking Andy and Joanne.  We slowed again at the next climb and again, the fog came down making it hard to push any sort of pace.  Craig was trying to encourage me to eat, but I fancied nothing.  He offered me some chicked and cocktail sausage which I had and took my time over, forcing myself to eat it.  As we approached Roseberry he even risked his fingers to feed me a Jelly Baby.  As we dropped down the side of Little Roseberry, several groups were on the way up and they all told us the wind was bad up on Roseberry and that it was cold.  I tried to make good progress down the slope, but each step was an effort, by the time we started climbing, each step was like lifting dead weight.  We passed a few more runners coming down Roseberry and were overtaken by a couple going up, it felt positive to be in amongst traffic but even then it was hard going.

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Climbing Roseberry Topping – Photo, Craig Davie

We eventually reached the top of Roseberry to find Tim Taylor inside a tent marshalling.  I remember feeling good and having a couple of minutes chatting and stretching my legs, before checking time and heading back down.  We left Roseberry at 18h:32m and I thought that given this was 102km into the race, around the same distance as Hardmoors 60 which has a final cut off of 18 hours, that this wasn’t so bad.  As we got to the bottom of Little Roseberry, Craig was a little more switched on and told me that we needed to start moving faster as we were going to start running close to the cut off at Kildale.

We passed more runners who were on their way down Little Roseberry as we climbed out onto Newton Moor. Back out of Roseberry Gate, it took a few moments to find the path, that was how thick the fog had become again.  Once we found the path, we got running for a short while until we could see an odd shape up ahead.  It was a runner laid by the path.  We stopped and encouraged him back to his feet and fast walked on.  Although the path was downhill, it was foggy and it dented what little will I had left to run. I tiptoed down the steps to Gribdale Gate and told Dave I was pushing straight on to try and beat the cut off at Kildale, I’d stock up on whatever food I needed there.

About 100m up the bank towards Captain Cooks, I stopped and told Craig I needed to sit down.  He tried to encourage me up and I said I was packing it in.  He told me I wasn’t.  I wasn’t injured, I was moving OK, I was just having a rough patch.  I told him I’d meant to pick some paracetamol up from the car, so he ran back and got some.  We then moved off at a crawl.  There were several times I laid down and refused to move, but each time Craig got me up and going again.  I stropped, moaned and grumbled all the way to the top.  Just before the top, we were passed by Lynsey Blyth the eventual First Lady in the 160 who was full of energy.  We followed her past Captain Cooks and started on the descent.  On the way down the steps, I slipped and clipped my ankle on a rock, which didn’t help my already shit mood.  As we passed through the woods it started to get light.  Craig had talked to me about trying to run this bit, but my legs just felt empty, devoid of anything.  We were passed by single runners and groups.  I was very surprised to be passed by Kim Cavill and almost took her to be one of the many odd illusions and hallucinations I’d had climbing Captain Cooks until she spoke and told me she’d heard about me losing my poles.  Soon Kim and her runner were off into the distance.

We hit the road descent into Kildale at 20h:31m, I wanted to run down the hill, but the legs were still not playing and the feet were hurting.  I kept telling Craig there was no way I’d make the 21 hour cut off and if I did, I had a hard day in very hot weather to deal with.  I was 100% Mr Negativity.  Despite Craig, cajoling, encouraging and trying to bully me (he couldn’t bully me, he’s too nice) I ambled into the Kildale checkpoint with a minute to spare.  Andy Norman gave me the option of a few minutes to sort myself out and get back on the road.  Craig and I looked at each other, I had a moment of “maybe” then common sense kicked in and I called it a day.

I was looked after at the checkpoint by Emma Davie, Phil Owen and Sue Jennings.  I received a pep talk on the village hall steps from Karl Shields and as the cup of tea I’d had kicked in, the positivity returned.  I’d just ran the furthest I’d ever run and picked up a 50 mile PB along the way.

Jo Barrett gave me a lift to Clay Bank and re-united me with Dave and he helped at the checkpoint before I had a sleep in his car. After a couple of hours kip, Dave took me back to Helmsley where I had a bath and a sleep, while Dave went out and supported Emily, running the final 20 miles with her.

Later in the afternoon, Natalie and I went to the race finish and were able to watch most of the people I’d run with the day before finish.

Although I didn’t finish the race myself, I thoroughly enjoyed the whole weekend apart from that short time between Slapewath and Kildale, even then, there were so many funny moments and weird highs to counter the lows that it was also enjoyable in a perverse way.  I love the 110 weekend, this was my fourth consecutive year involved either as marshall, crew, pacer and finally runner.  I hope to be involved next year and as many years after as possible, even if I don’t run.  I currently have no desire to have another go, I’m at peace with my DNF (unlike my previous DNF’s of the 60) and have realised how much I enjoy racing 50-60 milers.  I now want to see how fast I can do those distances in.  However, I would encourage anyone who can, to get involved in whatever way suits them.  The 110 is like a massive all weekend party that moves around the Cleveland Way.  As I’ve said hundreds of times before, the Hardmoors family is special.

To Jon, Shirley, all of the marshalls, volunteers, runners, crew and everyone else involved, thank you for a fantastic weekend.

Special thanks go to Dave Cook and Craig Davie, without whom, I could not have got as far as I did.

Super special thanks go to my wife Natalie, your support is what keeps me going and this year has been a fantastic set of birthday presents.

Finally, I’d like to dedicate this one to the memory of my good friend’s Elliot and Kerry Gowland’s dog Taz who was cruelly taken from them in the days before the race.

Written by James Campbell - https://jamescampbell78.wordpress.com

It’s genuinely scary how quickly this race seems to have come around.  It feels like only a couple of weeks ago that I was embarking on a training plan that was essentially starting from scratch.

Since July, I’ve actually completed marathon plus distance twice (Sweeping the Hardmoors Princess 30 and just scraping past the marathon distance in Hardmoors Nemesis, both in aid of Scarborough and Ryedale Mountain Rescue).

My training has involved gradually increasing the distance and elevation gain of my runs as well as hitting a variety of different surfaces while getting in a number of recces of the Hardmoors 55 and 110 route.  A couple of times I’ve backed off the training due to feeling like I was pushing a little too hard but just before Christmas I managed to injure myself.

This resulted in me stopping running entirely for two weeks in the lead up to this race instead of tapering and receiving some great treatment from physio Mike Jefferies.

In the days before the race I had more time on my hands than usual to worry about the logistics of completing the race, so I pondered what do to about travelling in the event of bad weather and where to park etc. Right up until the last minute I was going on my good weather plan of travelling from Hartlepool to Robin Hood’s Bay on the morning of the race, but speaking to people who’ve raced previously, I had worries about getting parked. At last minute I decided to camp overnight and that decision was justified by the fact that when I arrived, I got one of only three remaining spaces in the car park.

Having arrived and shared a New Years Eve beer with Matthew Swan and Ian Gorin in Matthew’s camper van, I got myself comfortable in the car.  I was in bed well before midnight, but knew there was no chance of sleep until the local firework celebrations had subsided. In the time before midnight I went over my kit choices and how I was going to run the race.  At midnight, I video called Natalie and Martha to wish them happy new year then spent another hour planning and waiting for the fireworks to stop.

Due to the injury, my original target of beating my 50k PB (7h:09m) was out of the question and the only real goal was to get around within the 9 hour cut off.

The Hardmoors 30 course is a figure 8 loop consisting of 21km clockwise route north from Robin Hood’s Bay to Whitby along the ‘Cinder Track’ disused railway and back along the Cleveland Way path along the cliff tops.  I knew from the Princess that the Cinder Track is very runnable in most conditions and planned to run the 10km or so to Whitby at a comfortable pace then just do as best as I could on the return leg, which was likely to be muddy and hard going.

Since the pain in my leg had subsided to fairly minimal levels in the last few days, I’d decided to leave my poles in the car and pick them up for the second loop if my leg had decided to play up.

The second loop left Robin Hood’s Bay south on the Cinder Track, climbing gradually to Ravenscar then descending to Hayburn Wyke, before returning along the Cleveland Way to the finish.  The plan for this was to run what I could of the Cinder Track, fast walk back to Ravenscar and simply use anything I had left to get into Robin Hood’s Bay.

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Hardmoors 30 Route Map

I woke up naturally at 5am, an hour before my alarm clock was set and had a breakfast of porridge, banana and coffee while trying to gauge the weather.  The temperature on my car read 6 degrees, but in the sheltered area that Fylingdales village hall sits in, it felt comfortably warm, even though I could see clouds scudding along on a strong wind in the sky. I decided that on the clifftops that wind would feel decidedly cold so opted to wear a fleece jacket instead of a jersey on top of the standard winter wear of leggings and base layer.

Having got dressed and signed on nice and early, I left the village hall and did some light jogging and stretching to warm up then returned indoors for the race brief.  Once the brief was finished, we were outside in the bright winter sunshine and we were off on the first ultra of 2018.

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Hardmoors 30 Race Start by Kelli Wigham

As the crowd of runners headed along the road to the start of the Cinder Track, I was pulled along by them, way faster than I wanted to go, so as I hit the start of the Cinder Track, I slowed to a walk before jogging along at my own pace along the first flat section before the track kicked up into a climb which I negotiated in a run/walk routine until I was over the top and heading downhill.  I was just getting into a good stride and running well when I could feel the first painful twinges in my shin.

I checked my Suunto and found I’d only gone 3km, which was annoying.  I decided to take two paracetamol and continue running at a pace which I hoped would see me to Whitby within the first hour.  I quickly realised that the pain was worse on harder surfaces but subsided on softer surfaces.  Where possible, I ran on the muddier sections of track or on the grass at the side to reduce the impact on my leg and walked any concrete sections like the viaduct across the River Esk. I reached the first checkpoint at the end of the Cinder Track in Whitby at 1h:02m and grabbed a couple of Jaffa Cakes and ran through Whitby at the most deserted I’ve ever seen it making my way easily over the Swing Bridge and up towards the 199 steps which I enjoyed climbing as the stepping action seemed to relieve the pain in my leg.  This gave me some hope that it might just need stretching off gradually.

Once across the Abbey car park and onto the Cleveland Way trail, I ran at a decent pace overtaking other runners and early morning walkers all the way into Saltwick Bay caravan park where the pain came back within a few steps of running on the road through the park.  I walked until I reached the grass track at the far end of the park and was quite pleased to note that it was nowhere near as muddy as people who’d run parts of the route in the days before had made out. I made good time passing Laura Bradshaw of Sportsunday photography to the Whitby Foghorn/Lighthouse (1h:37m) where I spotted David Bradshaw, noting that he wasn’t at the top of some ridiculous hill for once.

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Passing above Whitby Lighthouse taken by David Bradshaw of Sportsunday Photography

As I approached the next hill, I got an inkling I knew why David wasn’t at the top of a hill, the runners ahead had slowed to a very cautious pace.  As I got closer, I could see that the path had become a total quagmire.  I got through relatively easily and began to climb the steps up the next hill to the sounds of people slipping and sliding their way through.

The next 5km or so was a complete mudbath.  Mostly ankle deep liquid mud on top of a firm subsoil that quickly clogged up the grip on the shoes and led to lots of sliding about. I expected this to hurt my leg a lot, but in reality, as long as I didn’t slip and over extend the leg it didn’t hurt.  However keeping upright was that much of a challenge, I along with almost every other runner along that stretch had slowed to a crawl.

Eventually, as we approached Robin Hood’s Bay, there were some runnable gaps between to muddy patches, but almost right up to the village it was not possible to run at a consistent pace without running into a slippy patch.  On the way to the Robin Hood’s Bay checkpoint, I went to the car and picked up my poles, then hit the 21km checkpoint on 2h:55m, grabbed a cuppa while the marshalls topped up my bottle with Coke.

Up to this point, my food strategy had been my usual Wine Gums and salted peanuts every 15 mins with a Snickers or Chia Charge bar on the hour.  However, stopping to eat while using poles can be a pain and the checkpoint had Chia Charge bars which I know work well for me as an hourly snack so I added a couple to my back pocket to compliment the ones I was already carrying (Santa brought me a stash this year) and changed my plan to having a bar every 30 mins.

I sorted my poles out and walked painfully along the tarmac to the beginning of the Cinder Track which I was disappointed to find was in good, firm condition and after a couple of hundred metres running, I was slowed to a walk.  I was passed by Joanne Abbott and Joe Williams who said they were walking the next section, but left me for dust at cracking fast walk while I could only hobble along using my poles for support.

I kept giving myself landmarks as targets to fast walk up the hill until a pair of runners in front of me came into view as the path wound upwards towards Ravenscar. I spent the next 3 or 4km trying to reel them in with a combination of fast hobbling and slow jogging and I got to within 20m or so when I was caught by a runner from behind who introduced himself as Keri.

We walked and chatted all the way into Ravenscar and the company took my mind off the pain in my leg (which I supplemented again with paracetamol just before Ravenscar).  At the Ravenscar checkpoint I had a sausage roll and grabbed more Chia Charge bars and hobbled off in pursuit of Keri.

At the old Ravenscar train station I was still in some considerable pain and wasn’t feeling great but I found Paul Nelson marshalling there.  It seems I always bump into Paul when he’s doing really well in a tough race (I saw him coming off Cold Moor on HM55 and coming into Gribdale Gate in HM200) and he’s always cheerful. Being greeted by his smiling face just picked me up no end and as I hit the Cinder Track I resolved to run more regardless of how much it hurt.

I adopted a strategy of picking a tree at the furthest point I could see in the distance and running to it.  When I got closer to that tree, I picked a new one and kept moving. I managed this for a couple of kms at a time only stopping for a walk to eat on the half hour or hour but eventually I began to slow off again and was passed by a succession of runners, including Michelle Boshier, Emily and Scott Beaumont who I chatted briefly with before I could no longer keep up with them.

I arrived at Hayburn Wyke (35km) at 5h:03m and found the checkpoint manned by Wayne Armstrong who topped my water and Coke up while I raided the checkpoint for more Chia Charge bars before heading down into the woods chasing Keith Wise and the two runners I’d been trying to catch up earlier. Descending the steps into the Wyke started off easy enough but further down they had been made muddy and slippy by the passage of the runners before me and I slowed down to avoid a nasty fall.

Upon reaching the bottom, I used my poles to climb back out, but it was obvious that I had slowed down significantly as I lost ground on everyone ahead of me and was overtaken by two groups of runners. At the top of the steps, the Cleveland Way clifftop path had been reduced to churned up and slippy mud, which was almost impassable.

The flat sections were tricky, anything uphill or downhill was just ridiculous.  Most of this section is uphill and without the poles I would have fallen over numerous times.

Again I focused on the pair of runners I’d been chasing earlier as the light started to fade.  One of the pair has started to lag behind the other, and I worked on closing the distance to him.  The poles allowed me to climb faster than they could climb, so I made ground uphill but lost it on the flat.  It was clear they were running together, because one would wait for the other when the gap between them got quite big.

A full moon rose over the sea to my right, as this slow motion chase through the mud played out and it struck me that the last time I’d seen a full moon rise on this stretch, I was running the opposite way during the 2016 Hardmoors 60 attempting to keep up with Elaine Wilde and Ingrid Hainey.  This bit of deja vu put a bit of energy into my stride and eventually I managed to overhaul one, then the other of the pair as the light began to fade.

I was now through the 40km mark at 6h:13m and working on trying to snap the elastic on the pair behind me, more for my own psychological benefit than any competitive reason.  I needed something to focus on to keep pushing on and moving through the pain. As the path approached Ravenscar, it began to get less muddy and more runnable and I was able to pick the pace up and hit the marathon mark at 6h:35m, which all things considered, I was reasonably pleased with.

Darkness was now falling and I opened my side pocket to get my head torch out, but couldn’t quite reach. I had zero motivation to take my pack off and my energy levels were dropping through the floor so I fast walked the last few hundred metres to the checkpoint where I asked one of the marshalls to help with getting the torch out while my bottles were refilled and I managed to stuff another sausage roll into my face.

Headtorch on, safe in the knowledge that there was only just over 6km remaining, starting with a very familiar descent away from Ravenscar I set off with renewed vigour.  I decided to ignore any pain I was in and use the descent as best I could and rattled down it quickly and hit the path above the Alum works in full dark.  The farm track was muddy but not slippy, however as soon as I turned off it to hit the clifftop path, I was back into quagmire territory. At this point I was beyond caring and threw myself along the path, no longer caring if I fell.

I was making ground on all but one of the head torches behind me, which was approaching rapidly and I tried to up my pace to keep ahead. This went on for almost 2km when I came upon a pair of head torches moving very slowly across a small dip.  I asked if they were OK and they confirmed they were ‘just going steady’.  As I entered the dip, I realised why and almost slid down to the bottom.

As I got through, they’d made ground on me again but I got moving and caught them up, just as I did, I stubbed my left foot into the ground and felt that combination of pain and release of pressure on my little toe that can only mean a blister has just burst.  As I stopped to curse, the head torch from behind passed the three of us and moved off into the distance.  I jogged on towards the Stoupe Farm road with the pair but having to slow dramatically once on the tarmac and being dropped by the pair totally as I descended the steps to Stoupe Beck.

As I climbed out of Stoupe Beck, the lights of Robin Hood’s Bay seemed tantalisingly close, but I knew that Boggle Hole was yet to come. Soon enough I was carefully descending the steep steps, listening the boom and crash of the waves below and eventually reached the bottom, ran across the bridge and started up the steps at the other side.  Climbing out of Boggle Hole seemed to take forever but at this point I knew it was a case of just grinding on to the finish.

At the top of the steps, I ran through the tunnel of tree and through the gate which I knew meant that I was on the final path to Robin Hood’s Bay, I moved as fast as I could along the stone slabs and almost ran off the edge of them where a recent clifffall had resulted in the earth beneath some slabs dropping down the cliffside, but the slabs remaining in place.  I tentatively edged my way around the far side of the path in the mud, until the path seemed safer then started running again towards the last set of slippery wooden steps that dropped into Robin Hood’s Bay.  I hit the village at 7h:58m and started the final steep climb up the road to the finish.

Despite being painful, the various Christmas lights in the village gave me something nice to look at and distract me, closer to the top I managed to get a faster hobble on and turned into the car park and the last 100m or so to the finish, clocking into the village hall and the finish at 8h:10m:33s by my watch.

I was presented with my medal and finishers T-shirt by Wayne Armstrong and I finally sat down to take stock of myself and strip off my muddy shoes and socks.

It wasn’t pretty but I’d got around within cut off and I now had 1/5 of the Hardmoors SuperSlam completed. As a run, it was a lot harder than most I’ve done in the past.  I can’t think of a single race that I’ve ever started carrying an injury before, certainly not an ultramarathon and I was happy that I’d been able to manage the pain and keep moving.

As always, the event itself was fantastically well organised and Hardmoors gatherings always have a party atmosphere.  New Years Day seemed, understandably slightly more so.

The marshalls at all checkpoints, some of which were in the middle of nowhere and and in pretty cold and windy locations, were brilliant, always happy, encouraging and willing to help. It’s amazing how much that these volunteers add to this race series and it speaks volumes that people keep coming back in ever increasing numbers. So to the Hardmoors team, led by Jon and Shirley, thank you for yet another great race and Happy New Year!  I’ll see you all at Hardmoors 55 in March.

Written by Andy Day

I’ve done a few of Hobo Pace events before & I’ve got to know the organiser Ronnie. He’s a genuine guy with a clear passion for running & the countryside & this clearly shines through.

The events are always well organised, fun & friendly & the marshalls are some of the best I’ve known.

Originally I was a racing cyclist, then duathlete, then triathlete, then a runner. As with everything I start I like to push the distances & see what I can do, so inevitably running moved to Ultra running. I had returned to Ironman Triathlon over last 2 years but I actually hate swimming, so I’ve gone back to pure running. it’s raw, natural & I love it.

I’m 50 next October & 6 weeks ago I decided I wanted to hopefully run Spartathon in Greece next September. In order to get into this iconic event you have to set a qualifying time & there are a few different race distances to chose from. You have to qualify before the Feb in a hope to get in that year, so this narrowed down my options. I decided to do the RH100, as its local to me, I knew some of the route & it was in Sept, so hopefully still warm. 

There are too options to qualify -

  1. Complete the 100 miler in under 21 hours & go into the ballot.

  2. Complete the event 20% quicker in under 16hrs 48 to get an automatic qualification.

‘Go big or go home’ was my view, so that was the plan 

This gave me 5 weeks to turn my training from a triathlete into an efficient ultra runner. Upping the miles without getting injured & not doing too much too soon.  I never make things easy for myself but I am stubborn, stupid & I like to push it..

Well, the training went well, I didn’t get any injuries & I arrived on the start line in the best shape I could hope for in the time.....  The sun was shining, less than 10% chance of rain, a light/moderate breeze & 13 degrees over night. Let’s do this!

Ok the route (Cut & paste from the hobopace.co.uk event page)

From the hall you head out towards the Chesterfield Canal. Once the route hits the towpath runners simply follow this all the way to  Worksop to eventually join part of the Dukeries race route which enters into the heart of Sherwood Forest. Navigation on the canal could not be simpler as the towpath hugs the canal water. Once you hit the forest it is well taped.

The race loops 30 miles in Sherwood Forest twice, before returning on the same towpath once again. The Dukeries lap offers some of Nottinghamshire’s most famous, finest and picturesque trail.

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Following forest trails, minor roads and footpaths, the route passes charming lodges, through Creswell Crags and skirts the Welbeck Estate.

It then crosses Clumber Park and through peaceful farm land before looping back to pass by the Thoresby Estate before returning to the thick of the Forest again.

The route passes The Major Oak!

The return is made on the same Chesterfield Canal towpath to head back to the village hall for an easy navigational finish. (Oh how we laughed )

Clear marking is in place throughout so you can enjoy the race with the vastly reduced risk of going off trail. (No stop... you’re killing me )

I believe there were 115 eager runners on the start line & I positioned myself..... right at the back.

This was a new concept to me but I had no care or thought for my finishing position. I had worked out that in order to qualify I needed to run at 10 minute miles but then taking into account stops at Aid stations, I decided that I’d run at around 9 minute miles.

Now in the past (I have always set off far too fast, knowing I had set of far too fast but still continuing far too fast. In the vast majority of cases this results in struggling like fook & internally shouting “you stupid t#@t, you’ve gone & done it again, when will you ever learn” to myself. 

This really is a nice event & feels relaxed. The first few miles passed as I chatted to other runners & enjoyed the morning views. I was also trying to check out the way back, as navigation is never my strong point (more on that to follow) Only a few miles in & I did that, follow the leader thing & turned left instead of straight on. Luckily the runners behind were more awake & kindly shouted us back on track. Once you hit the canal, even I couldn’t go wrong! (Turn right you run into the hedge, turn left you’re in the canal...simples )

I was keeping to my pace but still found myself running alone after about 4 miles. I had no idea how many were in front of me & neither did I care. It was all about the time.

At the end of the canal there is a very small section of road & two islands to navigate around. At this point I past two runners just before hitting an aid station. I remember the lady informing me that I was in 5th place & I smiled & said there’s a very long way yet.

I then began to hit the trail & continued on my pace, checking my watch for too many times to make sure I wasn’t going too fast.

I was looking forward to reaching aid station 6 at Hazel Gap because this is where my better half & step daughter Nicole were marshalling. I ran in in joint third but all I had been doing was my own pace. Slowly, slowly, catchy monkey 

A couple of pics, a nutrition top up & a kiss & I was on my way. I was told that I was 23 mins up on schedule at this point. The next part is a lovely 10 mile loop & back to Hazel Gap

I set off running with the same runner I had come into the aid station with but a short time later he stopped to stock up with his crew, I carried on alone. Back to Hazel Gap ( now 30 mins up) & then off out to Creswell Crags, tree lined Clumber Park & then back into the forest. This is another loop of around 20 miles, which again brings you back to Hazel Gap. It was somewhere around the 50-60 mile point that I moved into second place. Now for the second 10 mile loop back to Hazel Gap. I had already started to power walk the inclines at this point, in fact probably a lot earlier but I forget (I’m getting old) I do this to give my legs a break from running / use different muscles / mentally breaks it down into sizeable chucks.

Then in the last 1/2 mile back to Hazel Gap(mile 70)I saw the race leader Paul for the first time. Now this chap had flew off at the start like a steam train & was running at a great pace. I believe he came through 50 miles at not much over 7hrs - Smokey! 

I hit 50 miles at 7:51 running time but 8:04 actual time.

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We ran into the aid station together but here is where my race mindset really came into play. I hadn’t given it any thought at the time but Paul ran in, grabbed a quick bit of food etc & ran straight out. I on the other hand had already phoned ahead to my good lady for Maccy fries a vanilla shake (other unhealthy fast food outlets are available) & a leg rub  & this didn’t change. I royally took up my place in a deck chair - munched & slurped away, whilst Di applied the baby oil & gave my legs a tender rub. 15 minutes later I set off to Creswell Crags for the second time.

**What this has finally sunk into my head after all these years is you have to just run your own race. Deeeeeeer! Lightbulb moment.

It was now just about to turn dark, so I had put on my head torch. There’s something special / hypnotising about running at night & just that bright tunnel of light to follow ahead of you, so peaceful. On this section I passed a couple of other runners & for the first time I asked how far the runner was ahead. “10 maybe 20 minutes mate” said one, “a long way, at least 15” said another.

I came to aid station 4 (drop bag zone) for the third & last time & being a tight ass I emptied the last of my food into my rear pack & threw the now empty bag into the bin. I can hand it all to Di at the 90mile point & save it all - Always thinking 

The lovely ladies dutifully handed me a hearty portion of cold mushy peas & some soup. Deeeeeeelish!  I thanked them & off I ran, heading back towards the canal.

I was still running quite well, walking the inclines & on track to finish within 16hrs 48, which was my only goal for the day. As I dropped down to aid station 3, The helpers kindly filled up my water flask ( as they had done all day) & told me the leader was only a couple of minutes away. ‘Really I thought. He must be struggling. I might actually catch him’

I ran back out onto that small tarmac section with the two roundabouts. The street lamps were on here & as I looked down the road I saw the rear red blinking light of the leader Paul. This was the point where we went back off the road & re joined the canal. I could see Paul just on the canal as I approached the bridge over it. I stopped... F@#k! I can’t see the tape showing me the way. I thought I saw a gap in the foliage & proceeded to trample through it but then it got narrower & I realised I was wrong. I turned around, went to run back & promptly fell face first into the plants. I stood up & saw that I was covered in prickly balls & in my yellow t shirt I now looked like a very badly decorated Christmas tree. These were also like nettles & I was now itchy all over my legs & arms. Well..... it woke me up a little if nothing else.

Thankfully I was still awake enough to ring the race organiser Ronnie & explained where I was. He promptly told me to walk back a little & I then instantly saw the tape to my left - straight on to the canal. It was that easy!

However for the second time Paul had again ran off into the distance & out of sight. I can’t remember exactly but I think I was now about 15miles from the finish. I set off still at a steady pace & as there were no inclines on the canal, I could keep running. Around mile 87 I saw Paul for the third time, just before I had to negotiate my way around a small section (about 10 foot) of builders orange mesh & over some railway type sleepers that had been put down underfoot. I tripped & my right knee hit the deck. ‘Ouch’ ‘Ouch’ & ‘Fookin Ouch’ I thought I’d done something bad but as much as it initially hurt it soon wore off. (I think you’re ahead of me, as was Paul AGAIN!) I was beginning to think I wouldn’t catch him now.

However a short time later I finally caught up with Paul, who was clearly struggling & paying for that very fast start. “I think I’m out of ideas now” he said as I asked if he was ok. I felt for him, we’ve all been there. This guy had been out in front for 87 miles poss around 14/15hrs at this point. There was still a long way to go yet but I know the point when the brain makes demands that the legs can’t keep.

I carried on to aid station two where I met Di & & my good friend Gordon, who had very kindly travelled for over 2 hrs to pace me the last 10 miles. As I approached I was feeling good “Come on Gordy” I shouted. Di asked what I wanted & I said “Just empty my rear pocket”.

As I left the aid station Di told me I was still on track - exactly on the time I said I’d needed to be. (23:08) This meant I had to do the last 10 miles in 1hr 40 mins. It was very close.

We set off chatting side by side & then I let Gordy go in-front of me, guiding the way & shouting out any tree roots etc.. At the back end of these long events it becomes near impossible to lift the legs up high & kick back.

It gets a little hazy from here but after a mile or two, things began to change.  I was obviously a little mentally & physically tired at this point. I remember that I fell down twice, hitting a couple of tree roots I believe. Each time I went down like a sack of spuds & each time I couldn’t physically get myself up.  I remember Gordy having to help me up, when I said I couldn't do it myself. It was quite funny. I know I looked like a complete plonker but Gordy didn’t laugh once  (well not to my face but I know he has since ) We’ve both been there before. This is one of the things I love about ultra running & pushing yourself, the mental battles you have in your head & with your legs.

I remember suddenly feeling really hungry & realising I’d told Di to empty my pockets. No fuel left!! - school boy error. In the words of Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman “ Big mistake..... huge” The fact that I actually felt hungry, meant I should have eaten a while back (Is that obvious?) Luckily Super G came to the reduce with a Nine Bar. That was the god dam best Nine Bar I’ve ever eaten. A couple of times I had tell Gordy I need to walk for a minute (even on the flat canal) We were both looking for the light in the distance that showed us aid station one at 97 miles wasn’t too far. For me, it now seemed like it was never coming! I do remember shouting out “Where the fook is this aid station” Gordy saw a light about 400m away “I think that’s it mate” We ran to the light like an excited moth, only to find that it wasn’t the aid station at all. At that point I think G phoned Di as I was worried we’d missed it. In my tired foggy brain I heard G say “ Oh so it’s just over a mile”

Oh how I laughed. “ That’s perfectly fine Gordy. I’m having such a spiritual experience at the moment” said Daysey........ Never!!!

Needless to say, even though I was running, that mile seemed to take forever!!!!

We arrived to the sweet voice of my number one girl. I sat down as I was feeling hungry & craved a peanut butter & jam sandwich with banana (Food of the gods!!)

I then had to ask Gordy to lift me out of the chair (Legs don’t fail me now!)

andyday1

We knew that the Spartathlon auto time had gone now. I told Di I thought I might have to walk the last 3. “Get running” was her sympathetic reply but that’s why crew are Soooo important. They tell you the basics & make you eat / drink when you actually start to forget the simple things.

Di guided us off the canal & pointed us in the right direction. There’s a steep piece of road at this point & obviously I walked it. At the top we turned left, where I saw a piece of tape, then another but then nothing. We carried on for a short while when I told G we must have gone the wrong way. We rang Ronnie & Yeap, we had indeed gone off track a few minutes lost. Back on track we continued on & headed into a field. Pitch bloody black!! I’d ran it earlier in the day in the opposite direction but that was in the light. Now I hadn’t got a chuffin clue where to run. Another call to Ronnie, another few minutes lost but we finally conquered the field & headed in for the last mile.

Ronnie had mentioned that Paul must of had a second wind because he was catching me. I still don’t know if it was a cruel joke for me run faster but run I did. I then heard Di shouting ahead of us & G telling me to run hard into the finish. I saw Ronnie congratulating me & guiding me into hall, where I had to finish at the table. Guess what...... I ran through the wrong door. Lost again, right at the finish, much to everyone’s amusement 

Sooooo I was the 2018 Robin Hood 100 winner. I couldn’t quite believe it & it didn’t sink in until the next day. It was obviously a little bitter sweet, as I hadn’t made the time but all I ever ask of myself is to do the best you can & that was all I had on the day. I finish in 17hrs 27 mins, the second fastest time in its 3 year history. I have to be very happy with that.

A massive thank you to Super G. We met ( with partners) by chance, looking at the information board in Chamonix before UTMB in 2015 & have been friends ever since. I wouldn’t have finished in that time without him for those last 10 miles. Thanks buddy!

Thank you to Nicole (Little Bit) Hamilton for helping me at the aid station. She’s a real diamond!

Thanks to Ronnie for putting on a great event, answering my numerous texts before the race, his help / guidance during the race & in advance of him coaching me hopefully towards a Sparta entry. Finally (thank god! I hear you cry) a big big thank you to my lady, my number one supporter & the best Facebook updater, Diddy. She is one in a million!

What next??? Well I ideally don’t want to risk the luck of the ballot, so I’ve entered another event. The Flitch Way 100k in January. It’s a shorter event but I think a lot harder to hit the auto qualification time. BUT nothing even turned, nothing gained.  I’ll need to run the 62.5 miles in 8hrs, that an average of 7:41 per mile. However to take into account brief stops I’ll hope to aim for 7:30. Simples!! How hard can it be!?

Watch this space..... Nothing is impossible.

Oh & for you doubters out there. It was all done plant based... just saying 

Thanks for reading!

Daysey!

Written by Steve West - https://theparttimeultrarunner.wordpress.com

Midnight on June 4th 2016, I had just finished the inaugural SW50 in second place. I had a brilliant 13 ½ hours in the sunny Welsh countryside. This was a major part of my training for an attempt at my first 100 a few months later.

October 2016 – Autumn 100 – 23:38 – this broke me for weeks.

SW50 was brutal but my 100 was relatively flat (which I now think is harder but I didn’t then), so after finishing my 100 all I could think about was how on earth can people run 100 miles all on terrain like SW50. I hoped that one day I too would be able to do that.

October 2017 – After a good block of training I had my first ever DNF at Gower 50 due to a tendon injury which didn’t go away for a few months. This really worried me as I was training for the Arc of Attrition in the February.

Arc – I recovered from the injury and threw myself into 70-110 miles a week for the next few months. I was feeling confident and I was running well on race day – comfortably inside the cut offs despite the nasty diversion and small time allowance that was given as a result. However, the Arc is brutal; the distance between the CPs, the lack of food (not at the CP’s but just because there are so few CPs) and water and the general conditions underfoot got to me and at 80 miles and in just under 24hrs my mind and body admitted defeat.

I knew I had it in me to finish a nasty 100 and I like summer and I do well in the heat, unlike others I know who are stronger than me but can struggle in the heat. I had learnt a lot about running 100 miles from both my success and my failure and of course I knew half of the SW100 route. So for 2 months the thought of SW100 as a revenge race for my failure at the Arc bubbled away in my mind. I finally took the plunge in late March and entered, not huge time to prepare (12 weeks) but I was coming off the back of good Arc training and had recovered well, much quicker than from Autumn 100. I had 10 weeks training and 2 weeks on holiday for taper – trying not to get too fat.

I ran good weekly mileage of at least 50, but often 65 and when really wanting big weeks I managed a few 90-110 mile weeks. The difference here though was I knew I needed to drop my obsession with mileage and focus on elevation instead. I live by the sea in the Vale of Glamorgan and the highest point in town is only about 200ft, and the biggest hill climb is only 150ft. I work in Bristol City centre with a similar issue. I run 3 times a day when in peak training, usually all on the flat, but this time I was doing hills regularly, twice a week to start with and in the end 5 days a week at lunchtime, 700 – 1000ft. Towards the end I was doing my long runs, which were short for a 100 miler, of about 12-15 miles on hill repeats, sometimes doing 30 reps and managing 3500ft in the process. You do get funny looks from tourists at the seaside when you run up and down the same hill 30 times whilst they are having ice-cream in the sun.

I was feeling strong before holidays, but now was danger time, 2 weeks in Majorca, don’t get fat! I knew I wouldn’t do lots of running as it was during my taper, but I thought a few medium sized runs in the heat would be good preparation as last time in ran this route (SW50) it was sweltering. A few hill sessions on a treadmill in a non-AC gym were also good practice. As well as this I did a short heavy weight leg session in the gym each day, which I still think was of major benefit. I always wonder about building strength training into my plan, but like most ultra-runners, fall back on the false belief that time not running is wasted.

I came back from holiday feeling great and in the final few days before the race did some really quick runs (for me that is), which felt quite easy. I was now feeling confident.

A lack of planning for the Arc found me out, too little water, food, clothes at the right time. I wasn’t going to make this mistake again. The CPs were much closer together on SW100 than the Arc but 11 miles over the Brecon Beacons across the middle of the day is still a long way.

There were 2 drop bags allowed for the 100, 1 at 45 miles and another at 71. I thought very carefully about what I had to carry from the start, what I didn’t need until DB1 and what I may want at DB2. For example, all mandatory kit from the stat and a decent amount of food and tailwind powder. Powerbank, watch charger, suncream and more food at DB1. Road Hoka’s at DB2, and more food and tailwind powder. A full change of clothes was also in both DB’s, I wasn’t going to make the same mistake again.

I knew the Runwalkcrawl CPs would regularly have my favourite snack, cold rice pudding and jam, so I knew I could access that at least every 15 miles or so at every other CP. I added a Pot Noodle and a pot of Porridge to each DB also. The DB routine was planned out well in advance. Arrive and bag off. CP marshals to fill both bottles and add tailwind whilst I got hot water for both Pot Noodle and Porridge. Let it cook for 2 mins, then add cold water. Drink/eat them quickly, grab anything else I wanted to eat. Change of clothes/socks as necessary, final grab of food for small plastic food bag to carry and eat whilst Pot Noodle and Porridge were settling in my stomach. I didn’t want to bring them straight back up again! It worked perfectly!

I arrived early for registration, got the kit check done, tracker fitted, then went for a walk with the Etrex to ensure I knew how to use it. Then it was just a matter of waiting it out and being ready for the start – apprehension builds naturally.

I had a quick chat with Emma Williams from RWC fame who commented on my cool race vest. An Innov8 race ultra with front fitting pack. I thought it was great, but I had never raced with it. Off we go streamiling live on FB. FUCK – end FB live.

Literally my first step over the line saw the front pack disconnect from the main pack. I had to try to tie it on – but it didn’t work. The ‘No Limits Photography’ video of the start shows me being the final person out fiddling with it trying to bodge it together.

What a start! I had to basically run to the first CP at 10 miles, holding my poles in one hand, which also wouldn’t sit in their holder properly (again hadn’t run with that before – I know I know!), holding part of my bag with the other. This means I didn’t have a third hand to hold the Etrex. This meant I had to run to keep up with people to ensure I didn’t get lost, meaning a quicker start than planned. What a disaster. 36 hour race and all this happened in the first 30 seconds. When I arrived at the Llantrisant CP I managed to find a way to drop a load of non-mandatory kit and somehow stuff the other bits into the 5l race vest which I didn’t think was possible. Just shows how much you can actually get in.

I thought I was pretty much last and I was trying to calm myself down, ‘don’t get angry, there is a very long way to go’…’you’re only racing yourself’. However, CP1 is where it all started to go right. I was running well, enjoying myself, taking it easy and ticking off the miles.

I forget where, but a few hours before darkness fell I started to run with Anthony Howells, we made good conversation and helped each other through the first night. We took a bit of a detour through the bogs around the wind turbines – my god they are massive – and I had to pull Anthony out a few times as his legs disappeared to his knees, but we were in good spirits. We left the final CP before Drop Bag 1 (Hirwain) just behind 2 other runners, maybe 10 mins. Before leaving the CP, Ben Morris, RD, said to me that this next section to Ystradfellte was gorgeous and very runnable especially the first bit to Penderyn and so ‘make the most of it’. I didn’t mean to leave Anthony but a few minutes later I started running and just didn’t stop. I soon caught the 2 guys who left the CP 10 mins before us, as well as someone else about 20 minutes later – I left them all and despite looking back I couldn’t see any of them.

I could now hear the waterfall at Ystradfellt. I had been waiting for this for 2 years since hearing stories from the 100 runners in 2016 when I ran the 50. I saw John, a walker I knew from other RWC events and stopped for a quick chat with him. He looked in a fairly bad way and I gave him some paracetamol and wished him well for the day ahead. Unfortunately I later found out that John DNF’d. My phone had died for some reason just after the start so I had no battery to take a photo of the waterfall which after waiting 2 years to see it was rather frustrating. (Below is a stock photo just so you can see how amazing it is). As I walked behind the waterfall I didn’t really know what to do as I couldn’t take a photo so I just stopped and shouted at the top of my voice. I had to do something to mark the occasion. I felt amazing and I ran all I could to the next CP and Drop Bag 1 where my DB routine worked brilliantly and I was leaving as Anthony was coming in about 15 minutes later.

It was all a bit of a blur really from there until Storey Arms, apart from I recall putting sun cream on before leaving DB1 CP and then sweating instantly and trying to wipe sun cream out from my eyes for the next 4 hours. Oh well I suppose it was a distraction of sorts and helped pass the time! This photo was taken somewhere in this section – I think!

The section from Storey Arms to Talybont Resevoir was the make or break part of the run. 11.5 miles, lots of elevation gain and no shelter from the now sweltering heat and strong sun. I made sure I ate a lot at the CP just before Storey Arms, 3 bowls of rice pudding, 2 bowls of soup and bread and was sure to make sure I had all my bottles full and the spare 500ml bottle was full too. Whilst only 11.5 miles it was going to take over 4 hours. Did I mention the heat?

The SF (Special Forces) Experience was out in force on Pen-Y-Fan, much like the rest of the world when the sun shines in the Brecon Beacons. I was moving fairly slowly but these people had 40lb ruck sacks on and were hardly moving at all. They also had SF people shouting and swearing at them to ‘move it’…’keep going’. One guy was half way up PYF, but he hadn’t moved in minutes, he was totally gone. When I got level with him they had almost given up on him and were now asking him if he had any food…protein bars. He replied feebly with ‘its in my car’ which was met with ‘what the f**k is it doing there’ in raised voices to say the least. I felt so sorry for him I gave him one of my Clif Bars. He tried not to accept it but I showed him how much food I was carrying and I made him take it. He actually hugged me! Very strange experience. I moved on and didn’t look back.

Corn Du – done. Pen Y Fan – done. Fan Y Big – done.

I still felt good and ran when I could. Rounding the headland just before you first see Talybont reservoir I had a short chat with Barry Griffiths who had caught up with me from the 50 starters, his final prep before LL100 attempt in mid-July. I also managed to stop for a call of nature when no one was around, it all rots away in the end!

The view of Talybont Resevoir is gorgeous, but lingering in the background is the dreaded Tor y Foel. Personally, I think its worse than anything else on the route. I hate Tor y Foel. Head down and get it done. It was slow progress but I still felt strong. Its almost the place where you can say Im going to do this. There is still a very long way to go, but the back is definitely broken.

My feet however were starting to hurt now. Not blistered just painful from unsupportive trail shoes with less support than I am used to (Road Hoka’s). I did another FB live as I had charged my phone. This was partly to break up the boredom of the now walk off the fire road into Trefil CP and DB2. My ankle was on fire as well. I said some hello’s to people and thanked them for messages of support but I stated that with over 20 hours to do 30 miles (was actually 35) I was going to walk it in and not risk running and my ankle getting worse and causing a DNF.

The routine for the DB worked well again with lots of food being consumed. Imagine an all you can eat buffet approach, plates and bowls of food all around me, whilst I got out of the sun for a bit.

The pivotal moment of my race now happened. I asked RD Ben if he thought I could get away with my road shoes. He said ‘Hoka’s, put them on’. I bounced out of the CP. I was running and running well. There was a group of 4 of us now, three 50 mile runners and myself. We stayed together until New Tredegar where I immediately headed for the shop and bought a 2l bottle of water, a white magnum ice-cream (which I had been dreaming about for 10 hours) and a mars chocolate drink.

I was walking out of New Tredegar and enjoying my ice cream thinking the other 3 had gone a good 15 minutes up the road, when one of them appeared out of Tir Phil train station, Michelle McCully. Michelle’s friend started the 50 knowing she wasn’t well or fit and very quickly decided to drop, which meant Michelle had herself a support crew for the rest of her race. We walked out of town and onto the slopes and overgrown path that led back up. The ‘No Limits Photography’ people jumped out of the bushes and caught this shot of me here too.

Michelle kept saying she was going to drop at some point and was not sure she could make it to the next CP. It was her first ultra and so I knew her self-doubt was a bigger issue than her fitness. She was strong and moving well so I made it my mission to make sure she didn’t drop – hoping she would thank me in the end.

My Garmin had buzzed once for low battery and it did it again now which got me in a bit of a panic as if I’m going to run a 100 miles I want it on my Strava! This wouldn’t usually be an issue, I would just charge it on my powerbank, but I left my phone charging longer than I should and now the powerbank was dead (its old and only holds half charge – I definitely need a new one). It was at this time that Kelly Felstead, a FB friend and fellow 100 mile runner, had been messaging me, just with encouragement and trying to get me to run quicker to catch people a few kms ahead. A few km’s really!

She had offered to meet me somewhere with a bag of goodies and alike, which was amazing but unnecessary so I declined. However not having the run on Strava called for desperate measures. I asked Kelly if she had a charged powerbank I could borrow. She said yes but then said she had had a drink and couldn’t drive. I was deflated, but only momentarily as her amazing husband and ultra-runner in the making, Dewi, had agreed to meet me instead. Now I thought this was a short 2 mins up the road for him as we agreed to meet at the Bargoed CP. However it turns out he drove, on a Saturday night, 15 minutes from home and sat waiting for me for another 15 minutes at the CP. Oh and he did bring a back of goodies as Kelly made him. The guy is a legend. I offered to post the powerbank back on the Monday and put a fiver in for a few beers.

Dewi also joked that Kelly said she would come and run with us for a bit too. I said but she’s had a drink, which Dewi simply laughed off saying, and. Michelle and I left Bargoed CP in good spirits, with Michelle again making plans with her friend to potentially meet somewhere before the next CP in Caerphilly if she wanted to drop and me jokingly saying that was never going to happen. About 10 minutes after leaving the CP and at a set of traffic lights in Bargoed town, a car pulls up, the door is flung open and out jumps a blonde woman in running kit and race vest. Yes, Kelly decided to tag along anyway – her poor husband!

Kelly knew the area well so I was able to put the Etrex away for a few hours which meant I could switch off for a bit. We chatted, ran, walked and took photos of a gorgeous sunset as we made our way to Caerphilly.

Kelly headed home and we were now approaching Caerphilly and were running on what was a lovely sloping road into the town centre. We ran it all in the middle of the road like we owned it. Why not? It was nice to get some flow going for a change.
We headed around the castle wondering where the CP was and when finally finding it and heading in we were greeted with Pizza and chips. Heaven. The chips didn’t agree with me, but the pizza, oh man!

We headed out renewed of energy and Michelle was now feeling confident she was going to get this done. This was the final section where the only real climb was Crag y Alt. We were back to the 4 of us again and despite being the only 1 on the 100 I was keen to really push on but we held it back slightly and found the compulsory clip on Caerphilly mountain after circling the top once and missing the very unobvious path to the summit. From here it was on to Crag Y Aly which wasn’t as bad as I had feared and heard about. We dropped onto the Taff Trail which allowed for some easy running but the group wanted to walk again which I did find frustrating at times.

However I was quite grateful as the climb up Castel Coch was much longer than I expected. We had a great pace on for the walk with the poles but it just went on and on. At 2am and with a narrow head torch view you can’t see or recognise anything so it is the same step after step until it’s over. Michelle was amazing on the nav around here as she used to live locally and knew the area well.

We were dreading the descent down Castel Coch driveway as it is very steep, just what the quads don’t want. We heard a scuttling noise and the next second we were confronted with 2 badgers who were heading up the driveway. The 4 of us and the badgers all stopped in our tracks. They turned around and we gone as quickly as they appeared.

My Garmin was now showing around 104 miles but I knew from previous CP supposed mileage points vs actuals that we still had about 2 miles to go. I got slightly confused as to where we were as I thought we were coming out by the Motorway bridge but there was still a mile to go on the Taff Trail first.

Michelle and I wanted to finish strong and we started to run again, somehow getting under 10mm pace – speedy stuff for 32.5 hours in. We dropped the other 3 people that were now with us, walked for 30 seconds before agreeing to run in all the way across the line. My head torch died the moment we entered the field and the finishing funnel but it was done.

31 hour and 56 minutes. 105.7 miles. 19,416ft.

After picking up our medals and having the obligatory finish line photo, we picked up our drop bags and hobbled up the stairs to sit down and let it all sink in. Michelle’s friend Hannah had promised us a can of beer if we got to the end which she duly handed over. It was very refreshing but it quickly did its work and half a can later I was feely very sleepy – not a huge surprise.

I eventually picked up all of my stuff and headed down to sleep in the car for a few hours. I tried to unlock the car but nothing happened. I slowly realised that the car battery had died. I couldn’t figure out for the life of me why (turns out I had left the lights on) but I couldn’t think of anything else to do. So I just stood there….pressing the key fob and watching nothing happen. This went on for at least 3 minutes! I went inside and asked Joe (RD) for some jump leads. Don’t know why as I wouldn’t have been able to get in the car anyway to open the bonnet. There were some jump leads going to be available in the morning but what use would they be anyway. I went back to the car and just stood there pressing the fob again.

Remember now that my head torch had died so it was completely dark. It took a few more minutes before I remembered that you can open cars with keys! Boy did I feel stupid, but ultra brain fog was at work. I tried to open the back door to sleep across the back seats but it wasn’t having it and I couldn’t be bothered, nor did I have the physical manoeuvrability, to climb into the back so I just slept in the drivers seat. I couldn’t even get my sleeping bag open properly so I just lay it over me and went to sleep. I managed an hours sleep before the cold woke me up and I made myself get into the sleeping bag properly. I managed another 2 hours sleep and woke up just in time to see another group of 100 runners finish including the guys I ran with Friday night. I’d somehow managed to gain nearly 4 hours over them.

I loitered around for a short while, got the car started with the help of Pete from the RWC team and headed home for a proper sleep and feed.

This race had been in my mind for over 2 years. For most of that time it had been in my mind as unachievable or certainly a major step outside my comfort zone. The reality of the race is that I loved every second of it and I didn’t want it to end. I could have happily turned around and headed back to Brecon at least. Easy to say, far less easy to do.

Joe from RWC did offer in the following days to support me back to Brecon next year for an unofficial 150 (which I reckon would be 160) and whilst I am tempted by this, I have other plans for similar distances next year – namely Canalslam if I get in GUCR via the ballot.

I also have enough points now for CCC 2019 so I may enter the ballot for that too. Choices choices. There is something about this route though that the SW150 or even SW200 appeals.

What the hell is wrong with me!
Thanks for reading.

Written by Katrin Silva - http://runkat.com

“Hug me. Time to get comfortable getting uncomfortable.” My favorite aid station sign, and sound advice for finishing Wasatch

The Wasatch 100 is the last race of the Grand Slam of ultra running, and the toughest by far. Back in January, running four 100-milers between June 23 and September 8 had seemed like a brilliant idea, but by the time I line up in darkness on a dirt road in the foothills of the Wasatch Mountains  near Salt Lake City, I am plagued by serious doubts about the wisdom of my decision, and about my sanity in general. With Leadville just 19 days behind me, I feel lingering fatigue in my bones and lingering soreness in my hamstrings. The Wasatch elevation profile looks daunting: it starts with a steep, long climb, then continues going up and down, but more up than down  – 25 000 feet of up. Leadville and Western States rack up about 18 000 feet of elevation gain, Vermont only 17000.  Wasatch is definitely the hardest course of the four. Its only saving grace is the generous 36-hour final cutoff. I hope I won’t need all of those 36 hours, but it’s reassuring to know I could if I had to. The other thing I’m happy about is the weather forecast: after running a cold, rainy Leadville, and after reading piles of Wasatch race reports full of  dire warnings about freezing conditions, I look forward to a hot day.

4:45 am

On Friday morning, I know won’t see my crew, i.e. ultra husband David and ultra BFF Tammy, for several hours because the first crew-accessible station is over 30 miles away. We huddle in a group hug just before I find my place in the middle of the pack. At 5 am, we take off, leaving the lights of Salt Lake City behind us, and below us, on our way to the finish line near the Deer Creek Reservoir, 100 steep, rocky miles south of here. Wasatch is affectionately nicknamed “100 Miles of Heaven and Hell.” We look forward to the joy and the pain of the next 30-plus hours, to the highs and lows we will experience while putting one foot in front of the other. It sounds like a reasonable plan to this crowd of 300 hardy ultra runners and their crews. It may sound like insanity to our non-running friends, but we know they’re just jealous.

I settle into the conga line on the steep, narrow single track up Bair Canyon, climbing at a steady pace. It’s still pitch dark. I feel relaxed, mentally preparing for all the tough miles ahead, when a disembodied voice somewhere ahead of me starts screaming “Run!” Wasp attack! The only problem is, there’s nowhere to go. I’m trapped, sandwiched between runners in front and behind me, a steep drop to my right, a nearly vertical uphill on my left, running through a swarm of angry insects.

A sharp pain on my left wrist makes me yelp, even before I remember I’m allergic. Last time I got stung by a wasp,  my face looked like a cauliflower. I can feel my hand swell up already. Others around me suffer, too. We compare, we curse, but we keep moving because there’s nothing else we can do. I take off my wedding ring and loosen my Garmin, but I don’t stop. Up, and up some more, we climb into the first hint of daylight, which allows me to see that my hand has ballooned to about three times its normal size. It’s a good thing I don’t need it for running

A study in contrast

Finally, I reach the top and see Salt Lake City from far above in the pink glow of early morning, a view worth the climb, even worth the pain from the wasp sting. At the first aid sttion, mile 11, the volunteers take a look at my grotesquely swollen hand. They  sound concerned, but agree that, since I got stung two hours ago have not died yet, I likely won’t. Thankfully, ultra runners treat medical issues with a lot of common sense. I run on, happy that the evil wasp who tried to sabotage my grand slam finish failed. Mission not accomplished, you stupid insect!

Views lie this one make Wasatch heaven. The climbs make it hell.

On the downhill section that follows, I catch up to Sean Bearden, host of The Science of Ultra, which happens to be one of my favorite podcasts. He and his buddy Isaac let me join their animated conversation. I enjoy their company, but these two run 8 minute miles, which is way too fast for me, so I eventually let them go ahead

I could have taken hundreds of glorious view pictures, but they don’t dod this course justice. You just have to run it!

By mile 30, I fall in step with my old friend David Hayes, who is back to running 100s after heart surgery and looking strong. We haven’t seen each other in a long time, so time flies in deep conversation as we run along a beautiful ridge trail and into Big Mountain. My hand looks like one of the pink balloon sculptures that point the way to the aid station. David and Tammy are as happy to see me as I am to see them. They look at my sausage-like fingers with alarm, but try to sound like everything is normal, which is exactly what I need. Best crew ever!

Balloon sculptures that look like my hand

The sun is high in the sky by then. It’s getting warm, though not nearly as hot as it did at Western States. I know what to do: time for ice on my hand, under my hat and in my bra, time for cold ginger ale, and watermelon dipped in salt. After so many 100 mile races, the three of us are a dependable team. David and Tammy cool me down, then send me on my way.

Ultra BFF Tammy. Words can’t express how grateful I feel to know her.

I reach Lambs Canyon, mile 46, in the late afternoon. I pick up my lights, but it’s still early, still sunny, still too warm for long pants. I figure I have an extra pair at Big Water, so I stuff a half zip into my pack and go on The trail leads up another long climb. My legs feel heavy. Time to pull out my head phones for the first time. Slow, acoustic tunes for a slow pace keep me company as I make my way up the mountain in lengthening shadows under the canopy of an old forest. I feel serenity wash over me, from that deep well 100 mile races uncover inside many of us. Left foot, right foot, breathe in, breathe out, to the soundtrack of Mark Knopfler’s guitar, Ryan Bingham’s haunting lyrics, and rustling leaves. Here and now is just where I want to be until my bubble of quiet joy bursts when I catch up to a pig-tailed figure in a blue skirt. It’s fellow grand slammer Bibo Gao, who is usually hours faster than me. My competitive instinct opens one sleepy eye, then wakes up with a jolt. Here and now is no longer good enough – I want to pass Bibo, so I switch my playlist to faster rhythms, kick my feet into a quicker gear, and pull ahead.

At Big Water, mile 54, it’s getting dark and chilly. Time for warmer layers. Digging through my drop bag, I realize it contains no long pants. I must have taken them out during one of my last minute reshuffle sessions. Before I can panic, a volunteer named Kathy finds an extra pair in her car, which she graciously lends me. This type of kindness is common in the ultra crowd and one the biggest reasons I love running these races. On I go, thankful beyond words, through the dark mountains, toward Brighton, where my crew is waiting.

By mile 67, my legs feel like bricks and my eyelids are drooping. I have a hard time finding the Brighton aid station, hidden in a small town. I stumble around paved streets and dimly lit parking lots until I finally see someone with a head lamp move into a building. I follow. A good decision! Once inside, it’s a warm piece of heaven, with my smiling, saintly crew, real bathrooms and volunteers handing out disposable toothbrushes. I remember hearing that it’s easy to spend way too much time here, and can see why. It’s a good thing I can depend on David and Tammy, who  know they have to kick me out of my chair in five minutes max. I change into a slightly warmer pair of tights, eat a quesadilla, and it’s time to go. Tammy will pace me from here to mile 90, a welcome change from the many solitary miles behind me. We take off in a happy mood

Dressing a little too warm through the night is better than hypothermia

Soon, I regret the warmer tights. The night is not as cold as I thought it would be. I feel overdressed, but otherwise pretty good as we hike through an old forest, darkness wrapped around us like a velvet blanket. Next to a huge old pine tree, we stop and turn off our lights.  I hug the tree. I hug Tammy. We look up at the stars, filled with wonder and gratitude.

(No picture can capture that sort of moment. You just have to imagine it.)

After that little break, more climbing lies ahead – steep, rocky climbing, for several miles. I remember this part form the elevation chart, which doesn’t make it any easier. My glutes tell me they’re done for the day. My hamstrings threaten to cramp. The urge to whimper and complain becomes almost overwhelming, but I keep it in check while I keep putting one foot in front of the other. “This is the last climb” becomes my anti-whining mantra.

At the top, near mile 70, we reach the highest point of the course and finally begin descending. Soon after that, the smell of bacon greets us. Am I hallucinating? No, it’s the Pole Line Pass aid station, where all sorts of goodies sizzle on a grill. What a welcome sight! Munching on a rolled up pancake, I believe that the worst is over. Tammy and the saintly aid station volunteers reassure me that it’s all downhill from here

How I imagined the rest of the course. Wishful thinking!

I take off,  expecting an easy cruise to the finish. Instead, I see another steep, technical climb rise before me. My hopes are crushed. The aid station volunteers are not saints, but cruel, vindictive sadists! Tammy is not really my friend – she lied to me! I start crying. I yell at the mountain. It does not care. Tammy tries to push me up the rocky incline, nicknamed “The Grunt” as I find out later. I tell her that I won’t go up there, that she can’t make me.  Oh, what pacers have to put up with. “Come on, small steps . . . We’re almost there!” she coaxes, like I’m a skittish horse. “You don’t know that. You’re lying to me!” I mutter, but I do start climbing, in spite of my loudly protesting leg muscles. We pass another runner who sits on a rock next to the trail, head in her hands, sobbing. Shared misery makes this tough stretch a little easier. At least I’m not the only this course has reduced to tears! Tammy tries to get both of us to move, but succeeds only with me. After just a few more agonizing steps, we reach the top of The Grunt. I breathe sigh of relief as I apologize to Tammy for my meltdown, thankful that everything that goes down on the trail between a runner and her pacer stays on the trail.

Downhill, at last.

Finally, the last major climb is over, this time for real. Finally, this beast of a course goes downhill, but it’s not the kind of downhill I had envisioned during the endless uphills of the last 80 miles or so. No, It’s a steep, quad-busting downhill, decorated with loose rocks the size of watermelons. I have twenty more miles to go until I’m an official grand slammer. I don’t want to miss the goal I’ve worked so hard for because of a busted knee or twisted ankle. On the other hand, super pacer and Wasatch veteran Tammy now mentions casually that sub-30 hour finishers earn a blue buckle, shinier and prettier than the standard sub-36 one. The sudden, irrational desire to win that particular piece of belt jewelry now burns in my gut with an intensity only ultra runners and rodeo cowboys can understand. My hamstrings are too sore to move uphill at anything faster than a turtle-like pace, but I still can run downhill, so I do, trying hard to stay vertical

New day, new energy from morning light and good music

Tammy soon falls behind my suddenly energized pace. She encourages me to go on ahead, which I eventually do, in hot pursuit of that shiny buckle. At the Pot Hollow aid station, Mile 85, it’s getting light already. I look at my Garmin. It’s dead. I look at my phone. It’s 6:30 am. I freak out for a moment, calculating that I have not that much time to spare for a sub-30 hour finish. My brain is too mushy for exact calculations, but I know it’s time to dig deep! For the second time in this race, I put on my headphones, this time blasting my power playlist. I’m glad I saved my performance-enhancing music for mile 85. With help from Freddie Mercury, Chris Ledoux, and the first hint of a glorious sunrise, I scrape up  enough energy to powerhike the uphills, then run the a non-technical, dirt road downhill all the way to mile 90.

Home stretch, mile 90: new socks, sunlight, and smiley faces on my leg. David has a sense of ultra humor.

David meets me at the aid station, full of energy and ready to pace me to the finish line. What a welcome sight! It’s getting warm. I change back into the running skirt from my drop bag, drop off my lights, put on a hat and sunglasses, and off we go, ready to dig deep for the last ten miles.

Almost there!

Ten more miles, mostly smooth and downhill, between me and the eagle trophy. We run a couple of sub-10 minute miles. One last aid station, one last slice of watermelon. Some white-faced Herefords stare at us through a barbed wire fence. We cross railroad tracks, then the trail tuns left, along a lake, which seems to go on forever. I fantasize about what I want most right now: a comfortable bed, a shower, a belt buckle, an eagle trophy. How much do I want these things? Enough to keep moving. Not enough to keep running.

The reward for 400 tough miles

Another 5k or so. I’m convinced this race will never end. My legs feel wobbly, my brain like a bowl of mashed potatoes. I put my headphones back on for the last time, blasting Don’t Stop Me Now on autorepeat, three times, five times. Thank you, Freddie Mercury! A last loop through a park, then half a mile up a paved road, then, finally, the finish line! I did it! The clock says 28:34, good enough for 5th woman.

Done! Nothing feels more amazing than finishing a 100 miler, except, maybe, finishing the Grand Slam.

17 of us, from many different walks of life, united for an epic summer

We go back to the hotel for a brief nap, but then decide to return to the finish line for the last hour, the golden hour. It’s the best place in the world to hang out. Our friends, Our people. My -our – eagle trophy, finally, after 101 hours and 48 minutes of running. Only 187 of the 300 Wasatch starters persevere to the end, but all 17 of the grand slammers who started reach the finish, a remarkable feat. We are exhausted and dirty, but beaming.  Seven of us are women, which must be a record. In 2017, not a single woman finished the slam.

My Grand Slam feet.

The Wasatch 100 is a tough beast. A curmudgeonly old 100, with a down to earth vibe. It made me cry, but it also made me tougher. Thank you, RD John Grobben and all of the amazing organizers and volunteers who spent so much of their time keeping us safe, motivated, and hydrated. Thank you, Tammy, for your wisdom, your support, your friendship, and most of all for putting up with my whining on that evil last climb. Thank you, most of all, to ultra husband David Silva, without whom I would not be an ultra runner, much less a grand slam finisher. You mean the world to me!

Worth all the blood, sweat, tears, and entry fees.

My once in a lifetime adventure is over. I already look forward to new challenges in 2019. Suggestions are welcome!

Postscript:

There’s a reason this race report is almost three months late. A week after the Wasatch 100, ultra husband David Silva had brain surgery for a subdural hematoma. He was extremely lucky. Now he is back to running and to planning the next season of ultras, but it took me a while to get my PTSD under control and my groove back.

Lessons learned:

David, best ultra husband ever.

  1. Please take head injuries seriously, even if they don’t seem like a big deal at the time they actually happen.
  2. Live well. Love well. Life is fragile, and shorter than we like to think. It’s definitely too short for regrets.

Written by Richard Stillion - https://richyla.wordpress.com

Pure Outdoors Events 1st September 2018

http://www.pureoutdoorsevents.co.uk/index.php/the-grand-tour-of-skiddaw

Race Director Gaynor Prior

Event HQ Chris Preston

Event Manager Clare Shannon

Race Winners: Andy Swift 6.35.40 and Sabrina Verjee 8.07.00

1976 – the drought year!  That was when I first went to the Lake District.  I’d like to say I’ve been back every year since, but it would be a total whopper.  2018 was the next time I went back.  Yes, this year.  We’d stayed in the Dales and popped over to Windermere for the day.  I really thought it was time to go back and have a look around!  A couple of years ago I was having a bit of a mooch running with a few guys including Jacqui Byrne and she said she was running Skiddaw.  I had a look at it online – 42 miles in the Lakes looked good – and tucked it in my head .  So, it ate away and after the Windermere visit this year, it ate a bit more until June when I couldn’t take it any more.  It was a bit of a risk as it was sandwiched between The Plague and Cotswold Century but I somehow thought they could all dovetail.  It won’t go down as one of my best ideas.  Besides, what was I going to do for training – the highest point in Oxfordshire is 261m, hill training at its best.

6 weeks ago, I tore my calf, so no running.  3 weeks later I slogged through the Plague picking up the inevitable niggles and didn’t run for another three weeks – Grand Tour of Skiddaw weekend.  The whole family and another family were supposed to be heading up for a weekend in the Lakes, but somehow I found myself alone driving up the heavily congested M6.  I’d hoped to get there with a bit of daylight, but watched the sunset around 8pm as I turned off at Junction 42.  A few country lanes and thankfully the satnav took me to Lime House School Race HQ and campsite.  I parked in a field where I was to camp, and went straight to registration and received a very friendly reception,  collected my number, dibber, vest, tracker and Mountain Fuel gel.  And pins, don’t forget the pins.  I was pretty tired after the drive so wanted to get my tent up and crash.  I bumped into Nici as I came out of the sports hall registration.  I don’t know how she recognised me in the dark, but she said it was my beaming smile.  Such wit.

The tent went up pretty well, not that it was big, I stuffed everything inside that I’d brought and went to sleep.  No, no I didn’t.  I lay awake listening to a dog barking most of the night.  I can’t fathom why the owner didn’t shut it up.  I didn’t mind the owls and deer making noises, but the dog…

I think it was around 6am when Guy Garvey woke me up telling me to throw my curtains wide – I was in a tent, I didn’t have any.  It was, however, looking like a beautiful day.  Nice and warm too.  I munched on some flapjack I’d made with added chia seeds for breakfast, got my stuff together and pins, where are my pins?  I went back for more.  I didn’t know where to put my tracker either and was told it would be okay to tuck it into my upper running vest pocket.

I stood around until race brief where I was told the route was approximately 44 miles (eh?!, thought it was 42) and then we had around 10 minutes to kill and as I was standing next to the mobile canteen, I thought it would be rude not to take advantage of some freshly ground coffee.  Double espresso done and it was time to race.  I say race.  We were told if we wanted to race we’d have to get up front as there was a kissing gate not far away and would cause a bottleneck.  I stayed where I was in my usual spot.

Start1

And go…

And off we went.  And then stopped.

Start 2

And rest…

It was for around 5 minutes but it was nice to have the rest…  There were quite a few kissing gates on this section so whilst the field of runners spread out, they also bunched at the kissing gates.  I got a bit frustrated with this and tried the run ahead of others to get to the next gate before you technique.  It was the first mistake of many in the day – – the majority of the field would be passing me on the way back.  It was nice to see Nici, Sharon and Jacqui at a road crossing as they were helping out with marshalling duties – there were others, I just don’t know their names.  I pootled on over the sparkling new Bell Bridge which had been trashed by Storm Desmond in 2015.

There was some nice pottering along here and I was feeling a bit excited about the views opening out.  I must have been daydreaming a bit here because I went flying.  I was blatantly tripped by some root, bramble or twig – I don’t know which one as they were all grinning and not owning up.  I really don’t like that sort of thing, hanging around in woods doing nothing but photosynthesising.  Go get a job, like oxygenating the planet.  I jogged on with a flesh wound of pride.

The first checkpoint was in Caldbeck and Nici and Sharon were there post-road-crossing detail and were now on dibbing detail.  The Byrne was sat on a wall cheering runners on.  I went inside and filled my bottles up, ate some peanuts and a banana.  And so to my second mistake of the day – I didn’t bother drinking any water because I couldn’t be bothered to take my cup out of my vest.  You can’t make it up.  Well I was going to pay for that before long.

And so to the hills…High Pike at 658m is, according to Wikipedia, the most northerly of the Lakeland fells over 2000 feet.  It’s uphill.  I am terrible at going uphill and a lot of people I’d passed at the kissing gate section were sauntering by chatting away whilst I blew out my backside.  The route was waymarked this year for the first time and there were loads of little red flags marking the way up.  Not needed today but if the clag had come down they’d have been most useful.  Eventually got to the top…

Pike

..and then started downward.  I was getting thirsty already and saw a marshal at a refuge – Lingy Hut – and he said when we got to a sign we should turn left.  It was a really good downhill bit – by Grainsgill Beck.

Beck

Head down there and turn right..

I really enjoyed it, going as fast as I could, which compared to a fell runner would have been risible, but it felt good.  There was a sign at the bottom about a mine but I didn’t stop and then turned right onto some very runnable terrain.  It should have been runnable anyway.  I got a mile or two along and then simply crashed.  I was done already.  Out of water and praying for an aid station.  I hadn’t checked where they were so had no idea when one would come along.  What about those houses up there?  Nope, that’s Skiddaw House.  Nothing doing.  I remembered I had a nakd bar and ate that.  I’m not sure whether the bar started to kick in or a change in terrain snapped me out of my slump.  The path went upwards and onto a bit of a ledge looking ahead towards St Johns in the Vale (I think).  It was beautiful to see a bit of valley and hill with clouds and sunshine coming out across part of it.  Stunning stuff.

Sk7

I headed round towards my right and Keswick and Derwent water came into view.  Then I saw what I hoped was an aid station (thankfully it was  – Latrigg).  It took a bit of time to get there and I saw some runners coming back towards me.  I asked them why they were coming back and they pointed over my shoulder.  I looked around and there, disappearing up to the clouds was Skiddaw.  I was suitably impressed.

Sk4

Skiddaw

I got my cup out this time and let it overfloweth to slake my thirst type thing.  And there was meat and potato pie!  I’ve never fuelled up on that before and wasn’t sure about it, but carbs, fat and salt can’t be all bad on a run.  A few salty crisps too and I was ready for storming the Skiddaw – let the ascent begin.  There’s a Simpsons episode where Homer is supposed to be climbing the Murderhorn and he’s been through about 3 oxygen bottles.

Homer pic

Summed me up perfectly

The scene pans back and it shows he’s just set off only marginally above Marge.  That was me.  Again, my uphill skills and all that training in the white horse vale were paying dividends with embarrassing riches.  A family of sloths on holiday from the Amazon rainforest walked by chatting away.  Followed by some other slow animals that I can’t remember the names of.  It was great though, looking back over Keswick – the traditional start of the Bob Graham Round at the Moot Hall steps.

Sk3

Keswick and Derwent Water

The views eventually disappeared as I went into the cloud.  There were plenty of tourists doing the climb as well.  I’d been chatting with Jacqui’s friend, Sharon D on the race and she was ahead of me going up but it was levelling off and I managed to catch her up with a bit of running and we had a bit of a chat.  There’s a bell that the race organisers put on the trig point and I was desperately listening out for it as a guide that we’d be near to the top.  I couldn’t hear it.  There seemed to be even more tourists coming down now and I was desperate to ask them if it was far to the top but there was little point, it wouldn’t come any sooner whatever they said.  We’d started going upwards again and Sharon forged ahead out of sight.  I was following the cairns in the mist on my own.

Hello…..?…..Hello?

Hello?

It was Sharon.  She’d got a bit disoriented in the cloud but she was heading the right way, we walked together and soon came across a couple of marshals.  How they hadn’t frozen to death I don’t know – despite warm weather clothing.  They said it wasn’t far and sure enough it wasn’t.  We rang the bell and thus began our tour of campanology.

Some young lads were sheltering by a cairn and asked us if we wanted any sausage roll for some reason.  Very kind, but I declined.  I wanted to get under the cloud as I knew I’d get cold soon if I stayed, so we headed back to the marshals we’d seen before.  It’s down there, they said.  It was great!  Steep scree, I didn’t know how to go at it.  I’d read about the brakes off, brain off theory but there were people coming up as well.

Descent

Brakes off, brain off. Photo courtesy Pure Outdoor Events

I did the best I could.  Legend fell runner Billy Bland had described how the only time he’d got injured going off Skiddaw was when he was a bit older and tried braking a bit too much.  I’d say I flew down because it felt like it, and I overtook quite a few people, but looking on Strava it wasn’t very fast.  I got to a bit that levelled out and there was a photographer there for the race.  I simply asked him if he could make me look like a runner.

Skiddaw 1

Trying to look like a runner. Photo courtesy Pure Outdoor Events

The path went upwards a bit and I thought I’d try my new cola caffeine gel.

“Don’t worry about stomach issues, always try new gels at the top of a mountain in the middle of a race” suggested no one ever, but then I don’t think meat and potato pies are on Kilian Jornet’s nutritional agenda either.

Another welcome downhill bit ensued, and stunning views when I dared to look up.

Pic 9

I got to the bottom and chatted to a few runners – NDW50 man and walking pole girl.  I needed to take a quick pitstop and went behind a wall.  What came out was orange.  Evil orange.  I was seriously dehydrated.

I don’t remember too much about the next bit, just bimbling along, occasionally chatting with the odd runner or two and then the aid station at Peter House Farm came up with welcome relief.  There was a car coming along the road we were heading up and we moved to get out of the way, but it pulled over.  Who got out of the car? – None other than my niece Sam!  What an amazing and welcome surprise.  I knew she was tracking me and lived not too far away in Penrith, but I hadn’t expected her to turn up.  I was joyous.  I had a fight with some wasps over some cheese and pickle sandwiches and had a chat with Sam and she’d said she thought I’d dropped as my tracker had stopped working.  I was a bit annoyed about this as I knew my family was keeping track of me and they’re good fun to watch,  (I watch them myself as well).

Pic 10

Runner 112 is erased from existence

One of the marshals had a bit of tape and now taped my tracker to the more exposed shoulder part of my running vest and it did eventually work again.  Not sure what happened with it.  Sadly had to say goodbye to Sam but she said she’d be at the finish.  I was then travelling through a field and there were a couple of guys I spoke to and asked if the race was actually 44 miles, more or less?

Actually it’s 46!

Eh!?  I initially thought it was 42, then it was 44 and now it’s 46?  Where did the 4 bonus miles come from.  I spat my dummy out.  I was running along now trying not to trip up, but it wasn’t roots or branches this time, it was my lower lip.  I was shot in this race around the 10 mile mark, I didn’t want to do any more than I needed!  I was glad I knew now though, rather than finding out at mile 44 that I hadn’t finished!  The two guys ran off but I overheard them saying that the rest of the route was mostly rolling countryside with a few pulls every now and then.  (The “pulls” were steep up bits that didn’t last too long).

Rolling hil

Rolling countryside (route marked) with pulls

Beck

Maybe I should have run a bit more, but I couldn’t help stopping to take photos

For a fair bit of this part of the race I found I was running on my own, l would look around and no one was there and then people would appear from nowhere and pass me.  Was I going backwards or what?  I was following the route markers and up until now I hadn’t taken a wrong turn but now, by a farm with the road going ahead, was an arrowed sign that was leaning to the right – was it right or straight on?  Absolutely no idea which way to go.

What’s that Richard, you didn’t bring your course notes?

Well, I printed them off, they’re in the car.

Well, you’ve got a compass, surely you brought a map then?

Err.  Nope.

There was a GPS download on the Pure Outdoors Events website.  Goes without saying, you uploaded that onto that expensive device on your wrist.

Ah.  I mainly use that for daily step counting….Oooh look, there’s a guardian angel disguised as a runner – Bright Orange Top Lady.  I know she’s an angel as she has a gps system around her neck and is telling me that the direction to go is along the road.

And I was thankful for a bit of road running if I’m honest.  I sort of followed Bright Orange Top Lady for some considerable time as other runners caught us up or we caught runners up.  The road was now exacerbating the grit and pebbles in my shoes and it felt like sandpaper rubbing away.  I resolved to stop and found an ideal place against an open barred fence thing on a bridge over a brook.  In hindsight it wasn’t wise because if I dropped my shoe, then I’d have had to play Salomon pooh sticks and leg it after a disappearing shoe as it meandered down the stream.  Shoes emptied (although there’s always one bit of grit that hangs on for dear life), I felt a bit more comfortable.  We left the road and I was talking to a chap with a Liverpudlian sounding accent for a while, then I pushed on a bit and caught BOTL up.  I thanked her profusely as I’d hung on to her coat tails a fair bit.  She looked at her gps and said we were on Caldbeck common.  And then we got to the corner of a field wall and she said that that was it, we’d done the loop so we were now heading back the 10 miles we’d come out on.   Then she disappeared!  It was pretty flowing downhill though and I ran as much as I could towards Caldbeck.  Reaching Caldbeck I suddenly dropped again.  Absolutely wiped out.  I knew the aid station was close, but I reached out for another bar to eat.  I was still eating it when Nici’s dulcet tones shouted at me to get a move on.  The Byrne was still perched on the wall –  although she denied it, I could have sworn she’d sat there all day.  I went inside the hall and decided I’d shovel as much food in my face as possible – no more energy slumps.  Soup and lots of cheese and pickle sandwiches.  Cup of tea.  Coke.  Absolutely fantastic.  People came and went but I’d stopped caring.  Eventually I got up and decided to finish.  7-8 miles to go along the riverside.  Hopefully those nasty bits of nature had moved on by now as well.

Off I went.  Bloated and feeling sick from all the food I’d eaten.  So I had to go slowly and let it settle a bit.  I was good at going slow anyway, so all was well.  I pushed on and stopped, as I’d done a lot of times this race, to take in the surroundings and take a photo or two.  There was a wide bit of river at one point and I was almost expecting a kingfisher or dipper to fly along, but sadly it wasn’t to be.  I was so banjaxed by now that I kept stopping at gates and rested my head on them and I was blowing away.  I was heading through a field when a farmer pulled up on a quad bike.  For a fleeting moment I thought he was another angel and was going to offer me a lift.  Sadly this wasn’t the case, he just asked me about how many runners I thought were left.  Over Bell Bridge and off the road again.  I decided to take one last gel, no point in taking it for a 40 odd mile walk and it might just help me get to the finish.  I looked behind me and there was another runner the other side of a field.  I wasn’t going to be overtaken again so I started to run and resolved not to stop again – which I didn’t until I got to the final field full of cows.  Dammit.  I’m not overly afraid of cows, but have a healthy respect of them having witnessed (first-hand) them charging rather too close for comfort.  Thankfully, they weren’t interested so I got through them and the kissing gate without event.  Just a little run along to the finish and Sam was there to cheer me on.  I couldn’t make out if she wanted to hug me or not, but she just told me to hurry up and finish so that’s what we did.  The same lady that was on registration the night before dibbed my finish and said hello again.  She took my tracker and dibber and got me a coffee.  There was a makeshift bar in the sports hall – the Stagger Inn – and I sat down with Sam with my slate finishers medal.  I did my best to talk but was feeling out of it.  Sam was brilliant and got me a pizza.  And a second pizza.  And coffee.  We chatted for a while and I agreed to meet up with her the next day for lunch.

Medal

Slate bling

Some showers never have hot water.  I don’t believe these ones had any cold.  They’d been turned up to Fires of Hell heat.  Absolutely marvellous.  I would love to have had a drink in the bar afterwards but was so shot that my tent was calling.  I wasn’t falling asleep any time soon as I was aching and full of adrenaline and feeling happy with the world.  And there was loud music playing and huge whooping going on as other runners came in to finish.  It was a great sound to hear and I just lay there in agony but felt good.

Morning After

After my shower the previous evening, I’d put my watch in a bag.  My phone had run out of battery as well.  So, when I heard cars leaving in the morning from the camp site and zippers going in tents, I thought it must be time to get up.  I got out of the tent to be greeted to another balmy day (no music this time) but no one was about.  I put my phone in the car to charge and it was only 7am.  I went to the sports hall to have a look around and Jacqui was there having a cup of tea so I decided to have one.  Sharon D joined us too and we had a bit of a chat.  We were waiting for later because Billy Bland was coming to give awards out and have a bit of a chat and Q&A.  There was also a light stretching session which Gaynor – the RD – was taking.

So the morning went by, the stretching was much needed and then we sat outside for a bit.  Mr Bland turned up with cake made by Mrs Bland who was also there for a while.   We then went back in for the presentations and Gaynor gave a bit of a washdown on the race.  There’d been over 500 arrow markers put out.  And a bunch of idiots that had either moved them or taken them down.  Why?  Who knows – it had sent a couple of the front runners the wrong way but luckily the crew were on it quickly to correct everything.

I think there were 140 starters with only one drop – someone who was ill, so sensible decision.  That’s a fantastic finish rate.  Course records, third time win in a row in the ladies (who’d also had a storming LL100 earlier this year) and the third place male had run a half marathon that morning in 1.20 for a 4th place finish!

Billy Bland then gave out the awards and then had a chat about his running and, of course, Kilian Jornet who had recently taken his long-standing (36 years I think) record for the Bob Graham Round.  He mentioned being buggered a lot and had also mentioned that Kilian too looked buggered at the end of the BGR.  I had to laugh at the thought of Kilian picking up this expression then going on to to win the UTMB (sadly he didn’t), then being interviewed on Eurosport – so Kilian, how do you feel? – buggered.  Not standing still, Mr Bland then got changed into his cycling gear to ride his bike back home.  I’m not a fan of selfies and don’t care for celebrities, but I did ask for a photo with this fell running legend.  What a guy.

bill

Mr Bland with a groupie

I drove slowly back to the M6 trying to take in as much of the scenery as possible, then headed to Penrith for chilli made by Sam.  It was great to see her again and have a bit of a chat before heading back home on a much quieter M6 than when I came up.

Thoughts

So, how did I feel after the event?  Buggered obviously!  But I felt appreciation, awe, bewilderment – for both the scenery and the runners.  I slogged up Skiddaw, but these guys raced up it.  The Bob Graham Round STARTS at Skiddaw then takes in a further 41 fells – all within 24 hours.  Billy Bland’s 36 year record was 13.52 and only beaten this year by Kilian Jornet in 12.52.  I took nearly 12 hours just to get round this course!

My 42 mile race length supposition came from me not looking properly at the Skiddaw race page.

profile

Note to self – read the information properly before starting

I’m not sure how the approximate 44 mile turned into 46 though, but this is NOT a complaint at the RD – they must be utterly sick of Garmin/Suunto Johnnies moaning about bonus mileage (and taped seems for that matter).

I confess, I hadn’t looked at the map properly to work out aid station distances.  I got my water and food badly, badly wrong.   I paid for it plenty too, with quite dramatic energy crashes.

I’d been complacent about the route as I knew it was fully waymarked.  To not have downloaded the GPS was real indolence on my part.

Pacing was just ragged.  If I may make a plea – I’ve never done anything like this before – well, sort of half of it on Man vs Mountain, but it doesn’t compare.

Having chided myself, what were the good bits?

It was utterly amazing.  I loved it.  Value for money as well.  Helpful marshals from start to finish, good food, beautiful route and a fantastic introduction to the Lakes.  Generous cut offs if you don’t want to rush, but some fantastic runners at the pointy end if you want to race.

The runners that I talked to on the course and the next day over breakfast were great company and really friendly.

Gaynor clearly knew her stuff and put on a great event and it was fantastic to see and meet a running legend at the end.

Can’t fault it.  Top marks!

Thank Yous

Huge thank you to Gaynor for putting on a great show and the stretching session the next day was a great touch.

Billy Bland for showing up and giving us a few anecdotes.

Mrs Ann Bland for bringing chocolate cake.

Nici, Sharon and all the marshals whose names I don’t know, for their friendliness and helpfulness, you made the race run smooth as clockwork.

The friendly people I met.

The Lake District.  For being utterly stunning.

Oooh, and the weather.  Damn near perfect.

Jacqui for pointing me in the direction of the Lake District.

Finally, Sam.  Thank you so much for turning up at the aid station and for pampering a whimpering mess at the end.  And for the chilli the day after.

Race Dedication

To the Lake District.  I waited 42 years to see you again.  Let’s not leave it so long next time!

Written by Richard Stillion - https://richyla.wordpress.com

Mud Crew Arc of Attrition

http://mudcrew.co.uk/event/the-arc-of-attrition/

RD Andrew Ferguson

1st Female   Maryann Devally 32.26.32

1st Male       Steven Wyatt 23.44.18

*Some photos were taken in situ, some in more clement weather.

Short version:  Up.  Down. Bog. Repeat.

I’m not a fan of writing blogs when I’ve DNF’d (again), but if I wait to finish  before I blog about the AoA, it’s going to be a long time coming.

The Arc of Attrition describes an arc on the Cornish Coastal Path.  It is hard.  Very very hard.  It has a very high DNF rate, this year was no exception – something in the region of 66%.

Anyway, I completed the (ahem) Arc of Attrition 50 last year and not satisfied (my crew – Tariq – wasn’t satisfied either), I demanded a rematch.  My IT band had “gone” last year which meant going downhill was exceptionally painful so there was no point in continuing.  This year, apart from a Christmas cold, training had been going reasonably well until two weeks out when I tore/strained my calf.  Joyous!  I just had to rest it and see what happened.

Inclement weather in Cornwall had taken its toll on the Coastal Path and caused it to collapse in numerous places, the worst situation was between Loe Bank and Porthleven – 30 minutes extra time had been added to compensate for a detour in this area.  The precipitous weather had also meant that the majority of Cornwall had turned into a quagmire.

There were approximately 150 runners this year and the briefing was in the Blue Bar in Porthtowan as usual – this is where the finish is – or so I’m told!  Competitors are then taken on a coach over to Coverack to the start of the race.  It was blowing a hoolie at Coverack, but the sun was out so the 20 minutes or so wait wasn’t too bad.  I had a quick chat with Drew Sheffield (who stormed to a highly impressive 3rd place on his Arc debut), Tim Lambert, and noted that Paul Ali still had “that hat”.  We had a minute’s silence for former Arc competitor, Matthew McSevney who had attempted the race twice and was going to attempt it again but was tragically killed in a road collision when he was knocked off his bike.

The hooter went and we were off – at least for a short while, then we queued to get through a narrow gap – there’s a lot of races start like this, it’s just something you have to get used to, unless you vie for a position at the front.  Getting going, it was surprisingly warm in the sun but it was clear from very early on, this was going to be heavy going underfoot.  There was also a very strong headwind.  I was hoping my calf would be okay but “ping”, it went!  I thought that that was it, but thankfully I could keep going.  I reached the Lizard, but realised I was behind time already.  There were about 5 diversions on the path – mostly minor, but time was everything in this race.

It was then on from here to the main diversion.  I’d reached Porthleven last year before nightfall, but I was reaching for my headtorch before Loe Bank.  I put my headtorch on and…..nothing.  I’d put fresh batteries in that morning but kit fail!!  This is why the mandatory kit demands two headtorches!  Thankfully Tariq also had two spare head torches as back up, so when I next saw him I got one that worked – the importance of crew!  And so to the diversion.  I was really hacked off at it, if I’m honest.  I think that in total for all of the diversions, it probably cost me an hour and this large one was full of mud for a good mile.  With tight timelines I couldn’t afford to lose any time – more on this later.  I got confused at Porthleven as I nearly went into the pub where the checkpoint was last year.  Thankfully a MudCrew ArcAngel took me to the proper aid station.  I didn’t stop though, just got my bottles filled and a jacket potato for the road.

Caught up with Tariq at Praa Sands, whinged about the diversion and grabbed one of his amazing flapjacks or two and wandered off towards Mounts Bay.  I like rounding Cudden Point where you can see St Michael’s Mount – albeit in the dark – I wish they’d light it up, it would look pretty impressive, but I guess that’s a cost cutting exercise from the National Trust!  There’s a place just before Marazion where I took the wrong turn last year.  I took it again this year and ended up on the beach.  Back I went and bashed my head on a branch for my troubles.  Then there’s another bit where you do have to go down to the beach – down a metal staircase.  Got into Marazion and my spine was beginning to feel compressed.  It usually does (age you see) but not this early on.  It was beginning to hinder my running and this section is a 6 mile bit of road where normally one can take advantage of not sliding around in mud and make a bit of time up.  Into Penzance, famous for pioneering ultrarunner Humphry Davy – a bit of a word on him – frustrated by the lack of the availability of Petzls in the 1700s, he invented a portable torch so he could run in the dark.  By shear coincidence, some local do-gooder bumped into him on a night run and struck up a conversation with him:

D-G  “What’s that you’ve got there Humphry?  Is it a safety headlamp to save all the miners?”

HD “Errr…yes.  Yes, that’s exactly what it is.”

The rest is history.

I had a bit to eat at the Penzance Aid Station and took a couple of paracetamol.  Also bumped into Tim Lambert and we both had a chat about having to get a shift on.  So, no more hanging around, and onto Mousehole.  I could feel the paracetamol take effect and my back stopped hurting so I could do a bit of running.  There’s a garden on the way to Mousehole which has loads of scarecrows in it.  It’s pretty weird looking at them with your headtorch, but I like it.  Into the quaint fishing village of Mousehole.  There’s a beautifully illustrated children’s book by Antonia Barber which tells the story of the Mousehole Cat and why Mousehole puts all of its house lights on for Christmas Day.   I’m thinking of writing the sequel entitled, the Mousehole Fat Cats which is about all the city slickers buying up the houses in Mousehole and why it’s now all in the dark.

I digress.

Thankfully, some nice MudCrew helpers had put day-glow sticks to follow through Mousehole – it’s a small place, but a labyrinth for sure.  I was grateful for the extra guidance.

The Wilderness.  

I always think that after Mousehole, it starts to get hard (proper hard is after Lands End).  This is the up, down, bog bit that I described at the start.  Depending how you look at it, it’s also the fun part!  I have run this section in the summer without 40 or so miles in my legs and it’s a really beautiful area.  With low hanging branches.  This is also where there are bits of scrambling to do where you can use the grey boulders either side of a large drop/step to lower you down.  What I did, repeatedly, was mistake dead gorse for the boulders.  My hands still have gorse thorns in them.  Souvenir.  Lamorna Cove is possibly one of my favourite areas, it has a nice descent and a scramble, a small harbour and another scramble out, which I got wrong, scrambled up one bit then had to get back down to find the right bit!

Not much further on, you come across a beach full of huge boulders – St Loy – which could be quite easy to get lost on.  But because of all the mud, it was easy to follow where people had gone from boulder to boulder to cross the beach.

Mooching on, I crossed Porthcurno where they laid the telegraph cables to America many moons ago, then up the steps adjacent to the Minack Theatre.  This is where my “Arc 50” ended last year, so, after stocking up with supplies, I was happy to push on to Lands End.  Porthgwarra was a mile and a half away, but with the strong winds I could already hear the lament of the Runnelstone Buoy – a buoy moored a mile offshore fitted with a hydrophone to protect ships from the Runnelstone Reef (I’ve lifted that information from Wikipedia, so it must be true).  I’d been here before spotting choughs as it’s an RSPB area.  Come to think of it, it was blowing a gale then as well.  When I reccied this area in the day time, I could see Lands End, so I just headed straight for it.  During the race, I had latched onto some other runners here and one of them clearly knew the proper way.  It took a while but I got to Lands End eventually.  My calf was playing up pretty badly now and MudCrew took me straight in to get seen by a physio who taped my leg up a treat – it really helped.

EAB

My taped up leg.  Got a bit muddy.

By this time, sadly, I pretty much knew my race was run.  Dill Cowdry, who sub 30 “houred” last year, estimated to allow 8 hours from here to Lands End, and I didn’t have that.  He is also a lot quicker runner than me, so I would need around 10 hours.  My newly taped leg worked well, but my compressed spine wasn’t playing ball.  I shuffled the mile into Sennen and I got to the car park where I was guided through by MudCrew helpers and a few day glow lights back on to the coastal path.  Dawn was beginning to break, very, very slowly.  It was very grey and drab, but I was more than thankful that the heavy rain predicted in the night hadn’t started.  Yet.  Unless you are super-fit, weigh next to nothing and are agile as a kitty cat (of which I tick no boxes), there are few runnable sections from here to St Ives.  There was a field of bog and if you have a moment – I’m thinking when John Bunyan wrote Pilgrim’s Progress, he wrote about the Slough of Despond.  This.  This was the field to which he referred.  And after that field was another field, which I couldn’t see due to the amount of surface water that covered it.  Normally, I would try to mince around a bit of mud to save my feed from getting wet.  No point.  Just pummel through and hope your shoes don’t get sucked off!  About a mile from Cape Cornwall I came across a chap who’d sat down in a sheltered spot.  I asked him if he was okay and he clearly hadn’t realised I was there.  He jumped out of his skin and gave me a look of thunder for making him do so!  I put my hands up placatingly and I got chatting to him.  He was wanting to be picked up and I told him it wasn’t far to Cape Cornwall.  I wished him well and pootled on.  I came across more MudCrew (were they in every cove??) in Porth Nanven and whinged to them that I was going to be timed out.  “There, there” – they said – “run along whingey pants!”  I bimbled along to Cape Cornwall and it started to rain.  And wind.  Tariq was there and I said I was going to be out of time.  He treated me with the same contempt as the MudCrew guys, so off I went.

The weather was really taking a turn for the worse now and this really left me in a state of self-pity.  Wallowing in self-pity is great.  It goes hand in hand with ultra running at times! On a positive note, I had a tail wind, which helped the rain lash against my back.  I reached Pendeen Watch and rather belatedly put on my waterproof leggings.  I was trying to give Tariq my best puppy dog eyes.  Please, please let me drop.  He told me afterwards that he told me to put my leggings on in the boot because if I’d put them on in a nice comfy seat with the heating on in the front, I wouldn’t have got out.  After Pendeen Watch is a 14 mile section which is largely inaccessible and off I went out into it.  I realised very quickly that my leggings were falling down.  I took off my soggy gloves to try to tie them up properly but, after putting my soggy gloves back on again, I realised that, along with my headtorch, I’d had another kit failure.  I was just walking along holding them up!  I could chide myself for not having checked my kit, but where’s a force 10 gale with rain when you need it?!  My upper back had joined my lower back’s protest now and whenever I went up hill it was aching.  I’d slowed to two miles an hour and realised it would take seven hours to get to St Ives.  Bizarrely in all this wilderness, there was another MudCrew with a clipboard (unless I was hallucinating) asking how I was?  “I just want to go home.”  I couldn’t believe I said that.  She just replied – yes, I think most people are feeling like that!  I pushed on a bit more and a man and woman at the top of a hill stood there and clapped and said they were there to cheer people on!  Had I lost the plot or what?!  What were these people doing there?  Much appreciated though.

Ooh, and I saw a couple of gannets too!  (And whilst I’m on a wildlife tour – last year I saw a badger coming up the trail towards me near Porthcurno).

I think I had gone about five miles and I was now starting to cough quite badly.  I was wet, cold, not really able to move and realised I was going to be in trouble if I didn’t do something about it – put bluntly, the course had well and truly broken me.  As remote as this section is, there were houses dotted about so I realised there must be roads leading to them(!).  I was going to try to call Tariq, if I had reception, to locate my satellite tracker, so he could pick me up.  As it turned out, I could see a runner at the bottom of a hill walking with two other people who had “normal” coats on so I slopped and slithered my way down the hill as quickly as I could without falling on my ass, and then hollered to them.  They stopped and waited politely as I negotiated the boulder field (slight exaggeration) in the slowest of motions, to get within earshot.  I asked them where they were parked and they said Zennor.  I walked with them and tried to phone Tariq but got no reception.  They then offered to take me into St Ives with them as that’s where they were heading.  I could have cried.  Maybe a slight exaggeration to say they saved my life, but they certainly saved me from deeper trouble.  Looking at the satellite trackers it looks like it was David Dicks and crew.  If it wasn’t David Dicks, then sorry, but if it was, then to you all, I am eternally grateful.  Thank you.

Almost

So close!  Needed to get to St Ives, dropped at Zennor.

Having arrived at St Ives I was shivering and teeth chattering and I was put under blankets and given a hot chocolate straight away.  Allan Rumbles mentioned in a Facebook post about bursting into tears at someone’s kindness at this stage and I can only say that it took every will not to do so myself here as it would only have hindered the guys trying to sort me out.  Sometimes I can’t believe how stupid this all is – we pay to do this, then whimper when it all goes wrong and have a hurty knee, whilst volunteers sort us out!  Ah well, what can you do!  I was brought food.  Then more food.  And more hot chocolate.   Tariq had met me at St Ives and brought dry clothes which I now changed into.  The adventure was over.  I got to 75 miles.  Close but no cigar.

One goes back to the hotel, attempts to sleep, realise the legs are hurting so you can’t sleep and there’s a rush of adrenaline kicking in.  Awake in the early hours I tried to think if I could have changed anything – I was only a few miles from St Ives and if I could have made that cut off, I could have continued to the finish.  I mentioned earlier about the diversion and how it cost me time, I took a few wrong turns here and there….. and many other excuses to hide behind.  But excuses are what they are.  In truth, that was the best I could give and it wasn’t good enough.  This is a race that requires a pace of 2.8 mph to finish.  I couldn’t manage that, so that is my fault.  I have to train harder for it.  Make no mistake, you have to know what you are doing and be in very good shape to get to the finish line – that is why the DNF rate is so high.  The Race Director, Andrew Ferguson, makes this very clear – this is an extreme coastal ultra.  It is very difficult – not to mention dangerous and this must be appreciated.  Some ultras do time cut offs that graduate ie 10m/m for the first few aid stations then 12m/m, 15m/m etc. This race you have to keep going – you can’t “bank” time (well maybe if you’re elite, you can, but for the likes of me, you can’t).  However, therein lies the appeal!

I can’t recommend this event enough – but prepare for it – get down to Cornwall to reccie the course (and get some money into the community while you’re at it), do your hill repeats, do your squats etc.

The Thank You Section:

Mr Tariq Malik – without your support there would be no weekend of misery.  There when I needed your help.

Stillion Vs The Arc FB group – many thanks for being interested and keeping tabs on me!

MudCrew:  What can I say?  What an event this is.  It gets under your skin!  Andrew Ferguson, Jane Stephens and Andy Trudgian – superb organisation and an utterly amazing event.  You must have nerves of steel sending 150 or so people out in the night with cliff edges on one side and mineshafts on the other!

The ArcAngels – I think there were nearly 150 (so 1 to 1) – you guys were everywhere – and I mean everywhere – to support and encourage, feed, water.  Superb.

First Aid/Medics – Again, thank you so much for your support.  My EAB worked a treat and the rapid treatment I got at St Ives was very much appreciated.

The National Trust, RSPB, National Trails for maintaining this constantly changing coastline – the recent diversions are testimony to this.

Whoever was responsible for getting the diversion in place around Penrose at such short notice to make this race possible.

Thank you all.

Dedication

I usually like to dedicate my race to someone and this one I would like, if I may, to dedicate to Matthew McSevney – as a mark of respect, MudCrew sent his family a finisher’s buckle.

Written by Ross Hay

Last weekend at 5am in the morning I was at the start line of the Mozart 100. How did I end up here for my longest race to date (103km with 4600m of elevation change)? Two and a half years ago, I was 50lbs heaver and I had to make a decision to buy new trousers or lose some weight, so started counting calories with myfitnesspal. I also thought Id start running so I could eat more! In order to motivate myself, I decided to enter some local races. 6 months later, Id lost the weight and was doing a half marathon in Davos on the trails. The whole experience and atmosphere blew my mind, and seeing people doing ultramarathons (specifically the K78 race I would end up running the following year) inspired me to want to run longer distances in the mountains.

Mozart1

So here I was on a sunny day in June running across the hills that were made famous in the Sound of Music. The start is in the old town of Salzburg surrounded by historic, medieval architecture. Not that I took much of this in in the dark while desperately trying to start of slow and steady for what I knew was going to be a long, tough day, compounded by a less than ideal training effort over the previous months due to substantial travel with work. The first 7 – 8km were nice and flat on a mix of roads and gravel paths before heading up the first hill. This didn't seem to bad though and was followed by more gently rolling paths and roads. I was beginning to wonder if this would be easier than I thought!

I had wondered if I should drop down to the 61km Ultra at the drop bag aid station at Fuschl (30.5km), but I was feeling strong and fresh so decided to carry on after drinking a coke and eating a packet of salami sticks. Shortly after, the first big climb up Schafberg kicked in. It was tough going, but with poles (which I had only practiced with a little before) I was overtaking people (only to lose places on the subsequent decents. I also had a good chat with some kids from a local international school who were doing a trail walk about getting lost – they had just climbed down a small cliff face having taken the wrong route.

By the time I reached the lake at Sankt Wolfgang, I was feeling pretty spent and hot. But joy! A kiosk selling ice cream appeared! I was enjoying my ice cream while walking to the next aid station 1km away I totally forgot my poles, so added an extra couple of kms running back to get them. As I climbed the next major peak of Zwolferhorn I had my first low. I really wasn't sure Id be able to make the cutoff at Fuschl and for a moment considered if I should go back and catch a shuttle back to Salzburg. I pushed on though with the attitude that if I miss the cutoff, I miss the cutoff – if that ends up being the end of my race, then so be it.

Although I didn't feel strong, I continued to push up the hill overtaking people again. And again the downhill felt a lot harder than it should. Mental note to do more hills in training! Back at Fuschl I had a good 1.5 hours before the cutoff, so had another quick coke, some sweets and off I went having picked up my head torch for the later stages.

Next followed a lovely rolling path along the lake. I knew there was a bit of a hill before descending to Salzberg, but had no idea how tough it would be. This felt the hardest section of the course after a long day as the sun started setting. At the top of Nockstein I had to put on my headtorch for the final decent to the town, watching fireworks over the city. I knew there was a last ‘surprise’ hill before the finish line, but had no appreciation of how steep it would be! Asking at the final aid station, they said it was 200m high, but only 2.5km to the finish.

I felt drained, but knew I would finish come what may now I was over 100km and had 3 hours to get there. I had a coke and started up the steps. I think because the finish felt so close, I got a rush of energy. I was (at least I felt I was!) flying up the steps, overtaking several people, go to the castle at the top and then headed down the trail to town. Towards the bottom, you hit some old cobbled streets and people having dinner or drinks start cheering you on. I come up to some traffic lights where another runner is waiting to cross. I can help it – with everyone shout I put on a turn of speed I hadn’t had for 50km and start racing through the Old Town to the finish line to come in 171st in 18 hours and 8 minutes – what a feeling! Evenbetter, my friend doing the half is there waiting for me with a burger and a beer!

Written by Phil Bradburn - https://untrainingultrarunner.com

This was the final race in the Canal Slam series – which includes the legendary Grand Union Canal race and the Kennet & Avon Canal Race – which are both 145 miles and which take place at the end of May and end of July. You can read my blog about each of these races if you click on those links.

Having trained as hard as my little (fat) body would allow – working through injuries since the Centurion Grandslam in 2017 (which left me nursing an injury at the end of the year) and a bit of a disappointing start to the new year with various groin strains and calf pulls, I felt it was a bloody miracle that I made it to the start of GUCR and KACR let alone finishing both of them in 40h38, and 38h32 respectively.

Phew! Part and parcel of completing these annual race series is good training, good recovery, good luck and good race strategy. I never have got all of these in line together. I am a stubborn idiot with lots of great support from my wife and family and friends and my coach so if I didn’t finish any of these races then the blame would be firmly at my own feet and head. It helps of course that I bloody love running, and I’ve learned to at least like walking fast (which is handy for some portions of these races).

Friday before the race – Pluckley to Brightwell – cum – Sotwell

On Friday me and my wife Susie had headed off to Oxfordshire to meet Vanessa. I have been blessed this year with the most amazing and experienced crews – and they have learned so much about handling me during races. I too have learned alot about how to stay positive and resist the slip into being an idiot with my crew. It’s never intentional, I just have had a tendency to moan and whinge a lot when things get hard. I managed to crack that at the last race – KACR and I was hoping to be equally good this time around.

When we arrived at Vanessa’s she had somehow misplaced her phone and was turning the house upside down trying to find it. In the process she lost her car keys. FML!!! Eventually keys and phone were reunited with Vanessa and we loaded the car up with what seemed like the WHOLE of the kit and equipment that I own for running.

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Brightwell – cum Sotwell – to Widnes

A trip to my parents was straightforward (though riddled with congestion and the weather was looking horrendous!)

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We soon arrived in Widnes – which is about 25 minutes drive from the start of Liverpool Leeds Canal Race in Liverpool near the Pier Head. It was great to see my parents and we were rewarded by a lovely spag bol (salmon and potatoes for vanessa) and lots of cake! My mum had also made a cake to celebrate my race too 

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After dinner we talked about the plans for the race, and gave my mate Graham a quick intro to the world of crewing a race 

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Vanessa, Graham and Susie sorting the plans out!

Went to bed early to settle down to a light sleep before waking up at 4am and getting dressed and sorted. The journey to the start in Liverpool was pretty easy – though we ended up going the wrong way down a road and doing a u-turn in full view of a police car. YIKES!

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Registration – Saturday morning 5:20am

There was a gazebo erected on the pavement near to the Radisson Blu hotel. The wind was stronger than I expected and it was pretty cold – a shock given the hot weather we had been experiencing for months in the UK during the summer.

I registered, picked up my hoodies and t-shirts, buff that I had pre-ordered and then went back to the car to rest before getting out to chat just before the briefing. I then had to drag myself back out of the car to go and get a diversion sheet for later on in the race (around 72 miles). I had forgotten to do this 2 years back and had ended up traipsing around a shitty housing estate in the dead of night and having to ask a gang of kids for directions. As it happened back then it was fine and I didn’t end up as a crime statistic (or worse…. LOST!)

The usual suspects (minus a notable exception Georgina Townsend who had health issues and couldn’t make the start line for the finale of the canalslam) – Fi McNelis, Javed Bhatti, Allan Rumbles and others – including one of the organisers Keith Godden. The amazing band of volunteers are just brilliant. There for the fun and to support the race. They get nothing in return other than the overwhelming thanks of the other runners. I will volunteer in future years on some of the races – I just love the vibe of this race.

Start – 6am – Old Hall Street

Soon it was almost 6am and we crossed the road to the start of the race. Keith did his briefing – “don’t overdo the painkillers…..!” and we were off. All 36 of us. It was a small start line, but you could bet that given there were 8 other canal-slammers here, everyone was pretty motivated. I had counted around mid-60 people entered on the provisional start list on the website – so wondered whether injuries had decimated the start line.

I set off with Fi – we had a lovely little catch up, and both said that it wouldn’t be the same without our running pal Georgina who can always be relied out to bring some comedy-drama and calippos to the races  I soon let her go ahead (by let…. I mean she was running faster than me and I couldn’t keep up without breathing through my arse!). She told me she had some rather driving rock music to run to so I figured that would keep her company.

I was using my new Suunto 9 and had it on the absolutely best GPS setting (which predicted over 40 hours on 1 second recording) but I had also set it up so that there would be no display showing to minimise battery consumption. That of course meant that I couldn’t check my current pace without pressing a button – but it felt easy though we seemed to be running pretty fast. That’s quite difficult because with a small pack of runners and starting on rested legs (having done virtually nothing since the KACR four weeks earlier) I was in danger of going too hard and may suffer later.

Everyone was so excited up front after a few turns a heap of runners missed a key turning onto the canal itself! I had settled in towards the back but then found myself almost at the front – which was weird just one mile in – and I didn’t want to be there! Over the next few miles it seemed that the previous front runners had settled down a bit and approximately 10 other runners overtook. On a race this long it is so important to run your own race and that’s what I intended to do. I kept running to feel and didn’t bother to turn on my watch display to check how I was doing. There were, in any case, stone mileage markers counting up the distance from liverpool and counting down to Leeds. So I could keep a handy check on my progress.

I remembered from 2016 (DNF at 90 miles) that there was a lot of tarmac on at least the early sections and I was glad to be wearing my New balance road shoes which were lovely and springy and comfortable. For the most part, I just jogged along, keeping things easy, and trying to settle into a nice sustainable and comfortable pace.

I remembered lots of this route and remembered the two bridges we had to cross too. At around ten miles, I spotted the section where there was a cancelled diversion (apparently the hot weather had caused problems during the summer and they had to do some towpath works). Jog, eat, drink, jog, eat, drink, wee, jog, eat, drink and then in the distance I saw the first checkpoint.

Checkpoint 1 – Br 16 – Running Horses – 14.5 miles – 8:26 – 8:29 – (2h26m)

This was the first main checkpoint. It had rained a little bit before getting here. I saw Vanessa and Susie. I swapped my bottles out. I grabbed a couple of ham sandwiches from Susie and took them away in a bag. I took a bag of sweets as well.

I spoke to a chap early on. A lovely guy with a homely northern accent. I really miss the north sometimes and the overwhelming openness and friendliness of others (working in London if you look at someone the wrong way they seemingly want to gouge your eyes out!). We had a chat for a few hundred yards. He was saying that he had done 3 peaks in Yorkshire before and he was already feeling pretty shattered on this race. He said he was a bit worried because some of the other runners seemed to have run 150 mile races before and a few 100s. I told him to stick with it and keep it easy. Don’t worry and focus on checkpoint to checkpoint. I think that’s what I said – at least I hope so!!

During the first section there was lots of tarmac and while the route went through a relatively urban area it was really well kept towpath and surroundings (litter free canal towpaths and signs proudly announcing that they were litter picked by various local groups). Contrast this to the London end of the Grand Union Canal which is used by both the GUCR and KACR, and which is absolute filth. For a few moments, I remembered how angry I felt during that section on both of those races (fortunately the overwhelming positivity and great experiences I had during those races could not be swamped by the litter and my feelings of wanting to gouge the eyes out of anyone who drives to the canal and empties their household and commercial rubbish for others to clean.

But I digress……

The towpath and the scenery was as I remembered. Simply beautiful. I knew that I would have a thoroughly enjoyable time. I resolved that I was going to do the best job of eating and drinking that I could. I would be the best eater and drinker EVER in the history of canal racing. I was using water – pure simple water – plus separate S-CAPs for electrolytes to supplement the salts and minerals etc I would get from the 100 callipos and other food and drink I would have over the next day and a bit.

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I was also using my new Salomon Sense Ultra 8 race vest that I bought from Alton Sports. Absolutely perfect and meant that I had everything I needed for the race, where I needed to store it. After a little while it began to rain. It was still sunny so I thought I would just carry on without stopping to put my jacket on. It was lovely to be jogging through the rain and I was really loving life. Five minutes later the rain didn’t abate and got harder, and the sky greyed over.

Time to put the jacket on. I was using a La Sportiva Hail jacket for the race and it was a new one this summer for me having found that my old Kalenji one from Decathlon was way past it’s best. Soon my jacket came back off again as it heated up and the rain stopped. I remembered to drink, and I resolved to eat early – unlike on KACR when I found I didn’t want to eat much til later on. I took a longhaul endurace Sweet potato and Quinoa pouch. The previous time I had one of these it tasted nutty (sesame seed as it happens!) but this time my taste buds made it taste much more like a vegetarian version of the chicken and turmeric one.

I came across Richard again and he was feeling worse for wear. He was saying he had stomach cramps. I told him to walk a little bit, and offered a couple of s-caps which he took. I wished him well and carried on. I hoped to see him later or at least on the finisher board – sadly he pulled out around halfway. I hope he will be back!

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Checkpoint 2 – Br34 – Ring O Bells – 25.7 miles – 10:45 – 10:50 – (4h45m)

I came into the checkpoint and the first thing I said was…..

“I think you need to be on calippo duty!!!!!”.

It was warm. Warmer than I expected and I felt sweat on my forehead. I was going to need ice and calippos. I swapped out my bottles. Took some crisps and some more sweets. Always good to have a selection!

I was feeling reasonably good anyway so I carried on along the towpath. After a while I caught up with Fi and Carl who were running closely together and had a few words. I ran a little with Carl and had a catch up about his KACR race (which he hasn’t completed yet and was the reason he had entered LLCR the day afterwards).

After a while he decided to drop back a little leaving me to trot on. Eventually I was looking for a bridge that didn’t exist so I went over the one that did (after some confusion on my part) and then spotted an ice cream opportunity! RESULT! I noticed that the instructions for this race were much easier and fewer in number than for GUCR and KACR but that it does help to apply a bit of common sense…. WAKE UP BRAIN!

Posh Cheshire ice cream was on the menu. I really wanted a calippo. FFS. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ICE CREAM OUTLETS! I don’t think I was fully able to conceal my disappointment to the young woman behind the counter, but nevertheless I was going to have to make do with Strawberry full dairy ice cream in a tub.

I managed to throw all of my change on the floor but I had an ice cream in my mitts! Result! I resolved to walk until I finished the ice cream. While I was doing this, Fi caught up with me. It was lovely to see her and have a chat. We pushed each other on for a bit. During a walking break I said that I was going to have a brief moan – I complained about my piriformis hurting but I was going to MTFU and manage it.

Jog, jog, walk walk, whine about piriformis…… Fi suggested I ram my thumb into my arse and pulsate it. I did that and she reminded me that the pain wouldn’t necessarily get worse and that she had suffered 40 miles with her piriformis on a previous race. With my thumb pulsating in my arse cheek I was taking my mind off the pain and also giving myself something to focus on other than whining about it!

Crew point – Br42 Apley Bridge – 30.5 miles – 11:50 – 11:53 (5h50m)

Eventually I spotted my crew, who said that Javed had been asking how far I was behind him…. I think they told him 5 minutes and he had got a scoot on  I saw Fi carry on through. She was running strong. I hoped I would share some miles with her later on.

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My crew hadn’t managed to pick up any lolly-ice or callipo but I grabbed a few other bits and pieces, changed my water, had some lucozade and trotted on. It was still warm weather. I was feeling positive and enjoying the race. The canal is just SOOOOO pretty! I thought to myself how lucky I was to be able to run on a bank holiday weekend along a beautiful canal and to see my friends and wife regularly.

After a while I came into a town and had to do a funny bridge manoeuvre before heading onto the left hand side of the canal in a slightly different direction. At this point I had caught up and been caught by another runner so we mulled our decision before carrying on. Part of me remembered this section from 2016. But I didn’t know whether than was for good or bad reasons! Anyway, I pretty much thought “fuck it” and went with my gut instinct……
And then……..

My stomach hurt. It was cramping. I needed the loo. I had to walk for a mile or so to avoid an “accident”. Eventually I spotted a toilet and went in. After a long stop I came back out and spotted Javed Bhatti who carried on running – we said a brief hello.

I spotted my crew. My mate graham was here with susie and vanessa. I grabbed a couple of fruit pastille lollies. While my crew filled my hat with ice, Allan Rumbles turned up and took some ice. I quickly headed off. Fi also had a fruit pastille lolly – she was there before me! 

I then cracked on. This was the section where there were some locks to climb. I decided against jogging the flat bits and just walked this section because I find changes in pace over a short distance really mess me up. So I kept a good walking pace and passed a few other runners. I have really practiced my powerhike and I can get a good pace going.

The weather was warm and I remembered that there was a pub further up. So I got some money ready and leapt at the chance to order a packet of crisps and a half lager shandy. There were some cyclists and others outside the pub and they were amazed that I had come from Liverpool that morning. I polished off my shandy. They wished me luck and I was on my way. I walked to the top of the lock section and then as the towpath turned a corner I dropped into a jog which I kept up for a while. Eventually I arrived at the next checkpoint. Aware that I had probably taken a while to get here!

Checkpoint 3 – Br63 Red Rock Bridge – 40.2 miles – 14:24 – 14:26 – (8h24m)

I came into the aid station and there were several runners in the aid station. I spotted Javed and Fi who I think were both eating. I grabbed some ice. Changed my water. Had a strawberry milkshake. I took some crisps (monster munch), a longhaul chicken and turmeric pouch and some fruit pastille lollies and headed off again.

I am grateful to my crew that I was able to get in and out of aid stations in 2 minutes flat! Really well tuned crew these days  It was going to be about 5 miles to the next time I would see my crew so I cracked on. It was just over an hour until I spotted them again.

They had found it hard to find the “right” bridge but they were roughly in the right place and I was grateful for some crisps and a mixed bag of sweets/nuts plus a change of water. I pressed on. It was just over 45 miles in and I was feeling quite good still at this stage and I could feel that the weather was just how I wanted it. Not too warm and not too cold.

After a little while I made it to the Br88 Whithnell Fold crew point (50 miles in and at 16:46 – leaving at 16:50). Graham and Susie were here. They were brandishing all kinds of goodies. I took a banana milkshake which was delicious and I grabbed my usual combination of crisps, and sweets. I again swapped my water over (though I hadn’t really drunk much over this last section and I was scolded by my crew for not having done so). I somehow managed to practically fall over a cliff edge piece of tarmac! I’m so bloody clumsy!

I dutifully drank a litre of water (while protesting……) and then shoved off. They quite rightly wouldn’t let me go until I had drunk – especially since I had 10 miles before the next time I would see them (though I did have a checkpoint (no crew allowed) slap bang in the middle (and which I did take advantage of for a filll up of water!)

Checkpoint 4 – Br96a Navigation Pub – 55.1 miles – No crew allowed here

I arrived at Navigation Pub – remembering vividly from last time I ran in the race. Last time it was dark when I went through here. This time it was still light. I stopped for some water and then I pushed on. No crew was allowed here anyway so I just ran through with a few nods to the volunteers and some of the other runners who I recognised. I took the opportunity to drink and eat some of my snacks while I walked swiftly, and after a few hundred yards I broke into a trot again.

Soon I was switching over a bridge and onto another branch (I think!) and some bits of up. I remembered again from last time. I was having a nice little trot, and sometimes I would drop into a strong power hike. I find the way to deal with these distances is to not push it too hard and just keep it nice and easy.

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I was pleased it was still light and I was doing well. Occasionally I would pass by Debbie Jewson, before dropping to a walk, and then she would pass me. We carried on like this for several miles – she seemed pretty strong going up the slight inclines that I was deciding that I would much rather walk!

Crewpoint – Bridge 107a Norden Bridge – 60.8 miles – 19:23 – 19:40 (13h23m)

I came into this crewpoint after what felt like quite a tough section and I was feeling tired. It was still warm but I could see that it was going to get cold soon but I was still hot and I was sweaty. I reckoned I would have about an hour or so before it went dark and figured that I might be able to make it 5 more miles before sitting down for food, taking the opportunity to change into night-time clothes and getting my head-torch on.

My crew point a swift end to the plan that I hatched in my head….

“The next point is 10 miles away”

WTAF!?!

I had a mild WTF moment and had a moan. This wasn’t what I was planning. I must have been a right drama queen. They basically told me to man the fuck up and get on with it.

I really didn’t want 10 miles before eating or changing. They tried to get me to change at this point but it didn’t feel right. We discussed back and forth for 10 or so minutes while I changed bottles and took some food for my pack.

Anyway as I headed out for the next section after a few steps I realised that I did need to change to long sleeves after all. It was cold. And I didn’t want to change on the side of the towpath in the dark by torchlight. So I took another few minutes sorting out before I headed off on the towpath again with my night time long sleeve gear and led arm bands and main head-torch on my head (albeit not switched on).

And off I trotted…..

I could see the brothers in front of me. I had been catching up with them at their stops with their crews, and then generally they would then jog past me again. I had seen them a few hundred yards ahead – glimpses here and there. I went past a sign saying footpath closed and diversion. I ignored it. I was sure that there was only one diversion mentioned still in force. I went past another sign saying closed. I ignored that too. Even though both were clean and new I figured that there were not in operation.

Eventually the two brothers were running back towards me saying it was closed ahead. We used their iphone to navigate back on to a road and around the closure and back onto the towpath and straight back onto the correct side of the canal.  We saw Debbie running ahead of us about 200 yards. She obviously worked it out before we did. That perhaps tells you something about men and women!

We came up to another diversion through a pub car park and this is one I remembered from the previous time I had run this race. This was easy and were were in the centre of town again (with some fairly happy people hanging around and who were really excited that we were running from Liverpool).

Checkpoint 5 – Business First Car park – 70.6 miles – 22:12 – 22:35 (16h12m)

I came jogging into the checkpoint. I remembered this one from the last time I attempted the race back in 2016. I soon saw my crew.

“I’m having a sleep. 10 minutes. First… I want a pot noodle, and a blanket over me while I sit in the car”.

My crew was marvellous. They had already made my pot noodle (a curry one! My wife didn’t want to give me anything too spicy) and allowed it to cool enough for me to get it down me. They changed my bottles and did the checkpoint admin and let me get my food down before a ten minute sleep. I find a little shuteye (regardless of whether I actually fall asleep) is a great boost which lasts for hours. I had no idea at the time whether I was on track for my A, B, or C goals and I didn’t much care. In my experience the last 20 miles of the race is what makes the difference and how you can approach those final miles.

This next bit had a section that I had previously found difficult in 2016 – and it was as it rose away from the canal. The instructions were to go through the underpass and follow the towpath east signs. There were a couple of times I was doubtful of my direction choices, but eventually I got to a bit that i remembered well from the last time I was here and soon I was scurrying across the road (taking good care not to get mowed down) and then up the steps and down a fairly steep slope eventually leading back to the canal. I stopped on the side of the canal for about 20 billion wee wees 

I came up to the diversion that was pre-published and expected a set of steps after the bridge. There were none. So I had to go back on myself a few yards to walk up the steps before the bridge. Jogged past a couple of security dudes and over the bridge. I had checked out the diversion on google street view beforehand so I knew exactly where to go. I went past a (closed KFC, pizza hut and mcdonalds!!! Argh! Unlucky!)

I soon made it to the roundabout and over the next bridge. On the way over I saw that the path I was supposed to take back onto the canal was closed off. So I figured I would have to go past it and find an alternative. I did for a few moments consider whether I could either squeeze through or climb over but I would probably have fallen over and cracked my head – I’m so clumsy!

I entered what looked like an entrance to an industrial area and a car park at the end. I had sensed I would probably find a set of steps upwards – and there they were! Lots of them! At the half way point there was a path that headed onto the canal. I’m not sure where the other steps lead up to – maybe a bridge?

Happy I was back on the canal I ran – walked some more.

This whole section was one which I was a bit worried about. Back in 2016 I had got lost. And it was at the time impossible to work out where to do, to look at the map and instructions. I had looked on line at google streetview and done my best to memorise the route as it rises away from the canal (it disappears into a tunnel at Foulridge) and down a track and road into the village itself before rejoining the canal.

Thankfully things went more smoothly this time and I was soon on the down hill section into the village where I was meeting my crew. I took the opportunity to check my headtorch battery, and I changed it as a precaution. I had a few hours of darkness left and there’s no point messing around changing the battery on a towpath when i could do it with my crew. I had a brief stretch on the wall (my legs were a bit achy) and then I headed off again. I had said too that I would have a kip at the next aid station.

This next stretch was easy peasy along the path. It is a relatively easy section though, with blisters, there were some bits which were a little painful.

Checkpoint 6 – Salterforth Br151 – 84.1 miles – Sunday 2:35 – 3:05 – (20h35)

I came into the checkpoint – which I remember was just after the bridge (I read a few blogs afterwards from other runners who couldn’t find it for a while) but I came in and saw my crew (they gave me a pointer towards the checkpoint itself). I announced my bib number and that I was going for a power-nap. I shoved a couple of caffeine bullets in as I got into the car.

I let my crew deal with the water and food and I got in the driver’s side and had a 15 minute shut eye. It always helps so much. I also applied sudocrem to my feet, which were feeling a bit sore with blisters. (sorry vanessa for leaving sudocrem slathered tissues in your footwell!!!!). Soon I was off again feeling really refreshed. I would jog a bit and then walk a bit and then every 10 minutes (not an exaggeration) I would stop for a wee wee!

Overnight I found a beautiful peace in the countryside. I was slowly putting one foot in front of the other through the peaceful night. Some sections were really rutted. Some sections were easy and flat – and inexplicably some sections seemed to be up-hill without the use of locks!

This is a hallucination I often experience during the night on canal races. I am sure it must be the body telling the brain it wants to work and then the brain producing an apparently uphill sections to make it ok to walk. Either way, power-hiking anything that looked and felt uphill seemed to be what I wanted to do.

By this point most of the sections were 6 or 7 miles in distance in mentally it seemed more manageable in comparison to the 10 mile sections in the middle of the race. At one point I crossed over a bridge and spotted the two brothers and their crew with them. They offered me a slice of pizza! I was like “What? Really? You have PIZZA?!?!!?” I took them up on their offer and snaffled a pizza that tasted like everything I wanted in a pizza. For all of the world it tasted like a mighty meaty pizza. Later I found out it was a margherita pizza with stuffed crust. What can I say….. it was delicious and my taste buds must have been out of whack to have thought it was meat 

My blisters were hurting and this section had some pretty badly rutted towpath which was driving me up the wall. Every time my feet shifted in my shoes due to the rutted path, I grimaced. This was annoying but I tried to stay positive. I was enjoying this race thoroughly and I was way past where I had got to in 2016 when I had DNFd. I was counting up the bridges and it was already very much light! I finally came across my crew. They were hanging out at a bridge at approximately 95 miles in.

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Br174 Thorlby Swing Bridge – 95.4 miles – Sunday 6:50 – 6:56 – (24h50)

The two brothers left the checkpoint just ahead of me as I came in. I had a bollocking for not drinking enough water…. (AGAIN!) and I asked for a longhaul endurance pouch – specifically a chicken and turmeric one. I had been stuffing these as much as I could. Susie had to go running back to the car for one. So tasty and while I love the sweet potato and quinoa ones, the slightly spicier chicken and turmeric are definitely my favourite. I took some more crisps and my pouch with me and cracked on.

More footpath and busy road in the distance, and eventually I was running along some railings next to a road. I spotted Carl (i think) having a snooze in the car. Meanwhile I cracked on. The weather was favourable. I whacked another caffeine bullet in and off I went. I don’t know whether these things actually do anything but I do seem to move better about 20 minutes after stuffing one in my face (it takes about 20 minutes to chew one into submission!). The canal became more urban and I soon reached another bridge and my wife, and Vanessa.

Further on approx 5 miles i had managed to jog up to and past another runner. I felt good again and was ploughing on. The footpath was good quality and while my feet hurt when I ran, they also hurt when I walked. So I basically MTFUed and jogged along. Soon I spotted a lady at the side of the path and she jogged into the checkpoint with me for about half a mile

Checkpoint 7 – Br182a – Bradley Bridge – 100.4 miles – Sunday 8:11 – 8:16 – 26h11m

I saw a plastic bag on a seat and saw some chocolate and started rifling around in it. Then Susie said…. OiOi that’s someone else’s….. I wanted chocolate! Susie gave me her Bueno and I swear it was the most lovely thing I had eaten. I went through the usual process, gave my number at the checkpoint, water etc.

Not much point hanging around. I thanked Graham who had been crewing for about 20 hours at this point and he went home. It was great to see him and I was wondering what he thought of his first taste of crewing. I cracked on. It was generally good quality towpath. Crushed gravel and very even. Run, jog, walk and everything else in between. Occasionally I would stop to stretch my legs out by bending over and crouching down. It really felt nice.

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There were a few runners out by now. Some fast looking athletic types. Occasionally we would share nods of acknowledgement and other times they would be engrossed in their tempo run and drills. Sometimes a jogger would go past me one way and then the other as if mocking my slow pace.

Bridge 191a – Silsden – 104.5 miles – Sunday 9:30 – 9:35 – (27h30)

This was in town and I was handed the most delicious thing…. a petrol station special breakfast of a breakfast sandwich! Lush! As it was raining I popped my jacket on, while avoiding cyclists being bad citizens by cycling under a bridge and soon I was off again.

The canal soon left the urban bits behind, and became a little more green. I was loving the countryside.

Soon I was descending through a lock system and I spotted the Jenkins brothers and their crew. I had the offer of a doughnut. As appealing as that genuinely sounded to me, I didn’t think I deserved one (WTAF!?!?!) and i carried on. At the bottom of the lock system there was a chapin the pouring down rain with a brolly insisting that the chap in front of me was just round the corner and that I could easily catch him because he wa fucked….. And looking at 5pm finish.

Whatever…. I was running my own race. Jogging when I could and walking when I couldn’t. I trick I was employing was to make sure I was eating and drinking whenever I was walking. But I didn’t have anything I fancied. I took some strawberry sweets and immediately wished I had grabbed a doughnut when I had one offered to me. For a few moments I wondered if I should go back up the hill to get one…. Then I realised I was an idiot and pressed on to the next checkpoint.

I was wet. Really wet. Everything was grey. The rain was fine and everywhere. It was that kind of rain that means that you get soaked within minutes. I was trudging along a very soggy towpath and wondering just how many hours I was going to take to get to the end while the bridge numbers counted up slowly. I was nearing on the final aid station before the last 12 or so miles to the end.

Checkpoint 8 – Bridge 209a – 114.5 miles – Sunday 12:50 – 12:58 (30h50m)

I arrived at a gazebo in an industrial estate. If I was not doing a canal race I would have found this a rather sorry site, but as this was the final aid station it was like an oasis in the desert. Except on this canal race it was like a desert in an oasis given the amount of rain that had pissed down on me over the last few hours.

I came into the gazebo to find the Jenkins brothers there, with their crew, plus canal race volunteers and other runners. I sat on a chat at the edge of the gazebo. I was still getting rained on and it was freezing as I sat there. I grabbed some crisps from my crew and some other food in shoved it in my pack. I didn’t

I had a choice. It was wet and cold. I could have trudged the rest of the way well within the cut off – or I could man up and run when I could. I chose the latter. I downed 4 caffeine bullets (400mg of caffeine in 4 minty chews) and went off like a mentalist. I’d run for what seemed like ages…. And then I’d walk for a bit, and then repeat and then after awhile I would see a stone mile-marker post counting up the distance to liverpool, and down the miles to Leeds. I could tell from this that there were about 6 miles left.

I soon met my crew at the next point. It was very wet by this point but I was feeling great. My feet hurt like shit but they would hurt for less time if I moved faster. Running at this stage wasn’t as painful as walking and it was a damned sight faster (well, a bit faster anyway!). I briefly sat in the drivers seat for brief respite from the rain. Didn’t bother changing my water bottles, but I did get rid of all the empty packets of junk I had and after a few minutes got moving again.

As was becoming a pattern, I would walk for about a quarter mile from a crew point and then start jogging. I would see a marker up ahead and challenge myself to run at a good pace up to and past it as far as I could. Sometimes I would just make it to that point, and sometimes I would will myself to go further and stick with it until it became too much. This was the pattern that I settled into.

My wife had insisted it was 4 miles to the end. The last marker I had seen before I met them had said 6.25 miles. I had decided to believe the marking stones instead. If it came up short then it would be a bonus 

I was aiming for Bridge 226. Bridges came and went. Things that looked like Bridges came and went (but without the reward of a bridge number to count off). Things that looked like they were once bridges came and went. Things that I wished were bridges passed. All the time the bridge numbers were counting up slower and slower. I jogged when I could but mostly walked.

At this point I checked the bridge numbers on the map…… 225….. 225a, 225b…..225c…. All the way up to H. Joy of joys!!! 

Finally with what I estimated about a quarter mile to go I got a jog on and rounded the bend in the canal to see the finish line gantry.

And off i went….. As fast as my little legs would carry me.

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Crossing under the finish line gantry was an amazing feeling.

Dick was there waiting to put a medal around my neck.

Finish – Br226 Office Lock – 126.8 miles – 16:15 (34h15m)

“Wow – you certainly got a trot on there!” he said as I tried to work out how to press stop on my watch.

Dick hung my finishers medal around my neck. I mumbled a few words of thanks and appreciation for the organisers of the race and the volunteers and then had a hug with my wife – Susie – and Vanessa and had a sit down and asked for a coffee with “all of the sugar and all of the milk”.

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Hanging around the finish Gazebo

It was the best coffee I had had for ages! It was nice to be able to sit down with no time pressures. I glanced at the finish board. I was the 13th name on that board. Turned out my new Suunto 9 recorded the whole race, without me having to charge it, and it was recording every 1 second and still had 13% left. That makes it good for 40 hours approx on the absolutely best GPS setting without resorting to the clever battery settings that it has available on it. Recommend highly!

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I had a scan for some of those ahead of me…. I saw that the Jenkins brothers had finished about 25 minutes ahead of me (I had seen quite a bit of them during the race and their crew had been marvellous). I also saw that Javed Bhatti was not yet on the board.

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I’d been chatting at the start with Javed, and I think between the two of us as there was an hour on the Canalslam that separated us, we both wanted to make sure we finished ahead on this race.  I had seen him running strongly on this race and in front for quite a bit of the first day. I hoped he was ok.

I sat around chatting and soon Allan Rumbles and David Allan came in to the end. Allan had had a good race and I was pleased to see the old codger!

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Reflections on the Canalslam

It was still sinking in. I’d finished the LLCR130. Which I had previously in 2016 DNFd. I felt quite a sene of achievement, and that was before Canalslam result – which it turned out gave me 5 / 9 ranking of those who completed the race series in terms of time. Just over 113 hours.

This race series – is a special one. Run between the end of May and the end of August it leaves little to chance. Anything other than a minor injury and that’s it up the swanny.

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Grand Union Canal Race – 145 mile from Birmingham to London
Kennet and Avon Canal Race – 145 miles from Bristol to London
Liverpool Leeds Canal Race – 130 miles from Liverpool to Leeds

These are races with a small number of entrants – no more than 100 runners – and so friendly. Some runners have crews and supporters along the route and there is a custom of each helping each other out. Other runners crews have given me many cold drinks, or offered me food, and my crew have handed out calippos, ice and drinks and food to others. It’s what makes it special. Everyone is in the same boat (figuratively speaking) and happy to lend a hand.

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In a world of big brash commercialised races these are a great series to support into the future. If you haven’t taken part in any of these races, consider entering. They have all of what you need and nothing that you don’t. Finishing the Canalslam 2018 is my biggest achievement so far. I’m so grateful to have had the opportunity to do it, and an amazing group of good friends and my wife to crew me on my races this year. Love you all xx

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Strava link – https://www.strava.com/activities/1801121392

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Thanks to everyone who has helped me. I couldn’t have done it without any one of you! x

  • Paul Pickford (Buddy Runner – GUCR)
  • Tracey Watson (Buddy Runner – GUCR)
  • Spencer Milbery (Buddy Runner – KACR)
  • Lou Fraser (Crew – GUCR, KACR)
  • Vanessa Armond (Crew – GUCR, KACR, LLCR)
  • Pete Watson (Crew – GUCR)
  • Susan Bradburn (wife and crew – GUCR, KACR, LLCR)
  • Marek Kowalek (Crew – GUCR)
  • Lee Kelly (Crew – KACR)
  • Graham Cleary (Crew – LLCR)
  • Mimi Anderson (Coach) – http://www.marvellousmimi.com/
  • My mum and dad (looking after us in Widnes before LLCR)
  • Rockstar Sport (http://rockstar-sport.com) for continued support and great gear!
  • Caffeine Bullet (www.caffeinebullet.com/ – 15% off with BradBuriedAlive code)

All the other runners – including those who I have shared some miles with

The other runners crews who gave me drinks and food, and encouragement

And most of all, the amazing Canalrace CIC who organise the races – Thanks Keith Godden, Dick Kearn and Wayne Simpson and the amazing volunteers too! You’re all special and you put on an amazing set of races! Thank you!

Check out the dates for the three Canalslam races in 2019  – here