Follow your spirit

“We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne’er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs’d they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin’s day.” – William Shakespeare, from Henry V

5 swan pedalos? Seriously? *Cartoon eye rub*, oh good, this again……..

Here we are. How did this start line come around so quickly?

The awaiting runners and supporters fall quiet as the grey clouds loom and the great aria that is Nessun Dorma once more rises over the calm. The jittery fidgeting starts up as the song reaches it’s climax, although it’s a little earlier this year leaving us all with a couple of minutes alone with our thoughts, and then….. we’re off. The crowds line the street out of Coniston cheering us as we make our way towards the first big climb of Walna Scar road. As we climb through the mist the rain begins, a frustrating rain which is neither cold nor heavy leaving a question of ‘should I or shouldn’t I?’ on the waterproof front.

I was taking it very easy, after last year’s ankle turn and the lessons I learned from the Arc about not getting into early races and mistakes I had gone back to the drawing board. I have been progressively souring on Strava and the culture of racing everything and everyone over the past few months, and at the heart of it the real problem – the watch intruding on everything! My lessons are hard won though, and we all have to make mistakes and find our own way so I won’t be detailing my Lakeland plan here, except to say that it did not involve wearing a watch – I carried it to keep an eye on nutrition timing but looked at it only 4 times during the race.

Many hit the first part of the climb walking, but I felt happy and excited to be back so I ran it gently, excited to be off the tarmac and heading out toward the open fells. The path up Walna Scar affords beautiful views over towards the old copper mines and waterfalls tumble down the fell sides, it really is a magical start to a race. The smell of the bracken in the damp was glorious, I was glad to be back!

I chatted briefly to Larry on the way up before he pressed on ahead. Shortly after Sharon caught me up and we ran together for a short while, indulging in the putting jackets on and taking jackets off again ritual. Don’t you just hate that sort of temperature?! Dan Milton and his girlfriend Claire were offering hugs and photographs part way up the hill, with Luke and Rachael keeping them company so it was nice to see everyone whilst energy high, although I didn’t envy them as the rain got heavier!

Surprise! Photo; Dan Milton.

The first climb does seem to go on forever, with multiple false summits. The mist had closed in and the rain had become heavier, but as we began to descend it became apparent that it was actually due to being in the cloud and once we dipped below the level of it it became dry and pleasant once more. I took it easy on the first downhill; employing my usual kamikaze style is fine on short coastal hills or on a shorter distance but over 105 miles jelly legs are not a good starting point! I arrived at the bottom in good nick and had been joined again by Sharon, we hit the road and before long we were at the first checkpoint in Braithwaite for a quick pit-stop. My legs felt great and my stressed out breathing and fluttery heart rate from last year’s race were gone, relief!

We headed into the woods, and as we climbed out heading toward the open fells once again it became apparent that we were about to be besieged by midges! The thought of having to put on a jacket to protect against them was about as appealing as the thought of spending the next 30 odd hours itching from being bitten…..

“What do they eat when they can’t get Hobbits?” – Merry, Lord of the Rings 

I opted for the frantic arm rub and swat strategy, although the one that went up my nose scored a draw. Amazingly, I received a lone bite, rub and swat folks, rub and swat!

Midge braving Lakeland heroines…….. photo; No Limits

As we hit one of the more technical downhills of jumbled boulders – a chance to get my hands on! – a lot of people seemed a bit nervous, understandable given the slipping potential, but I spied a fence which was topped with a smooth wire instead of barbed wire for a change. Grabbing the wire I took the chance to speed down and skip over the boulders, it was at this point I met Katie – who complimented my rock hopping skills, as it turned out she was a fell runner I’ll take that! – and we sped along together for a while, until she pressed on ahead at Boot checkpoint.

After Boot I spent the majority of the leg to Wasdale Head alone as the sunset over Burnmoor tarn as the course headed up the old corpse road. Last year I remember Jason who I was running with at the time taking care to – sensibly – keep his feet dry as I splashed across the tarn, this year, it didn’t matter, the stepping stones were covered and the water was shin deep. It was going to be a soggy night! I was thankful to eventually hit the rocky part of the path down to Wasdale. It was hard enough negotiating this path with my own two feet and race vest, how they negotiated it with the dead in days of yore I’ll never know!

I had been in a small gaggle of people as I descended the hill, but taking the gently gently approach they soon left me behind, and the nearest head torch I estimated to be a good 400m behind me. I was alone, and it was wonderful, the smell of damp moss and bracken filled the air once more and the only company for a while were a few sleepy sheep that looked disgruntled as my headtorch dazzled them. I soon hit the road and the small band I was with reappeared, they didn’t seem in the mood to run so I trotted on alone.
“Pass the dolphin on the right and head to the unicorn”, not words you hear everyday, but then it’s not every night you get to go a beach party at Wasdale Head, a quick sluzz of coke and a peanut butter and jam sandwich and it was time to go. I saw Giles here with Andrew, both of whom I had tried to run into Dalemain with on the ‘run a tree, walk a tree’ routine last year, sadly Giles had been suffering with a pelvis injury and his race ended there, but Andrew stormed out like a man possessed running towards Black Sail, fair play!!! I was content to eat and trot for a bit and I found a new friend here; Wayne was enjoying a cuppa so I tagged along and we made a solid ascent of Black Sail together, hitting the bottom of the pass in speedy time and avoiding a detour into the dreaded bogs that I always seem to find. It seemed to take a while to reach the YHA, but once on Scarth Gap the top came mercifully quickly. I lost Wayne here and found Jason – from Burnmoor last year! – and then we promptly, with about 7 others, got thoroughly lost, having gone right instead of left. Eventually we realised our mistake, but it wasn’t soon enough to save us a steep hike up damp and tussocky hill to find the actual path, relieved to be back on relatively dry and firm ground I shot off and lost everyone on the downhill and before I knew it I was completely alone again.

I really enjoy running the stretch alongside Buttermere, it’s pitch black and largely through pine woods, so although there’s not much of a view – if you have been there enough though, you can imagine it, and it’s glorious! –  the smell is lush. The path rolls along, eventually going through a series of gates, where for some reason I saw cows (far too early for that lark brain, you’re only 7hrs in!!!!) and then suddenly, the little village of Buttermere, huzzah, checkpoints ticking off nicely!

From Buttermere to Braithwaite is probably the toughest of the climbs, it’s a long way to the top of Sail pass, although the descent is similarly long and the gradient a bit more mellow than some of the others! Last year I found this section quite challenging but this year it went surprisingly quickly, punctuated by the surprise sighting of a fox out on the fells and little mouse, one of the things I enjoy about night running is the opportunity to see the nocturnal world that few others do, it really is quite special. Before I knew it I had reached the top and begun the descent, as there was not a great distance between us all I caught up with a couple of others and others caught up from behind, a few wrong turns were taken, but nothing that took us too far off course and before I knew it I hit the road to Braithwaite and was stocking up in the checkpoint. I was in a pretty cheery mood and after a bit of bread and soup I thanked the lovely checkpoint staff and headed out onto one of my least favourite sections – the A66 pavement section……

I was determined not to repeat my aimless wandering in the graveyard this year and so I tried to keep up with the two guys in front of me, but they seemed to be having a bit of a second wind so it wasn’t easy! There seemed to have been a mass slug suicide along the pavement and one large individual became caught in my shoe lugs briefly which was pretty grim. I managed to just keep the two guys in sight long enough to make sure I kept on track, which actually seemed pretty straightforward and I wondered how I got so confused last year! It was somewhere after this point once I started to head uphill once more, towards one of my favourite parts of the course – Glendeterra – that I met Ruth. Ruth was moving incredibly well considering she came into the race with a hip injury, but she was suffering a bit at that point. We chatted for sometime and I was delighted to hear all about her BGR, and especially to discover that this particular part of the course was part of the round – strangely I climbed the same exact section with another BGR finisher last year. She was concerned about the injury and whether she could complete the race – spoiler alert; she did in 37hrs!!! Nails. – so I reassured her that at the time we were on, based on my last year issue that even walking from Dalemain would be possible. As we started to reach the top of the hill, Ruth was suffering a bit so bade me to go ahead. I pressed on, and as I rounded the corner into Glendeterra the sun was once more rising over Derwent water, I was once more alone. I couldn’t see anyone for some distance ahead of me, and in the light morning rain I ran happily along the valley with just the odd sheep for company. When I crossed the beck at the bottom of the valley I decided that perhaps it was time for a bit of music to put some spring into my step, my disappointment as I realised that my MP3 player had been playing to itself for most of the night and was now on minimal battery was tempered by the fact that at least I wasn’t in any particular pain! I decided just to listen for a few minutes and save the battery in case I really needed it later on. Next stop Blencathra!

I wasn’t really hungry at Blencathra so I just took a couple of biscuits and refilled my water before heading out once again into the morning. Slightly confused over the direction to take I met Nick. Nick was suffering from knee pain and told me he was done at the next checkpoint. I was skeptical that he was done given that we were making good time and he was still managing to move quite well. After the kindness that Eddie had shown me last year, it was the least I could to do to help another runner who was going through a low patch. He didn’t drop at the next point Dockray and we continued on together to Dalemain, and were happily we were rejoined by Ruth about 3 miles away from there! We were all feeling a little bit tired and the road section here is fairly painful. I could see that Nick was still suffering a bit, but given that the pain had alleviated from when we first met, and one way or another we had to get to Dalemain I suggested that we play the ‘run a tree walk a tree’ game that I had been unable to do last year here. We took it in turns to pick a tree or landmark and then ran for a little before having a walking break, like fartlek, but really slow!!!! Before we knew it we had hit the drive into Dalemain, which takes me back to the evil days of the ‘sheepgate’ run in Oxford (See my Langdale ‘Where this all started’ blog!)…..

It never ends. Well, eventually.

“Ok, we have to run, prepare to feel like absolute hero’s”….. I said as we rounded the corner into Dalemain checkpoint. Because we arrived just as the 50 was beginning the crowd cheering us in was big, it’s a mega lift for the spirits and you really do feel like a god :o) !!!

I dashed out of Dalemain without going to the loo, this proved to be a big mistake as my bladder decided it was about to burst and I was unable to run without the fear of peeing myself, as we were surrounded by 50 milers. Eventually I found a rock and crouched as low as I could to avoid the crowd. The shame. Valuable lesson; do not pass go.

I was feeling a bit tired around Pooley Bridge, although having Nick and Ruth for company was fab and we were all moving at a similar pace so I was in a far better place than last year, even though I was a little bit further behind than last year. I wasn’t worried, I have learned a lot, and this being my third 100 now, I was determined to keep to my plan. By Howtown I was really feeling quite energised, we’d been given a boost by all of the fresh legged 50 mile runners around us and their positive vibes, and I was feeling like I wanted to press on. I felt I was probably pushing the pace a bit too much for Nick and it was at Howtown I said my goodbyes to Nick and Ruth. I stopped to give my friend and fellow Muddy Andy a hug on his way out of the checkpoint heading toward Fusedale. I was sad to leave our merry little group but felt pretty sure I would see Nick and Ruth again, I didn’t bank on it being about 20 mins later!!!! It was fair to say that I was not climbing Fusedale with any great determination! It was in the last part of the Fusedale climb that Duncan caught up to us (I had seen him briefly at Howtown but he had his own stuff do so I pressed on – he was on fresh legs so I was confident he’d overtake me sooner rather than later).

Duncan actually proved to be a very good motivator and without realising it I had left behind Ruth and Nick, I guess that’s the way it goes in races as you ebb and flow, but it always feels a little bit sad to part company after you have shared a good number of hours together. Onwards and bogwards across High Kop! I was pleased to finally hit the downhill to Haweswater, but I took it relatively easy after having seen people disappear down the lethal mud into the bracken in previous years. I love this section, it’s absolutely beautiful and although it’s a bit tricky in places underfoot we flew along the lakeside and before I knew it Mardale beckoned. Duncan needed to fix his feet and sort his stuff out so I grabbed a quick sandwich and had a chat to Lucia – who I met here last year as she ran a blinder of a race! She was supporting this time, and it was nice to see a few friendly faces here – before heading up Gatesgarth pass. I had told Duncan I would press on as I expected he would catch up to me pretty quickly, in the event, I actually made up and down the other side into the beautiful valley of Long Sleddale. I wondered if I should wait, but told myself he’d catch up at some point so I kept going! I passed fellow muddies Rick and Emily, but not for long, both are far too seasoned for that to last, but Emily was having some downhill struggles due to a quad problem, and Gatesgarth really is quite a beastly descent. Eventually just before the bottom Duncan reappeared and we pushed on hard to Kentmere, at this point I was running well and feeling that a 32.5 hr finish might be a distinct possibility. I made a bit of an error rushing through Kentmere checkpoint where a flock of sheep were manning the decks ;o). The not taking in enough salt here left me feeling quite dehydrated, and I didn’t recover really until Chapel Stile. Between Kentmere and Ambleside I became quite fatigued and although I pushed hard up Garburn pass, making the top in around 20 mins I was feeling incredibly sleepy. Larry, another muddy caught us up here, I’d seen him at Kentmere and actually thought he was in front, so I was a bit surprised! We all ran together for a while and it was good to be making Ambleside well before dark. Although, that gate down into the woods seems to get further away every year! Unfortunately in the woods my torch went into strobe mode, ‘Is there are party up there’ another runner called out, and in my tired state I turned slightly whilst fiddling with the torch and turned my right ankle. By Ambleside it was apparent that this was going to be a problem.

It was deeply frustrating to have come so far feeling so good only to turn an ankle with 15 miles left to go. I won’t say it was agonising like last year, but it meant a power walk rather than a run was now the only option. This was especially irritating given that the flat section around the Langdale valley affords a great opportunity to run and make up for some lost time that the big climbs usually add onto the clock. As Duncan had also stuck with me I also felt that I had let him down in his quest for a good finish time on the 50, in spite of his assurances to the contrary. I was pretty grumpy as we made our way across the hideous boggy fields behind the campsite at Langdale – probably my least favourite section of the course! We eventually made it to the top of the hill and headed along the relatively flat section around Blea tarn, however, the rocks leading toward Wrynose were fairly lethal this year and on my ankle it proved unpleasant. It was as we reached the waterfall I saw a row of 5 swan pedalos;

Not the one I saw. This definitely wasn’t real.

I kept this to myself, as I was pretty sure that there were in fact not five swan pedalos, but it was instead hallucination time. Hurrah! They were also a mix of colours, handy.

We braved the bogs of doom, which happily were the worst they have ever been, confirmed by several veterans of the race. Happy days, still, at least I wasn’t the unfortunate chap who went in shin deep and had to reach in for his missing shoe. In the dark. Finally reaching the unmanned dibber which, lit up on the wall above, was like a guiding star – remote and seemingly light years away! I think I dibbed in for about 30 seconds, damned if I was going back!!! From this point it is about 6 miles, and they took forever, it also decided to pee it down and drop to about minus 20, I exaggerate of course, but it was certainly a drubbing we could all have done without! Here Andy passed us again in pretty chipper spirits, clearly feeling the road slightly less than I was. I promptly burst into tears and told Duncan I was a complete failure and I was never doing this again. Andy, if you are reading this was purely coincidence that I went into meltdown as you passed!!!! Ultrarunning right? It’s a funny old sport. Duncan kept roughly ten paces ahead of me for the next mile, it was probably for the best. The next unwanted hallucination of massive highland cows 2ft from my torch turned out, unhappily to not be a hallucination, nobody needs that 35hrs into a race, nobody. Left to my own devices I decided that I was going to drop at Tilberthwaite on the grounds that my ankle hurt and I was dreading the bloody downhill to Coniston. Duncan convinced my that this was a stupid plan because a. there was only 3 miles to go and b. it would be faster than either getting a ride back in the sweep van or waiting for him to drive back round. A lovely lady fed me some cookies and two black coffees at this point and then put my thermals on me, albeit over my waterproofs, there comes a point when you don’t care!!!! Eddie also arrived into the checkpoint here and I am pretty sure I probably bibbled some version of never doing this again or needing sectioning or how it was all rubbish. I probably, almost certainly lied. AGAIN. I also saw Jason again here, much cheered from the previous night and moving well and on his way to 500 club membership. I am pretty sure he also said never again the night before, but was definitely not saying that now!!!! What a bunch!

Reciting a mantra to my ankle which I shan’t repeat here I put in a remarkable turn of speed in powering up the hill, over the rocky scramble and up, up, up. Then: The descent.

Actually, for all my stressing it was ok, at least until my injinji sliced into the trenchfoot I had acquired and caused me to gasp, my shoe filled with broken glass. It was a sublime agony. On the plus side my ankle stopped hurting in an instant. We pushed quickly down the hill, I was determined that unlike last year a stream of runners would not be passing me, and in fact no-one did. I had hoped to manage a little jog over the line at least, but ankle and trenchfoot said otherwise sadly. The rain drops hung on the pine trees and dewy spiders webs of silver thread caught the perfect morning light. Duncan and I were greeted by Kate and Mike on dibbing duties and we crossed the line together. 36hrs 23mins later for me, it was bittersweet, I swiped 2hrs 40min off last year, but I couldn’t help feel a bit disappointed, up until turning the ankle my plan had been pretty damn perfect. I was announced into the finishers tent like a hero, a smattering of tired runners were there in the golden light of a beautiful morning. As the medal was put around my neck I was overwhelmed with emotion. I wondered about my friends new and old still out there and hoped that they were all still moving well (almost all finished, including Nick, Ruth told me the next day, I was so pleased to know I had helped!). I am so proud to be part of the wonderful Lakeland family, the organisers have indeed created something magical.

As we wandered back, I said to Duncan “I think I could come back and do it a bit better next time…..”, silence is golden.

The devil whispered; “You cannot withstand the storm”
The warrior replied; “I am the storm”.