Those who know me personally will know the significance of the 100 miler to me. Albeit an arbitrary distance, but much like the marathon to some (the history of the 26.2 mile distance makes interesting reading) the 100 mile distance holds a certain reverance with many. A seed planted 5 years ago saw me evolve from occasional social runner to ‘full time’ obsessed ultra runner. And in doing so a dream of running a continuous 100 mile race held an importance and value unmatched by most of the achievements in my life. An undertaking that would require a determination and commitment to fully engage myself over the years in order to see it through to its unimaginable conclusion. Much like the Marc Laithwaite’s (Race Director) pre-race speech, we don’t see these events as abnormal because we affiliate and socialise with likeminded folk - but this doesn’t take from the magnitude of the task. As I progressed from marathon to 50k, up to 40 miles then the 50 milers - they all felt like difficult but digestible incremental increases in distances, so much so they never threatened to overwhelm me. This was going to be something else entirely. I’d selected the Lakeland 100 for it’s stunning scenery, reputed difficulty and a quality field to test myself against. But I wasn’t naive to the fact it has an annual drop out rate of around 50% (from approx 350 starters) and is often regarded as the most difficult 100 miler in the UK.
-
As I lay back in the reclined passenger chair of my Jeep, an hour before the pre-race brief, I couldn’t help but reflect on the situation. I was comfortable but an underlying layer of energy and anticipation prevented me from relaxing properly. It was at that moment I realised that perspective was one of the most important aspects of running ultras. In several hours time even 10 seconds reclined in that chair with the luxury of being able to close my eyes would be complete bliss. Yet right now I just wanted to get out into the fresh air and ready myself for the race to come. I likened this to a beer I’d had earlier in the week on my birthday celebration. It was nice because I rarely drink these days, yet post ultra a beer can taste like a gift from the Gods, an elixir capable of bringing a joyous release from miles of exertion to which we are unaccustomed. Perspective would be my motivation and guide through the challenge to follow. Perspective would also pick me up when I was at my lowest. I once read that 100 milers are run for the first 80 miles with the legs, the last 20 with the mind - that is how I would bolster my resolve when things felt impossible.
I finally alighted from the Jeep and headed to the event centre at John Ruskins School in Coniston. I was lucky to have my family with me to offer support and act as crew when allowed, particularly at Dalemain where I’d appreciate some assistance. I was also surprised to find Stan (and his wife Sue) had come out to cheer me on. I was fundraising for Cancer Research for this event after my running mentor Stan had been diagnosed with Prostate cancer last year. To have him there to support me and as a motivator to finish was just amazing. The atmosphere at the school was fantastic, buzzing with runners doing their final preparations and excited for the challenge to follow. It’s difficult to convey the tangible feeling of anticipation at this event and unless you’ve been you probably wouldn't quite understand it. Suffice to say it feeds the engine and empowers the runner with an energy that’s shared amongst the field.
Clockwise from top left - Stan ,Stuey and Dad
Me, Dad and Stan talking race strategy
The race brief was the usual mix of comedy, reality check and inspirational content before we were ushered outside to prepare for the start. I bumped into Stuart Percival here, a good friend who’d shared my Lakeland 50 experience last year and reccied parts of the course with me. It was great to catch up before dibbing into the starters pen together along with his club mate Tony Allen. Introductions, some nervous chats with starters near the front before the now annual rendition of Nesun Dormer. Inspired and ready to charge, I gave the wife a kiss, quick pact with Stuart that we’d finish no matter what and focussed my mind.
Waiting at the start line
Coniston to Seathwaite
At 6pm on Friday 24th July the countdown began;
10! - Okay I remember this from last year and feeling jealous of the 100 runners.
9! - Just keep it slow early doors!
8! - Think of all those hill reps you’ve done...
7! - My family are waving at me.
6! - It’s nice my sciatica is no longer hurting from weeks back.
5! - The weather is cool and borderline perfect right now.
4! - There’s a lot of people expecting a performance from me here - pressure?
3! - It’s okay, you’ve done over half this distance already.
2! - You won’t get lost you’ve reccied!
1! - Oh crap, have I even got this in me????????
I wave at my family as I’m swept past them in a wave of frantic runners, the pace more akin to a 10k than a 100 (105!!) mile race in the mountains. As we climb up and out of Consiton I desperately try to settle my effort. I allow a few to come past as we ascend a road that soon turns into trail before reaching the gate onto the base of Walna Scar. The technical rocky terrain that’s normally my favoured ground feels alien and incredibly hard work. I back off more, allowing some annoyed runners to come by shouting ‘faster runners coming through!’. It’s single track up here, part of the reason I pushed on, reticent to fall in with a stream a competitors walking this early on. Yet now I feel a steady hiking effort would be more in keeping with my feelings at this point. My breathing is laboured, my legs accordingly feel heavy, I’m light-headed - Christ I’m only a mile or so in to a 105! Over the next ten minutes or so I start to settle into things a little, even starting to enjoy it all a little. I remember to live in the moment and savour every second.
Early climb towards Walna Scar trying to settle down
As we kick ever upwards towards Walna Scar I finally feel like I’m finding a rhythm. Another runner comes past and I find a position I think I’m comfortable in for now. Moving along and happy I’m actually counting down the miles that have dominated my thoughts for many months. As I summit the climb and begin the descent I remind myself to go easy on the legs to protect my quads, run light with fast cadence! It feels good although another runner fly’s past hammering down the fell. I feel completely in control now, patient that most of these will come back to me over the next few miles when they’ve destroyed their legs too early. As we hit the road heading into Seathwaite I drop into a super comfy pace that’s obviously a little faster than others as I pick up a couple of places running into the aid. The aid station is a hive of activity, the volunteers all dressed as superheroes. I dib in, top up my water and run out - no messing and in doing so it appears I've picked off a few more runners.
Seathwaite to Boot
A quick high five with Teen Wolf, a howl and I’m off through Seathwaite ready to find the cutting into the woods. Luckily I dropped in with a group of three runners here so navigation was of little concern at this point. I was really starting to find a bit of a rhythm now, settling into the long evening, night and then day to follow. In my group was Mick Allen and John Yuill. A couple of guys who on and off through the entire race would be in my vicinity. This was great in some respects as we’d help push each other through the bad patches to come, but the offset being if somebody suffers a low patch it’s often to easy to back off your own effort and treat it as an excuse.
As we hit the next climb I felt strong and was loving the effort now. Rolling trails requiring little effort, I was in the moment and mentally in a good place after what felt like a shaky start. As we ascended up Hollin How towards Grassguards our group was expanding. There was probably 6 or 7 of us in total, our efforts on a constant and all pleased to move along a similar pace for now. I pushed up front happy to set the pace on a section I was navigationally confident. Skipping over the boggy terrain I tried to keep my feet dry for as long as possible. I’ve suffered blisters in my running adventures but I’ve heard tales of horrendous foot conditions if they are soaked for extended periods. Alas, despite my best efforts I took some water on board, my feet squelching through the mud. Still it wasn’t raining so I was happy my feet would dry quickly enough. It was along Grassguards Gill I initially tried to take a turnoff over a stile that I’d used during a recce with Stuart Percival and Mark Richardson. I was called back by Mick who was adamant it was further along, I was easily swayed but then after taking the next cross over the fence we descended some distance before someone again shouted us back up. We deliberated a short time before begrudgingly ascending back up to the runner in question. The runner was Ian Radford I’d later learn, who along with Mick and John I would spend most of the next 24 hours or so with. When we finally got on the right path we pushed downwards towards Boot - our merry little band of four coming together now. As we ran into Boot I reflected how things seemed to be going well despite the nav errors where we’d lost a little time. I was adamant this wouldn’t affect my positive mindset though.
The four Musketeers (left to right; Me, Ian, John and Mick)
Boot to Wasdale
The Boot aid station is a simple outdoor affair with the staff dressed as French men (unless I was losing my mind at that point…). I topped my water and tried to find something I wanted to eat but I was already after something savoury which there wasn’t much in this respect. I think I took a cup of coke here and maybe a handful of crisps and moved on. The climb felt okay and my effort levels still felt reasonably measured bearing in mind I still had near on 90 miles to cover. This section is quite pretty running up and past Burnmoor Tarn, but if anything a little featureless. I dropped on with 2 guys here, Duncan and Richard who seemed to be veterans of 100 milers. They were discussing previous L100’s and the Ultra Tour Du Mont Blanc so I was in good company. It reminded me that these sorts of distances are well conquered with both strength and experience. The magnitude of my situation threatened to overwhelm me at that point. This wasn’t going to be easy, and although I’ve never being naive to that, I couldn’t help but be reminded at that moment just how tough this challenge would be.
Still I did my level best to stay in the moment, one aid station at a time. That had always been my strategy coming into this race. Anywhere between 5 to 10 miles should always be an easy digestible chunk to the next micro-pleasure at an aid station. So much so, I planned each little treat as I headed towards the next aid station. It might be a cup of soup, or some tea, maybe a sugary treat, but each time it would keep me focusing on short-term goals and not risk being overwhelmed by the magnitude of the distance or elevation (around 22,000ft of ascent).
Wasdale to Boot
I was pleased to hit Wasdale aid station and it was still daylight. I’d always had this as a target so I could start the big mountain passes fresh into the night. Wasdale aid was a highlight as it was run by the Sunderland Strollers and themed as an 80’s disco. It was equally great because it’s Stuart’s (Percival) running club so on informing them I was his mate I accrued a mini fan club. They rallied around me sorting my water and food and I was quickly corralled back out onto the hill to shouts of ‘Go Kirky!’. Enthused I got my head down to the task of climbing Black Sail Pass in the fading light of the valley. The four musketeers were firmly back together on this climb - Mick, John, Ian and me. John clicked away with his poles up the steep ascent happily chatting away keeping the group entertained. I’m one for verbal diarrhoea myself, but John beats me hands down - but what a genuinely nice Dude. We discussed and debated the merits of walking poles, myself firmly in the anti camp, but each to their own. As we reached about the halfway point of the ascent of the pass it crosses a fast moving stream, the waterfall cascading precariously back down into the valley below. Full of the joys of mountain running in the fading light I skipped across the rocks with the confidence that comes from many hours playing on technical terrain. But familiarity breeds complacency and on this occasion I got caught out. As I jumped onto a rock that angled off to the right, soaked by water I slipped into the torrent, smashing my right kneecap on another submerged rock. I jumped out the water and checked myself down. With adrenaline pumping I felt that everything was okay and couldn't feel any pain that would be race ending - near miss!
As we summited over Black Sail Pass I felt the first signs of fatigue in the form of aching in my legs. Considering the 25 miles or so and the ascent we'd done, not bad but still only a chip off the gargantuan distance still to cover. The descent started to hurt a bit with some inkling of pain the knee I'd hit on the rock and my old hip tightening a little. But we pushed ever downwards on the sloppy rocks, sometimes using our hands to climb down. Another runner came past here (Jansen?) and was moving really well. We finally reached the valley floor, safe in the knowledge we still had to climb Scarth Gap before we could get excited about the Butteremere aid station and some more sustenance.
Running past the Black Sail YHA I thought back to how I'd felt on my recce run here - sciatic pain and cramping in my hips and desperately cold as we'd come over Black Sail Pass slowly in driving wind and rain. We'd needed to hunker down in the YHA to get warm and eat. What a difference the weather and moving speed was making today. My hips felt a lot better and I'd beaten the sciatica following some quality physio work. As part of my treatment I'd been doing frequent hip exercises along with conditioning my glutes to fire correctly. As the race progressed I never really suffered badly with my hips - have to wonder if this is where my issue had been.
I felt really strong power hiking over Scarth Gap although another technical descent took its toll on my knee. By the time time we dropped to the hugely runnable terrain around Buttermere my knee was seriously flaring up and a cause for major concern. The pain was reminiscent of someone driving a nail into my kneecap. It definitely wasn't my IT band, which has plagued my running on and off over the years, this felt like a tendon issue in the front of my knee, exacerbated when descending technical ground. I put it to the back of my mind and pushed on into the darkness. Despite the company of my running companions I went into myself and existed only in the beam of my torchlight. My world reduced down into that space where I could soak up the pain and continue, oblivious to everything else around me. Time seemed to stand still, but sure enough we soon arrived at Buttermere aid station. I went inside to top up my water, I started on soup and sweet tea in earnest here. Ian surprised me by pulling out an e-cigarette and starting to toke away much to his pleasure. He even stated if someone had had a cigarette he'd have partaken! I would take my one and only sit down in the mens facilities here, but asked the guys to hang around for me with the navigational hazard of Sail Pass still laying in front of us.
Buttermere to Braithwaite
We left the aid and hit the steady climb through the woods before we got to the base of the Pass. I was making sure that despite my intense knee pain I tried to run anything that would allow, acutely aware of the huge hiking ascent to come up the mountainside. As mentioned this is often one of the common spots for navigational errors, and having reccied it in daylight I was sightly concerned about making a said error. Mick's course knowledge was impressive so armed with his insight and my recce and research knowledge we picked our way up the mountain with relative ease. The issue with Sail Pass is that if you miss a turnoff it means dropping way too low and left with the choice of backtracking or trying to cut vertically up the mountainside - both options costly in time and energy. Luckily we seemed to hit every turn on cue, teamwork winning through here.
I pushed up front and took my turn in leading our group up the pass. My hiking felt strong and I upped it to a trot when ever the incline allowed. I've finally turned a corner with my snobbery as regards hiking steep hills. At one time I would have balked at the thought of 'walking' anything, and I still mostly do in my training. Yet I seemed to have learned the value of an efficient and fast power hike. If (and when!) I come back to this race next year I will ensure I train this tool in my running repertoire even more - room for further improvement!
The section over to Braithwaite was serving as a psychological stepping stone (ironic that a stepping stone was threatening to unravel my race!). Partly because it was the end of my first recce here, but also because the next 30 miles is much more runnable with some longish sections that are much flatter with less sustained climbing.
The pass went much quicker than I anticipated and we found ourselves on the grassy carpet like descent into Braithwaite. My knee pain continued to dominate my existence and was starting to seriously tire me mentally. I resolved to try and tape it up at the aid.
Braithwaite to Blencathra
We took some time in the Braithwaite aid, to both refuel and for me to try and sort my knee out. After initially asking around if anyone knew how to tape to a knee up I came up short. However it transpired that a kind lady called Jenny who was working in the kitchen there not only knew how to tape it but also had a large toolkit full of first aid supplies. Mick and John said they were going to set off walking and we'd try and catch them on the road out of Braithwaite. Ian kindly offered to stick around while I got fixed up. Jenny basically cut the tape into two strips which she rolled into small 'ropes' which were strapped across the front of my knee cap to offload the tendons. It was then anchored with some electricians tape - sometimes the simplest solutions are the best! Although the knee felt good sat down and strapped up, as me and Ian set off I could tell it still hurt. Still I think it gave me enough of a placebo to push on confident the pain would dissipate, either that or I'd just get used to it and put up with it.
We soon caught Mick and John along the road, and as we fell in beside them walking it was all too easy to do the same. Ian was keen to keep running while it was easy going - which I begrudgingly agreed so we all set off at a decent pace. I tried to concentrate on keeping my cadence high which helped with my knee and my running speed. The next few miles clicked off nicely through the night, after a few miles we hit the climb up towards Latrigg before turning off towards Blencathra.
Things started to feel better and we were covering the easier ground at a much increased rate. We hit the long valley with an unmanned dibber - strategically placed to prevent runners cutting a huge section out. I love this section skirting the valley side, and the stretch and lay of the landscape allowed us to see any runners ahead or behind. It was interesting to see very few runners behind us meaning we'd made a good gap through the night so far. We guessed we were in around 15th place or so here so everything was going well some 35-40 miles in.
We all dibbed in on the edge of the ruins and pushed on towards Blencathra. Me and Ian ended up pushing on ahead a little up the other side of the valley and John and Mick seemed quite happy at this point to fall back.
We finally arrived at the Blencathra aid at the Herdwick suite. The theme here was basically Dudes in dresses so we took the time to have a laugh and a joke. I settled down to some soup and discovered 'Little Daves Mums cake' - a welcome delight in aid food!! I asked Little Dave to thank his Mum on my behalf before me and Ian pushed on to Dockray.
Blencathra to Dockray
I felt we hung around this aid a little too long, already identifying places where I could improve in future attempts. So after about 10 minutes I got up and went to leave, Ian followed. As we descended down through a beautiful little wood I was just thinking how we were making good progress when a runner shot by moving really well down the technical roots and steps. Ian pointed out that the guy was a Raidlight runner called Jansen and he'd won some quality races. It actually instilled some confidence that we were still near to a runner of that pedigree over 40 miles in. And with that in mind as we hit the old Keswick rail line me and Ian started to push. The old track reminded me of the numerous hours spent training on the Trans Pennine Trail near to where I live. These sorts of references can give you a boost, if you've struggled and trained well on similar terrain it offers confidence that you can run through the pain. As we moved well we re-passed Jansen with relative ease, although I suspected he may have been going through a bad patch. Having said that he would never pass us again throughout the race. We also cruised past a guy called Jason on this long flat section such was the momentum we were now regaining.
A mental check of what was to come and I confirmed with Ian we had a short sharp climb up the fells to reach the dreaded Old Coach Road. From my recce a couple of weeks back the Coach Road was going to be a trial, its rolling enough to potentially cause problems, but infinitely runnable. Yet now about 4:30 in the morning after over 10 hours of running I knew it would be difficult to move well. However after our surge me and Ian were up for giving it a good blast. Then to top it off I found myself experiencing a moment in my ultra running I've been looking forward to for the past couple of years - a sunrise. I don't know what it is, and I've often heard it rumoured that the break of a new day can invigorate a runner into finding new reserves of energy. Something to do with the bodies rhythms and reawakening for a day of new exertion. Whatever it was, after lingering to check out the sunrise over the mountains for a few moments, I shook myself and moved on with renewed vigour. The Coach Road stretches for a good 3-4 miles, and when we were about a mile from Dockray aid Mick made a surprise reappearance. He'd donned some headphones and was literally charging up the trail straight through the middle of ankle deeps pools of muddy water. Reluctant to wet my feet any further (I'd got the first inkling that my feet were suffering) I danced around the water and followed on. By the time we reached the aid were back as a 4 pretty much, give or take a 100 metres or so. I sat down with some more soup and bread and got to feeding and chatting to the aid staff. It wasn't too long before I realised I was taking too long again, reticent to leave the security and comfort of the aid. It was Mick who got up and moved on walking down the road that gave me the mental kick I'd need. Unfortunately Ian mentioned he was low on energy and would need longer to collect himself before moving on.
Actually at Dalemain on the sunrise - taken by Sue Holland
Dockray to Dalemain
Moving again, but aware there were the longest road sections to come I wasn't relishing the thought of the next segment. Luckily it turned out to be better than I thought, after a long downhill to get things moving well again we hit the riverside along Aira Force. I loved this bit on my recce, taking the time to clamber in the beautiful cascading waterfall pools to cool off. Today would bring no such luxury but it was pleasant to meander along the riverside to the sound of running water. Not much further and me, Mick and John started the ascent up Gow Barrow Fell. I felt great up here, pounding along and really looking forward to some treats at Dalemain aid - mainly some dry socks because my feet were starting to really ache.
Aira Force
The views over Ullswater were predictably stunning at that time in the morning, the sun fully up and the promise of a warm day ahead. We moved well over the semi-technical ridge skirting the fell, me happily leading our band of three onwards. We descended onto a stunning little woodland trail that was reminiscent of a scene from Lord of the Rings. This further bolstered my resolve to keep a good pace towards Dalemain where my family and friends would be waiting. Through a few cow fields, which aren't my preferred terrain at the best of times and up onto the final road sections, even less so enjoyable. Still I didn't let this dampen my spirits and pushed wherever I could.
View over Ullswater from up Gow Barrow
I couldn't help but feel Mick and John wanted to back off a little here, but as previously mentioned this is often the disadvantage of running in a group. Still there already had been and very likely would be sections where they would push me on when I was suffering. It's hard to gauge whether it's a good strategy or not sticking to a group. For my first 100 miler I think it was helpful and very enjoyable, but next time I'd be inclined to run more solo to push when I felt strong and if need be drop into groups when I was waining.
Running into Dalemain ready for the new day ahead
All the same we reached the edge of the Dalemain estate in good spirits and running well. Only a couple of miles along the trail and I spotted my six year old Cameron shouting "Come on Daddy, hurry up!" - Priceless! Charging into the aid with my friends and family there was a real highlight and lifted my mood infinitely. I was more than pleased to have reached Dalemain in about 13 hours.
Dalemain to Howtown
The aid was at first spookily quiet, but very quickly, Mick, John, Ian then other runners started to filter in. Still I took the time, with Emma's (my wife) assistance to check on my feet. They looked awful, blisters and the entire soles of my feet seemed to be suffering from trench foot! A quick assessment and I decided to just put a dressing over the balls of my feet and tape them up with kinesiology tape. While this seemed like a good plan, they didn't really feel much better after and on retrospect the dressings just seemed to hold water causing my feet to remain wet for the duration of the race. I also took the opportunity to put on some Salomon S-lab calf guards to keep my lower legs functioning well and prevent further muscle damage.
Emma dressing my badly damaged feet
Strapped knee in agony but happy with some food
Putting fresh shoes on hurt my feet!!
With feet taped and a little food in I decided to push on, what with a stream of runners coming into the aid. So walking out the tent with my family - I bid them farewell and set off painfully running over the fields of the Dalemain Estate. As I traversed the fields I noticed a farmers gate wide open to my left which would allow someone to cut about 500 metres off the course. Tempting, and although painful to skirt round it, there was no way I would allow myself to cheat. So I trudged round and onto the waterside into Pooley Bridge where I got another glimpse of my family before I headed back into the mountains.
Getting moving again after the aid
Setting off across the Dalemain estate - my freshly dried feet immediately getting wet in the morning dew
Time for a check over. Mentally I felt pretty good, I wasn't tired in a sleepy way at all (probably all the caffeine). Physically I felt okay to run but my feet were killing and my knee pain, although excruciating had just become part of my existence that I'd now come to accept. It was good to think I was now eating into the Lakeland 50 course which I'd done last year in blistering hot conditions. Speaking of which as I began to ascend again on the way to Howtown, I could feel the sun getting hotter. it wasn't yet unbearable but it was making me a little uncomfortable under the circumstances. As I hit the top of the fells I ran along with a couple of mountain bikers overtaking me on any descents, then me retaking them on any climbs. They were looking at me a bit gone out, but I didn't have the inclination to explain what I was doing event wise.
Dropping into Howtown my energy levels were dropping rapidly so I knew I'd need something in the tank for the climb up Fusedale to High Kop. It had been nice running alone for a while just to lose myself and my pain in my thoughts, but I'd also neglected to eat in the process. When I was told fudge was on offer at the aid I was very pleased. It sounded appealing and appetising with plenty of sugar to lift my funk. Unfortunately I just couldn't find it, it was either well hidden, misadvertised or my low glycogen levels were causing my brain to malfunction - it turned out to be the latter when it was pointed out I was stood directly in front of a huge box of fudge! I scooped a handful in my mouth and another to carry with me. Water topped up I set off again and as I left Mick came charging in - sans John.
Howtown to Mardale Head
This climb had truly been my nemesis last year causing me all kinds of pain in the heat. With the sheer amount of climbing training I'd been doing I hoped for a better go this year, despite the extra 60 miles in my legs! I haven't checked the splits, but honestly it felt better than last year. The sun was warming up quickly but I was moving fairly strongly. Despite this, looking back down Fusedale I could see Mick closing in on me. I stopped a couple of times to check the road book, stupidly doubting the ever accurate GPS read on my Sunnto Ambit 3. As I neared High Kop, up near the ruins Mick caught me and we summited together. However on the beautiful grassy decent to Low Kop, then down to Haweswater Mick slowed again. I was happy to get my momentum going so I pushed on, even enjoying the steeper descent on the mainly grassy trails. The respite of rocky trails on my feet was short lived though, as I hit the side of Haweswater I remembered how rocky and technical it was underfoot. Still I relish this sort of footwork normally so I soldiered on, bouncing along and engaged with the concentration required to negotiate the trail. As the heat was rapidly rising I took the time to drink from the faster moving streams and dipping my Salomon buff in any small body of water I could find and putting it on my head to aid cooling.
As I neared the aid station, once again Mick caught me and we chatted as we arrived in at Mardale Head. Feeling much better this year I took some more calories on board and took a minute to relax before facing the vertical ascent of Gatesgarth Pass.
Mardale Head to Kentmere
Just before we left, John came charging in like a man possessed! I was genuinely pleased to see him, concerned after Mick had told me he'd suffered with cramps. We left him to refuel while we set off trekking up the never ending switchbacks of Gatesgarth Pass. With loose rocks underfoot that make it difficult to get a purchase, a case of three steps forward, two steps back! Although it's so uneven it always reminds me of the sort of road switchbacks you see Tour De France riders tackling. Someway up the pass John caught up, happily clicking away with his poles. I have to admit a small part of me looked on with envy as he could use his arms to bolster his climbing effort.
When we reached the top we had an agonising descent down into the valley before a long drag towards Kentmere. I'd forgotten this path and it's continuation of the fist sized boulders strewn across the trail. It would be futile to try to explain the Lakeland to anyone who's never run it, but this never ending type of conditions make running incredibly difficult and on the whole very slow. This slowed our proceedings down for a couple of miles before much to my surprise and joy Ian caught us out of the blue. I don't know why but this once again gave me the kick I needed and we started to move quicker again.
Reaching Kentmere was a relief, but I was intent on spending very little time here. Last year in the depths of my suffering I'd spent nearly 30 minutes vomiting outside the aid. The closest I've ever been to a DNF, but equally my proudest moment to have soldiered on and ground out a finish (albeit not as a fast as I would have liked).
I loved the smoothie this year, the highlight of the aid food for me. I also supplemented it with two mouthfuls of pasta, some soup, coke and a sweet tea.
Kentmere to Ambleside
No messing around I actually shouted to Ian and told him we were leaving keen to enjoy his company and fast legs. We set off getting the legs spinning again before hitting Garburn Pass. More fist sized boulders and hands on knees power hiking. Mick and John caught us up here yet again. I think they had a much better pace on the steep ascents, but me and Ian would push on the undulating sections that were more runnable. Funny how the different skill sets complement various sections of the course, but here heading towards the 90 mile mark we were all still together!
I can't recall much more on this section, other than as we dropped through Skelghyll woods towards Ambleside me and Ian had to wait for Mick and his superior navigation on this section. Next year I will recce more!!!
When we hit Ambleside I began to up the pace again throughout the town centre. the atmosphere was fantastic. The pubs packed on a midday on a Saturday, erupted with applause as I ran past. The support for the runners was amazing and truly uplifting after all the miles accumulated.
When I finally hit the aid, my family and friends were once again waiting to support me and cheered me in, ringing their cow bells furiously.
Ambleside to Chapel Stile
Fuelling up in the Ambleside aid I genuinely hadn't even noticed the volunteers were dressed as clowns. I suffer a carnal fear of clowns so it was some reflection on my fatigue at 89 miles in. Laughing off the moment with Emma and the kids I went outside to finish what I was eating and say hi to my Mum, Dad, Stan and Sue. It was so nice to have everyone there, I was truly on the home stretch now with 16 miles to go. If needs must I would have walked it in from here - but that wasn't going to happen. I shouted to Ian but he went off with his family somewhere. I wasn't sure what was happening with him but I wouldn't see him till after the finish. It was a shame because we had shared so much of our journey - thanks mate it was a pleasure!
Getting hot again!
Quick refuel before setting off again
It was onwards for me and cheered on by my crew I set off across Rothay Park. Feet killing, knee with a sharp never ending pain. But it was then I realised, I'd had no hip issues really, no IT band pain. Problems of old that over this distance should have plagued me, were finally overcome? Who knows but maybe all the strength work has finally paid off. The perspective this gave me was like an epiphany - had I got ITB it would have crippled me to a crawl, equally if my hips had tightened I would have struggled to complete the race - yet here I was in complete all consuming agony of another kind and loving every second.
Live in the moment
I got my headphones in, dialled in some inspiring tunes and ran. Ever upwards again, always upwards. This route never, ever lets up, but that's why we do it. That's why I chose it, and that's why I tried my level best to soak up every moment. Stop wishing for the end and enjoy every second of the life experience. With a positive mindset I moved on, climbing hard, but laughably Mick and John still caught me again. Then over the next section along Elterwater and towards Langdale and Chapel Stile we managed some really decent miles clicking along a great pace. Mick leading out on this section strongly all the way.
Charging hard and in pain but loving it - kids in hot pursuit cheering Daddy
A highlight was bumping into a good friend - Mark Richardson along the course. He wished me well and assured me if I pushed I could maybe get into the top ten. I explained I was spent but appreciated the vote of confidence.
Running into Chapel Stile was such a pleasant experience, like a giant marquee with tempting but dangerous settees! I started to come to the realisation I would definitely finish and fighting for places now would be difficult with energy low and pain high. Still I took a minute or two in the aid to make sure I was good for the 6 miles to Tilberthwaite before the final climb to the finish.
Chapel Stile to Tilberthwaite
The next section was run slower than it should have, but I was almost afraid of using up any remaining energy. I felt I was nursing myself to the finish - which I needn't have because I'm sure I had some more racing left in me. All the same a little climb up the fells, the fun and technical trails past Blea Tarn and we hit the unmanned dibber before a short road section. The road really hurt and I couldn't wait to hit the climb up to Tilberthwaite aid.
After what seemed like an age we rounded the road towards the aid, Me, Mick and John locked together in a shared struggle. Just prior to the aid, Sally Fawcett (fellow Dark Peaker) came up behind us running in the 50 miler. A quick hello and mutual congratulations - she would finish 4th overall and 1st female in the 50 - and she went pretty much straight through the aid and onwards towards Coniston.
We dibbed in and got some food down our necks. I consciously topped up both my water bottles in my Salomon S-Lab Skin pack, although I didn't need to as I only consumed one on the way over.
Tilberthwaite to Consiton
With a tinge of sadness that my adventure was nearly over, yet the sheer relief and joy that I was so close to finishing. I donned my Salomon GTX jacket for the first time as my core temperature had dropped with our pace falling over the last section and the evening cooling rapidly. It was then up the now familiar steps of doom towards the final summit before the finish.
Mick and John dropped in and were happy to sit behind me here. We all discussed how painful the last descent was going to be with our respective ailments, but I really didn't care all that much just looking forward to finishing and seeing my family.
By the time we hit the top, some other 50 milers were coming past now, and I was told a couple of 100 milers were closing in strong too. And so it was, as we started limping, falling, sliding and cursing our way down the last descent a couple of 100 milers came flying past. I was envious of how well they were moving at this point, wondering if my knee, feet and previously unmentioned smashed quads were functioning better how a strong finish would have felt amazing. Instead as we reached the bottom of the the truly technical terrain onto a more runnable track, Debbie Martin-Consani came flying past shouting "Come on lads, where's your sprint finish". She was right of course, so with that I turned to Mick and John and told them we were finishing strong.
I set off, opening my stride, pain coursed through my body, but adrenaline was taking over. There was no way I was letting anyone else past us before the finish. It felt great to be truly sprinting into Coniston, moving like I hadn't in over 15-16 hours. I looked back and saw that Mick and John had fallen back, either unable or unwilling to give it one last blast for the line. So I just focussed on enjoying my finish, as I hit Coniston I even managed to turn down the wrong road - the local pub erupting into a chorus of "Noooo, you need to go over the bridge!" Ha ha, even this late on with less then 200 metres to go my navigation let me down!
Back on the right road, I first saw Stan waiting for me. He went mental at seeing me, cheering me on to keep sprinting. Then as I rounded onto Lake road I saw everyone else, my parents, Emma, the kids, friends, even a Dark Peak club mate shouting me in. The support at these events really keeps you moving during the hard times, but right now it was just the icing on the cake of a glorious finish in a distance I genuinely doubted I'd be able to complete.
Finishing strong
Spent and being congratulated by Emma
I dibbed in, 26 hours and 38 minutes for 19th place before walking into the event centre to the amazing applause that every 100 runner gets when they finish.
Adorning my new medal and happy to be finished running for the day
Some juice before the inevitable celebratory beer that'll finish me off no doubt
Catching up with some Dark Peak runners at the finish
Reflections
I'm pleased with my finish, but believe that had my knee not been damaged so early (85 miles from the finish!) and I hadn't taken as long in the aids at times I would have got much nearer a 24 hour finish time. Having said that I always knew 100 milers were conquered with lots of problem solving on the hoof, which I'd certainly done at times. They're also done well with strength, which of course can only be built up over time and patience. I'm keen to come back next year and take some time off my new PB, maybe throwing in a Bob Graham round in June to build some real strength.
The equipment I described on my previous blog worked well throughout. The clothes kept me cool and free from chaffing, and the Salomon S-Lab Sense Ultra's were protective enough underfoot despite 105 miles of sharp rocky trails. After a conversation with Marco Consani (last years winner) he advised me to try Drymax socks to prevent the wet foot issues I'd suffered as no shoes could have prevented that outcome.
Now time to recover and redevelop some fast leg speed for my next 50 miler...
Finally huge thanks to all the support from Salomon and Suunto. I'm proud to be an ambassador for such positive companies in the ultra running community.
