The day started in a leisurely way. My start time was not until 11:21 so after a surprisingly good night sleep I ate a vat of porridge followed by a banana. I was really done with carb loading at that point! I made myself a bagel with peanut butter to have an hour before I was due to start.
My wife Jan then drove me towards the start line dropped me about a mile from the start. I had a leisurely walk which was typically up a hill! Lots of runners with their kit bags heading towards the common were doing the same as me.
The start area was full, but well organised with signs directing people to the correct areas. I found my lorry to drop off my kit bag. It was hot and there was no shade, I grabbed a bottle of water and sat down to eat my bagel and tried to relax.
When my wave was called to the muster point, I joined with the rest of the runners and we walked to the start, then we were off.
The start of the marathon was busy! I started off too quickly, weaving and dodging to get in front of the person in front of me, only to have to do the same again and again. But I felt good at that point and settled into my stride (or plod!). The crowds were great, lots of noise and the cheering was really uplifting.
The first 5 miles came and went, and I soaked up the atmosphere and the various costumes. I saw 2 guys running as a 3 legged race, a rhino, Christmas tree to mention a few. At mile 5 all was going to plan, I slowed to take on a gel, squeezed it too hard and covered myself in a sticky mess!!! I continued around the Cutty Sark and headed on. At the main tourist locations, the crowds were particularly large, noisy and supportive, every step of the 26.2miles someone was cheering you on. What a great turnout from London to support several thousand lunatics running in the sun.
Talking of the sun, it was hot out there, most of my training had been done in the damp and cold winter months and this was another level. There were water stations every 3 miles and showers set up that were great to run through and cool down a bit.
At mile 9 I saw my family cheering me on with banners and I waved to them as I ran past. On towards Tower bridge (just under half way) where the crowds were large again and I slowed down to take a few pictures before continuing on. Around docklands I started to feel the heat and things started to get a bit harder.
We had a plan that Jan would send me messages that I could read on my watch as I was running so I knew where and when they would pop up. We had a rough plan of them seeing me around Mile 18. Like all great plans it didn’t quite work out, the sun was so bright, I struggled to read the messages on my watch and after scanning the crowds and feeling multiple buzzes on my watch I got my phone out to read that There was a change of plan due to navigating transport and crowds , they would see me just after the mile 20 marker instead.
Just after Mile 20 I saw them it was a boost because at this point it was getting harder and harder to keep going. A quick stop, chat and selfie before carrying on. I found myself walking more than I was running and simply concentrated on just putting one foot in front of the other. I knew I needed to take on fuel but really feel like anything. I ate a few pretzels (I was really done with sweet sticky jells!) and although all advise says don’t try anything new, I was tempted by a cup of Lucozade being handed out. It tasted amazing!
Those last 6 miles are a bit of a blur, I had to dig deep to keep going. I saw the 5:30 pacer pull ahead of me and then the 5:45 and I knew there was nothing I could do about it. At that point it was not about a time just getting to the end. As the houses of parliament came into view, I knew I was almost there, and I was going to get over the finish line. Down the mall my head was down, and I was walking when a guy came up behind me, said come on mate and encouraged me to run (slowly!!) towards the finish line. I ran over the finish line with his help and thanked a complete stranger for his support.
After that I collected my medal, took another selfie, collected my kit bag and headed off to Charing Cross. That was a slow walk! At the train station, to my dismay, they were queuing around the block. Thankfully I realised that was for the underground and I was off to London bridge using the overground. I found my train and got on, only to have to stand in a really packed, hot and stuffy train. I got one stop where more people got on, but before the train left the station, I started to feel unwell and had to push my way off before I fainted. I sat on the floor, took some deep breaths and got some fresh air as it passed. I then noticed two guys on a bench next to me and talking to them, they had done the exact same thing!
All three of us were feeling better as the next train pulled in so we got on and I met up with my family in London Bridge and headed back to my daughters flat. I wasn’t really hungry but I ate half of my dinner before being driven home. Once home I sat on the sofa, legs aching and poured a large glass of red wine, before heading off to bed at the end of a fantastic, memorable day.
Everyone from the crowds, the organisers, volunteers, other marathon runners and my supportive family made the day an experience I will never forget.
The ballot for next year closes Friday, I would recommend anyone sign up for it from walkers at 7+hours to super fit 2:30 runners.
Shap, 4am Sunday morning. I am cocooned in a sleeping bag, uncomfortably wedged in the back of a car, which is slightly too short to stretch out in, as Storm Kathleen’s rain and wind combine to drum out a rhythm on the roof that brings a favourite song by Talking Heads to mind…”And you may ask yourself, “Well, how did I get here?””…
Back in 2021 Sue and I had had a large amount of fun preparing for, and undertaking, our first, and to date only, 50 mile outing that took us North to South across The Lakes in a Day. It had never been intendended as a one-off but somehow a couple of years of unintentional ultra avoidance had crept by so with the memories of that October escapade fading we felt the need for another long, fun-filled outing in the Lake District. The search for something suitable did not take long; the fine folk at Ourea events offered the opportunity for a Lakes Traverse. Following the Coast to Coast path from the sea at St Bees through the heart of the fells to finish 100 kilometres away at Shap on the Eastern edge of the Lake District, it provided an aesthetically pleasing counterpoint to the North-South journey of Lakes in a Day.
With an objective secured, focused training commenced just before Christmas. Getting the required hilly off-road miles in during the wettest of winter months provided a test of resolve and the washing machine. We both became more adept at mud larking across and through the many different forms of Wiltshire mud, from cloying clay to liquid cow gloup. The occasional trip away, including a few jaunts along the latter parts of the Lakes Traverse route, provided much the same conditions underfoot, just in a different setting. A belated investment in waterproof socks (Dexshell for me, Seal Skins for Sue) improved morale and, along with misappropriation of our dogs’ paw protection balm (Musher’s Secret), kept trench foot at bay.
April found Sue and me in good fettle and full of enthusiasm for the Lakes Traverse. The weather forecast for the weekend provided a bit of a dampner though; our outing would be in the company of Storm Kathleen. On the plus side the prevailing wind direction would generally be from behind us and the temperature was not too cold; warmish moisture from the tropical South was preferable to cold moisture from the polar North. I also had a well of previous poor weather experience to draw upon; not least a testing outing around Vale of Eywas in the Black Mountains with Andrew Wood in February 2020 when Storm Dennis struck and the still “fresh in the mind” horror of the “howling Howgills” Karrimor International Mountain Marathon of 1998.
Eager to be off
Saturday morning saw bleary eyed but eager participants gathering at St Bees school to register, collect trackers and undertake a thorough check of mandatory equipment, including additional items of warm/waterproof clothing because of the adverse weather forecast. The Details of a potential diversion, should it be required to avoid exposure to Storm Kathleen’s wet, windchilled wrath on exposed ground in the dark final miles of the route, were also shared. Thankfully the heavy overnight rain had stopped and as we walked from the school to the start on St Bees seafront it was only Kathleen’s very boisterous breeze that greeted us. Ourea’s slick organisation did not keep us loitering for long and at 7:30am precisely we started our journey East.
Stage 1 St Bees to Ennerdale Bridge (Distance from start: 24km; Height gain since start: 482m) – “And you may say to yourself, “My God, what have I done?”
Leaving St Bees
Congestion at a narrow bridge crossing immediately after the start and steep climb up to the top of the cliffs north of St Bees kept early enthusiasm in check and ensured a beneficially slow beginning to the day. With the stiff breeze from astern, no rain (yet), fantastic coastal views and nothing to think about other than putting one foot in front of the other and going the right way on unfamiliar trails there was much to enjoy as the distant Lake District fells started to peak over the horizon. Muddy winter training miles and waterproof socks were soon paying dividends as we turned away from the coast and headed inland over muddy waterlogged lowland fields intersped with tarmac trotting. Grand encouragement from the Ourea volunteers sped us towards the first checkpoint at Ennerdale Bridge. The Lakes Traverse is run in conjunction with the Northern Traverse, which tackles the 300km Coast to Coast trail in one go. Starting an hour after us from St Bees, the lead runners of The Northern Traverse made short shrift of the deficit as they comfortably cruised past on the downhill run to the checkpoint. After a quick water bottle refill in the village, it was onto the next leg and more familiar Lake District terrain.
Stage 2 Ennerdale Bridge to Borrowdale (Distance from start: 47km; Distance from Ennerdale Bridge: 23km; Height gain since Ennerdale Bridge: 525m) – “And you may ask yourself, “How do I work this?””
Heading Inland to The Lakes
Having successfully navigated the unfamiliar on Stage 1 without expending too much energy, Stage 2 held no surprises and nicely split into three distinct sections; first along more technical, uneven ground overlooking the beautiful Ennerdale Water; then on good but gently climbing forest track to Black Sail Youth Hostel and the head of the Ennerdale, before the first big climb of the day to get over into the Borrowdale valley & the heart of the Lake District.
(Wild) Ennerdale is the site of a vast ecological restoration project. Since 2016, an on-going partnership between the National Trust, the Forestry Commission and United Utilities has sought “to allow the evolution of Ennerdale as a wild valley for the benefit of people, relying more on natural processes to shape its landscape and ecology” (Wild Ennerdale, 2016). Unlike the majority of other valleys in the Lakes, Ennerdale is not a mosaic of farms and walled fields for grazing/silage but a mix of commercial pine forestry, which is gradually being felled, and native woodland and scrub. Wild Ennerdale is being shaped by small herds of black Galloway cattle (“now’t but guts ‘n’ arse” as a Lake District farmer once memorably described them to me) rather than the intensive grazing of sheep, synonymous with the fells elsewhere but which creates a dominant and dense compact sward consisting of just a few grass types.
The rich, diverse valley landscape and high, craggy peaks provided grand fodder for the eyes as we progressed up the valley well sheltered from Storm Kathleen’s attentions. Unfortunately more mundane matters, indigestion & lack of appetite, were causing distraction. So, following the sage advice given by a member of the event safety team during my kit check at registration earlier in the day, namely: “if you think you need to do something, don’t put it off; stop and do it”, I stopped, sorted it and reached Black Sail in a much happier frame of mind, buoyed by fond memories of a fantastic family overnight stay at the hostel “with more atmosphere per square inch than any other in England and Wales”.
Ennerdale Water
Black Sail’s simplicity and remoteness harks back to a time when Youth Hostels’ cheap and spartan fare had, according to G.M.Trevelyan, the historian, Cambridge professor and YHA’s first president, “drawn out the right type of young men and women who take their holidays strenuously and joyously, without slacking or rioting, hard walkers or active bicyclists.”
Black Sail Youth Hostel, Ennerdale
So without thought of slacking (or rioting), I pressed on joyously and strenuously up the steep climb out of Wild Ennerdale valley. Here Storm Kathleen started to make her presence felt as gusts, funnelled by the appropriately named Windy Gap, occasionally halted forward progress and tested balance. But the moment soon passed and speed picked up as gravity assisted on the long, gentle descent over good running ground down past the crowds at Honnister slate mine and on to the support point at Rosthwaite, Borrowdale, where the fare was thankfully far from spartan. Familiar faces from previous Ourea events offered welcome encouragement and support as I dwelt a moment to snaffle pizza slices and slurp a welcome brew.
Stage 2 Borrowdale to Patterdale (Distance from start: 69km; Distance from Borrowdale: 22km; Height gain since Borrowdale: 1,015m) – “And you may ask yourself, “Where does that highway go to?””
Leaving the comforts of the support point was not made any easier by the wind blasting down the valley bottom and right into our faces, checking forward momentum on the strongest gusts. However, the incentive to try and get over two testing climbs and reach Patterdale before darkness fell provided the necessary impetus to crack on.
Looking from Greenup Edge back down to Borrowdale
The section of the Coast to Coast path from Borrowdale up to, and over, Greenup Edge down to Easedale had on previous encounters provided boggy going and required close navigation. Fortune was on our side though, Sue had on her reccie of this section at Christmas seen signs of path improvement work being undertaken to upgrade Wainwright’s Coast to Coast to a National Trail. This had clearly progressed at pace, with a highway of stone slabs now crossing the mires of Greenup Edge to speed progress down, out of the wind and on to Grasmere. Easedale provided beautiful going in the early evening and in no time at all Grasmere, about which William Wordsworth gushed “the loveliest spot that man hath ever found” was in the rear view mirror. Mentally this marked a significant point; the home of Sue’s mother in Ambleside, and steak, chips and a glass of red wine, lay only a brief and tempting bus ride away but were resisted.
Grisedale Tarn (part) – Faber, Rev. Frederick William (1840).
“These, with the storms and calms, mayhap
Enough of sight and sound would make
For one in mountain nature’s lap,
A dweller by her loneliest lake;
While banners bright of kindled mist
Above his head might hang and twist.”
Next up was the long but steady climb from Grasmere to Grisedale Tarn, as legend would have it the resting place of the crown of the kingdom of Cumbria, having been conveyed there in 945 by soldiers of the last Cumbrian king, Dunmail, after he was slain in battle with the combined forces of the English and Scottish kings. By this juncture of proceedings I was much more likely to scoop Cumbria’s ancient crown from the water of the tarn than get a Strava crown for my speed of ascent. Nevertheless impending darkness and worsening weather encouraged forward progress and Grisedale Tarn eventually hove into view through the evening’s “kindled mist”. On previous visits, the dark tarn had often felt austere and malevolent, and today was no different. Storm Kathleen force was building and rain was in the air, augmented by the gale force wind whipping up spray from the tarn; it was not a time or place to linger, and it was quickly on down towards Patterdale, food and shelter, although the initial section of steep, wet and slippy rocks necessitated a steady approach.
A reminder to pay close attention to, and keep on top of, personal care in the hills, especially as tiredness and darkness were looming, was provided just after the tarn. I passed a fellow participant who was starting to shiver with cold (well I assumed the cause was the dropping temperature rather than my banter). By this stage I was in two thermal layers, a waterproof top, hat and gloves. When I gently suggested they put some warmer clothing on (there’s a good reason the event has a comprehensive mandatory kit list!), their cold gloveless hands were unable to open the zip on their rucksack. Having had a similar experience in the past, I carry a buff and a pair of gloves in the pocket of my waterproof coat as I generally find that when the weather is poor enough to put on a waterproof my hands and head are also cold; also trying to get snug fitting gloves over cold wet fingers is a fun party game but no so great in-extremis up a mountain, and I now carry oversized mittens instead of small gloves. With a bit of assistance, they were soon sorted and we continued on our way down to easier going along the bottom of Grisedale valley. Our arrival at the support point coincided with the arrival of darkness and heavier, more consistent rain but it was a relief to have completed three quarters of the route without getting soaked or needing to use a torch. My thoughts were however, very much with Sue who would be tackling the Grisedale Tarn section in the dark, wind and rain.
The warm welcome of the volunteers and a free “proper” coffee courtesy of event sponsors Silva, were a godsend. A dinner of chips, burrito and Complan hot chocolate, further improved morale ahead of heading out into the night and the attentions of Storm Kathleen. The support point team confirmed that we would be taking the alternative route to the finish at Shap, and thereby avoiding the Kidsty Pike, the highest point on the route and fully exposed to the storm’s 50-70mph winds. Ironically it was the only section I had specifically checked out before the event as I had never been on the path down from Kidsty Pike, along the shore of Haweswater and on to Shap. Other than the initial climb to Boredale Hause and the last few miles to Shap, the final section would therefore provide a navigational adventure into the unknown for me and the majority of the participants. Thankfully the knowledge and experience I had accrued over past few years during Mountain Leader training and assessment, where the night navigation elements had also been undertaken in howling winds and driving rain, gave me confidence to trust my judgement (and good quality Gortex waterproofs). I would also have welcome company; the runner I had joined from Grisedale to Patterdale had sensibly organised a small group to head out together into the maelstrom and provide safety in numbers.
Stage 3 (of 3) Patterdale to Shap (Distance from start: 94.4km; Distance from Patterdale: 26km; Height gain since Patterdale: 924m) – “And you may ask yourself, “Am I right, am I wrong?””
Fortuitously, a bit of well judged clothing faff on my part meant that we left the dry confines of the support point marquee just as the heavy rain ceased. Shortly after, at the start of climb up to Boredale Hause our group increased by a further two runners, attracted I guess by our cheery demeanour, confidence and all round snappy dressing.
Powered by group dynamics and the pause at Patterdale, we were soon on Boredale Hause where, as wikipedia helpfully notes, “there is a large confusion of paths”. Given that, and that from this point on we were on the alternative route, I took a moment to check my map and compass to ensure the correct direction of travel was taken down towards the shore of Ullswater and the small hamlet of Howtown. Shortly after, I dented any confidence the others had built in my competence by having to troop back to retrieve one of my poles, which I had dropped whilst juggling the map and compass. Boredale valley was thankfully well sheltered from the storm and a decent, albeit wet and muddy, track followed by a stretch of road led us without too much trouble to Howtown. In navigating to the start of the gentle traversing climb from Howtown to Askham Moor our merry band increased to seven as we picked up a couple of runners who were enjoying a moment of indecision on the dark, featureless fellside. Along the descent I had observed that gpx route for the alternative route provided by Ourea that I was following on my watch and phone, did not always lie right on the top of the actual paths, tracks and roads on the ground, and was displaced slightly off to the right or left. As we gained in height, Storm Kathleen began to reassert its presence on the exposed plateau of Askham Moor, especially when we changed direction, first east, then north. The head-on battle into wind and rain, whilst “refreshing”, did not make for easy lingering or conversation to check or determine the route within the group of seven runners. At a point where the gpx track appeared to head off a well defined track and cut a corner across open moor, I decided to take a slightly longer but navigationally less risky alternative and stay on the track. Clearly the dropped pole incident had sowed a seed of doubt in the group about my ability and I subsequently found myself venturing forth alone whilst the lights of the rest of the group wobbled across the moor following the gpx track.
Thankfully the “Am I right, am I wrong?” concerns in my head were quickly allayed, as I was soon back on the gpx track and caught up by everyone else on the corner cutting “shortcut” as we left the open moor for enclosed farmland. Reunited, we were soon heading on reassuring tarmac heading towards Bampton, which I was very excited to reach. Now slightly sheltered as well from Storm Kathleen ongoing turbulence and heavy rain, the end was in reach, with just a few miles away over ground that I had run once before, albeit in daylight. The section of Askham Moor, on reflection, provided the most satisfying parts of the Lakes Traverse; cocooned from the elements and warm enough, confident in my navigation and relishing the simple, single focus of efficiently maintaining forward progress towards the finish, whilst weary and in challenging terrain and conditions, was richly rewarding.
Anyway back to the excitement / distraction of Bampton, which would not have been visited if the planned Cost to Coast route over Kidsty Pike had been followed. The beauty of happenstance and falling into company with runners on the trail is finding out things you would have otherwise not known. On this occasion it was the revelation that Bampton was the location for a scene from one of my favourite films, Withnail & I. Others in the group, it has to be said, did not share my enthusiasm for the film or the Bampton phone box that features in it; they were rightly more focused on getting to the finish. So I was soon left alone to enjoy the moment and take some pictures by which to remember it by. I then fell even further behind when I had to return to the phonebox and pick up a mitten I had dropped whilst taking pictures of it. Nevertheless I soon was back with the group as they paused at a road junction to check the way, and we continued on together towards the finish and the glittering lights of Shap concrete works.
“The Withnail and I” Phonebox, Bampton
Whilst short, the final section into Shap had required some close navigation on my daylight reccie to find the correct route across an undulating maze of fields. I therefore doubled-down my focus on navigation and sought to identify the most likely points for navigational blundering in the dark. The first was shortly after leaving the assurity of a tarmac road via a short climb on a farm track. I remembered that this track had to be left at some point, which was useful, but not exactly where, which was not so good. Thankfully it came back to me as I bumped into a small huddle of runners from the group who had got a couple of hundred metres ahead on the preceding tarmac and were now pondering which way to go. They were rightly reluctant to follow as I turned off the track and slithered down a steep slope. Just at the moment I was starting to doubt my decision and navigation, a familiar looking stile appeared and I was saved having to struggle back up the slope. It was an important turn as it led to the only bridge crossing the Swinedale Beck, which blocked the way to Shap and was, thanks to Storm Kathleen, a seething mass of fast moving water that even the sportiest of ducks would avoid. Crossing the architectural gem of bridge with gratitude to those who had built it, I applied myself again to frequent checks of the map to jog my memory on navigational markers. Passing an abandoned farmstead I remembered that the route left the reassuring obviousness of a good track, this time to cross rough and marshy ground. Memory jogged, I headed off-piste into the boggy blackness. The group were initially reluctant to leave terra-firma & follow but I pressed on, expressing my pleasure in finding the right way and relief that the bog was much less extensive and moist than I remembered it. From there it was a simple job of following the correct lines across a few fields to reach a second bridge, this time crossing the nascent but Storm Kathleen engorged River Lowther; the last obstacle between us and the finish. Some folk took a brief detour to visit Shap Abbey; a grand place to visit in daylight but less so on a dark stormy night when you have already had the huge delight of visiting a location from one of your favourite films and at the end of a long day out. As we returned to tarmac the group found their own pace and spread out. This provided a super opportunity to reflect on, and enjoy, the privilege of being able to undertake a tremendous journey across the Lakes from the now distant St Bees. I was having difficulty trying to capture how I felt at this point; thankfully the ever-inspirational Aussie adventurer, Beau Miles (check out his excellent local adventuring films here) nailed it for me when he was talking about running a long way through a beautiful landscape:
“It’s not work or even leisure; it’s the meaning of having a heart.”
In the small hours of Sunday morning some 19 hours after starting, a very warm welcome from the ever-fabulous event volunteers, food and a finisher’s medal marked the end of the journey across the Lakes for me. Sue, however, was still out there in the midst of a storm ravaged night. The open tracking system used by Ourea events allowed me to quickly establish where she was and calculate a rough time of arrival in Shap. I could do little to help by watching her dot on a screen so having letting her know I had finished and wishing her godspeed, I attempted to get some sleep in the back of our car; and that is how ended up being reminded of “Once in a Lifetime” by Talking Heads and its wonderful, watery lyrics at 4am in Shap.
As I was crammed, but warm and dry, in the back of the car, Sue was venturing from the final checkpoint at Patterdale at around 1am to tackle the remaining sixteen miles on her own with Storm Kathleen at its wettest and windiest peak. The going for Sue would be much more difficult as well: the bogs would be much boggier; streams that I barely noticed now torrents; and the night much darker and wilder. Having donned multiple layers of warmer clothing at the checkpoint, enjoyed the complementary barista coffee from Silva, and once again silently swore at me for advising that she wouldn’t need her new, heavy duty waterproof jacket, Sue committed to finishing the Traverse and further testing her perseverance and resilience.
Sue’s recollections of the final section are fairly limited. Suffice to say the relentless heavy rain and the need to keep on top of navigation over unfamiliar ground without a paper map or an accurate gpx track to follow did not make for an enjoyable, pleasant nighttime saunter; occasional periods of company with fellow participants and the slow transition from wet and windy darkness to wet and windy greyness did however provide a little respite. As I tucked into an early breakfast having given up on trying to sleep, it was a relief to see, on the event’s tracking page, Sue’s dot move off the high ground of Askham Moor. Whilst her progress had understandably slowed after nearly 24 hours on the go in dreich conditions, she was still moving relentlessly forward to Shap, it was daylight and she was now off the route diversion and on ground she had at least visited once before…
Unfortunately when I next checked Sue’s tracking dot it had stalled and she was off route having failed to locate the only bridge crossing the now raging Swinedale Beck. It is not unusual for competitors tracking dots to freeze / not move for periods of time so I was not unduly concerned initially. However, Sue was struggling with tiredness, a phone out of charge and the relentless heavy rain that had permeated her second best waterproof and was slowly soaking through her layers of warm clothing. So whilst she knew she was not on the right route, she was taking a long time to locate herself and work out where she needed to go. With her dot loitering next to Swinedale Beck about 1km upstream of the bridge for an extended period of time, it appeared to my foggy brain that she might be considering fording the beck and I was concerned enough to phone her. I was not alone; Race HQ, who keep a close watch on participants’ tracks, were also trying to contact her. But with Sue’s phone out of action, we both failed. Eventually Sue’s dot started slowly to move back away from the beck and in the right direction towards the bridge; panic over, I eagerly looked forward to her safe arrival in Shap and completion of the Lakes Traverse. 26 hours and 100km after I last saw her in St Bees, it was fantastic to see and applaud Sue approaching the finish wearily but with her usual beaming smile. She crossed the line as the 106th and final finisher of the 2024 Lake Traverse; testament to her stamina, competence and determination given that over thirty of our fellow starters as St Bees did not get to Shap.
And you may ask yourself, “Well, how did I get here?”
As soon as Sue sat down in the village hall, she started to shiver. Thankfully the brilliant volunteers were quick to spot it and gently suggested she change into warm, dry clothes straight away, which she did. When she returned and handed me her kit it was evident that every item was wet; if only she’d had a new robust, Gortex mountain jacket (just like the one she had left in St Bees on my advice)…
The Lakes Traverse 2024 and Storm Kathleen provided Sue and I with a richly rewarding “Once in a Lifetime” experience, and one from which we take ongoing inspiration and satisfaction. Huge thanks go to Ourea and their ace volunteers who enabled and supported our journey and safety with exemplary diligence, enthusiasm and humour.
I don’t really know where to start but hindsight is a wonderful thing; weeks ago, I was hoping for a PB and thought I could achieve it; following a disastrous Chippenham half marathon, my confidence plummeted and all thoughts of a PB went out of the window. I got so stressed during the days immediately prior to the race that I thought I might just finish inside of 3.45. Even on the Saturday morning at parkrun, I was struggling and heavy breathing at 8mm – slower than perceived goal marathon place. However, constantly eating from the Wednesday to the Sunday and a good rest Saturday afternoon obviously did the trick and I was feeling much brighter on Sunday morning. By then, there’s really no turning back – it’s do or die!
Marathon Morning
Stuart and I were awake from 3.30am and up at 4am; plenty of time to get ourselves organised though we’d already set our kit out the night before and got the after-race bag ready. An easy 2M walk to the start and I left Stuart at the orange start to make my way to the blue start. I got chatting to a lady from Berkhamsted who was equally nervous and we chatted all things running, marathons etc. A long loo queue was stressful but we did manage to sneak into our Corral by 7.20am and at 7.30am the first elite runners started (the wheelchair athletes had started slightly earlier). Our Corral moved forward and I started running at 7.52am. I have always previously just decided to run at 8mm as I was always so scared of blowing up towards the end – far too cautious for my own good. So, for once in my life, I decided to be brave, and run to feel instead of running to pace. I knew the first few miles were going to be tricky getting the pace right as I’d been warned GPS does not pick up due to the tall buildings so not to try to rely on the watch. Easier said than done and my watch told me my third mile was 6.57 which was faster than I wanted so I did slow. Thereafter, I only looked at my watch at the end of each mile and was pleased generally to see around the 7.36 pace. I did occasionally wonder about dropping off at the end, but decided I’d deal with that if/when it came. During the race a few things kept me going and not get distracted/slow down; Gel every 5M, plus one at the start; may change this for Boston to every 5M until 15, then 18 and 23 to finish. Timing mats every 5K for friends to be able to track me; Gatorade and water stations very frequently – I alternated between the two each time, occasionally taking both at the same time on the go, but being careful here as potential to slip. Sticking to the blue line and concentrating to not bump into slower runners ahead. It was funny because towards the end I passed a 3.25 pacer, a 3.20 pacer, a 3.15 pacer who was walking and a 3.40 pacer! There were a few small bridges to go over (they were really small) but a lot of them have metal bases so the organisers put carpet down but not the full width. On a couple of the bridges, the blue line wasn’t on the carpet so a real dilemma as to whether to stay on the blue line or move to the carpet – I stuck to the blue line and took extra care! (for those who are not aware, the blue line is there to follow where possible as that’s the “official racing line” – deviate from that and you’ll definitely run more than 26.2)!!
At mile 17, the crowds thinned and we had a bit of quiet – the noise is good but the break was much needed and relished. But by 18M, the crowds were back. One of my London friends had messaged me the day before to say he would be in the crowd and looking out for me, amongst other friends. I didn’t believe for a moment I’d see/hear him, but would you believe it I did – twice!! That was a real boost; about mile 3 and about mile 21.
I went through halfway in 1.42 (a little quicker than normal, but not massively). For me, the maths tends to start at mile 20. With 10K to go, what time is it now, how long will it realistically take to finish, how are the legs, is there still enough room to avoid weaving too much (to stay on the blue line and how many people are walking on the blue line); I remember glancing at my watch and seeing 2.33 and trying to work out how much longer I’d be on my feet. If I could stick to under 8mm then that be about 48 minutes, so would see me come in around 3.21. I had hope! At mile 23 I thought about another gel but my body wasn’t quite ready but I could feel myself slowing down but not being able to do anything about it. It was just a case of pushing forward as best as I could, looking forwards and keeping an eye out for the next mile marker and the next… I needed energy so by 23.5 I took my last gel and tried to keep an even pace. This is the only part of the course where it doubles back on itself so on one part you’re seeing the runners in front of you, and then on the switch-back you could see those behind you. I tried so hard not to fall behind and to be fair, I was still passing people but just could not achieve 7.35/40.
Next, an odd thing happened that I’d never seen before in any marathon, let alone an Abbott World Series one; I knew I was still on mile 24 but I saw a sign that said 400m to go. I know I’m not making it up because Stuart saw it also. I thought it a bit odd but convinced myself my watch was right and the marker was simply in the wrong place – bit of a rookie error by the organisers. I felt really sorry for a woman who was being paced by a male who saw the sign and shouted, “come on, only 400m to go and sprinted off”. Of course I was dreaming; it was 400m to the marker that then proclaimed “1 mile from here”! So I knew that was it, gritted my teeth and just wanted to finish. I wasn’t in any pain, I wasn’t sore but I wanted to finish before I slowed down any further. Progress, I saw the 800m marker, turned the corner, saw the 400m marker and my heart sank; there was a climb! Not a massive climb but at that stage of the race, it might have well as been Mount Everest! Move the arms I said to myself, the legs will follow. Slight downhill for the last 200m and that was it, I was over the line. Not the 3.21 I thought I might possibly get (who am I kidding?); not the 3.23 I’ve always believed I could achieve, but still extraordinarily happy with 3.24.14, a shiny new PB at the age of 53, 8 years after my last PB at London of 3.25.03.
So, my comment about hindsight in the opening paragraph; I knew to expect the GPS not to kick in for a few miles however, I still looked at it and thought I was running too fast when I saw a 6.57 3rd mile and so slowed down. That was an error. If I’d have just had a bit more faith in those opening miles, even up to the 10K mark, I may have got a 3.23. something. But I didn’t, and who knows anyway. But I have faith I will run like this again. Boston is my next stop and whilst I know there are hills well into the race (mile 17, ½ long, mile 19, short but steep and repeats, into mile 20 Heartbreak Hill is a steep, half-mile trek uphill at a 3.3 percent incline). So nice to know at least!! Some people say the hills are not that bad and a couple of people I know have their PB set there. So who knows…
For those of you interested in stats:
3rd GB lady in my age category (the other two finishing in 3.23);
34th lady overall in my age category
55th GB lady overall in all age categories
1791 lady to finish
9581 finisher from over 52,150 runners.
Good
Finishing where you started meant it was easy to collect your bag as it was where you’d left it with the volunteers.
Clear guidance about where you needed to start.
Plenty of Gatorade/water stations and lots of volunteers to hand out the water.
5K mats to relay your race information to followers.
Enough room to run without being hemmed in (unlike the other big city marathons where there are too many runners).
Barriers to keep spectators off the course (unlike NY where spectators were so close they were stood on the blue line).
Plenty of spectators in general (one quiet spot around 17M which was bliss).
Biofreeze near the end where you could “run in/be spayed/run out” – I didn’t need it but great for those who did.
Free medal engraving at the finish village.
Nike giving away flip flops (though we were in the medal engraving queue so long, they’d run out).
Ice bags at the end.
A few goodies at the end (though I wasn’t aware of all of them).
Could do better
Cups of water and Gatorade offered before going into the Corral but limited to each runner.
Did not see the mile markers in the early stages – were they there?
Blue line was too close to the aid stations and they were slippy underfoot, understandably.
London offer stats about how many runners you’ve passed and how many have passed you during the race – it would be great if Chicago did this too.
Bad
No bottled water at the start.
Not enough portaloos at the start.
Anyone could get into our corral as there were no officials checking bibs.
During the race, some people had pacing bibs on the rear of their shirt so you assumed they were pacers – but they weren’t; that was the time they were aiming for and they were just runners.
“Steaming to the Coast” is a Devon based trail marathon. Becky, John and Helen ran this inaugural event in April.
We generally run together, quite slowly, and always take the opportunity to look at stuff as we trot by. The marathon gave us plenty of opportunities to do that.
The race starts in Minehead, with the first leg being a steam train ride to Bishop’s Lydeard. From there to the sound of a steam whistle, we set off back towards Minehead. A bit of farmland first, then up onto the Quantocks. Undulating moorland with spectacular views for a while, including a view of the finish (very far away) and then back down to fairly level farmland and coastal trails, and the sea front in Minehead.
All in all, a great day out. Not a cloud in the sky, friendly marshals and other runners, and great variety of terrain and scenery.
Spoiler alert: We all completed the race 🙂
Feel free to continue reading for a more expanded version 🙂
Training for the race had gone quite well, but had been interrupted by holidays and other things, so our last four weeks was not ideal. Still, it was certain to be an adventure that we could enjoy … let’s see what the day brings.
· Potatoes the night before – whilst sitting chatting Helen realised that she’d left them at home, having promised Becky she would provide them. (salty potatoes are a must for any long run!)
· Surprisingly spacious Air BnB Lodge, surprisingly good night’s sleep
· Early start but the clear sky and sun made up for this.
· Slow train – but with toilet, and stuff yourself full of food so you don’t have to carry it and lots of countryside to distract your pre-race nerves.
· Waiting around at Bishop’s Lydeard Station and a few more toilet stops.
· Finally, we have a briefing – something about following flags, public rights of way, can’t hear but can’t process either, just want to get going
· The train in the station lets off steam and toots and we start, cheered out of the station by all the 11km and 11 mile runners who will then be getting back on the train to get to their (closer) starting points. The atmosphere at the start was different to other races, the unique start and beautiful weather must have had something to do with it.
We had previously run once on the Quantocks, which we did recognise as we sailed past; otherwise, this was all new territory for us. Now we understand why people get excited about trail races which they haven’t reccied – once we’d got up the (never ending) hill it was one pleasant sight after another: mown grassy paths through heather, magnificent views, firstly of Hinkley Point C (still under construction) and soon after that of our ultimate destination, just past the white roofs of Butlins in Minehead.
Ponies on the path, lots of gorgeous yellow gorse, the sun continues to shine with a warm breeze.
Coming down off the Quantocks, zig-zag path steep through the woods, keep an eye out for the little red flags, knees coping well with the downhill.
Beep beep – Becky’s watch reminding us every 20 minutes that we should eat or drink, using this method was new to us but it seemed to work.
Being directed down a path towards the sea and realising that we’ve reached the beach much quicker than expected. There was a cut-off of 15:30 as the tide would be too high for us to cross the beach, but we’d make it with plenty of time to spare so had the pleasure of attempting to run – mainly walk – across slippy rocks and sandy pools and up steep steps (lots of them) at the other end.
Marshals at the aid stations delighted to see us, reluctant to answer the question from a fellow runner of “how many people have gone through?” – We are fully aware that there are – and will continue to be – around a dozen of the 130 or so starters behind us. We could see the bright orange marshal t-shirts from afar.
Getting hotter, John’s head getting redder. Marshal stopped Helen just in time when she went to pour water on his head; age-old problem of clear electrolyte drink, which would have been a very sticky mistake. Becky on the other hand poured the sticky water over her hands!
Leap frogging another group on the coastal section (metaphorically, not literally – that would have been very hard work at this stage).
Watchet – public toilets at last! An opportunity to have yet more food, shuffle the pack around, admire the picturesque fishing town whilst the tourists cheer us past.
Beaches! After the springy beach with the tide out, we then had what felt like a VERY long pebble beach and then just before we reached the seafront with tired legs we were met with deep dry sand that you sank into.
Medal & T-shirt. There was an option at registration to not have a medal, we went for this option but at the end decided we would like one as a memento and they were unique like the race and you could take the lanyard off it to use it as a coaster. One of the local running clubs made their own t-shirts which everyone was admiring so much so that the Dan and Jan organisers decided to add this on after the event.
Success?
· Not overtraining (motivational phone call from ultrarunning daughter who comforted us by saying “undertraining is better than overtraining” – J and H had spent 2 of the previous 4 weeks in the searing heat of Central America, doing lots of walking and snorkelling but zero running!) Becky had no excuse not to continue training during those 4 weeks unless the weather can be used.
· Planning – regular intake of food and drink, including this time for the first time some savoury stuff (Becky wondered why her savoury bag couldn’t be found at a feed station….turns out it was on the sofa in the Air B&B)
· Preparation – having attended Nick’s strength presentation we have been faithfully doing the “top five” weight-lifting exercises he strongly recommended (we managed to walk back to the van….slowly but not broken, thanks to the strength work)
· Confidence – we’ve run a marathon and 50 km before, albeit with some aches and pains afterwards, but our heads knew that we could do it (Becky spoke to herself a couple of times to say that this race was different to our Ultra and she wasn’t broken before the start and the weather was ideal…..so she could and would finish it!)
· Sticking together, walking when necessary, running when possible. Definitely walking up the hills. Becky reminding us that our legs are MUCH longer than hers and when we are power walking she can’t keep up!
· Regular massages during training. Deep tissue, performed by a passionate Lithuanian; avoid any political chat as she will press even harder as she gets animated about the topic!
Why trail marathon and not London marathon?
· The views, the countryside
· Less stress on the legs – you have to change your step constantly, so knees don’t mind so much
· Less pressure on yourself, enjoy the views and feed stations
· You can walk some of it without anyone really noticing
· Toilet stops – otherwise known as hedges or finding public toilets
· You can take as long as you like
· Training is much more fun. Embrace the mud, the hills, the gorgeous grassy downhills and views.
· Channel Events would love to hear from you if you’d like to get involved in marshalling at their runs or indeed cycling events. Dan always picks fantastic locations and looks after his marshals and runners very well.
Bishop’s Lydeard to Minehead via the Quantocks, Williton, Watchet, Washford, Dunster Bay
Total distance: 42.34 km
Total height gain: 666 m
Number of D of E groups passed: at least 5
Number of Scouts cheering as they walk the other way: at least 40
First off, apologies if my race blogs seem a bit self indulgent and pity seeking. They’re not meant to be. I like to write these for bigger events, as a record of my experience, good & bad, for reference and for something to look back on. A bit of running nostalgia for when I’m no longer able or willing to do these types of things. To also remind me to think very hard before entering such silly events again, especially after the aches, pains and funny walk have been long forgotten. I’ll try to keep this fairly balanced, as ultimately, it’s easy in the early days following an event, to focus mainly on the mistakes and adversity. Especially when they feature heavily in the event, as was the case here.
First off. Why this distance & race? I’ll admit that having done a few 100k races, I always considered 100 miles to be too far. I’m probably not cut out for these longer endurance distances and the stress on your body cannot be good for you. However, being mindful that I’m not getting any younger and some close runner friends have completed this distance, it’s something I’ve not been able to get past. To complete 100miles. Just for the sake of doing it. To ‘put it to bed’ and to know that I’d ticked that box. After all, it’s often considered ‘the’ distance for an ultra runner to complete. And I appreciate that lots of runners have done this distance many times and even further. Sometimes much further. But that’s not for me. I’m content to draw the line at 100 miles. As for this particular race, I’d heard great things about Centurion Running and know of a good number of runners that have done this event as their first 100. And to top it off, the South Downs Way reminds me of my younger years in Portsmouth and family trips out to QECP and Butser Hill. Nothing mountainous, but rolling hills.
In terms of preparation, things had gone relatively to plan. Not that I tend to have much of a plan, but this was slightly more focused than most of my training. Some longer runs, London Marathon, a night run on Imber and some back to backs. A lot with Mark, my running companion on this particular adventure. Thankfully, I’ve had no real injuries to contend with, just the usual niggles.
Race day came around quicker than expected and after a late night finalising food and kit, standard procrastination, I eventually settled for about 3-4 hours of light sleep before the 2.30am alarm. Peter turned up to collect us in his Bongo van, after very generously volunteering to be our chauffeur and crew man for the event. As well as being a superstar for offering his services, after not being able to race this event himself, Peter is also a seasoned ultra guru and all round top bloke. Great to have on your team. The drive down to Winchester was a blur with some banter, plenty of anxiousness and a lot of tiredness. Once registered, trackers strapped to our packs, potions applied, last minute kit checks, etc, etc, it was time for the race brief and then the 6am off.
After several laps around and through the natural bowl setting of the race village, and a few rounds of slightly premature clapping and encouragement by the spectators, we headed off to join the South Downs Way. The start of our 100(ish) mile challenge. Whilst the first 10 miles should have been fairly uneventful and ideally a bit slower, perhaps a lot slower, the good ol runners tummy issues took hold early on. I put this down to the early start and a bit of stress, but by the second check point at QECP, at around mile 22, I’d already had several unpleasant evacuation stops (the most savoury way to describe events) and I was starting to feel very sick. From there in, things went downhill for me. I felt completely washed out and my energy was rapidly wavering. It was only when looking through some pics Mark took, that I remembered stopping at a medics car to seek some help. The diarrhoea tablets they offered didn’t really do much, especially considering the loss of fluids I’d already suffered.
From around 30 miles onwards I couldn’t stomach anything, a horrible situation to be in, given the need for hydration and fuel. I felt more and more sick and had to be chaperoned through some of the toughest miles I’ve endured in a long time, through to the next aid station at around 36 miles. At times struggling to string a sentence together. I just wanted to curl up on the side of the path, as I felt I had nothing, and I’m so grateful for being pushed on, quite literally at times, to get through this very low point. As you do, you just think about all of the potential scenarios & outcomes, and I was certain that this was the end of my race, if I could just get back to Peter and his van. It was during this period that I was given much encouragement and offers of support by runners passing. One in particular chose to stay with me and Mark through to the next aid station, recalling his similar experience two years prior, where he DNF’d. I really hope he completed it on this, his second attempt. Support & community, something you come across routinely within the off-road and ultra scene.
One of the mistakes I made was looking to complete this first attempt at an 100mile ultra within a specific time. After all, there was a generous 30hr cut-off. But dragging this out would also impact the others in our team and would eat into the next day, so expectations were settled at a time of around 24hours, which seemed easily achievable. There was also the most significant issue, aside from the distance, the heat, something I’d not focused enough on preparing for. Perhaps as the original forecast was for drizzle and thunderstorms. In turned out to be an almost cloudless day with temps suggested to be up around 30C on the often exposed chalk Downs. Even through the night it remained in the late teens, with constant humidity and little breeze. Whilst I enjoy a sunny run, and had a few weeks to train in higher temps, this wasn’t the best combination with my hydration issues.
I’m still not sure what caused the S&D which led to dehydration. Something as simple as poor meal choices the night before (which included several days old left over rice), lack of electrolytes and possibly some heat stroke. Seeing other runners being sick throughout the event, Mark included, wasn’t uncommon, and I really struggled with my electrolyte drinks after the first 50k or so. Getting to Pete at mile 36 was a huge relief, but not until I’d suffered another set back with a small stumble causing my calf to lock up in cramp. A stint on the ground getting this stretched out meant I could finally carry on. What I do recall about this incident, aside the pain, was how the cramp seemed to distract or divert slightly from my other symptoms. I could start talking a bit more, moved a bit quicker and even managed a few laughs. Sitting down back at the Bongo, trying to find shade, Pete was straight with me. I wasn’t dropping out, I should take the time needed to get some drink and food down to see how I felt before making a rash decision. It worked, I managed to drink some water and coke, ate some sandwiches, pretzels and a yoghurt. I was starting to feel more human. Ice on my neck also worked a treat. Mark was keen to move along, so I decided to give the next section a go, using the uphill start to go steady and to see how I felt. There was no turning back, Pete was clear that he was off to the next location, around 12miles on. Tough love?
Initially I was feeling good. A fast paced walk up a long hill and I was keeping my temp down. However, as I pushed when running, or on harder hills, the stomach issues and nausea returned. Finding a balance between keeping my efforts and symptoms tolerable, whilst not ruining Mark’s race was a challenge, especially as he started to suffer fatigue and was experiencing a nerve related pain in his thigh, which worsened whilst walking. Chatting with runners as they came and went, some past us, and some slowing behind us, many were aiming to be more conservative with their efforts during the hottest daylight hours. This seemed a good plan, and then to push on in the cooler evening and night, wherever possible. Each section between aid points felt like a never ending grind as we were moving much slower than we were used to, which also meant taking on-board and carrying more water than you should ordinarily need, in an already heavy pack. As I was still struggling to take on fuel whilst moving, I also decided to make better use of the supplies at the aid stations. The supporters and volunteers were all fantastic, so cheerful even during the silly hours. Being prepared to do what they could for you, to save you a bit of energy. We kept moving and remained fairly consistent through to the point where we met our pacer at around mile 65.
Ben, aka Mr Motivator brought a new energy to our efforts, along with an infectious positivity and plenty of enthusiasm to help take our mind away from the remaining miles. At least for a while. The banter output increased and morale improved into dusk, where we were greeted by an amazing blood red half moon. It was at this point I could have sworn I had a thorn between my toes. But after taking off my shoe and socks twice to locate it, nothing was found and the sharp pain continued. It turned out to be one of many blisters that made themselves known in the latter stages of the race. Especially on the downhills. Whilst we were by no means moving fast, we were moving faster than many others. Catching the light of head torches ahead and passing runners as they were slowing or resting at stops. We agreed to minimise the faff time at aid points by avoiding sitting down, although the rice pudding and jelly at the 66.6m mark was worth the exception, along with some amazing salted potatoes. We must have passed about 30 other runners during the night and into Dawn.
The final stages included a tough couple of bigger/longer hills to climb and ascend. The final one, after passing the trig point at the summit, had a nasty and often narrow & technical gulley to ascend. Not want you need on fatigued legs and with painful feet. But we knew this led us down into Eastbourne, which gave us some motivation to pick up the pace. Eventually hitting the tarmac of civilisation, we pushed on and picked up another chap that had gotten lost on top of the hill. With the motivation of the finish line ahead and having someone else to push us along, allied with some adrenaline and my first gel, we managed to get a good pace through the deserted roads, with a two mile loop taking us to the finish, on an athletics track. Just a 400m lap of the red track to go and we felt like we were flying, pulling this poor runner around with us. It’s amazing how 8-9min/mile can feel like sub 6min/mile at this point in a race. And there it was. Our journey complete. 24hours and 7mins after we started.
Luckily and thankfully, we had a Bongo, Pete & Mark’s folks on hand to bring us home whilst we slipped in & out of consciousness during half finished sentences. Job done. What an adventure.
Of the 350 odd starters, only 55% finished, with the rest pulling out or failing to meet cut-offs. This long standing events’ highest ever DNF rate. As for Mark & I as a team. I’m not sure how we stuck it out together, but we did. It’s such a personal experience going through some dark places during the course of a race of this length/time, and this can really challenge the boundaries of teamwork. Inevitably one person’s low won’t coincide with the others, and likewise for energy, so you have to push each other along and have some patience and tolerance. Luckily Mark had both and I’m very grateful for us seeing this through together, creating some amazing memories and finally achieving the coveted distance in a footrace. And finally, as already highlighted in the report. What a crew we were fortunate enough to have with us. Both Peter and Ben went above and beyond and we’re so grateful for what they individually and collectively brought to our challenge. Superstars.
It’s been a long time getting to this point. I originally entered at the end of 2019 for September 2020 (obviously postponed). At the time I was looking for somewhere flat to get a good time (I’d just done Chippenham half in 2hrs 1min), and Tallinn seemed the perfect choice. Thinking of my Granny escaping from Tallinn during the Russian invasion as a teenager in WW2 would be added motivation. She was the only person in her family to escape, her aunt was going to round up other family members to get on the next boat, but the Russians shut the port and there were no more boats out. My grandad was also the only person in his family to escape (separately, they met in UK) although I know his story less well.
The last few months have not been ideal preparation as I got injured and couldn’t run at all during June/July. By the start of August I was doing a couple of kilometres, half running, half walking and it seemed unlikely I would make it. But when I saw the medals of the Estonian flag on the top of Pikk Hermann (tower where Estonian flag was first raised when it became independent), I knew I had to get one. Even if I walked round most of it.
Walking to the start line today, we went past the town hall where I just found out my grandad worked in the accounts department before WW2 had other ideas for him. I’m not surprised he struggled with his mental health as an adult in England as everything about his identity had changed in an instant.
I didn’t have high expectations for how I’d get on today. Didn’t run for a time, just to reach the finish. But I’m pleased to report it went way better than expected. Somehow I didn’t walk at all, just kept on running. Adrenaline, and some friendly ghosts cheering me on.
There were so many ages and nationalities taking part. We started (and finished) by Pikk Hermann at the edge of the old town walls. With a “kolm, kaks, üks” we were off and ran out through Kalamaja district with painted colourful houses, then further west through a woodland park, out to the main road by a shopping centre then another wood, down to a marshy area by the sea and along past Stroomi beach. By this point, around 8.5 miles, it started to feel a very long way. But we turned a corner and had a stunning view across the Baltic sea in the sunshine across the town skyline and port. I briefly cried at this point and thought of granny getting on the boat as a 17 year old. I wondered if she would have got on if she’d known then she’d never see her mother again. I don’t know the answer to that, but she always used to say in her older years that she’d had a good life. She never had much, but she was very proud of us grandchildren. So anyway, kept on running round another corner where there was a drinks station (never seen so many on a course, I think there were 5 for a half), had some spordijoog (energy drink), chucked some water over my head and sped up. Angry running.
The next moment Tallinn gave me a much needed boost was at 11 miles, turning back in towards the old town and seeing the spires above the tree line. The last couple of miles hurt (not my injury but just tired legs). The very worst bit was up to the finish line – you turn the corner to the finish and have to run up Linda Mägi to Pikk Hermann. Why design a route that finishes up a steep hill? But at least I reached the finish, just behind a Ukrainian runner.
Getting a medal from a lady in Estonian national costume was cool. And being cheered on all the way round with shouts of ”väga tubli” and “hästi hästi hästi” made me smile! I’d like to be cheered on in Estonian at every race.
Strava may tell me it’s my “third fastest” half marathon (I’ve only done three). But it’s the medal I’m most proud of (and have you ever seen a medal that stands up by itself, how cool is that?) I will keep it on my desk to remind myself that nothing is impossible. You just have to keep putting one foot in front of the other.
The other reason I had to do this race this month is that I’m taking part in a virtual Lands end to John o Groats challenge with some team members to raise money for cancer research uk, in memory of a colleague who passed away in July. So my steps were doing good too. I know money is tight for a lot of people right now, but any kind donations would be gratefully received. https://fundraise.cancerresearchuk.org/…/dymag-team…
Oh, and one more cool thing about taking part in any of the Tallinn marathon distances is three days free travel. Made the most of lots of sightseeing, including relaxing at the beach after the race.
This morning, I got to enjoy the full marathon over breakfast, as the runners passed right under our balcony. A much easier way to enjoy a race. The winner ran it faster than my half! (We also saw the last runners in the 10K yesterday on our way back from the beach – one of them was casually smoking a cigarette as he made his way round!! Never seen that before…)
If you fancy a friendly autumn race of any distance between 10K and a full marathon, come to Tallinn….
This was a challenge that Dave had heard about in his marshalling of the ‘Dragon’s Back Ultra’ and he managed to convince me to enter with him, as it was shorter than 50 miles(a day) and very relaxed.
I can confirm that it was both those things, but so much more. My training had not really gone to plan post Lakes in a Day (fallen off a cliff edge), and the USP of GL3D is that you can choose the course on the day, which meant in my head I had a get out of jail free card. They also transport your camping gear, allowing you to run with just the mandatory kit.
We had had a few mountain days where Dave had tested my navigation and route-planning by setting me challenges to practice the ‘orienteering’ aspect of the event. I was to find that invaluable due to the weather that came in at the end of day 1 and persisted into day 2. We also decided that the lightweight nominal 2 person tent wasn’t really going to be big enough, so used a larger 2-person tent we already had.
Each day has 4 routes and sets of checkpoints that give varying degrees of distance and elevation, with the final day being generally shorter and flatter than the first two, to allow an earlier finish.
· Café – 60km and 3,000m of elevation
· Wainwright [short] – 80km and 4,500m of elevation
· Wainwright [long] – 100km and 6,000m of elevation
· Expert – 120km and 7,500m of elevation
Dave and I arrived at the start point after a lovely meal on the Friday with my Mum and brother and our registration was dealt with swiftly, meaning our packed kit bags (mandatory size and max weight) were deposited, safety tracker attached to running packs(with mandatory safety kit) and we got our map to look at ready for the next days’ adventures. We returned to mum’s figuring that we could get a better night’s sleep there and despite a 30 minute drive in the morning we would save by not having to pack the tent and deposit our ‘camp bag’ then. Also we had noticed in the final briefing that dogs were welcome for the event and even got a 5kg allowance (We decided that might me taking the mick as Willow is only a shade over 5kg when wet!)
After some faffing and planning the ‘best route’ for day 1 we finally got to bed for 11pm ready for an early start. We both decided to start with the Wainwright Long and see how we went.
The morning was clear and we woke up and were out of the house by the allotted time, ready to tuck into the breakfast Dave had pre-ordered. Driving along the side of Thirlmere Dave swore and said – “Gosh darn, all our cutlery and plates are packed!” We pressed on and turned into Keswick to see if we could find some early on a Saturday morning, the Gods were smiling on us and a service station that was just opened meant we had a hot coffee and buttie to go.
All that was left was to arrive on the start line, punch the clock and the event began! There was a fair crowd going up to the first checkpoint and Dave kindly ran with me, so we chatted and stayed together up to just below the summit of Sail, where I could see DM was chomping at the bit, so said I would see him at the end of the day. There were various route options to Hindscarth, but all of them involved losing quite a bit of height. It was possible to see the view of the days finish at Buttermere, with the camp set up. All the courses coalesced around lunchtime at the Honister Mine Cafe, and I spent 40 minutes getting food and water, which was to prove costly as the day went on, but competitors were happy to dogsit and I gave them tea and cake in recompense.
The trod up to Great Gable started fairly easily, but mist descended, and despite having a gpx file on my watch, a compass was needed to check the descent, which was clagged in. I started down the scree slope, managing Willow, who sensibly stayed above me, and I tried to avoid sending rocks down on my own ankles. I have never liked Great Gable, and I am no more enamoured of it now. The mist made navigation more difficult, but I reckoned I had enough time to make the cut-off at Kirk Fell, which I did – but there was still Haystacks CP and another CP to find, in the mist.
Haystacks is reputed to be ‘Wainwright’s favourite place’, and where his ashes are scattered, all I can say is that in the mist and rain its charms were lost to me. One more CP to go and the downward run to the end. I reached where I thought the CP should be, but no sight, of it and I spent a good 1/2 hour searching around, before giving it up as a bad job and descending to the finish with under an hour to go before the course closed and about 2km to cover. On my way down I found the final CP and Willow and I had a relatively easy canter to the end, with me thinking…. I wonder how I’ll find Dave.
He was there at the finish, as I’d forgotten that although he had the tent in his bag, all the food and cooking items were in mine! As he generously looked after the nutrition side whilst Willow and I sorted ourselves out he said, “Did you get my text?”
“Err No”
“Did you come down the front of Great Gable?”
“Yup”
“How was it?”
“Tricky..”
Dave also pointed out that the tent, (which had seen 25+ years of service) had a ‘bit’ of damage, ie Sun and rain had taken it’s toll, and as I slid inside I noticed that he’d put our cooking pots to collect the drips. We were quite glad of our mandatory bivi bags that night.
The camp was set up so that there was a token for a free piece of cake and a hot drink, and another for a beer at the end of each day. There was also hot water in abundance for dried meals. We made it to the beer tent at about 9pm, to study the map for the next day. I decided that I would shift to the Short Course and started looking at possible routes. At 10 we went to get some water for a bedtime brew… Dave “Do you know where the tent is?”
“Yes, I’ll get the water and see you there” I said with a degree of confidence that was entirely mis-placed…
40 minutes of looking in the dark for a tent in approximately the right area, but I couldn’t remember if it was green or grey….
I went back to the beer tent that was now deserted and wondered how warm I would be snuggled up in the bean bags in there…
I thought I’ll give it once last try, and Dave deciding that I had perhaps had a large degree of mis-placed confidence had fortunately come to find me. No one else was moving.
The next day I started slightly after Dave, after getting a welcome latte from the on-site caravan, the mist was still there and the rain, so the day started with full waterproofs. A trot back along the track I had come down the night before was the most obvious and then the trigpoint at Brandreth, it was navigating in poor visibility and I dutifully used my compass to measure the distance, took a bearing and kept not quite hitting the features I thought I should. It took me a few bearings to realise that I was measuring using a 1:50,000 rather than 1:40,000 scale.
I decided that given the weather conditions it was probably easier to drop into the valley at Black Sail and join the C2C path, rather than spending a day in the clouds. Willow and I started running along, and I thought that to make it a ‘nicer’ route, we use one of the exit points and ‘contour round’ the edge of the inbounds area, as the C2C was a gravelled track, and I was worried about her paws. I know from previous experience that traversing along boundaries is seldom easy, and the time I took to cover 4km was ages. I found myself pushing to make the cut-off at red pike, and was about 30 minutes adrift, so headed back to the finish along the banks of Buttermere – which was delightful. I finished again about 1/2 hour before the course cut-off. I had some lovely views and really enjoyed the trot along Buttermere and the support from all the team on the final run in was immense and the evening had turned into a fine one. There was a mandatory kit check at the end – which I passed, as I was still wearing most of it – but there were a lot of DQ’s due to not having full kit. Beer and pork scratchings on completion with a brilliant sunset was a perfect end to the day.
For the final day I had already decided that I would do the ‘Easier’ cafe course route, (which on still had 1000m of elevation.) Our start window was later than Dave’s so once the course opened it was straight up to Robinson’s, down to Little Town and up to Barrow.
On the way up my phone pinged with incoming messages, including a voicemail from Dave, I duly listened to it and realised it was the advice I needed two days before about not coming down the face of Gable! I met some folk, who were local and also had a terrier in tow and ran/walked with them. They were route setters and fell-runners, and the final day took in part of a route of a fell race they marked so I continued with them. They dived off for a wee, so I continued on and caught up with some Dutch runners. The climb up Barrow was relatively benign and the route off it was a delightful runable gradient down, pretty much all the way.
In the final field before I reached the underpass back to the start point I heard a ‘Sue’ and coming in from the left was Dave, so we were able to cross the finish line together.
I had a fantastic three days and would definitely recommend this event, you can choose your own level of challenge each day and the organisation was fantastic, ability to read a map and use a compass, is however, crucial. It improved my confidence no end. As an add in the lack of mobile signal was refreshing…
Totals:
Willow and I : 84km and 6180m Dave: 101km and 7,358m ascent
I’ve run 3 Tokyo marathons at 3:52, 3:44, 3:43 and last time was in Dublin at 3:40.
The Manchester marathon was the first time since Dublin 2015 and I haven’t been a good runner for the last 5 years so I was a bit nervous if I could run such a long distance and beat my previous PB, however as I already paid so I had to start training.
I had a chat with Clive at the club and he decided to run his first full marathon with me. Chris was also planning to run Boston at the same season as us and we planned some long distance training together.
I’ve achieved only 65% of the original training plan due to work/family/tiredness/mood.
However additional circuit training, off- road races and 20miles races gave me strength during the 16 weeks training period.
On the race day, start was very smooth and people ran reasonably speedy but Clive and I tried to stick with the plan, we have learnt from the 20 miles races that we tend to run over paced by exciting atmosphere. Our pace was average 8:20/M. But suddenly Clive’s watch became very chatty and repeatedly telling us wrong pace at 5:00/M! So I trusted my watch and Clive’s written pacing memo.
Half point: 1:49:46.
I started to feel on my legs but still managed at consistent pace. But just before 20 miles my watch stopped!! Both of us lost reliable tools to know our time/pace, and after 20 miles a few people around us stopped or walked due to cramped legs. However I just avoid feeling/seeing anything as if I was in a shell, wearing sunglasses worked well for that. I knew my body would react in a bad way if I felt something.
Big brother Clive became my son at this stage.
Last 1 mile was the hardest, it’s nearly there and it gave me more pressure and I came out from the shell and started feeling very miserable. My face was like a gorilla. Probably Clive’s even worse! We crossed the finish line finally.
Jon has finished ONLY 2 minutes before us and was waiting there. We didn’t know our results due to the watch issues.
Official result is 3:40:45.
My previous PB was 3:40:47 (2015)
2 seconds improved!
Full marathon including training is hard but sharing the same experience with mates gave me extra power.
Yuka
Yuka’s pace against the average for the race.
Yuka in full flow.
It’s the green light for go, but I don’t have a clue what mile we are on. I’m sure it’s written down here somewhere…..Help me Yuka!
Clive, Yuka and Chris in a practice race for their respective marathons.
For those that don’t know me, I started running in April 2020 during the first lockdown, mainly to lose weight to reduce the health risk should covid strike (it hasn’t yet). At first, I couldn’t run 3km without having to stop half-way and walk a bit. As the running got easier, further and faster, I found I was really enjoying it. Just over a year later, and 3 stone lighter, I joined Corsham Running Club. I entered the Manchester marathon in April 2022 (my first, and so far, my only marathon) having been told a few people from the club were planning to run it. At that point I only had a vague notion of what I was signing up for, particularly the amount of training required.
I started training in mid-November last year, broadly following a plan spat out by a spreadsheet Chris Hunt gave me based on the “Advanced Marathoning” book written by Pete Pfitzinger and Scott Douglas (I couldn’t find the “Rank Amateur Marathoning” edition).
I stayed as close to the plan as a full-time job and life allowed, using club sessions as a proxy for some of the planned, faster runs. The plan called for one to two long runs most weeks and I was fortunate to have Yuka (who also ran Manchester) and Chris (who was running Boston two weeks later) to run with on some of those longer runs. As race day got nearer, we used two local 20-mile races as long run/tester runs. These confirmed to me that I could hit around the 3:40 mark that I was chasing in Manchester. The training was hard and needed real commitment, although teaming up with my friends made it a fun and rewarding experience. From mid-November to the day of the race I ran over 850 miles in training (my wife said I was getting obsessive, so I told her this was a “one-off”). I went into the marathon with a 1:39 HM PB achieved at the end of February and 2:48 for 20 miles, feeling that I had put the requisite effort in and with a reasonable level of confidence. I was however, wondering how I would cope with the unknown of the last 6 miles, never having run further than 20 miles.
The race in Manchester is well organised and the course flatish (although not as flat as I was expecting), through built-up areas on wide, closed roads. As this was my first marathon, it’s difficult to judge its relative merits. Suffice to say it seemed well organised, the pre-race information was great, the organization on the day ok for an event of this size and the toilet and bag drop queues fine. The support on the course was excellent and you never were running without somebody cheering and clapping from the pavement. My only gripe is that the pacers were few and far between (at 15-minute intervals) and didn’t seem to logically align with the wave you were running in. We paced ourselves, and did ok with this, although had to wrestle with “watch issues”; at one point I fell back onto a pre-prepared piece of paper.
I had been told, but didn’t fully believe, that the race only begins at twenty miles and at twenty miles I was still feeling ok. Then with about four to five miles to go, I was suddenly hit by a tsunami of fatigue and voices in my head telling me to slow down and jog in (“you’d still be under 4:00” ….). From that point on the race was more a mental than a physical thing for me – my breathing was fine, my muscles and joints felt ok except for a pain in the lower back (which I figured wasn’t going to stop me running) yet the urge to stop/slow-down was incredibly strong. I managed to win the mind over matter battle (“don’t throw away 4 month’s work for 40 minutes of pain” ….), though it does take a lot of mental strength. I got into a state of mind of just focusing on putting one foot in front of the other and keeping previous pace. I was also conscious that alongside me, Yuka still was running strongly, and I thought if I stopped or slowed, she would too, if only to see what was going on, and I didn’t want to let her down or compromise her race. That provided an additional impetus.
Having trained, focused, and anticipated this race for so long it’s perhaps odd to say that the finish line can’t come a moment too soon, but it can’t. The time of 3:40:45 was under my 3:45 minimum target and I’m told you can say you’re a 3:40 marathon runner with a 3:40:45 so I will take that. We more-or-less even split, two 1:50 half marathons, and despite the physical and mental struggle I was going through in the latter stages, were reeling people in during the second half of the race. The relative pace chart (below) tells a nice story. Could I have gone faster? Maybe yes, although only if I had been faster at mile 20; after mile 20 I completely emptied the tank. There was nothing left by the finish, and I was wobbling like Bambi.
I now know that a marathon does start at twenty miles, and I also now know what to expect in those last few miles. I’ve been told you can’t train for those last few miles. However, I am trying to find specific training for this aspect of the marathon, so any advice is most welcome. I will also be working on nutrition in the days immediately before the next race as well as during it, as I think this could have been better. Given the watch issue, I’ve already invested in a more fit-for-purpose watch.
You may already have inferred from this write-up that the race venue seems irrelevant. I’ve hardly mentioned Manchester or the course. At least, that was my takeaway. The overall experience, including the training, is about so much more. Having said that about the venue though, I’ve allowed myself to be talked into targeting Valencia in December as it sounds great. All I need to do now is to find a way to tell my wife.
Clive and Yuka sprinting to the finish of the Manchester Marathon.
