Summer Evening Races: Cracken Edge and Pilgrim's Cross (too little too late?)

 Wow. One race related blog in 8 months. And that was a recce. I think it probably sums up what
has been 'a bit' of a year thus far. All very suboptimal with a big race just weeks away. And I always crave the Wednesday night race season....and last few years have seperated myself from it. The anxiety of racing. The tiredness after work. Having the dog. Always something more pressing. Or simply too traumatised; I missed Boar's Head as I had a horrible death at work someone was trying to blame me for and just couldn't process all the energy. 

But it hasn't been a complete disaster. I mean, as a training block for an ultra, it really has. But between all that there has been a bit of racing. I did indeed do the Kinder Trog race and had some flashes of good running in it. The Kinder plateau on the day was however my undoing, with no rhythm, speed or fitness. Plus my IT band went in to spasm as predicted and the last descent was awful. I finished fifth last, and despite being a good 20 minutes quicker than predicted, I was moderately embarrassed. I tried to reassure myself that once upon a time I would have never even have considered the race possible (long, self navigating etc) and that most people don't sign up for 15 mile fell races... but we all know really I am  a bit of a joke at this fellrunning business. 

I missed Rainow, Shining Tor, the Cake Race, Walsh Two Lads.... and several others through life and anxiety. I missed a lot of training runs through injury, stress and more life. Thing is, life does keep life-ing and the best thing to do is some living. And occassionally express your displeasure at your husband/boss/family (insert appropriate) whilst setting firm boundaries that you will promptly forget about. 

Anyway, you lot are here for the running. So lets crack on. 

Eventually I made myself get up and go to Cracken Edge fell race. It was a close run thing as my head was so fried. But we put it in the Blacksheep Club Series and it was a fundraiser for the MRT (who we pray each day to never need) so I got in the car, left the dog home alone and drove over an hour to Hayfield. I then managed to park in tiny space in a pile of gravel so its luck I am not car precious. The registration was busy but I found friends, picked up my number. It was a mixture of EOD and pre-registered  but both were in the queue so I don't think it was much different. But there were a lot of us out despite what I think was a threat of rain for the first time in weeks. 

We gathered at the start and tried and failed to get a team photo.... you always miss at least one don't you? In this case we missed 4. Oh well. Like hearding cats/sheep. 

The race starts up a road that becomes a track and then we crossed a big open field or two, continuing to uphill to meet a road. I'd been warned the first hill went on a bit but everyone was very much still running and I wasn't sure my legs were up for it. But I trundled on trying to guage my place among runners I might recognise and realising that I had no idea given how little I had raced this year. Then we were out on to the moor and things suddenly felt a bit better. There was more room, a sprinkling of rain and a bit of a breeze. Oh, and shortly a stile, which meant a queue and a bit of a break. Am I the only one who panics on a stile if there is a queue though? 

I was on relatively new territory on this section of the run; I hadn't been over this side of the hill and other than knowing it was a figure of 8 new nothing of the course, so there were no tactics other than not burning too many candles too quickly. Again, it had been some time since I races. There was a broad but rutted farm track that rose gradually and I was being overtaken But the rate of ascent was slower and we were on a section of upland. I had no idea when we went through the cross over point but I did notice that there was a right had turn at a marshal and suddently the race pace picked up. We were running on a quad track down the side of a field that was probably a bridleway with a gentle down hill gradient and cross pastureland. I was definitely in space now and trying to keep someone in view but not aware of anyone gaining on me. It was good running- uneven but non-technical. 

We tumbled out on to a road that tilted steeply downhill. I put in a bit of a push and caught someone ahead of me, worrying I might regret this as what does down inevitably goes back up again in fell racing. As we turned off the road it was a narrow footpath you could easily miss and there were a few people in striking distance ahead of me. But we were now on a very narrow path heading uphill. This next section was still new to me but from the terrain I guess we were heading towards the Chinley Churn and Big Stone (though how far it was I had no clue). The narrow single track followed the edge of the moor then up in to what were presumably old quarry workings. The path would duck and dive between the pock marks left by heavy industry. It was fun but not fast, and not good for overtaking. Two younger women were running as a pair ahead of me and I could see they really didn't want me to catch them. At this stage, I wasn't too worried. 

Eventually we could see Big Stone sitting on the edge of the ridgeline. The stomp up the steep heather to meet it felt surprisingly hard, and was a sign of the loss of my steep hill fitness. But as you summit, the open pastureland opens up again and its a race across the open space of the fields. We were on the end of the Trog race route now and I was starting to catch on that the ending might be the same. Which meant a decent old run on the bridleway to Foxholes Clough. 

Ahead of me, one of the young women tripped and went down hard. I got the vibe it was their first time at a fell race and they were quite shaken. I stopped briefly to check in but they were together and didn't want help so I carried on. We've all been there; flying along then suddenly hitting the ground hard. 

The bridleway seemed to go one a long way but eventually we reached the field where it deviates from the wall towards the top of the clough. It tilts down and the chap I was running with pulled away. I felt pretty spent as I trundled down towards the gate. Descending the clough 5.5 miles in, rather than 14.5 miles in made a difference and I was quicker though still slow down the first section and a lot better but again still slow as we descended towards the old mill. The light was flat now and a mouuntain biker also dropped down ,forcing me to go to the side. But as we popped out at the farm I knew I didn't have far to go and it was relatively flat.

I kicked as I turned right in front of the houses and pushed in to the footpath. I could see the chap ahead and started to gain back on him as we entered the fields. I was really pushing now, hoping I could hold it across the fields. The chap heard me coming though, and put a push in and we caught up to the next runner (who happens to have a limb difference- yes, I was beaten by a man with one leg!) and all came thrashing down the last slope of field with only a few seconds between us. I'd put in a decent showing for me. I felt a bit better too. But trying to get a pint in the pub after was a hopeless cause: thank goodness to Catherine and her gluten free caterpillar cakes! 

So two weeks later I was again on the start line for a fell race. Again, I had the eternal battle in my head to get out. But driving north of Manchester is actually much easier for me and again, it was in the series, so I pulled my socks up and got on with it. In fact, I then got stuck in traffic and had a bit of a panic I would miss the start, and also wore socks too thick so ended up with bruised toe nails....

Registering in a working mens club is something I distinctly associate with Pennine fell races but maybe I am just too in to stereotypes. Registration felt quite busy but I found friends and a number and enjoyed a chat before we walked the 10-15 minutes to the start line (uphill, which was nice to have gotten out the way!) On the way up we passed the finish funnel, and I mentally clocked the good distance of road we would need to cover on the way back (which I think it where the toe nails took the most hammering). A good crowd was gathered in the lane but no one really knew where the start was. We all had that classic bit of moving forward then being herded back to get to the right place. 

I ended up quite near the back at the start (it was a very jumbled start anyway after the moving), and felt I was stuggling to get going on the road. One day I will do a warm up and power to a faster start, but for now, that is what the first mile is for. After a left turn, the track deteriorated and then promptly narrowed. We were now on a classic rocky pennine bridleway, with old sections of made track and more loose sections. We'd be coming down this and my fellow Chorlton Runner said she dreaded it already. We were very cramped with very limited opportunity to overtake at this point but I was sure it would be better towards the end as we spread out (hopefully). 

I was glad to get up on to the moor and for the almost claustrophic caterpillar to break up. I was immediately overtaken whilst overtaking as we all tried to get back in to our usual packs of pace. We were still climbing but not as steeply and I recognised were were just round from the 'naughty corner' on the Two Crosses LDWA. Again, I was somewhere I have been before but definitely wouldn't claim to know. But I move relatively well on a moor and held my place as we bobbled past the old pilgrim's cross for the first time. Of note, this is actually just a large stone, there is no cross on it anymore. 

As we tilted down hill the path was quite rocky. I imagine it would be boggy in winter but most of the bogs were quite dry. Ahead, rain clouds gathered over Manchester making for a moody view. The path got more rocky and I caught an older lady from Burnden who said she wasn't enjoying the rocks. We then dropped a bit more steeply on some typical pennine rocky path before following an equally narrow undulating single track back up steeply on to the moor. I was chasing a lady from Rossendale at this point, but you never beat a Rossie on home turf and by the top she was pulling away from me. 

At the top of this short climb over half the race went the wrong way. There was a flag lying in a path and we all trampled over it, continuing to head South, when we should have cut across the moor and handrailed the hill. However, I was just following everyone else and we followed a well demarcated path along the moor to meet flags. As we went through a gate, I saw Holcombe tower was just over the rise and started to get suspicious; we weren't supposed to go as far as the tower. However, the sky over Manchester at this point with the lowering sun was magic, capturing the purple of the heather and illuminating the edges of the dark rain clouds. 

I was well within the pack and carried on to the tower with them despite the lack of flags. We all turned left and then came back across the moor on the main path. As we crossed a clough, I saw the flag s we were supposed to have followed to our left. Oh well. At least I was forewarned we had done some extra and the race would be over seven miles, not six and a half! It wasn't like a really knew where I was going anyway. 

We dropped down s slightly narrower path in the clough to meet a track where a few people pulled away. I could see Helen now a good way ahead, and the lady from Rossie. We hit a U turn at the bottom of the moor and started to head up again, initially on a paved track then breaking off on to a descent but climbing path. This climb did seem to go on forever. It was definitely runnable, but I ran out of run as it was sapping. I took to running 30 paces, walking 20. A chap from Skelmersdale caught me up and asked where the cross was. I explained the lack of cross between big breathes and then it swam in to view ahead. Unfrotunately I could see we were still climbing (again, runnable but sapping) beyond it on to the section of hill which is technically in the shooting range. The flags were down just for clarity; no one was at risk of being shot though it might have made me run faster. 

I suspect if I had turned round there would have been a marvellous view south from the top but actually we turned north and I tried to catch the Skelmersdale runner. Initially the path descended in a typical moorland way. But then we cut across a quad track and the route dropped us steeply in to a clough with no path and over some typical tussocky heather. I think they just did that to make it a Rossendale race; it had all been far too runnable until now so we needed something to make it more of a fell race I guess. I overtook Skelmersdale and actually didn't make hard work of this section (though it wasn't smooth or elegant). 

Then the final climb out the clough bottom started. Ahead I could see another Rossendale woman but she was a long way off and I knew I wouldn't catch her. I hoped that the wall I could see was the top of the hill. Again, it wasn't steep or technical, it was just a bit of a drag this late in a race. But up I went, keeping ahead of Skelmersdale and keeping Rossie in sight until she popped round the corner. The wall wasn't quite the top but shortly after it flattened out to a tussocky path and a photographer. I tried to smile. Then the moor started to tilt down and I started to try gather some speed. A small group were stood at the edge of the moor and I heard them cheer Rossie- too far ahead now- and then me as I skittered off the moor on the the track. The track down was obviously now clearer but those steep almost cobbled track with a bit of slick still scare me a bit and I wasn't as quick as I should have been. But it was far from a bad descent and I nearly trampled the other photographer when he was walking down in front of me and nearly didn't hear me. 

Eventually I hit the road and saw Rossie a long way ahead. There were a few people jogging up the road on cool downs or to cheer friends. I pushed but as mentioned, my poor toenals were jamming in the end of my speedgoats so my quads didn't engage properly. The road section seemed unnecesary over 7 miles in! But I recorded a good pace on strava (for me!) I crossed the line in clear space and started comparing notes with the other Chorlton Runners to see how far along the race the route detour had happened (after Ben and Kieran but before Nicola we think). 

It was a shame we didn't stay for prizes but it felt later than it was because the light was relaly dropping as we walked back to cars. The problem with midweek racing is there is work tomorrow for most. As it happens, Nicola won her age category and Chorlton Ladies took 2nd ladies team (including me! it wasn't very competitive, only about 25-30 women in the whole race). Still, nice to get a mention. 

And that was midweek racing over for the summer. I couldn't make Golf ball or Two towers the following week as I had a long run on Wednesday. The weather has turned too, as the rain swept in on the drive home. The headtoch came out the other morning, and the air temp is cooler with leaves starting to turn. Its not September quite yet but summer got away from me again. I'd promised myself a Tea Round this year, as well as an ultra. It was going to be my fittest year yet. But that's not how life works and I'll have to settle for being healthier than I was a few months ago and looking to the future. And hopefully, a few more race reports going forward. 

The Kinder Trog recce

 It’s not been a great year racing wise. There are lots of reasons for this but I shan’t go in to them here. Suffice to say my plans for big things like George Fisher’s tea rounds have fallen by the wayside. 

But I do have the club series in my diary and the biggie for the year is the Kinder Trog. Currently, only two of us are showing any inclination so I thought I would bob out and check out the course and see if (given all the health and life issues) I was being ridiculous trying to get round. 

We’d had a heat wave over bank holiday weekend, which had scuppered a lot of my plans especially with dog care. But the Wednesday finally saw a dip in the heat, and doggie day care was open to take the double coated Labrador (ie heat stroke central) on my random Wednesday off. So I jumped in the car to head to Hayfield . 

The event will start at the scout hut but I parked in the Derbyshire council car park at the start of the Sett Valley trail. I think the race actually finishes this way, and you follow the residential road to a footpath that follows down to the river, over a bridge turn left and in to the start and finish field. Having not recce’d starts and finishes before I have been caught out, so it was good to see this bit. 

The route starts with a road section so I suspect will be fast. It was early but warm so I took it nice and steady, through the flat residential section, then forking left out the village, round the bend and starting to climb the road. It’s steep then settles then goes up again past farms and cottages to a terrace and then the route swings right on to a less well made track. Blacksheep will recognize this from previous Sycamore Inn route to Lantern pike. I was a bit bored of climbing now, and by the time I hit where the track actually gets more interesting I was almost settling in for a hike! 

Eventually I reached the gate with its national trust sign, and automatically turned left and climbed the rocky path adjacent to the wall as I would on a club night. I did then get my phone out and realise the GPX sent you up a grassier trod further along. Its probably all a much of a muchness over the full course, but the direct line is possibly quicker. Sorry, I can't tell you where to find it. Fail. Anyway, checkpoint 1 is the top of Lantern Pike, presumably at the little monument on top. 

Lantern Pike 

Running off the top of Latern Pike is always a nice run- a rutted path with a few rocks amongst the heather leads you down to the main track which drops down towards a gate and a field which on the day I recce'd was occupied by some incredibly chilled longhorn cattle. I ran right through the middle of these handsome beasts and they stayed lying down and barely acknowledged me. There are two tracks across the field but you are essentially aiming for the bottom left corner where there is a gate out on to the Pennine Bridleway. 

The Pennine Bridleway goes on round (ignore the Blackshaw farm track straight ahead, stay in the hedged lane) and is fast running, being well made. At Matley Moor farm, cut left across in front of the farmhouse on to their road acess track and then take the first footpath off to the left across a field, roughly hugging the field boundary but the going is slightly better to the left. But you are aiming for the corner straight ahead, to a slightly boggy crossing with horseflies (hopefully they have moved), and along a further bumpy path to meet the track which then is a nice straight run to a rather fast road which you follow right to the Hayfield road. 

Cross the road carefully- its bloody fast. 

Across the road cross stile/gate (I forget) to the path heading up the moor. This section is a long steady climb. Its almost certainly runnable, a mixture of decent path and slabs. It goes up steadily with a few sections of flattening and then rising again. And there was a hefty head wind when I went up; I gave up on my podcast as the wind was too loud. And relentless. It was quiet and the skylarks were singing so I was content to walk. There are the remains of a plane crash, as well as a mountain rescue memorial paqrt way up to break up the slog. Over on the right you begin to see Ashop head and the wider bulk of Kinder what seems like a long way away. Its definitely a mental battle and quite leg sapping if you let be. 

Two or three kilometers later the top cairn of Mill Hill (Checkpoint 2) eventually appeared. I'd seen one runner over in the distance heading for Bleaklow but no one else. But as I crested the hill, I saw a few people around Ashop head. This section to Brown Knoll could be busy on a June Sunday. I stopped to chat to some walkers ascening the steep steps of Ashop Head; they assumed I was local which was flattering. 

For anyone who hasn't run Kinder, the path is relatively easy to follow but its not the easist to run. The rocks are large and irregular. If you are used to it, its in usual condition- few puddles, lots of grit. Its quite undulating. Make sure you hang slightly left as you approach Kinder Downfall (checkpoint 3) which wasn't too full when I crossed but we have had some rain since. Again, this will be busy. The view in to the valley on this beautiful day was stunning, looking down on the reservoir and cloughs. There were now mor epeople around on this Wednesday afternoon, including the odd big group. But another runner appeared and I suddenly realised it was Alice who used to run with Chorlton. We had a chat before heading off on our seperate adventures. 

The reservoir from Ashop Head

After a while the path goes up and to the left. Don't be tempted to go straight on or you will end up on Kinder Knoll. You are heading on the main path past the trig point, then again stick to the biggest looking path (about 11 o'clock as you pass the trig) to take you down towards Edale Roacks and Swine's back. This section is always heaving and I suspect making use of the erosion to the side of the main track is the best way, even if your ecological soul is crushed. Bare slightly right at the bottom, away from Jacob's ladder. I think the check point is going to be by the five bar gate at the top of the bridleway. 

The Trig at Kinder Lowe

Don't follow the bridleway but take the path that follows the fence line up from the gate. Again, its reasonably well made and at this  point rising but shortly flattens out then drops across the moorland on a mixture of steps, flags and path. Ignore the stiles that take you over and off to Brown Knoll. Carry on across the moor and as it flattens it gets bit squishier. Its nice running, even as it tilts slightly back up at the far end, as we approach the lump that is South Head. Bear left just before the path meets the bridleway to cut the corner and head for the trod up the great lump. 

There is a checkpoint on South Head, so you can't duck it. My IT band was starting to complain and the short sharp stomp to the top was actually less painful than the steep descent off the other side. Aim for the yellowish bridleway below, snaking away from you. Its steep but its quite easy to follow the trod. And its grassy, if not very even. The wind on top of South Head was pretty terrible again.

View from South Head to Bridleway 

There is now a nice long bridleway section that snakes across some sheep fields. It would be quick if my legs would let me. I had a sneaking suspicion the hill to the left was our next problem but for now enjoyed a limpy run down to a cross roads where a DofE group were resupplying, and then down a well make trakc, past a quarry to the road again (very fast still). 

Turning left on the road, I was pleased to see the grass verges had a trod to avoid running the short distance on the very fast road. And it is only short, there is a farm driveway on thr right and you go down that, past the honesty layby (good to know that exists) and look up the steep and unending drive ahead. Its well made and tarmac, and by now I was cooked and with a sore IT band, I knew I would have to cut the corner. Stay on the main track straight up the hill ignoring turns left and right. You go up past a barn on the left, and just before the drive proper to hill farm you would be turn left to handrail around the hill. The path looked well made, but with a few cows. Checkpoint 7 will mark where you pick up the path next to a wall (as far as I can tell from map and distant view) to the top of the ridge (I cut through Hill farm and cut off about a mile). At the top of the ridge join a lumpy bridleway which will snake cross the hill following the walls, and then as it leaves the wall, look for a well made newish looking gate to descend in Foxholes clough. 

Hill Farm Resident 

This is quite steep and a bit loose in places. To be honest, my IT band was playing up a lot at this point and I struggled with the descent to the farm. But it was rather pretty with brook appearing on the right. There is a ruined building and a farm at the bottom but you are swinging hard left in front of the house to a path across the fields. Despite the adverse camber I got a bit more of a jog on finally. Its quite obvious where thr right hand turn is to drop in to Hayfield; just turn right after the squeeze and head down the road, going straight straight straight to the car park, then following the road then footpath to the bridge to cross the stream to glory. 

Personally I was just glad to make the car park. My knee was killing me and I was pooped. But I had done 14 + miles, some running that felt good and seen some beautiful views on a sunny (if breezey) day. The race is probably my realistic fell running limit at the moment and injury allowing I intend to be on the start line. Lets hope for some nice weather for the day!

Soyland Moor Race Report

 In a weird set of circumstances, my friends and I ended up with the race director taking us on our own personal recce of this race, so it was a relief when they both signed up to do it the following week. It was also the last race of the Blacksheep series so my last opportunity for points....though I was no where near contention this year.

Despite having recce'd the course I just wasn't in the mood for a race. I have been struggling with my running since having my eyes done, not least because of the change in weather but also not feeling fit, feeling (and actually being) heavy. But I rocked up, got parked on the hill at Crag Vale, and walked down to the pub to register. Mercifully the pub was also already serving tea and coffee. And shortly, friends arrived, and I felt better. Isn't that always the way. 

Eventually we tottled out the pub (where we weren't able to leave bags which was a bit sad as we'd parted with coats early to take them back to the car) and the weather was certainly more promising than it had been at the recce. And with a bit of a preamble, we were off climbing the steep lane that goes on forever to meet the moor. I jogged up the first bit but was soon walking with many others. Then a bit more jogging, and a bit more walking. Eventually we made the bend by the car park where marshals cheered up towards the moor. It was a long drag and I was quite happy to queue momentarily for the stile. 

Heading up the moor, there was more chopping and changing of places, as the stronger hill runners lost advantage to the more light footed on the path across the tussocky field. We tipped in to the 'lane' (defnitely not suitable for vehicles) where large puddles awaited us, and then it was time to start getting really muddy as we headed across the marshy ground to the plantation. 

The plantation is really quite unpleasant; deep with mud and puddles, there is no efficicent route. I was also bursting for the loo and aware that the open moor (with its lack of woman sized cover). So mid way through bungling through the brush, I dived in to the not so wonderful cover of the trees and am eternally grateful for the chap who averted his eyes as he passed (I'd drop back a bit to try get a gap but it was still early in the race). 

On we went and it was up to Stoodley Pike. I felt I should be running more of this bit, but a struggled for rhythm on the slabs (always) and then the slight ramp up felt a bit of struggle so I found myself walking, aware we had a good way to go. I waved to a former Chorlton Runner at the Pike who was supporting the race, then set off to tour the moor, very close to fellow runners Kiloran and Liz. 

By now the cloud has come in a bit and the view was slightly obscured. The first bit of the moor I ran well, moving well cross the weird slabs and gritty puddles. We got to the route split (which isn't official but having recce'd with the RD we were told either way is fine) without me really registering, and I followed the pack I was in to the left rather than the right. At this point Liz caught me up and we slogged up the rise from Withens Gate together. The weather was definitely drawing in at this  point. 

The Pennine way (at this point) is a mixture of moorland path and then paving slab from here, and I felt I wasn't getting a rhythm, a tiring alarmingly quickly. Ahead I could see the runners curving in a broken line across the moor, and someone managed to slip on the slabs, but was up again before I got there. We eventually discharged across the end of Warland drain at the top of the reservoir, crossing the drain only to re cross it again. I was glad I had recce'd this as I would have been confused by the set up otherwise- there are steps in to the drain, you jump the water, climb up a few steps and join a trod like path across the moor. 

This section is pretty tiring. The trod like path weaves across bogs and bridges, left and right, snaking its muddy way along the east and south edges of the reservoir. You then join a slightly better path at Light Hazzles reservoir (that name!) where two of our club mates were coming the other way as a cheer squad. It was aboost to see them as I was struggling now. 

Landing on the good track along the reservoir, everyone started to move away from me. Liz overtook ( I suspect she had been waiting for a while) and ran strongly from here to finish about 10 minutes ahead of me. I was drifting back in the pack, and also having to walk on the very runnable reservoir access track. This was not good with another moorland section to go. It also then started to rain and I passed the photographer, putting on an attempt at speed as I went past. Just before the road, another Chorlton runner was standing with his kids in the pouring rain to cheer us on and I felt very unworthy of it! 

Photo courtesy of Dave Woodhead 

I crossed the road and headed on to Soyland moor. There were a few more people around me now, having caught me up. I was trying to keep up with a lady from Todmorden but eventually she moved well ahead of me. I could see the climb to the top ahead but we had several dips and dives before then. I also noted that the 5 bar gate was open when it shouldn't be (you are supposed to use the stile off to the right), so I closed it behind me as I couldn't see anyone yet, though I knew Kiloran wans't far behind.

The slog was as expected and at the top, I touched the trig and tried to get a push on down across Soyland moor. But the path and my feet seemed at odds, which is weird as its not particularly techinical. I just couldn't get moving well. At least it was net down hill and I could see Brian up ahead (Liz was long gone). Getting on the farm land and then the road felt like at least we were getting somewhere but the road section was long and a car or two tried to squash me as they passed on the narrow walled lane. I made myself keep running and caught Brian, slowing for a quick check in (he wasn't happy to see me) before pushing on down the road to cross the A road and drop down the field...

...I went through the open gate and down the tussocky field only to realise the two tupps from the recce were in said field. I ran back up the field to close the gate, praying my fellow racers would be sensible enough to use the stile and not let the Tupps out on the A road! The tupps huffed as I passed, their escape plan being thwarted, and I passed in to the next pasture which is steep, down hill, slippy and full of vegetation that stings or prickles. At the bottom there is a nice bridge where a walking group were having lunch, but I had made hard work of the descent so they didn't bother with a well done!

Then it was shorter steeper ramp on to the moor again, through the bracken. Again, my legs were struggling with balance and coordination and I was slowing considerably. At the top I followed the wall and was glad to get to the slippy descent having only been overtaken by two people. The steps were, as promised, slippy with mud from many trainers, and they are in poor shape anywa so there was some wall and tree grabbing on the way down. But then I waved at Sue who was marshalling the bottom, and picked up the path to the finish. 

It climbed a bit and the two chaps pulled ahead of me as I stumbled up it. The run in felt long. The path gets progressively better, until its a well made track but my legs got heavier and heavier. Was that the last gate? I skidded down the field with no elegance or real speed to cross the finish line. A group of club mates were waiting to welcome me in, Kiloran just behind me. She would have caught me but she had tripped in the last section and was carrying her signature smashed knee below her colourful shorts. I winced. 

It wasn't a great performance from me, though the time was below what I had feared it would be. However, it was a good race with a lot of runnable sections for a fell/trail  race, whilst remaining interesting under foot. Its also CraggRunner eventso the soup at the end was marvellous.  

Race Report: Devil's Chair Dash

 Trying to time your arrival at a fell race about 2 hours drive away is challenging, but we did quite well to arrive at the pub in Stiperstones in time to get parked in the allocated yard. We also timed it to arrive at the same time as my parents, aunt and grandmother all fresh from their Christmas day. I had talked them in to coming for a walk whilst I ran before we headed to the parent's house for Boxing Day. And boy was it properly cold! 

The Devil's Chair Dash is a classic up and back fell race starting by a pub and taking place on Boxing day. The pub was open in arrival though registration took place in the garden, which had a good going frost as the sun wasn't getting over the top of the hill for a few hours. We bundled in to the pub which was happy to serve coffee and mulled wine (well, it is Christmas) to runners and spectators. It was bustling and I believe nearly 200 people registered. 'Nut jobs' was my Dad's description I think. 

Looking up at the hill, I felt a bit nervous. Silhouetted against the sun, it looked very daunting with its steep sides and high ridgeline. Mum and I walked a little way up the road that formed the start and it wasn't icy which was a relief. That would come later. I left them all tucked warmly in the pub and walked to the start line 50m down the road. They promised they'd get out for a walk shortly....

The start line was buzzing with mostly locals though I think there were a few vest from further afield. Some poeple were braving vest and shorts but I was bundled up in long sleeve and long trousers. And a santa hat. A few other people had something festive on but plenty were clearly going to be serious. A nice lady chatted to me at the start line and it was nice to feel a bit more welcome than the last Shropshire race I did! 

Without much fanfare we were off! It was a bustle to get over the start, people jostling slightly to get going, all paces mixed together. But we were soon jogging up a short steep section of road and then on to the flatter section, and then a slight dip before it began to rise again. I did start walking quite early initially counting paces, then just stomping. 

At the end of the road it became a track up through a field which had patches of ice. I vered off the path to run next to it slightly, as did many others. A few people were lining the route to cheer on friends and family, and it was very jolly even if we were dodging ice as we reached the top. At the top the field turned more to scrub then moorland and we narrowed on to a steeper path that definitely had ice and I made a note to not go too mad on the way down. 

Just as the path flattened on to the top of the moor, Harry Holmes came shooting down, already on the return leg. Ah what a dream to run like that. But I focused on getting myself running again after the hands on knees section, past a pack of supporters standing in the now visible sunshine.  We joined the main track along the ridge line. This was rocky and uneven, patched with bits of ice, and there was the start of two way traffic. You could see the turn point in the distance; a massive rock outcrop known as the Devil's Chair. 

I tottered along, failing to get any rhythm up, unable to pass the older gentleman in front of me with the oncoming traffic, but enjoying the marvellous view and sunshine on my skin. The sky was blue and you could probably see for miles. One to come and explore another day I think. 

Photo courtesy of Charlie Leveton

As you reach the turn around it gets rockier and you have to cross the heather. I did this with little grace and nearly tilted head long in to the volunteer (I think from the miners' club) who stamped my hand. And then it was back across the rocks and heather to the rocky track and back the way we had come. People bobbled about on the rocks and ice, over taking a bit more now there was thinner traffic coming the other way. 

Then we hit the steep and I decided to take the heather over the ice. By now, people on Boxying day walks were starting to climb the hill and most cheered and dived out the way as a volley of fellrunners came towards them, a few looked terrfied and there was the odd huff. I was about average going down hill, not the fastest but defniitely doing better than some. God bless my mudclaws! Down through the field we skidded on loose ground and deep frost. Towards the bottom I stayed on the track, following the melt water to try avoid ice which sort of worked. 

Then we hit the tarmac and suddenly any advantage I had was gone. A few people passed, clearly faster runners. But I put in as much speed as I could, even coming up the other side of the dip, to finish is just under 45 minuntes. I had sort of expected to see my family somewhere on the way down and looked around but they weren't there. Had they not made it out the pub??

I spent the next half an hour looking in the pub and sending texts, only to find my Mum, Nan, Aunt and husband had gone for a walk and got a bit lost, whilst my Dad was still near the finish line, but stood behind a post box, worried I was having a terrible race as he hadn't seen me come in.... It was quite funny and we retreated to the pub (which was now having a power cut! disaster!) before trailing back to Mum's for Boxing Day lunch. 

Race Report: The Moors The Merrier

A few years ago, I did a race that was almost too much for me. It was actually a season of biting of a bit more than I was really prepared for. But ultimately, I ran my first ultra at the end, discovered a lot of new places and had some scars (and hang ups) ro prove it. But the race that started it was The Moors the Merrier. I think the blog is on here some where....or maybe I was a bit too traumatised. It took my a few years to go back but December 2025 I finally did. 

This Cragrunner event is held out of Hebden Bridge golf course, above the Calder Valley. It has two start times: a non competitive, and a competitive. I opted for the non-competitive (still scarred by last time) and managed to get the last spot in the car park. It was blooming cold and quite murky. And extremely early. 

I kit checked, registered, grabbed a pint of tea and two of the amazing Antonia's short breads (breakfast of champs), and offered to help kit check those still arriving (I've crewed for Craggrunner a few times now). It stopped me getting nervous, and seeing as everyone else from Chorlton was on the later start, kept me busy. About 8:50 I shuffled outside in to the cold, complete with my mandatory santa hat (which must remain on throughout). Light had crept in to the valley in an amazing dawn display, but only just. And then we were off, around the golf course and through the gate on to the moor. 

The non competitive start has a mix of runners and walkers, and of course we were all jumbled together. The first second is up a rocky path but I actually felt able to run a bit of this, and annoyed a few people by over taking. But there was a lot of back and forth for most people through this section, as we were all pretty close. We briefly joined the Calderdale way which I recognised from the relays, before turning left on to climb up to Midgley Moor. 

Though murky, you could easily follow the crowd. There was a mixed confidence with moorland running, though the track isn't too bad. There is the odd bog but I was grateful for my waterproof socks, knowing later we had far worse things to deal with. I caught up with a group of chaps all in the banana shorts (looked cold to me!) and tried not to get too carried away with the mostly runnable terrain heading to Old Brown Knoll. Sadly there wasn't much of a view; one day I'll go up there just to see it! 

Coming off the moor, again it was interesting to see confidence. A lot of people use this as a training race for bigger things (among them, Spine races) and I came across one lady struggling with her new poles. We managed to get them out to length and I hope she found them more helpful. It was abit slippy but not unduly. After checkpoint 1 you descend to Lumb Falls and that path is far worse! Probably deters the tourists to what is quite a pretty waterfall and clapper bridge. Calder Valley is full of these old rock built paths where leaf litter and moss, combined with wet and muddy of recently passed feet, combine to create death trap foot paths. Fortunately, I stayed upright with minimal wall clinging. 

The steep climb out the falls was quite muddy initially but met a track which was a bit puddly but broad and took us up to the edge of the moor, past ruined farm buildings. As we handrailed the edge of the moor, I realised I felt okay. This point had been a bit of a shock to me previously, being a little more technical and a gradual uphill. I was running my own race, walking where I needed to, and started to appreciate the progress (if not the speed) I had made. We followed some skiddy famers fields gradually down hill to Walshaw, with the odd skid reminding you to keep an eye on your balance. 

I had no memory of Walshaw from previously, and its essentially three buildings and a right hand turn, so maybe that was why. I think there were cattle in a barn at this point, and I was quite glad for them to stay there. We followed a footpath and then a track between fields to get on to Wadsworth Moor. 

Things got a bit weird on Wadsworth moor. I sort of remembered it, with its broad access track. But the murk was right down, and despite there not really being anywhere to turn, I began to doubt myself. Surely the reservoir should have appeared? I went to check my GPX on my phone, only for it not to be loaded and there be very little signal. Crumbs. Best just keep running. Eventually the track turned down hill and suddenly we popped out the cloud a bit and the reservoirs appeared below me. Phew. BUt again my memory tricked me, and I thought we crossed a wall, though I could see everyone continuing down the side of the lower reservoir. I followed everyone else (correctly) on a small partly paved, partly boggy path down the side of the lower reservoir, a few people coming past. At the end there was a gate, so I can't think where the wall stile memory comes from. Going across the dam at the bottom, I remembered the front runners coming past me previously. There was no sign of them, so I must have been going faster than previously! This was heartening and as we hit the road at the other side, I decided to try and run all the way to the check point. 

I passed two chaps, one of whom was struggling a bit and had a quick chat. My memory again tricked me, as this section was both longer than I remembered, and they have also moved the checkpoint notably. I needed a wee and so had to keep running on this road section, until a little footpath cut the corner for us, dropped us on to the slightly rising road to the Pack Horse inn and checkpoint one. It seemed a long way....but I didn't stop running until I was in the portaloo. 

Otherwise I was quite quick through the checkpoint, saying high to the Craggrunner regulars running it. And I headed off at a jog back the way we had come, now armed with GPX as I found myself in a bit of a gap. I took the stile over the wall and crossed the field, dropping in to a clough with a river, which we followed on a rutted rocky path to a bridge, crossed and then climbed up the other side. Again, I remembered people coming past me in reasonable numbers, and struggling with this climb previously. I felt okay (though I was walking) but very alone in the murk. Thank goodness for podcasts. As I neared the top I saw a few people ahead of me in the murk to reassure me I was on the right track. And I was now reaching a track, which joined the Pennine Bridleway to cross the moor. As I started to ascend, the first man came past me from the competitive wave. He nodded greeting and carried away in to the gloom. A few more would pass me, as we gently climbed the moor. Notably they were mostly running and I was more walking (with occasional fits of enthusiasm). The first lady also passed me, well ahead of the next one I would see. We followed the nicely made bridleway off the moor (past a man with a lovely yellow lab and a big smile running in the other direction) and started on the road.

This is not a grate road if you are a motorist; its a track with pot holes that also features in Blackshaw head fell race. Fortunately it is nicer going in this direction. Its also over a mile long and I kept worrying I had missed the turning, getting my phone out to check. Several little strings of faster runners would come past, some more friendly than others, but I was running most of the time and feeling festive, listening to a podcast on folk christmas carols. Eventually the turn came, though the three wise Craggrunners hadn't quite got them selves organised and so I missed their quite ridiculous costumes my later waves friends saw: two blokes and a skeleton in exotic robes 'of the orient' with fake beards and crowns! Would have loved that! 

My legs felt sore as I headed down to land farm. It was a long way down which would inevitably mean a long trip up the otherside (though there were much bigger climbs to come) and I remember I was a bit beaten up by this point last time. The excessively beautiful house and garden at Land farm distracted me enought to get up the first bit of the track. The next section is then a bit of a blur as we climbed and dipped through fields, a bit of moor, past remote dwellings, between field boundaries, generally in the up direction. Occassionally a faster runner would past, with a mixture of greetings or ignoring. Most were polite. I lost time on this section and ought to have been able to run a bit more. In the murk I was just glad everytime someone passed, a reasurance I was moving in the right direction. 

After the road, the route tilts down through fields and in to the first real bog of the day, with a difficult to follow path, which I did temporarily loose. Fortuntely the murk was lifting slightly and I could see a chap with a camera stood near the stile. Also a few more women came past me, mostly of the later start I think, and I managed to climb back on to the path, climb through the tussock and marsh grass, and make it to the fence. I had gone very wrong here before, but fortunately there was someone to point the way (thank you Summitmoor for both you directions, and your lovely shots).

The next path is a bit of a mess and its no wonder I didn't see it before. You run next to the wall/fence line but there is next to no trod and its very marsh and grassy. There was however a very cute pig across the wall, so that was worth it. The ladies ahead were making it look very easy and disappeared back in to the fog whilst I wallowed and slowed, my fat heavy legs feeling the distance and terrain. Its abot a mile all in, though it does improve after the first half to become a rough track. There are paths coming on and off it, and one chap did ask if we were supposed to turn. Mercifully we didn't as the paths through the field looked muddier and more churned than the one we were on! 

We were disgorged on to a road at Hippens where we went down a dip then slightly up to pick up the path to Jumbles clough. I remembered some of this but not how rocky it was, the top part feeling like hard work. I wondered how I had felt this was a good bit previously! You descend on a rocky muddy path past some old ruined buidlings then skitter through the clough past waterfalls. There is a checky left hander thats easy to miss then continue among the rocks and routes to eventually come out on a concrete track. I had music on now and knew the check point was at the bottom so enjoyed this step but easy running section (occassionally fearing the ice). 

The checkpoint is now inside the mill, with loos, drinks, food and whiskey. The whiskey is important and so I had a shot of whatever was being offered. I also grabbed a rocky road which was amistake as it was tasty but sat in my stomach later. I knew what was coming and changed track to try and get myself prepared. 

I ran out on to the track then to the main road, at a slightly bullish pace. I wanted to make myself feel confident as this next section was hell last time I did it, then the sole of my shoe had detached and the whole thing deteriorated. So....courage. 

I ran to the road crossing, crossed the road and over the canal bridge. I was actually with a small bunch of faster men, but it soon became apparent the difference when I started to walk the hill. We followed the road a way, and in my head there was a right hand turn. I think I even said to one of the guys to keep an eye out. But actually, we zig zagged on the road then climbed past a farmthen the path did eventually go off to the right, and it wasn't a great path. I was singing to my music which was slightly embarrassing when someone came up behind me (I thought I was alone). We entered in to the field and I went the wrong way round the farmhouse, losing the chap behund me a place as he had followed me. The next bit was a bit harder to navigate, with the path disappearing in to vegetation for a while before emerging out to hand rail the fence and make our way around End Edge moor. 

I had a bit of a wobble here. My legs felt shot and I was worried we still had some climb to go. This path was definitely runnable but I was very much walking. I took the opportunity to eat something as we followed the narrow bumpy trod, with the odd person overtaking me. I was focusing on getting my mind in to neutral; I was once told by an experience ultra runner not to aim for a good place mentally when you were down, but rather to focus on neutral (counting steps or trees, rhythm, anything neutral). Eventually, we came round the lump that is the moor edge and started up the track to the top. There was a weird right left choice but in hindsight I think they both go to the same point. A few people followed me up so it can't have been entirely wrong to take the low road.

The gate brought us out on to the next section of moor and the start of the real bogs. A little bit of freezing hadn't really made any difference and I was grateful for my new waterproof socks (bought with my fell race winnings from September). There initially wasn't much of a path but eventually a sodden muddy track emerged and I could see people a bit ahead (the fog seemed better this side of the valley). After a bit more climb there was a short respite before we plunged in to an even deeper climb up to Dick's lane. I got this section wrong before, and ended up wallowing in the bog (and likely where my shoe was finally commited to falling apart). I spotted a Tod Harrier coming past me and just made the commitment to follow him up as a local guide. To be fair, most people were walking so I was able to keep him in view and it sort of worked. I found the sodding stile thats nearly hidden, I kept slogging, and a little gaggle of us waddled up the moor together, avoiding the worst of the divets and tussocks on the open hillside. 

Coming out on to Dick's lane, a couple came past saying they wanted to break 4 hours.... given the timing I think it was a big ask (they were on the fast group but it would still be bloody tight) and I suddenly realised I was going to break my 6 hours deadline by quite a way.... I wanted to keep ahead of the group of women who had gathered behind me. I set off along dick's lane with tired legs but then got a bit of cramp and the ladies came past. Oh well, the fight was gone out of me anyway ( I never have much, I am not competitive, just use these things as a stick to beat myself with). We followed of the moor on the pock marked trod towards the wood. My legs threatening to cramp more. 

The descent was longer than I remembered but my hamstrings had had it. There was a sensatoin of cramping as we skidded down the muddy trails and I couldn't trust myself on the steeper parts. I blame the hyrox class on the Thursday. The path was muddy, occassionally rock and clearly quite well used. And it seemed to go on, another field, another copse, until eventually the roofs of Mytholmroyd came in to view. I was actually glad of some tarmac as we hit the road.

One last climb. 

I ran through the town, not bothering to use the pavements as we crossed thr bridge and instead walking in the flower beds ( sorry, I am usually a good citizen and there was a bit of a trod). Someone let me cross the main road and I kept running up the side street that leads to the railway bridge. The steps felt like hell. I focused on neutral brain...

I was going to beat my target and maybe relaxed a bit here. I decided to go up just at whatever pace, and quite a few people came past. We climbed through the trees, then up through a field where a white horse came to inspect all the runners, and the chap in front of me put a santa hat on him which made me smile. With the sole of my shoe attached this time, I was at least making okay progress. We passed the house, then on to another muddy but before a short but very steep section of road, before yet another muddy bit but more through scrub. It was all steep, and seemingly unending. But then I saw a car moving on the road above. And it wasn't so far away now. I tried to keep with the two people ahead of me and then we hit probably the slipperiest bit of the course just before corssing the stile on to the road and I nearly went flying. 

Hauling myself over the stile I tried to run on the road but the hamstring cramp allowed me only a little trot. I nearly missed the small over grown footpath that takes to on to the golf club and could barely run any of it. It wasn't going to be a fast finish but it was going to be considerably faster overall than last time. I think I shuffled up about a third of the golf club drive, but was walking when Daz the RD came past and I shouted at him 'Over an hours PB!' and he was bemused but chuffed for me. I made it to the club house exhausted and rapidly starting to feel the cold, but quite proud. Also, I hadn't been over taken by my friends in the fast wave. 

It was struggle to change in to dry clothes in the club house. I was cramping and sore and possibly a bit hypoglycaemic as I had messed up my feuling towards the end. I eventually made it upstairs to a chair next to a box of chocolates (the level of catering at this event cannot be understated, it is fabulous) and then waited for the rest of the Chorlton runners, whilst I ate pie and peas. 

The Signpost Challenge; why we love an LDWA challenge event

Converting Emma to the LDWA was a good move on my part; I now have a willing accomplice for adventure runs with soup and cake. We arrived in Marple at the Senior Citizens Hall to the usual tea, coffee, pastries (an upgrade from toast!) and runners moving this way and that registering, carb loading a kit phaffing. The walkers had left at 8am, giving them an hours head start on the runners and Catherine had left in that group intending to walk the 17 miles (there wasa 24 mile option but we were all happy with the 17 mile) and Emma  and I had hoped to catch her up on route....

After tea and pastries (and kit phaff) we headed down to the canal to start by lock nine, lead by a authorative lady in a hat with 'Geezer' across the front. And then we were off in the autumn sunlight amongst the leaves on the tow path. Emma and I found ourselves alarmingly near the front but were glad to follow others especially for the chicane in to Brabyn's park and then past the junior parkrun and out to Compstall. After a quick road cross, it was time to start the first of the main big climbs for the day up to Werneth Low. I was very conscious of not wanting to over do it; I had been off colour the day before and      17 miles is a lomg way if you burn all your matches too quickly. But I was also conscious that Emma is a much stronger runner than I. However, I think we sitll walked quite a chunk of this hill, initially on tarmac, then on a more narrow older track before popping out on a road I know that takes you towards the monument and our first self clip. 

The view from Werneth Low in the sunshine was lovely, and I enjoyed the fun and undulating path that takes you round to Idle Hill and checkpoint one. Yes, its only 3 and a half miles in but its time for some biscuits (other options were available). One of my promises to myself was we would not be rushing checkpoints so we enjoyed out biscuits before heading off, almost going the wrong way as I went in to autopilot.... The descent was lovely, through fields and some woods before hitting the valley bottom and the track to Broadbottom. This was a nice runnable stretch with minimal need to navigate, just following the river on tracks and paths. We crossed at what was a seriously idyllic spot in morning light, catching up with the tail end of the walkers as we did. 

We now had a few miles to climb to Cown Edge and the top of the course. The breeze was starting to get up and it was a bit greyer, but initially we made reasonably good prgress up a road, then started a weird cross field section. The first turn off the road was pretty tricky to find, and the farmer seemed to have taped it off a bit, but we headed through some fields to Charlesowrth where we met with the main section of walkers. I felt a bit rude running past, and pressured to keep running, but only managed until the top of the Charlesworth play area before it was a stomping walk. Emma got her poles out and we headed across the tussocky ground on a steady slop towards the edge above us. We looked for Catherine in the walkers but didn't see her. 

The wind was really up now, snatching at my breath and causing us all to wobble a bit. The path was narrow and we were moving awkwardly a bit faster than the walkers but not so fast as to make over taking easy. There was more walking here than I might have liked but I felt my breathing go a bit and just had to take it at my own pace. I was pleased to see the trees and then the stile over the fence ahead. Crossing it, I felt more back on home turf, as this forms part of a night run route. It was also net downhill to the next check point for a water top up and snaffling some bits to go in my pack. The Peaks were rolling out ahead of us, cloud sitting lower on Kinder and wetter weather threatening. 

The course split was ahead and a couple we had been leap frogging on and off made the choice they were going to be on the short route too. They seemed to get faste  after this point as they ended up fix or 6 minutes ahead of us by the end, or maybe I slowed down. The bridle path to Rowarth was a nice mixed bag with a touch too much tarmac but some lovely dipping stretches between the trees. I think the first few drops of rain fell at this point, but then stopped. We arrived at the hamlet of Rowarth and headed through the quiet street up to the Children's Inn for our indoor checkpoint. It was quite small in there, but there were loos, hot drinks, a vast array of sandwiches and lots of snacks including some excellent fruit loaf. We enjoyed a chat, a wee and some more chat before heading on up the road towards the fields.

Initially this section was fine to navigate, but a couple of fields over the trod disappeared a bit and the GPX was used to get us back on track. It was also now drizzling. We weaved through pasture and farm field and round a farm gently heading up. There was a little section of road before we turned on to a road to summit the last big hill. My legs were feeling it now, and it there was a little bit of acutally having to navigate again, having over taken the bulk of walkers and fallen behind the couple ahead. The track at the top seemed to go on longer than it should but we were then gradually starting to tilt down to the last checkpoint. 

We wiggled through fields, mercifully only going the wrong way once (and only by  a bit) before we hit the bridleway that would take us down to the fox. Its a long bridle path and feels old. On this section of hill, I feel there are quite a few old roads and bridle paths that humans have used for longer than we remember, but maybe I am just a bit romantic. I enjoyed the descent to the road and then we shuffled down it to the fox pub, and the checkpoint, which I nearly missed as it was hidden in the corner of the car park. There was even a quiche, but I felt weirdly full and more than a bit tired. The ladies at the checkpoint said there were six miles to go; surely that wasn't right! 

We headed off down the rest of the bridleway towards Strines and the Millponds. This is another funny area that is a reminder of some of the industry that once inhabited this section of the Peaks. The flat section at the bottom made my legs ache and was road so I had to keep running. On crossing the busy A road, I thought it was only a short climb to the canal but it was longer, and I had nothing so we walked the climb. Getting on the canal for the last two miles I was convinced I couldn't run it and indeed, we did have a few walk breaks. But it is a gorgeous section of canal with views across the Peaks, pretty farms and then the lovely cottages on the edge of Marple. Still we hadn't caught Catherine!

It actually wasn't as long as my poor legs feared- soon we were up and over a bridge I recognised, then over the bridge to the Macclesfield canal and under the Marple road. We trotted through the park, following a path that didn't quit bring us to the door before arriving back at the hall, to remove muddy shoes and go in to declare ourselves finished. 

Catherine had arrived a few minutes earlier- she had 'walked' the whole 17.5 miles in under 5 hours. Emma and I had leisurely jogged in 4, so this was really some going! Emma and I joined her at a table. A lovely chap asked our food order then promptly forgot it, and then another came and tried to tell us about his 30+ years of running in the area which was a bit more challenging! But we all got some vegetarian hot pot and tea, and to share our tales. As we left, it was properly raining but didn't mind (though we cast a thought for those out on the 24 miler) having had a fab LDWA morning out!

Windgather Fell Race

 Pulling off the drive in to a gentle foggy day in Manchester, it looked like it was going to be a a typical autumnal fell race; a bit grey, cool and damp. So I had opted for a long sleeve top and three quarter length leggings (in classic Chorlton Runners black), plus layers for after, for the penultimate race of the club series. This was a bit of a mistake. As I wound down the A6 to Buxton, the edge of the cloud was found, and a glorious autumn day had settled on the town. Red and yellow leaves dropped to the dry pavements of Buxton as I walked from my parking space at Poole Cavern ot the Burbage Institute. We were in for a treat. 

The Burbage Institute is a lovely village hall style building with some lovely stained glass features. It was a fab place to drop off bags but more importantly eat sandwiches and cake afterwards. The Buxton Rotary club were even called in marshal and provide catering. 

We gathered on the road outside for the start, and a short briefing was given from a step ladder by the RD. There was a crowd of about 100 people, most of them lean and fit and I had been quite anxious about coming last. And then we were off up the road that leads to the hills. Bishops lane was not a steep climb but it was continuous, though we eventually turned off to head on to a footpath on to Wild Moor. I had bumped in to someone who had helped me get in to trail running many years ago. I think he was abit disappointed to see me, especially when I got in front. 

The top of the moor came a lot sooner than I expected. I had never taken this path before and I think I have found a new favourite in the Peaks. The sunshine was beaming down and what I am assured is often a muddy path was wonderful dipping trail across the moor next to the brook. 

I lost some places on the down hill, feeling a little frustrated with my clown like footing. There was one short cross point which had caused the lady ahead of me to stop juist as we got toward the reservoir. I wished I had done a recce but a short jog assured me we were on the right path. There were a few people on the path near the reservoir but this is definitely the quieter side and soon we had popped out on the the road. 

A quick dog leg took us down to the bottom of the dam and up the steps to the track on the far side. Presently again there was a route confusion but by chance I took the correct one. This was one the busier sections of the route. This section was a well made path and very runnable, so naturally I felt knackered on it! 

Eventually we wiggled through the car park at the end of the damn, dodging the odd dog enjoying their autumn walk. On the far side we joined a track that rises, then dips in to a clough before climbing steeply out the otherside to the first checkpoint where I made sure to refill my water bottle as I knew the big climb was about to start. 

Going up the track to the farm, the farmer was washing a nice slurry down towards us. But after the farm we were on a more grassy path that climbed towards trees. It just kept going (or so it felt) and many of us were walking. Being heavy and slow I did lose a few places but it was a beautiful climb. There was a little drop in to some woods which was a bit of respite but frankly, I was boiling. Towards the top we took another dip in to the trees and turned left and people started to move away from me. I was struggling a bit. 

The climbers were sat out on Windgather rocks, bellaying their friends up and down. There were also some walkers admiring the rock formations. But we were heading gradually up and along the ridge. I am confident that this ridge is more fun in the opposite direction (which is net down hill), and I found myself taking walk breaks even before we crossed the road. I fuelled and drank, then became aware I was already running out of water; how did that happen. My stomach cramped and I managed to get a salt tablet in. 

I walked up to Pym's chair then made myself run off the top. There were quite a few people on this popular path, but initially its not a problem as it broad and grassy. You can't get too lost as you just follow the high ground along! But eventually I hit the flagged section and was trying to not upset walkers as we crossed and passed. I was slightly behind a group so people had already got fed up with them by the time the hit me and so were not always very sympathetic (understandably). But I could see Shining Tor seemingly miles away. Either side the views over the Peak district were looking amazing, with moorland and lumpy hills. Fortunately the salt tablets were working and my stomach settled. I was really glad to see the left turn off Shining Tor to do the dip. Going down I realised I wasn't doing brill but on the up I fractionally gained on a few people ahead of me. 

The path down to the valley is a mixed bag, starting off more like a Lakeland path and then becoming lovely and boggy, popping out at a stream and then dropping through some trees to eventually drop on to the road and the next water point. I had run out of water at the top so was pleased to see this. I had caught up and overtaken a few people in front of me, enjoying some suprisingly efficient descending that felt a bit like old me. This path is such a weird one as it is never quite anything and you feel you traverse through environments somehow; its hard to explain. 

I lost one of the places I had gained on the down as I refilled my water bottle but I would have probably lost it anyway as now we were doing the dreaded bracken climb out the valley. This climb is also on the Peak Skyline race but at least the bracken has died back at bit by now. I think I did it quicker this time, and certainly felt less dead. I hung on to the group ahead of me, keeping them as close as possible making me work a bit harder up the hill.

The edge of the bracken came, and then to top of the moor with its finger post. I tried to push off the top but I really struggled and lost another place. I think part of me was scared to push, not knowing exactly how much I had at the end, and what the terrain was. But eventually we bobbled on to the track and then the road and the final rotary club marshal channeled us in to a left turn that looked very much like someone's drive. Ahead of me the group had pulled away but one lady had fallen off the back and I could catch up with her. I knew I would have to push to get in under 3 hours. 

But then I could see the finish line two fields down and my legs suddenly kicked in to life. I nearly caught the lady in front but felt a bit mean over taking with less than 50 meters to go. I crossed the line and felt terrible. Exhilerated, but terrible. I sat down then lay down which is something I rarely do. But given how much I had feared the race, I had given a reasonable account of myself. 

The rotary club put on sandwiches, soup and cake for donations after and this went down very well. We sat and chatted long enough to be offered second rounds of left over cake which is always a bonus. And then I drove through the glorious hills to drop in to the cloud that was still sitting over Manchester.