Running Lake Windermere

 'Lake Windermere is 10 miles long...' is how the guided section of the Windermere cruises boat starts. Listening to this having run nearly 19 miles to catch said boat, there was something slightly ironic about hearing it (twice, as we had to take two boats). This adventure started when my friend Eryl and I both clocked a route called the Windermere challenge in the back of Trail running magazine. However, acknowledging it was the busiest summer the lakes had ever seen, and that our rotas didn't match for the next few months, we postponed the attempt to October and the week of my birthday. By the time it came round, there was a lot to catch up on. I was super nervous about the prospect of running nearly 20 miles, especially when the forecast was not looking so good, but I knew Eryl really wanted to do it. She is also a much faster runner than me which makes me even more anxious. Oh, and I had a kit phaff, but mostly due to lack of practice. 

It was an early start, especially for poor Eryl as she drove to mine first. We wanted to be running by 9, as we were worried about making the last boat (this turned out to be completely unfounded fear). Parking up in the main Ambleside car park, it was very grey and only really just light. There was definitely drizzle and the cloud obscured the usual views. We kitted up and used the loo. Time to trot. 

The route in the magazine starts at the back of Rothay park and fortunately I knew how to get there. Eryl's watch was set to do most of the navigating (she has a posh watch that has all the route on it) so this was my very limited contribution. The streets were quiet but not empty and we jogged down to the park, before the school shuts its gate which makes it easier. At the bottom of Loughrigg we turned to look across to where the Fairfield horseshoe should have been but it was completely obscured by cloud. It could be a very long, wet day......

Weirdly, despite having Loughrigg a lot of times, I never go up this way, and had never done the bridleway route over the south side of  the hill. I said to Eryl I was going to start by walking the hills, as I just didn't know how much energy I could expend. She seemed happy with this and we headed up the hill, jogging the flats and downs, and walking the ups. The bridleway is good under foot, with a few puddles but nothing technical, and this was the theme for most of the route (until we hit the lake shore towards the end). The views were limited but the low cloud occasionally created lovely scapes of the trees sticking out on the surrounding hills. There weren't many people about, another theme for the run, though we did see a very soggy DofE group near the beginning. In the fog, I missed Loughrigg tarn on the descent and we ended up on the roads towards the bottom of the hill. First (and smallest) of the main hills done, but what soon became apparent was that we had a chunk of road to do now, some of which was quite fast. 

On the road we arrived at Skelwith Bridge. We passed Chesters by the river, and sadly didn't stop. We started to wind up the Coniston road, which was quite fast and not an enjoyable section. The cars came past quite fast, and the road bends a lot. There wasn't loads of traffic but it wasn't exactly classic trail running. We were glad to hit the bridleway off over the side of Park fell. Looking back, I wonder why the route didn't jump on the Cumbria way here, and miss a bit more of this road and go a bit lower around the fell towards Tarn Hows. I'd probably change this if I did it again. 

On this bridleway it was a bit damp in places but generally okay underfoot. A bit damp did eventually give way to path bring a stream, but it was good under that so all good. We were walking up and jogging down but Eryl was a bit anxious about the pace so I made an effort to run a bit more. Thank goodness for Outdoor Provision bars....Eryl's anxiety was not helped when the path across high Arnside farm was closed and we had to divert over Iron Keld. It didn't really add much distance, but maybe a touch of elevation. Sadly there were no views of Tarn Hows but it was nice running. We dropped on to the green road down to Knipe Fold and got a bit more of a jog on Eventually we were back on road again, but quieter roads and, not for as long. As we approached Hawkshead there was bit of a busier section of road and then as we turned off, the world's largest puddle which involved some hedge hugging. Fortunately, we were soon back on a green lane and after a brief bit of steeper road, we joined the bridleway that took us over the the lower slopes of Latterbarrow, our longest climb of the day. 

Some of this section was forestry commision and some of it was a bit narrower but generally it was good and not too steep. We found some amazing mushrooms here, some of which were very large. We plodded up the hill and chatted. I managed a bit of running on the flatter sections but soon we were pointing down hill, on a good forestry track.. We passed some tarns in the mist and at times. We couldn't really see Lake Windermere yet. We stopped for about 5 minutes at Moss Eccles Tarn, which in the sunshine would be a lovely spot for a picnic. However, the rain was blowing sideway so we moved on fairly quickly. As we dropped towards Far Sawrey we saw a few more people, but it certainly wasn't busy as I imagine it would be in summer. 

At Far Sawrey we rejoined road and could finally see the Lake. On the road we dropped down to the the height of the lake shore and finally joined the lake side path with still a fair few miles to go. The first section of lakeside path was really good running with only occasional tree roots. The far side of the Lake was visible but hard to pick out exactly which buidling were which. I took my jacket off on this path as we were out the wind, and at some point it stopped raining (temporarily). I had sweated a lot in my jacket and putting it (wet) into my back was an error as I was using my OMM rucksack and the main compartment had everything in, so everything ended up a bit more damp than before. I needs some more dry bags.....

The next road section was punctuated with the sound of shooting. We could see a lot of pheasants so I assume that was what they were shooting. The woods either side of the road were marked private, and it brought home the truth that the shore line of England's longest lake is most inaccessible private land., though I must go run the section between Wray and the ferry to take advantage of the sections we can access. We nearly missed the narrow footpath that took us back to the lakeshore. This was the first real single track of the whole route and wiggled through the woods down to a boat house. The section along the lake here was much narrower and rootier than before. It took us around some sections of private land. My legs were starting to feel it a bit so I wasn't particularly agile but we pottered through until we reached a gate marked private. 

The route from the magazine suggested the path continued long the shore at this point, around the YMCA ground but it was quite apparent this was not the case. The YMCA site is large and not open for the public, certainly not during term time. Fortunately we used OS maps to re route slightly on to the road, possibly not all on official footpath but it was quite hard to tell due to the leaf fall. Sadly, arriving at the road marked the end of the 'trail' part of our adventure. The next section was road for a few miles, especially as the possible paths across Stott Park had been closed off and seemingly permission applied to change their access (likely not for the better though we didn't stop to read the full application). 

One nice thing about road is at least you make progress. My calves were getting a bit sore, and I was aware my pace was still quite slow for Eryl. We kept having to weave from side to side to go round corners without being mown down, and I don't think this section would have been that safe in the height of summer with busier roads. the highlight was going past the bobbin mill, which was sadly closed. It was also really raining. We saw a sign Lakeside 1/4 of a mile and realised we were actually really close. Lake side isn't a big place, so once we were in the village we were soon turning in to the car park for the ferry. My watch read something like 18.9 and Eryl mentioned rounding it up to 20 but I don't think she was that serious (I hope). 

There were more people than we had seen all day milling around the aquarium and the car park and the platform and dock. We bought tickets from the the lady at the kiosk and I proudly told her what we had done and she was pleasantly pleased for us. Then we made a dash for the toilets to put on dry layers before the boat. I removed my sopping top and replaced it with a fleecey midlayer I had brought. It had got a little damp in my rucksack but it was definitely an improvement. I toyed with the idea of stripping my leggings but my new Ultimate direction waterproof trousers are a bit lighter weight and I wasn't sure if they were see through so I just shoved them on the top. A dry-ish headband and gloves which had definitely taken on water completed my rather bedraggled look. 

The steam train arrived as I was changing and suddenly there were people everywhere. I forewent my cup of tea, which later turned out to be a mistake as they weren't serving on the boat. We last about 10 minutes on the deck of the first boat before taking refuge in the warmer drier lower deck. People were giving us a wide berth, possibly due to the smell of damp runner. Most people were not in real walking gear, though there were a few. It made me feel a bit more like an adventurer anyway. At Bowness, the kind crew let us stay in the warm as they changed over as the boat was going to continue to Ambleside. For this I was grateful as the rain was starting to really come down and I was a bit bored of being wet now. Eryl was also going a bit quiet as she was cold and I think a bit hungry. We took turned to dry bits of limbs in front of the warm air vent. 

Arriving in Ambleside I made a bee line for the YHA. It is close to the dock and the food is reasonably priced and served with a view and usually a smile. I was hoping they were back open as usual post covid and thank goodness they were. A cup of tea later and suddenly the world felt a warmer place! We both managed to dry off a bit as we ate and revelled in the glory of our long run. It was a miles walk to the car but it was much more manageable now we were warmer and fed. 

In the car on the way home, I was quite proud we had done it. I had spent the weekend before thinking of possible contingencies given the bad weather and my complete lack of fitness. We hadn't been fast but we had kept going which was great. I suspect Eryl could have gone faster without me. It had felt like a proper adventure (how can it not be when you get a boat back at the end!?) despite the road sections. 

The jury is out about the route. It was easy to follow, mostly good underfoot but there was quite a lot of road. I've mentioned a possible diversion after Skelwith but the other sections of road would be hard to re route around, especially at the end. It is definitely road and trail, not fell. There is little of note in terms of the technical. It isn't a high route either, and I couldn't tell you what the views were like! There were some pretty bits though. I think it is probably a nice bad weather route, but in summer I think it would be difficult with roads and sheer number of people. We certainly had a good day but I worry about what Eryl has her eye on next! 

Race Report: The return of Cross Country (or why we all love and hate cross country)

Having had a weekend off racing (mostly because I had to work), I would like to say I felt ready for cross country today. But actually, I had done one tempo run, one medium run (supposed to be easy but went out with some new people) and a hill reps session in the week, my legs were actually pretty tired even before I tail ran for parkrun. Part of the problem I think is I no longer move at work, and my body is deteriorating as a result. So having done the tail run/walk for parkrun, along with a 2 and a bit mile walk each way, I knew I wasn't going to go run a blinder. But that didn't make me any less stressed...

I  barely did cross country at school. Once or twice we were sent to run round the football pitches at primary school, and I came near the back if not dead last, and in secondary school we had one PE lesson where we were sent to run a course on the school field and I was surprised to be fitter than I thought, but still terrible. No one really enjoyed it, and we never had any pointers or tips on how to run, or improving our time (maybe as we never did it again). My mum talks of cross country being in the woods above her school and bunking off for cigarettes, and certainly I now a few of that generation scarred off exercise for life by such events. At university, I think Martin may have run one cross country race, long before he met me, dragged by his mate Dan who is good at running, but he doesn't even parkrun these days. Even once I joined Chorlton runners, it took me a few years, and a lot of people telling me to do it, before I signed up for a cross country season. To me, cross country meant fast people running through the rain and wind in tiny shorts and vest, with a lot of mud, and fat girls like me just didn't feature. 

But a few trail races later, and I got some courage or maybe some curiosity. I have (secretly) always wanted to be one of those girls who did run corsscountry in tiny shorts with perfect hair, so I was going to have to try it. Martin took me to my first race, where I was nearly sick with anxiety. I'd bought some second hand spikes off ebay and it was cold and damp, and lining up on the start line was intimidating: everyone was in a club vest, and it felt like everyone looked fast. I was panicking about the route (all those letters providing some sort of coded route map, what on earth did it mean!?!). But I managed to get round, was far from last and everyone cheered you at every point (joys of being a large running club). I felt like a real runner and I have had some loyalty to it for the couple of seasons since, even running the GMAA league at Boggart Hole (very fast event, very tricky course) twice, and coming third from last both times. 

So today, turning up nice and early to help get the gazebo put up, I recognised the fear in the faces of a few newbies and sympathised. But I also had my own anxieties, even beyond getting the gazebo up. See, when I run cross country, I run for my club. It is the only real time I am running for them, and not me. It is also a club runners only event and there is no where to hide among the fun runners or the social runners. You run hard and you put everything out there. If you are sensible, you run your own race but it is so so easy to get dragged along for the first few miles and suffer later. There are supporters at every turn so you can't stop or walk. And it is pure, unadulterated running fitness. There was a lot of people moaning about why on earth we do this but also knowing we'd be happy later, it wasn't just me!

The latter is particularly true of the Wythenshawe park course. MACCL doesn't have any major hilly courses except maybe Heaton, when compared to, for example, the Lancashire leagues. Wythenshawe takes me back to running around the football pitches because, except for maybe a quarter of a mile of each long lap, that is exactly what it is. Its flat, its grass and it has a small diversion in to the wood to stop it being enitrely dull, but that is it. And this year, the dry weather means that despite the kids oging first, the gorund was still holding together. There was a lot of spikes vs trail shoes chat. I reckon a set of road shoes would have been fine today it was so relatively mud free... But all in, this is not my course. I am better when I have some hills and mud to play in (or I used to be). 

We forgot to do a before photo, so this is the after

CR Women's Team 16/10/21

(Courtesy of Chris Rayner)

I love the gala aspect of cross country; tents and gazebos and face paint for the kids. I arrived as the last of the kids race were going round. Found somepeople to stand with, got the gazebo up, went to the loo, got changed, warmed up and landed on the start line in perfect time. So far, so good. There was a lot of nervous energy around and its a while since many of us did mass starts like this, and most people huddles in despite it being chip timed this year (covid advanced cross country a few decades it seems). There was cheering and a few friendly faces on the sidelines for the first small lap. As we entered the first longer straight I glanced at my watch and groaned; 7:30mm is not a sensible pace for a 5 miler. Fortunately it was early enough to even it up, and let the speedsters drift away from me. I followed the short lap round and settled in at around 8:30 knowing I would fall off this pace too (I was thinking closer to 9mm). I settled in to the first big lap behind a girl from club called Marlenna and tried to keep and even pace. By the end of lap one, I was pushing her and eventually overtook. The little diversion through the wood with its white sprayed obstacles stopped the course being too painfully dull, but my legs were complaining.

Thunder thighs are go - pulling face in the woods 

(Courtesy of Jon-Paul Kearns)

Lap two started with our famous V60 Ann sailing past me, making it look very easy. She always paces so much better and cruises past us as we die. The pace had falled off to 9mm and it being Marlenna's first race, I was trying to drag her with me. I remember shouting a few words of encouragement, and I wasn't puffing but my leg muscles were having none of it. As we entered the second half of the lap I pulled away and started to indvertently chase down Steph B who was ahead. Entering the woods for the second time I thought I might get her but my heart wasn't really in it and a lady from Man Tri and another from Macclesfield over took me. In the back of my mind was the thought of the 14 mile run I had to do on Sunday after this, and I didnt really have sprint in me so I just pushed poor Steph over the line where she had a wobble and ended up sitting by the fence with me fussing as I felt the guilt (she seems to have forgiven me). 

Chasing down Steph in the final section

(Courtesy of Gary Daniels)

After we finished, the best part of cross country starts. Most of the rest of the girls were gathered near the finish funnel and we all wondered back to the gazebo swapping stories and lamenting fitness (or lack thereof in my case). Warm clothes go on, the men are hanging around nervous (and fretting about shoes still) and a cup of tea was made from the club urns. Various cake bars were consumed. We made our way over to the edge of the course to cheer. 

I never envy the boys the third lap. I agree with run equal but there is no way I personally want to be running the long course with the men. It was nice to catch up with some of the girls I hadn't seen over lock down, and chat to various people whilst cheering loudly for every Chorlton Runners male passing us. Sadly I had to get back so missed the last lap, but it was so good to be part of. 

Don't get me wrong, Cross Country is far from perfect. Its sexist, and very cisnormative with no room for trans athletes. It is not always very welcoming and it is certainly very stress inducing. But it is grass roots sport, and perhaps a pure form of running (whatever that is) without the commercialisation of road and trail running. And it makes me feel like a real runner, and for those reasons, I hope it doesn't change too much. 

Race Report: Lakeland Trails Coniston

 Gosh, I think I have now raced 3 weekends on the bounce, or is it 4? Either way, from lockdown to regular racing is quite pleasant. 

That said, the weather took a turn this weekend and definitely wasn't pleasant. In fact, winter has arrived all at once and the temperature has gone from 20 degrees for the last Lakeland trail event to 10 degrees for Coniston, and I for one was not ready! (Especially as I currently have no radiators) 

So Martin and Oscar bailed. I managed to find petrol and began the 2 hour drive to Coniston. Fortunately, the roads were not flooded. 

Arriving at a wet field is rarely as delightful as when it is a Lakeland Trails wet field. Amazingly they are now taking card for parking which is very useful, and the parking man managed to remain upbeat despite the fact he had probably been there since 9am and there were a lot of people to come and it was very much raining. 

As I walked to registration, I bumped in to Chorlton Runners Claire, Andy and Chris. Claire and Chris had done the 10k and were very glad to be finished. Chris had fallen in the infamous water jump, and everyone was very wet. Claire and Andy's dog was hiding in the car, apparently the only sensible one. I was  pleased ot see some friendly faces, having travelled up alone. I registered and then walked to Coniston jetty to a) get a cup of tea and a flapjack, and b) keep warm. I felt a bit antisocial not hanging out with the other Chorlton Runners but I knew standing in the cold would be bad for me, and that I could see the state of the start of the course, which is about the only flat fast section. On the way back, I managed to spot two of my former bosses in one of the 10 mile wave and gave them a polite cheer. I made it back to the car for a quick change and trot to the start line. I was already damp, despite full body waterproofs.

At the start

I am not sure about the waved starts; I miss the big atmosphere of a mass start (though at least the mass start had 50 people in this time, unlike the 20 at Cartmel!) and it is hard to know where you are. But on the other hand, the narrower sections of the course were less crowded and the faster runners come through in drips which was more manageable, especially with fewer narrow sections than Cartmel. 

As we went off, I felt suspiciously high up in the group and was trotting along the relatively good, if puddly path that lead to Coniston at a stedy 9:20-30 pace, aware I had 9 miles to do and a good deal of up. This section of the race can be quite fast as its flat and good footing and people get carried away but the lack of masses meant it was a bit easier. We snaked in to Coniston despite a digger reversing backwards down a road, through Coniston and up past the Bluebird museum. Then the up properly starts. 

We were still on road as the gradient kicked in, and two women promptly over took me. I get plodding away however, and over the course of the race we would play cat and mouse a lot. Eventually they would beat me, but they definitely ran a cannier race. I remember walking a lot of this climb last time so was pleased to still be running as the road petered out and turned to rocky track. 

The roaring of water annouced the first waterfall to our left and eventually I was taking walk breaks so managed to grab a quick photo. 

The next section is incredibly scenic, and I probably didn't run enough of it as there were plenty of people walking and Iwas enjoying the view across the old coppermines valley too much. The cloud was low, and the rain was falling in varying degrees of heaviness. I could see runners further up the course, just below the cloud level. And the amazing waterfalls were the biggest I have seen them (one perk of the rain). 

Past the youth hostel and the track runs out in to path and steps over the first waterfall, then a rockier path on the other side. In my head, this is where I was going to get a chivvy on. In reality, I struggled: the rought wet ground scared me and I couldn't get my head to get my feet to go quicly over the rough ground. I was hesitant and worse, I was in the way! Before the second warterfall, I let the lady behind me pass and then stomped up the steps to cross behind her. This is pretty much the top of the course but I was too busy trying to overthink wet rock to appreciate it.After a bit more rocky path, we landed on the Walna scar road and, sad as it may seem, I was grateful. 

In hindsight, I could have made better progress here, but I was worried about how tired I had been the last time I had done this race, where I had walked in the last mile. So I kept a steady and conservative pace along the old road, which isn't too bad underfoot. Its rocky in places but you can get a move on over a lot of it. Through the car park and a bit more up, I kept running which pleased me. 'Soon,' I thought, 'we'll be on the descent and I can really get going'. How wrong I was. 

Eventually the turn off the the track came and one of only a few handful of muddy sections across some grass. I wasn't making great progress and then Andy from club flew past and incredible speed! I''d hoped to keep ahead for 6 miles (I had a 20 minute head start) bu it was closer to 5....Oh well, I had other things to concentrate on and Andy is a lot faster than me!

 The descent wasn't how I remembered it. I remember flying through this section before, and thought it would be steep and quick, but actually it was very staged and even undulating. And I really couldn't get going. I had no rhythm, no pace, and by now my race vest was trying to escape, finally giving up the ghost after years of abuse. I couldn't get my weight forward, my post tib felt sore and unstable and my feet weren't going where i wanted. I was frustrated as I skittered ineffectively past the amaxzing waterfall in an old quarry, and past the photographer who was trying to shelter in a discard pile from the quarry. 

Photo courtesy of James, the race photographer 

We hit a track and then on to road at the bottom and I tried to pull away. Was I tired? I was gaining on a few people so maybe it wasn't all bad. I was also being over taken by a lot of people...

After the main road crossing (a main road by lakes standards anyway), we went back on to footpath and I actually moved well in the mud. I was catching people from the waves, many of whom looked a bit bedraggled, having set off half an hour before us and so been out in the weather longer. I went through the gate and tried to keep going along the track and footpath, making reasonable progress but not brilliant. 

The eventual descent to the lakeside was a bit of a farce. There is a mixture of woodland with roots, rocks both point and slabby (slippy), and a muddy slope. I struggled to get my feet to go over the rocky path, and was abit stuck behind someone with pole who clearly didn't want me to pass. It was rooty, and whilst its pretty and on a dry day, another lovely section of the course, I just wasn't miving well over the ground. I nearly took out a slower runner when my shoes lost grip and I skidded in to the side of him as I overtook (I apologised profusely).Gah! Where was that bloody lake?!? 

The lake appeared as the footpath improved. The last time I did this, I had blown up a bit and so this section in my mind was a lot longer than in reality. I was weary of doing the same thing again, and kept an even pace until I could see the marquee before realising I was actually quite close and a good run would get me in under 1:45  if I went for it. 

The path on this section is mostly very good. I should have kicked and pushed but my body just wasn't having it. It wasn't really tired....just...wet? Wet in every sense of the word. 

I made it in to the last field and knew i had to do the water jump and make it round the field in less than two minutes- the 1:45 idea slipped away. The water jump this year was blooming deep with the extra rainfall. I had been warned it would cover my knees, and also seen poor Chris's knees where he had slipped. The crowd were all waiting, including Claire and Andy (and Bella dog), and everyone had cameras. Sadly I disapopinted them by carefully walking in, and not flying arse over tit where the ground dropped away under the water. 

I tried to surge round the field but I was stuck behind someone and then my legs just didn't want to spring. Claire took a video of my last run and I am basically waddling. My stride is short, both feet never leave the ground at the same time and I look like a constipated penguin. No spring at all. 1:45:40.  Not terrible but nothing to write home about. 21st of 40. Midpack. I waddled passed the tee shirts and was pleased to see my old bosses who had survived the race and rain too. We were all....a bit soggy. But I managed to say something coherent (I hope!). 

On Claire's recommendation I had a hot chocolate, which I spilt half of trying to push someone's car out the mud (no good deed goes unpunished!) and then went back to the car. The event area was rapidly emptying out: people weren't hanging around unnecessarily. The marshals had been real heroes today, and I was very grateful for their hardiness. The event team must have had a very long wet day. There had been a very few lwt ups in the rain. As I changed, I was really just grateful to have made, to have run and to have seen the amazing scenery. I made it home in one piece, grateful for my car heater. 

Soggy Herdwicks at the farm at the start

I spent today watching the marathon and trying to understand why I can't run fast down any more. Some of it is lack of practice: Covid 19 stopped me getting to the hills. But I think some of it is size and lack of core. I am, frankly, getting big again. I look at all the marathoners, and think I should be able to do that- but I also know I couldn't last time. I have no real urge to run another road marathon yet. But big plans next year mean I am going to have to get good at conquering my weaknesses.