Race Report: Newlands Memorial

 I am currently sitting in clinic the day before the race. A patient hasn't shown up and I am using the time to repeatedly refresh the weather for the Dale Head peak of tomorrow's fell race in the vague hope it will get better. On the plus side, the later I get there, the better the weather might be; on the downside I might die. And probably too far behind Finlay Wild (GP as well as mountain running legend) to at least go out with the kiss of life from a legend. Its not looking good. 

I don't have a great history with Lakeland classic fell races. And my form of late has frankly been s**t. I DNF'd the Brighton marathon after a very mediocre performance at Trimpnell and my last fell race was Windy Hill where I was not only a snail but also nearly knocked myself out. Since the marathon I have perpetually felt tired and achey and have a bit of dicky glute affecting, well, my entire right side. So running 11.5+ miles with a couple of very high hills in it tomorrow is sounding less and less like a good idea. 

But if I don't do it, I will never kick this ridiculous beaten mindset. 

The Newlands memorial race has a lovely story to it. It was conceived by Steve and Wynn Cliff as a celebration of their anniversary outside where they had their wedding reception (I think I have that right). Known previously as the Anniversary waltz race, its been going a while but is now run by Cumberland Fell runners. It runs the same day as Teenagers with altitude race which is its bigger brother and which I shall be leaving well alone. 

And so it was I found myself standing as we took a few seconds to remember Wynn (no longer with us) on a start line at the bottom of Cat Bells on a damp and cloudy day. 

Driving up hadn't been too bad despite a reasonably persistent rain, and we had parked in the allocated field for five pound (cash only, obvs). Martin, may partner, was trying not to think about how we were going to get the car out  at the end of the day. Kit check had been comprehensive, checking the full list probably due to the weather, and despite the outdoor centre sort of being open, most of us had huddled in the registration shed to try keep dry. Initially I had planned to run in my waterproof but the jog up the hill to the start had changed my mind. 

It started well enough. I'd tucked myself in at the back knowing it was where I would settle and we jogged along a good track that runs along the base of Catbells, sort of down hill, and round the shoulder of a hill. I felt quite good after a few weeks of really struggling after the failed road marathon. As a result I was actually moving through the pack on the next road section (not a lot, but a bit), and appreciated the atmospheric feeling created by the low lying crowd. We ran past a pretty church and also through a small flock of sheep a poor farmer was trying to drive down the lane. Even going up the track towards the foot of Robinson I was predominantly running. I knew it wouldn't last, despite the fact you couldn't see the top (possibly for the best). 

The climb up to Robinson looked like a wall, with a stream of ants crawling up it. The front runners were long gone. The top, buried in the clouds, could have been anywhere so I just dug in. It was a steep climb, and at times craggy and heather covered. I used my hands several times and my right glute meant at one point I felt very precarious. I just aimed for the crags I could see below the cloud. But then I spotted Mo, my poor club mate, who had taken this on as his first fell race, and some how I had over taken him. I felt I better check he was okay, and made the top of the climb. I slowed and he caught up to me. I think he was a bit shell shocked so I offered words of encouragement and tried to keep an eye on him as we climbed over the crags, still going quite considerably upwards, towards the summit. We were clinging on to the tail end of the race, and as I wasn't keen on navigating in the fog, I felt this was important. However, sadly, and perhaps selfishly, I lost Mo somewhere before the summit and after that figured at least he was on the ridge, so I just ran. 

We swerved the summit of Robinson slightly, as the check point had been moved slightly to the south, and dibbed in. I was chasing a few people across the top but on the next descent, a lot of them pulled away. It was a straight down descent with no path. I didn't think I was doing it that badly but apparently my off trail descending is now completely hopeless. We descended out of the cloud and Hindscarth then loomed out of the clouds above us. Mostly I was just amazed I had made it up that first climb. I landed on the trod at the bottom in about twice as long as everyone else.

The hike up to Hindscarth was on a path. A lot of the teenagers with altitude racers were now coming past me, moving much quicker than I. I also had ended up about level with a lady who I couldn't really out peg nor drop away from without losing time. A few of the fast guys said well done as they past but mostly we just puffed at each other. I can imagine Hindscarth has amazing views on any other day but it was sat in the clag so it was a quick dib in and then time to open the legs for the jog down to the ridge nadir before the climb to Dale Head. 

I am going to confess, I had navigated none of the route so far. I was following the runners ahead of me and relying on them to know the best lines to cut corners etc. If it had been clear, I might have felt more confident. I was also aware that once over Dale Head I had to decide if I was going to try the fell runners descent (by following someone, I'd never been here before), or follow the tourist path (itself a steep nasty track). The photographer at Dale Head papped me. 

Grand day out photography

As we approached the deviation I was following a guy from Ambleside and cockily decided to just to go for it and take the fell runner route. This turned out to be a terrible idea: the Ambleside guy didn't know the line, and I ended up slowly shuffling through crags and tussock and bog and rocks and more rocks. It took me ages. I lost loads of places and could see the guys flying down towards my right. I just aimed for the tarn which had now appeared out of the clouds. Right near the bottom, I found the correct trod, scowled and looked up to see the host of one of my favorite podcasts descending (Hi Gary!) on the longer race. I rapidly fell behind him and his group to land in the bogs at the bottom by Dale Head tarn. I did make quite good progress through the bogs, thanks to my Pennine training ground. It was a vague trod and I could kind of see where it went but tried to keep someone in view as it wasn't obvious. A few people took drinks out the stream out of the tarn and I felt a bit grim just watching them.   I was pleased to land on the trod up to High Spy. 

I have done the High Spy to Catbell walk in reverse a long while ago. But we took the tourist path and this time it was foggy and I was trying to follow the more experienced runners ahead of me to cut the corners. At one point on Maiden moor the cloud really came in and I had a small panic. My phone also tried to make several phone calls in my pouch so i had to stop and sort it. Fortunately I didn't lose anyone but I did want to check I hadn't run off course so very badly.  It was a mixture of grassy trod (fine), slippery rock (really not fine) and the main path. I took a few bad lines but eventually we were at the haus between Maiden moor and Catbells. Suddenly there were a lot more people staring at us mentalists appearing out the fog, in my case looking really wild eyed. I was chasing someone twice my age and I nearly got him up Catbells. The ladies manning the check point at Catbells brought the party and i was so glad to see them. 'Don't miss the turn' they said. 

I was very ready for the turn but before that I really wasn't ready for the slippery rocky scramble down of Catbells. Its usually quite rock but the rain and by now the number of people on the path meant I was slow and spidering off the rocks, losing all the people I had tried to keep with, including the chap twice my age. I hit the grassier section and the path down the side of Cstbells by the grace of god rather than skill. On this descent I was trying to run but sliding around in my wet shoes and fighting my sore glute. I was over taken by a much faster runner but I was gaining on a few people below. Another photograher papped me. The form is shocking, testament to my tiredness I think. 

We hit the track at the bottom and I decided to go for it. I really tried to open my legs. I could do it in under 3:15! I had aimed for sub 4 and I was going to smash that. I managed to outrun two people on the road section to the finish, down hill, pumping my legs and hoping I could keep it going to the end. 

Amazingly Martin and my dog were waiting at the corner by the finish line. Lucky really, as my phone flew out my race vest as I rounded said corner and I didn't want to stop. I dibbed in to the finish and gasped for breath. Thank goodness for the water butts in the gazebo at the finish. I tottered over to Mart and the dog and now clubmate Ian, to await the next Chorlton runner (I'd expected to be last Chorlton so was surprised to beat Mo and Brian). Mo turned up 10 minutes later. 

I ate my bowl of chilli (veggie, fantastic) and drank some tea whilst Finlay Wild picked up his trophy in more rain. I was proud of myself for a change. I have avoided Lakes fell racing for a long time as I didn't feel I could do it. I had done it. This bubble burst when I realised I came 15th from last, and even though I have tried to tell myself a lot of people just wouldn't even try, I feel it is a sign I really am rubbish at this sport. Hopefully though, it is up from here.