Race Report: Lowther Trail Race

 Lowther Trail race is one of the few cateogry C races  (those of less steep gradient) on the FRA calendar. It is also the unofficial dog race of the FRA in England. I am not sure the FRA know that though. Not to keen on dogs are the FRA... 

I have run this race a couple of times and I love the route. To my mind, it offers a selection of the best bits of trail and fell running. To be honest, I guess it is more of a trail run as there is nothing overly technical in the whole race. But there is a mix of fast descent, long steady up hill, boggy and bouncy footpaths across moors, a river crossing and some views that will tkae what little breathe you have away. Oh and it starts with a decent cafe and toilets. I have reviewed it before in 2020 when it was one of the first races to try and make a comeback. This was the day after we got out puppy and life changed for the chaos, but even then I said we would run it together one day. But then I missed the 2021 race, it was too hot on the 2022 race for the dog and finally I came back this year. And this time, dog boy came too. 

There were a handful of dogs on the start line among just shy of 120 starters. There were also the usual smattering of very serious runners, though with Burnsall Classic and Sedbergh hills on the same weekend, I didn't spot too many big names. However, neither were there a lot of proper fun runners. It was a selection of the moderately to quite committed. We'd had a cup of tea in the cafe, parked nice and easily and used the clean and sensibly numbered loos multiple time. Oscar had made a few friends and someone was chatting serious labrador chat with me. Funnily enough, the race organiser didn't mention the river crossing, which given the recent rain, I'd have thought was going to be key. 

But then we were off, dogs baying, legs tramping the springy grass on the gap between the trees down the hill to the road. It was longer down the hill and then along the river than I remembered and I tried to control the dog in the crowd though he kept running right next to legs and I kept having to apologise. I was falling towards the back but that was fine. I still don't feel super fit after Lakeland 50 and I am struggling to hit my training stride in the week. Oscar was pulling like a good 'un though so we were making reasonable pace. The river at the bottom of the slope was looking pretty full and I was quite glad I wasn't planning a swim. The rain was letting up though. 

Climbing through Askham there were a few more cars than normal. Most were patient as we were still quite bunched. I was mostly surrounded by older people but this is normal for me. I tried to keep the dog out their way. We gradually climbed past the pubs and idyllic houses of Askham to a few cheers of marshals and supporters. At the top of the village I noted they had put rocks in the space we used to  park and marked it private, that was annoying but oh well, i suspect someone does indeed own it. 

The climb to Heughscar hill was done at a run walk. The wind was picking up even if the rain had stopped. People wriggled out of waterproof jackets and clutched caps as we climbed through the fields and towards the trees. Oscar freaked out at the noise the trees were making and the roar of the wind so there was some fussing to keep him going. He'd probably follow me anywhere, which was in fact tested later in the race. 

Eventually we reached the very windswept marshal on the top of the hill and circled the cairn diligently. The views across Ullswater here rarely disapoint though it was difficult to see Blencathra in the cloud. 

Then the first little decent was fun, though it is more tricky with a dog and I am nowhere as good on the down as I used to be. But we wiggled down towards the cockpit on slightly greasy mud and stone paths  before dropping past several tourists and joining the upper part of the Ullswater Way for a short period. Oscar stopped for a wee and the man i had just over taken laughed. Ah the joys of the dog run! 

We soon departed for a smaller track undulating across the open upland.At times the puddles were big and at times they were boggy. The wind was less down here but still noticeable.We skipped and tripped through long grass, puddles and mud, Oscar and I often disagreeing over which way to go. I was running almost in a little group with us all stumble tripping over different bits. But I was jsut so grateful to be there with Oscar. I am not sure he felt the same.... I corrected one competitor as he nearly missed the gap in the fence as we went down to a slippery bridge and then back up the otherside on equally slippy mud. 

Towards the water station I think the rain came in a bit again, not much but noticeable. I didn't take water as I was carrying some. As we turned off the road after though we hit the boggiest section and my shoes were now filling with water. The unfortunate thing was they are goretex lined and so once full of water tend to stay that way so I was sloshing through most of the rest of the race. We managed the bogs fairly effectively but the decent in to Butterwick was pretty slow as I was worried the dog was going to pull me over on the mud and grass. Oscar also wasn't loving the thistles and was trying to run next to me on the single track path. Safe to say, it was not my fastest descent in to Butterwick and I think we moved behind a few people. 

There was a little cluster of supporters at Butterwick, one of whom offered water for the dog. The fact he'd been drinking out of the puddles meant he wasn't fussed but I thanked her anyway and set off across the field towards the river. The first year I did the race, this  field was pretty much flooded but this year the path was mostly in tact but with a few deeper puddles and streams. I could see the river marshal ahead and people both on the bridge and climbing the opposite bank. Knipe scar isn't that high but I remembered it being horrible when we ran it before in the heat so i was dreading the next section. The two people ahead of me headed for the bridge but I asked th emarshal if the dog and I would make it across the river. 'Yes,' he said,'but he'll have to swim'. Oscar loves swimming so we veered left to the river and the rope set across it. My feet were swimming anyway...

The river was deep but the cold didn't bother me. Oscar splashed in next to me and was immediately picked up by the current. I pulled on his bungee and his harness bagged up around his ears (its not very tight fitting). We began walking across, Oscar drifting a bit and paddling like a nut, me fighting to stay upright with the water up to my thighs. At one point I tried to grab  the dog a bit closer by letting go of the rope and using two hands but I think nearly couldn't get hold of the rope and the river was pushing me down stream. Fortunately I got it again and we made it across the river in one piece. One person said I was brave going over the river; foolish maybe more accurate. But its part of the fun. 

We climbed the first ridge in the mud towards Knipe scar but the descent was very slippery. It was all coming back to me but Oscar was back pulling and we ascended the scar relatively well. The zig zag path didn't feel as long and the climb in to the nick was easier given I didn't have heat stroke this time. On top of the scar the route had been changed so we ran along the edge to get the views which would have been marvellous if it wasn't for a really strong wind blowing us across the top of the scar. It was running but it wasn't fast and I was tiring. The shelter of the guaze and the wall was gratefully received.

The next bit was longer than I remembered. Also the pastures felt less kept though the path was fine. There had been a second water stop before the turn which felt new too. MAybe I had been a bit sunstroked last time I did this. We just kept trundling along, trying to keep up with those in front but Oscar was getting a bit tired. I was tired too. I wondered if we could run all the way to the end which was less than a parkrun away. Hmmm

Eventually we hit the top farm and began the long descent to Whale. This is mostly on track then road which was fine except I had to keep going around the cattle grids for Oscar and a few people over took us as I diverted, stopped, opened the gate, brought Oscar through and then closed the gate, and they just trotted over the cattle grid. This would continue until very near the end. Oh well. The track above Whale farm seemed eternally long and I think I bonked; perhaps a banana was not quite enough to run on. But we pushed on to the farm, through on to the wooded track and then along to the riverside path that would take up to the final hill and the castle. 

It was probably a jog, with both Oscar and I knackered. There was the odd family of walkers coming down from the castle but more importantly, the sun had come out! The river slowed by so fast next to us, and I could see the walls of the gardens up the steep slope to the right. The last climb is always a cruelty but I ran some of it and marched the rest. It wasn't as long as I rememeber and flattened out a bit at the top. And then we popped out the woods (another cattle grid gate situation) and were on the final track around the castle walls and in to the gate to finish. Martin waved and encourage the dog towards him and Oscar gave a last little wiggle and pull to take us to the final dibbing post. I had a PB by over 5 minutes! Dog power! 

Then it was results, check in, chatting and time to head back to the car for dry clothes. So often I wish for beautiful days in the Lakes when the reality is that it is going to rain, but you can dance in the rain with your dog and the sun might come out later. 

'Race' Report: Peak Raid 4 Stanage

 Its two weeks since Lakeland 50 and I can't say I feel completely back to normal but progress has been made from shuffling to bit more running. There was a minor step back beggining of the second week but I managed a reasonable speed parkrun at Peel yesterday (nice park, excellent post run croissants). But with the Sunday to myself, and a busy month ahead, I had to get the last Peak Raid done before too long. After a strong first run at Great Longstone, I had fun running with Martin but didn't optimise points at Combs, had a bit of a bad run at Danebridge (the bogs, dogs and dog harness) and then had fallen down the score table considerably. Arguably this actually took the pressure off and made it easier to just go out for a run. 

The Peaks in summer is a double edged sword; beautiful heather clad hills but full of people who aren't usually there. And their cars. Everywhere. 

 Now I was arriving by car but came early to get in the car park; at 8:30 I took the last space in the Dennis Knoll car park having passed a lot of cars parked on the road and a lot of van lifers (do we have a van life problem? not opening the can of hornets!) As I used the facilities behind a bush, another van pulled in just behind me making me jump and wave embarassed at being caught out. Anyway, map in hand, Oscar on harness, we were eventually ready to go. 

I had been told the moor above Stanage (the incredible gritstone edge above me) wasn't dog friendly so once I triggered the start I turned and ran back on myself to head along the road and join a footpath, soon triggering my first control. The legs felt okay as I waved at some very settled looking wild campers in a large green tent. Already the views down in to the Hope Valley were marvellous and I didn't pass many people as I trotted between controls, over fields, and down bridleways net down hill towards Hathersage. I had to double check the map once or twice but generally I found I could run relatively smoothly all the way to the amazing allotments at Hathersage. And they are absolutely beautiful; I wish I had that kind of commitment. 

                                                    

                                                    

A slightl hold up as we were asked for directions, and then we were heading up a stream before cutting across on a bridleway to head towards Brookfield manor. There had been a few more people as we skirted the outskirts of Hathersage but it was then just Oscar and I as we steadily climbed back up the hill towards Stanage. I had only been about 50 minutes on this loop and decided I might go see how far up the edge I was allowed to take Oscar. I wasn't being competitive so if I had to turn around I could. The buildings of the hall added interest as the views across the valley came back above the hills, and the going under foot was good, being a bridleway. I could  also see the weather coming up the valley towards me.

                                                    

As I hit the road that skirts below the edge, there were suddenly a lot more people. There were cars parked all down the verge of the road but I just carried on up through the ferns on a path. The next control was at the gate in to the woods and just before I got there I got a text. Annoyingly, and unbenknownst to me, at this point my  phone disconnected the app, and I was so sure I knew were the point was, I didn't check until I was right on top of the edge having climbed the now more technical path to get on top of the gritstone. I reached the point there should have been a control, nothing binged and I ran around a bit before getting my phone out to check and.... sure enough the app said unfinished run and I suddenly panicked none of it would count, but phew! it got working again. Ergh, now I had lost 40 points. Oh well, I wasn't going down again. 

The path along the edge is intermittently good, intermittently quite rocky. There were a reasonable number of people around, including the odd other runner (some say hi, some scowl, whatever), dog walkers, families and rock climbers. Stanage is really popular with rock climbers and its gritstone towers are seriously impressive as are the views from the top. I didn't have my Keira Knightly moment on the tops due to other people being around but picked up the controls to the trig point at High Neb before descending via a reasonable path between the towers and in to the ferns. 

                                                        

It began to rain, gently but persistantly. I realised I was going to be back at the car and the finish with a good 20 mins to spare but given the technical issues, the recovering legs and the lack of anything I could easily grab, I decided to call it a day and bounced out on to the well made bridleway (chucking Oscar over the stile...he still can't do them) before jogging back to the slightly awkwardly placed start finish that was just off the path. Not a bad run but not maximised by any means. 7.5 miles which was further than I had done in one go since the ultra! 

I am pretty near the bottom of the results for this run, but there are a pleasing number of people who have completed so I hope Peak Raid carry on doing these events. As usual, the map was great, the paths were easy to find and controls worked well (except when my phone played up). There is a good mix of further and nearer and also the trails are suitable for walkers and runners (with some but not loads of trail experience). At the end car park was double parked but mercifully I wasn't blocked in. I drove down in to Hathersage, passing many panicking drivers who weren't used to country lanes, and lots of cars parked in passing places (unhelpful). Hathersage was mobbed and the rest of the Hope Valley felt pretty busy too so I just headed home.  The madness of school holidays will pass, and I can always come back on an autumn weekday to enjoy some more walks. 

Race Report: Lakeland 50 (Or, What I have been up to in several months of absenteeism)

 I looked up at the stars which had temporarily appeared through the clouds, and then in to the pervaiding darkness, things only making any sense as my head torch swept over them. I couldn't see any other headtorches but ahead of me a series of sticks marked a path across the dreaded Blea Moss and two headlights from a car sat on the pass to guide in the lost runners. I felt very alone, and slightly confused about why at 1 am someone was sat on the pass in their car lighting the way for tired runners. Apparently, that is Tony and he just rocks up every year and does it. He is part of the many legends that makes up the Lakeland 50 topography. 

After the disaster at Brighton, I dived straight for the hills and my last blog recounts a good day on the fell at Newlands memorial. I went a bit event crazy through the latter half of April and in to May: I dragged my poor fiance and dog around the Derwent Dwadle (Ascent Events, thorougly recommend) branding it as a family hike (Martin might never quite forgive me), then raced the Coiner's fell race two days later (excellent trip up Stoodley Pike and got to take the train there), followed by Rainow 5 (a perrenial favourite) two days after that and the Marsden Moor Meander 4 days later (with dog, LDWA, excellent but someone fed Oscar a sausage roll at a checkpoint and he farted the rest of the way around) with a spot of orienteering for the Peaks Raid in between. Then I was chief navigator for my Mum and her friends on the Clun Valley Challenge hike in which my Mum did amazingly given her bad back, and completely out performed all expectations by both finishing and not coming last in the 18 miles. I did miss Shining Tor fell race due to a dog related incident and also Blackstone Edge when I got stuck at work but managed to squeeze in the Leo Pollard at the end of the month to make it to at least one local Rivi race this year (I missed the rest). Oh, and I represented my club at the Caldardale Way relays at the last minute, recce'ing the course and running it in the same weekend. I was terrified when I got handed the baton and ran like a loon until I got around the corner and then absolutley outrun by my running partner who was much fitter than me (I was just the navigation part of the outfit). Around this time we also had a bit of a heat wave. 

However, as nice as all the racing was, weekends were very busy and there was 'stuff' going on at home and work. I hadn't really got going on my Lakeland 50 training and suddently there were only 8 or 9 weeks to go. Long runs had been in  short supply and I was absolutely bricking it. It had got to the point where I DREADED the long run; I couldn't do it, even trying to fit it in to my week felt stressful, and I started to lose sleep over the concept of the 50 miles and how it was going to work. My coach kept sticking 20+ mile runs on the plan and they simply didn't happen. On top of that, I missed out on a place in the official recce of the first part of the Lakeland 50 course. Only disaster could await me, surely? 

Fortunately I have a very supportive fiance, a couple of fab coaches and a family who rallied around me before I completely fell of the cliff. Firstly, my friend Lizzie agreed to run the second half of the course with me on what was a scorcher of a day requiring multiple pub stops. It was a real confidence boost I could still run 24 miles, have fun and remember the way. Then, Martin agreed to let me run the Lakeland trails marathon on the first weekend of our holiday, delaying our arrival in Scotland by a day. This is a stunning marathon, with a bit of elevation but not enough to make it horrendous. It is decent trail too. Unfortunately, logistics meant I didn't register the day before, had to run a mile to the start line after a fairly poor sleep in a tipi (don't mention the mouse), it rained on the start line and then it rose to about 30 degrees celsius beofre the end. It took me six hours and I was about ready to throw the towel in at 9 ish miles when the magic kind of happened and I decided I controlled me. I decided I was sick of the DNF, and that I could just bloody well suck it up. I did this for joy after all. And at this point, I managed to up the pace a bit, have a decent couple of miles through Grizedale forest and pick up a few places. I really pushed to finish under 6 hours but I finished and I was far from the bottom of the final table. We had a week in Scotland that was a magical mixture of wild swims, running in Abernethy forest and hiking the Cairngorms. My mind chilled out for a bit. 

Coming back, life did its best to get on top of me and frankly it nearly won. I had a nice shorter runs but had to deal with strikes and family commitments. Life happens and I tried to role with it. My next long run was a trip to do the Silverdale circuit with Emma, who was also running the Lakeland 50. It was fantastic to have some company and reassured me I could still do a long run, even if my phone broke and we had to stop for ice cream. In the week i wasn't managing as much as I usually do but some easy running and the odd hill reps occurred. I made one more orienteering event (a MDOC Spunch) and then my sister agreed to do a long 20 miler in the Peak District with me. This was Lucy's first trail run and she smashed it (but she doesn;t like the down hill). She is a strong runner anyway and it was great to take her (and Oscar) on a tour of some Peak District highlights using the Maverick race (I was hoping to do early in the season but got selected for Calderdale relays instead) as a bit of a template. This was a great day out with us dodging most of the rain but ending up tangled in a series of charity walks and a trip to Jolly's snack van to top it off. Lucy was less keen on the Peak Forest fell race I made her do the next day, actually shouting 'F**k that!' when she saw the descent. She beat me up all the hills anyway. 

The final long run of training was a big 'un. It wasn't the ultra distance my coach kept asking me to do (it just didn't work out, its been crazy) but it was a 5 and a half hour trip out around the Outside Hope Valley Round with (a temporarily returned from New Zealand) Eryl, queen of the mad adventure days. Just over 20 miles and 1360 meters of ascent make for a tasty day out and I messed up fuelling and water. But it was epic and a good practice for the new cooler, wetter weather that has graced the UK since. In fact, I made the decision to change shoes off the back of it (cue panic buying new shoes...) as the ones I planned to wear weren't grippy enough. The views would have been stunning on a clear day, but we just watched the weather sweeping in over us, and wondered at the tourists in light jackets on Mam Tor. I would recommend this as a trip but only for those with some experience. The guys at the Outside shop in Hathersage welcomed us back like heroes and stuck our picture on the wall of completers. I went shakey with hypoglycaemia and shock in the cafe and desperately consumed a bagel to recover. All part of the fun right?!

The last few weeks were a mess of cancelled or cut short runs. Work really was insane. Wedding stuff (yeah, I am doing that the same year as an ultra...) started to pile in. I nearly had a break down, not least when the HOKA ATRs were clearly not enought and I had to buy speedgoats and then realised my kit was going to need a bigger pack due ot having to wrap everything against what looked like it was going to be another very wet year. There was one day I nearly threw in the towel with work, life and everything. But as I said, supportive friends and family. I am very blessed. 

The final couple of runs were a 9 mile sojourn down the Mersey in full trail running kit with Emma again. We looked a bit 'special' running down the Mersey with poles and packs, but the weather did give us a bit of practice for what was to come on the day. It was reassuring to share concerns about kit, fitness and logistics. I felt a bit better after. And my new Speedgoats hadn't given me blisters which was a relief. On the Wednesday before the race, I made it to a club champs race at the Black Knight Charge 10k. A trail race in a local country park, it was like my dog run on a bigger scale with little ups and downs, a bit of mud and a lovely if very damp atmosphere. Unfortunately, registration and the start were a mile apart which meant we all got very wet. I ran with a friend to stop me going out too fast. I still probably put a bit much in to it. 

And so on Friday, after a breakfast of cinnamon roll and tea from Chester's, Martin and I headed to Coniston and I joined a very long queue for kit check and registration. The Lakeland 50/100 wekeend is a massive event (a couple of thousand peple) and many people camp on site. There are going to be queues for things like parking and registering and bars but actually it works incredibly well due to a huge swarm of incredible volunteers. And I mean incredible; all volunteers are amazing but this lot are above and beyond. There is something quite cultish about the whole thing actually: people go back year after year and get very involved. The theme was cowboys and people had taken it very seriously. Martin said I had let the side down a bit. It wasn't my priority right then. Martin sat with the dog whilst I nervously queued. I had checked my kit a dozen times but it always makes me anxious. I got to the front of the queue and reassuringly my name and details all popped up accurately on the computer system. Then I passed kit check ( I always do, I have used this kit forever, even if I was using my bigger 15 litre pack, and had extra kit for wet weather, it stresses me out all the same), had my tracker attached to my bag and had a terrible photo of me taken for the tracker (I was very pink from the warm tent, wearing my coat and also the anxiety of it all). I couldn't face buying any merch in case I jinxed not finishing.

For reference my kit was:

OMM 15 litre rucksack*, Slomon waterproof top*, UD waterproof trousers*, thin ascis leggings and columbia longsleeve silver lined tee (emergency base layers)*, two trek flapjacks (emergency food)*, silva compass*, precision hydration salt tablets, spare socks (merino darling), spare buff,  suncream sachets, 1500ml salomon hydration system, harrier hat*, thinsulate gloves*, harrier first aid kit* and survival bag*, foon*, non-collapsible plastic mug*, spare socks, long sleeve mountain gear mid layer, petzl nao+ headtorch and spare battery*, inui battery pack, a range of flapjacks, tailwind and a lot of kendal mint cake, mobile phone*, spare cash and a pound for Jacob's ladder*, harrier collapsible poles and a Evadict pole/waist belt. Most of this was in water proof bags as the weather was set to be horrendous earlier in the week. I wore sweaty betty 3/4 length zero gravity leggings, my 'Peak Skyline' tee (thanks Justin, I always think of you when I wear this), Hoka speedgoat 8 GTX (not sure what I think about goretex lined trainers), hilly double layer socks, addidas wrap around sports bra, M&S granny pants and hilly double layer socks. The asterisk denotes mandatory kit. They give you a map and road book at registration.  

I emerged from the tent and we took the dog for a walk to the copper mines, had lunch at Herdwick' cafe, went for a swim in Coniston Water and then returned to the event village to enjoy what a very festival like atmosphere. I did some celeb spotting, chatted to a person or too I know (including the wonderful Kev who warned me not to keep my waterproof jacket on if I didn't need it- thanks Kev, probably saved me) and the dog embarrassed me by peeing right in the middle of the a load of people having picnics. Martin had a beer. 

Then it was time for the 100 miler race to start. Its quite something to behold. I felt Iwas bearing witness  to something momentous. There a a few hundred 100 mile startes. The DNF rate is betwen 35 and 50%; that is huge. The opera singer sings Nessum Dornum (another weird cult tradition), and they go off to AC/DC. There are a huge number of people gather to watch them go off and lining the streets of Coniston. After this I found Emma, her friend Lucy and their partners. We found a spot of grass and some drinks.  Then comes the Lakeland 1 (the kids race) which we sort of watched because it was kind of sweet, and then it was our turn for the briefing. We didn't actually get in to the hall for the briefing. There isn't a lot said at the briefing to help you. Most of that has been said in emails. Marc, the RD, says a few stats, notably its 35% women and a 95% finish rate for the 50. Uncle Terry (another tradition) says some safety stuff. But weirdly, it was quite motivating. I said goodnight to Emma and Lucy and finally headed to our accomodation. It hadn't been the plan to spend all day in Coniston but as I said...cult. Oh, and parking. 

I slept surprisingly well. I got up, took the dog for a short walk, ate a bagel, and Martin dropped me at Coniston to catch the coach. Emma, Lucy and I caught the same coach which was good fun, even if Lake district lanes do not make for fun coach rides. We arrived at the start with about 30 minutes to go, and massive toilet queues. Things went feral very quickly: five ladies all peeing behind the same log pile and a queue forming for the log pile? We hadn't started running yet! The start was thronged with people. Amazingly we found Martin and Emma's husband, and then Richard who also runs for Chorlton. The 100 runners were coming through in dribs and drabs, looking somewhat worse for wear after a night of rain. At least it was dry for now. I started to get a bit twitchy at this point, not being able to coordinate leaving my bag in the right place. In the end, Martin sorted it. We loaded in to the pen, towards the back, which made Richard twitchy. I could see Bernard ahead of me, who I hold partially responsible for getting me in to trail running in the first place. Maybe it was a sign. Maybe I was twitchy as hell.

They set you off in waves. More AC/DC. We were in one of the later waves so took 20 minutes to go over the line. The crowd kept the hype going all the way. It was quite amazing if I hadn't been so nervous. The waves help spread you out for the 4 mile trot around Dalemain. I was talking to Richard as we went over the line, and depsite him being a much faster runner than me, we sort of just kept together for the rolling fields of the estate but this unfortunately meant I lost Lucy and Emma. Richard and I chatted, over taking a bit which Richard quite enjoyed having been worried about being at the back to start. The rolling fields were joyful, I felt good and running through the crowd. I felt weirdly....confident. Not a feeling I am used to. Despite it being early doors, a part of me finally decided I could do this, and perhaps that I WOULD do this. 

Richard and I parted ways at Pooley Bridge when I decided I needed to stop and use the public loos. Pooley was absolutely thronging, and quite chaotic. There were a few runners in the loo and many bemused spectators standing around. I was actually quite glad to get out of it and up the hill away from the madness and the stationary traffic. I was pretty happy with the directions from here to Howtown, and to be honest, there was a throng of people all the way along so I wasn't really worried. People were chopping and changing places all the way up to  cockpit and along the lovely section of path from Cockpit to Howtown. It wasn't as long as I thought it might be. Maybe I have jist forgotten but the whole first 10 miles just flew by. I had some flapjack, stopped to sort a sock seam, and trotted along, weaving and pulling over to let people through in equal measure. I was running alone but in a mass of people, enjoying the dry weather but watching the weather slowly winding up the Lake. In many ways, it was trail running at its non-technical, steady, swooping best. 

The first checkpoint is at Howtown. It was heaving. There were queues. Luckily, the checkpoints are geo-fenced so you don't have to go right in. At this point, I made a terrible decision that might have ruined my race: I decided not to fill up my water pack.  I read it as 900ml left and decided that was fine for the next 9 miles (or so). Reader, it was not 900ml. 

Fusedale is the biggest climb in the race. It started of beautiful with waterfalls and an easy track that went on to become a footpath. It was wet underfoot and it was steep. I had decided to keep the poles in the holster at this point so that I would have something to change up for the second major climb. As we climbed, the rain came in and I pulled out my rain coat. I was being over taken a lot but I put this partly down to having not stopped at the checkpoint. I did catch up the odd person and I wasn't moving badly. There is a false summit on Fusedale and thank goodness someone warned me as it seemed to go on forever. Steasy trudging behind one bottom or another. As I got to the top, I sucked on the hose of my pack and felt as resistance; at the top I checked it and it was empty. There was still over 5 miles to the next checkpoint. I swore. How could I have been so blooming stupid?! But maybe it owuld be okay. It wasn't going to get better standing still anyway. I started to run jog across the top, being overtaken by more people and acutely aware I needed to be careful in the absence of water. I probably walked a bit much here and was at real risk of my mood dipping. However, there was an amazing view down in to the Eden Valley with the Pennines in the distance, and the rain was only intermittent. By some miracle, I held it together. Which was lucky as it was about to get mentally a bit challenging. And the bog was the least of it.  

I had heard the section along Haweswater is much longer than you think. additionally, the decent in to Haweswater is not, I would like to add, very fun. It is over grown bracken, single file path and very slippery grass, mud and limestone. At this point it became a conga. You ran at the pace of the person in front of you and I was just grateful I wasn't the person at the front. There were a fair few 100 runners at this stage and this kept the pace to walk or ultra shuffle. In hindsight this helped keep me nice and controlled and upright in this section but at the time it was a bit worrying. Some people were being a bit grumbly. The odd walker was getting very annoyed at the waves coming towards them. Miraculously there were some very dedicated supporters at this point and they deserve sainthoods. It was raining again and I intermittently turned my mouth to the sky to catch rain drops as I followed Ian and Simon for a good few miles along the reservoir. The end didn't seem to get closer. Then I spottted someone filling a bottle at a spring at the edge of the path. I stopped and tucked in to the bracken and decided, sod it, it looks clean. It was a spring not a stream so I just had to trust the oss was filtering it. I wasn't dying of thirst but the end of reservoir was still a way off and I didn't want to get behind any further. I part filled up my bladder clumsily, sipped, and it tasted fine. I guessed it was double or quites: either it would top my hydrations status up or I would be puking in a few miles. 

Fate was very kind that day. 

After an eternity of bracken and narrow path, eventually we eventually reached the rig and things thinned out a bit. I jog/walked across this and finally caught sight of the checkpoint further down the reservoir. I was feeling it a bit more now. But I kept my focus and did that thing where you paln your checkpoint: water pouch, coke (it kills most bugs in your stomach), sandwiches, poles and out. I ran in to 'Spardale' (the Mardale head car park) to the ringing of the bell by the checkpoint welcome man. I reckon i was there less than 5 minutes. One thing about the bigger pack was I could get things out quick and I left with a cheese and pickly sandwich in each hand, snaffling them as I started up the Gatesgarth pass. The poles came out as soon as the sandwiches were gone. 

                                                        

The Gatesgarth pass was a challenge. A strong wind drove down the pass, driving rain in to our faces. More than one person questioned if it was indeed July and I had a personal desire to go full Gandalf and declare either 'He's trying to bring down the mountain' or 'You shall not pass' in a loud voice to the wind. The full on Lord of the rings conditions were hard work but I ended up chatting to a few people as we stop started up the pass, hunching against the wind, poles dug in to the rock. Thank you yo Claire for a chat on this section. I was however, feeling it a bit by the top. When one person suggested we start jogging as it had flattened out, I didn't really go with it. I probably needed a bit more fuel and tried to take this onboard. The run in Longsleddale was long. Really long. It wasn't that technical (a bit but not mega) but in the rain and with tired legs I made hard work of it. It was a long long track, seemingly endless, and mostly it was down or flat but I struggled to get going. I definitelt lost time here and time was starting to lose a lot of its meaning. I only had one fixed goal: Ambleside before dark. It was possible but I was going to have to move it through to Kentmere and up the Garburn to make it. 

The climb over from Sadgill to Kentmere was made better by company but i didn't enjoy the run down across some mud. I cold see the church tower seemingly a decent way away but like all things it came. Thank you for Stuart who made the climb over more interesting with his chat. I also got a smidge of phone signal along this section and got some tect messages that made me feel so much less alone. My brother, sister and Mum had all text, though I think Mum had forgotten I was running and was chatting about something very unrelated. 

Kentmere is quite famous for party atmosphere and smoothies on race day. Its really quiet usually. I had a vague idea about a bit of a longer stop here but it was mobbed. And I didn't fancy pasta. So water bladder, coke, a few haribo eggs and off up the Garburn pass I went. I held the singular thought in my head from here: you have done all this before. It was also just over half way. I was counting down not up now, but hell it seemed a long way. It was also just over two hours to sunset and I had this crazy idea Skeghyll woods would be a nightmare in the dark (which was a bit unfounded but you get fixated on things). On the climb there were people coming past me but in hindsight there were also people I was going past, even if some were 100 milers.  The going is underfoot isn't too bad on the Garburn, especially compared to the Gatesgarth. Progress up was slow but on the way down I was ultra shuffle trotting. I could see Troutbeck below and the weather was improved. The very final bit of the pass has these sideways thick slates which are slippery and horrible and make me question why anyone would ever try to put them there. I dropped on to the road with pleasure to see crowds gathered at the bridge, cheering. 

The road climb in Troutbeck is short and steep. Outside the (closed) Post Office cafe was a lady in a unicorn outfit which made me smile. I also took my waterproof off as things were looking a touch better weather wise; I feared overheating as well as over sweating. I like Nanny lane back to Ambleside from Troutbeck, and even though it was a hill I called Martin to tell him I was on my way and enjoyed some of the views over Windermere. In the distance, the Old Man could just about be seen and it seemed a long way to the finish line at his feet. But this section is nice so there was intermittent running once we went over the rise, and a few people about. The thought of seeing Martin and the dog spurred me on to Ambleside, and Skeghyll woods wasn't nearly as confusing as I remembered, though the light was starting to fade. I managed to move over the roots fairly well, especially compared to some of the 100 milers who were now starting to mumble and hallucinate. I popped out in to a gap as we hit the road and kept jogging, using my poles to try and lengthen my diminishing stride. 

Ambleside was an experience. As soon as we hit the houses, little groups of people began to appear, cheering us on. I was sort of hoping I'd done the recce right at this point as I was on my own with no one to follow but I know Ambleside and a minor detour wouldn't get me disqualified. As we popped out on to the main road, it was suddenly quite busy. People cheered and moved aside as we jogged down towards the ginnel that owuld take us left to the checkpoint. People cheered from the pub. And then I made the left hand turn past Sheila's cottage and it was almost like a roar....there were so many people standing along that ginnel and at the bottom just cheering them on. I openned my legs up a bit and shot down the ginnel and in to the checkpoint with the crowd in my ears, as fast as my little legs would carry me (and thankfully not getting run over crossing the road). Martin joined me as I hit the checkpoint which was I think Morris dancer/country fair themed. I had promised my self a bit of time at this checkpoint: change socks, talk to Martin, head torch, replace flapjacks etc in pockets, water, coke, and even the loo (not that there was much but reassuringly there was some). The loos were up the stairs, which was abit cruel. I took another round of cheese and pickle sandwiches. THe dog thought I was going to share. Switching my torch on, Martin walked me across Rothay park, and I tried to express the pain, adventure, pressure of brain to him in those few minutes. It felt very brief. 

I have been over Loughrigg many times, and the bridleway is very easy to follow. Given it was rapidly becoming very dark, this was useful. However, I was definitely slowing up. Depsite my best efforts my brain started to drift a bit, especially to my feet which whilst now drier, were still sore. People were pulling ahead again and bits of brief conversation were gratefully received. I chatted a bit to someone as we hit the road and got running on that again, hoping Martin had managed to park to see me outside Chester's. Fortunately he had, and there was a small crowd gathered. I told him I was fine but he said he'd head to Elterwater. I was worried he would be really tired but he later said he was worried I was going downhill, which I suspect I was. 

The next section of path is the Cumbria Way and in the daylight it is one of my favourite sections to stroll along. You get amazing views of the Langdales and its great underfoot. The falls at Skelwith bridge roared with the excess of water and then it was out in to the black, watching a surpsingly few head torches drifing along the path. In the recce I had said I'd probably not be running by this point but, whilst it wasn't continuous, there was definitely running along this section. I thought of the many people who had accompanied along this section over many adventures and quietly thanked them all in my head. It was all going a bit spiritual/ proper weird in my head now. Iwas pleased to see Martin at Elterwater where there definitely was not a crowd. I thought of Lizzie and I stopping at the Britannia pub on that hot day; I could do with her laugh right now. 

Things went a bit south after this. I know the path well but in the dark everything seemed longer and further. At the Wainwright Inn, a last few punters cheered us past, and then it was on to the campsite where a very few people were still moving. It was runnable but my legs weren't up for it. My feet were now quite sore from swelling and possibly a bit of maceration, despite the fresh socks. It was a long drag to Chapel stile checkpoint, which was a marquee. I took five minutes to put my feet up above my head on a chair, causing panic in some of the volunteers, who I promptly reassured I was fine. I didn't sample the custard or soup; I just didn't want it. There was a moroseness in this check point: people on chairs stairing bleakly at cups of soup. But there were also people getting excited about custard. When I stepped back outside, it seemed darker and quieter. It was also getting windier. Plus, had my watch even moved since I left Elterwater? 

The next section was a bit drudgy. Small conga lines formed and I felt slow and kept moving out of peoples way. I felt frustrated as my watch stubbornly refused to reach 40 miles. The path undulated and isn't the best in terms of bring quite rocky. It seemed to take an age to reach my last meeting point with Martin, who was standing at the bridge where the route leave the Cumbria Way with a little man who said nothing. He said I had less than 10 miles left, and I told him he lied. He said to check the map and I couldn't be bothered. I kissed him goodbye and he told me he'd be at the finish (which I had always said he didn't need to do). It was going to be a long few miles.

The next section is a path that crosses a few fields at a bit of an angle and there was mud. There were also stiles and I was blown backwards off one, catching my leg but mercifully being saved by a hand behind me. I mumbled me thanks and wobbily climbed over again. I kept hoping the 'zig-zags' would appear (the path to Blea tarn) and the conga line would disappear. When they did appear the climb seemd awful and I couldn't keep my pace up it. Reaching the gate at the top, everyone pulled away from me. I don't know if its this section, but last year, going the other way, I struggled on this section too. It should be good running, but I watched everyone's torches disappearing and felt alone. It was increasingly windy. As we entered the wooded section, it was so very dark. I stopped on a bench to try stop my feet hurting quite so much, and looked over at the spot Martin proposed. I knew I had to move; I needed to get across the narrow section ASAP and not end up holding a conga line. Through the gate I went and on to the rocky path that follows the stream out of Blea Tarn and on to Blea Moss. I battled with bracken in the dark. Time had lost all meaning at this point. It was early morning but that was all I knew. 

As I came round the corner, I could see Tony (see para 1) with his car. The bog was unpleasant but much better for  Tony's flags. I shouted my thanks to him and started to jog down the bottom of Wrynose pass. I jogged until the right hand turn on to the bridleway that would take me to the final check point at Tilberthwaite. At some point my phone pinged and messages from my sister, and Eryl in New Zealand popped up. On the recce this path had seemed to go on longer than it ought and tonight it felt bit less bad, but a shadow would make me jump. I was getting there; I was moving slowly forward. 

And then I saw Jacobs ladder, lit green in the distance, head torches leading up from it. Jacob's ladder is not the one in the Peak District, but the bottom of the final climb where they raise money for a lost son. At this point the tears came. I was struggling with pain now, but as the path tilted down I got my jog on to head to the checkpoint, its lights visible at the bottom of the climb. 

There was an open fire and a brazier at the checkpoint. One volunteer was attempting to cook toasties over the open fire. I was blubbing at this point and a lovely lady gave me a hug. I sat by the fire a bit, mostly tired and wanting to be done. I knew the last descent would be crap (it was bad in the light and dry let alone the dark and the wet), and I dropped my water bottle and I tried not to lose it. 3.5 miles to go someone said. That sounded mangeable. 

A small group of us started up the ladder together, joining another little conga after the intial steps section. Someone on the 100 was climbing aheadof us and seemed to lurch, making me worry for the rocky scrambles. My poles were a pain on this section but they helped me stay upright. A stiff wind came up over the hill and rose to a good gale at the top. It took a long time to get there. There was the roar of the water descending the falls hidden in the dark. As the bowl at the top opened out, it looked so far to the top, with head torches strung out along it. I think I quietly prayed at this point. I knew I would make it. I might even make it under 16 hours if I got a chivvy on. I just needed not to die on slippery rock, or river crossing or fall down a gorge. 

The path flattened and then began to turn downwards. I was struggling to run but tried until it became too lose and steep for my tired legs in the wet. I could see the wedding venue where my friend got married last year down in the valley; I remembered seeing these lights then and thinking I'd enter the ballot. This section was excruciating for being so close and yet so far. I wasn't really moving slower than anyone else I suspect, but it felt like everyone was moving better. Try not to slip....Try not to die....

And then it got a bit better, levelling off, and then a bit better with more manageable rock, and then it was a track. I was running down hill and I hit the road at the bottom jubilant to be alive. I knew it was still a good run in but I could do this. My feet slapped the tarmac below me, not elegant, not even really a run but some kind of heavy footed trot, my poles clacking beside me. Sheep slept on the side of the road, undisturbed by my passage. Where was that cattle grid? I skittled over trying to not slip in the gaps. Proper road now! I passed the cars that park up the road to avoid paying for parking, far fewer now than there had been during the day on Friday. The bigs houses passed, then I caught something that was the museum in my head light. I was nearly there! Keep pushing! My feet screamed but weirdly my muscles were sort of okay. I ran in to the centre of Coniston where a few people, plus car marshals, were waiting. A little boy said well done as I passed the closed pub. I went up the tiniest ramp over the bridge and past the garage. I could see the cowboy hats, people said well done as they were walkingback up the road. It was around 3am so I hoped the residents weren't too upset. I turned in to Lake Road and pumped my legs to get to that finish..... 

I crossed the line in 15 hours, 31 minutes and 14 seconds. Martin and the dog were there. There were tears. I kept mumbling thank you at people. The ladies from registration were there, still hyped after all this time, and willing to hug a smelly, confused runner. Martin took my photo at the finish arch and one of the ladies took me and another finisher to the tent to annouce us to everyone who was still awake. The cheered, I cried, and I took my buckle in my hand and tried to smile for the official photo. I was overwhelmed. It felt unreal. I'd exceeded my expectations. I had done it.     

                                                        

Within the next 30 minutes my body went in to shock and Martin had to bundle me in to a jacket and then the car and drive me home. People had been drinking beers and eating the hot food on offer but it was busy, there were hardly any chairs and I wanted some space. Back at the rental, I struggled to heat some microwaved lentils, and take off my clothes before climbing in to bed. We all slept quite well for a few hours....

The Sunday was a bit of a blur. My feet were very swollen, and my temperature went up and down. I felt tired but happy. We popped back to Coniston briefly but it was a bit busy so we headed back off. It took until the Monday morning to get my kidneys back on line and the swelling to really go down but I managed a few dog walks. I had one blister that was quite sore, but once the swelling went down my feet improved dramatically and my other muscles were surpsingly okay. Fate had once again been kind. Emma and Lucy came in at 19 hours, Richard was ahead of me in around 13 hours. I think we are all still digesting it. I qualified for the 100 but I have no intention of it. 

Reading the above, you might think I didn't enjoy it and, honestly, I am not entirely sure I did enjoy most of it. It was hard. Much harder than my last ultra and not just because of the extra 14 miles. The build up was hard with life pressure. The day was hard with many things. But the sense of achievement was immense. The views at times stunned me (who knows the Lakes). The atmosphere was incredible from start to finish; I admire the enrgy of the volunteer. It must be said it was lonely at times but it very much a team sport. 

Thank you to everyone who came on training runs, and to Chorlton runners for making me love this amazing sport, especially the Blacksheep for getting me 'out there'. Thank you to my coach Michelle Mortimer for well, coaching. Thank you to Joe and the Fix my run team for making me stronger but also for instilling some self belief. Thank you to Carla Molinaro for SCY, which makes a lot of difference even if I could do more. Thank you to my family for listening to me rant about a sport that seems entirely maschoistic. Thank you to Richard, Lucy, Emma, Bruce, Kev, Bernard and others I have missed for being there. Thanks Oscar for never turning down a run, you are the best boy. And finally, thank you to Martin without whom life would be very meaningless and Langdale valley would have been even longer, and I'd have had to sleep in a bivvy bag; you are a good and patient man and I am lucky to have you.