The Lap: Landing on my Arse

 Opening caveat: I did not have a good race, and I did not finish. This may shape my review of this race.

When I booked the Lap, I had images of glorious September sunshine, and a plan that would have worked if life hadn't happened. In my mind, it was less hilly than Lakeland 50 but in reality, its not by much and Lakeland 50 packs that elevation in to a few punchy climbs whilst the Lap undulates....continuously. 

As I had mentioned, life has been HAPPENING this year. Not just life but also the odd death. Then to top it off, my Mum had a positive mammogram and breast biopsy which ordinarily we'd probably have coped with but I was rather at the end of my short tether in terms of resilience. As I packed for our trip to Arran my brain had checked out, both of work but also in terms of motivation. I'd done my one recce, hadn't loved it in terms of runnability, and was sort of resigned to a long long day on the trails. 

Error one in this, is that I was going on holiday and planning to run the Lap at the end of my holiday. The second error was packing for the forecast as issued at the start of a week. We don't travel light in general, but there was a limit to how much I could pack, and also, to much I could get my head around. I had enough kit, but I a not sure there was ever the correct kit for what was about to unfold. 

The one thing I did do right, was book solid, proper accommodation and ferries to get us back to the main land and checked in with lots of time. The Friday was less stressful than it could have been. We got an early ferry from Brodick following a cafe breakfast (not much opens in Brodick before 10 am but we managed to get in the one place that did), the dog was calmer on the ferry this time, we landed at Troon (less bleak than Ardrossan) and the roads were kind, excepting the service station at Cairn Lodge which was mildly chaotic. We rocked up at our Cartmel accommodation, had time to sort kit and then went off to registration for opening time. 

The Lap does offer on site camping, for those that wished to use it. However, there was already moisture in the air and the field was just about holding together. Everyone parks on this same field but there were plans to get those out who were stuck in the mud. I was quietly grateful for Martin's ridiculous car and its 4x4 (I usually feel this car is too big and flashy, but I'll hand it to him this once). There were several tents and camper vans and even two motorhomes (current least favourite thing) in the camping areas. It was 30 minutes before registration opened but there was already a queue. You must register between 7pm and 11pm the night before. There is NO morning registration (mostly because you start running very early). There was a nice multispan tent with a bar, coffee van and a food van. We got supper, then I got in the queue, which was slowish but far from Lakeland 50 slow, flew through kit check. I didn't pick up my drop bag as I didn't have anything to put in it. This was mistake number 3 but I didn't get to the point it mattered.....

I slept terribly, as you often do when you are worried about an early alarm. It was a 4:30am alarm, to allow us to be out the door by 5, back at the start line for 5:30 allowing a bit of phaff time but also to queue for the parking. Overnight, the drizzle had become utterly torrential. Martin was in full waterporoof gear to drop me off, and very grumpy about the whole situation. He did however buy me a cup of tea whilst I went to the loo at the start line. 

Its a smaller field than the Lakeland 50 but in the dark I couldn't find Richard or Andy. I was anxious and also it was just wet. We were eventually dragged out from under the shelter to line up and listen to the race briefing. One of  standouts of this to me was the fact that it was designed as a mountain bike route, and suddenly some of the weirder route choices made a bit of sense. Though it wasn't not really reassurringly. It was 6am, it was about 7 degrees and it was raining. I started in a waterproof top, others went for the whole lot. I went across the line with my head torch off as everyone was walking and there was enough light to see by. I think I might have turned it on for 200m later in the woods, but that was it. 

Mercifully, they had changed the start line to running on the road. As we hit the road I was trying to get a gentle trot on to get going and get warm. As we came around the field, I waved at Martin from under my hood and was jogging . I jogged nicely, feeling pretty good until we went uphill, when I walked. It was steady and sensible but I was passing people. I wanted to get to the narrow point sooner rather than later as I envisaged queuing and slow moving traffic on the wet technical sections. I was not wrong and it was a bit stop start. 

Then came a little break; the people in front of me all went off the wrong way and despite my shouts and warnings, carried on off in to the woods with others following them. I blessed my little recce and picked up the right path, now in space and able to tackle the rooty, rocky, muddy narrow path at my own pace, before popping up on the road by the YMCA. From now on, it was going to be unexplored paths and I noted I needed to keep an eye for markers as they were small and in the rain, it was greyer than normal and you could miss them. 

The climb to High Dam was filthy. It was slippery. It felt a bit mad that this many people were going up there. I did it at a slow steady pace, slipping slightly once and reminding myself I have sore SI joints (first warning). But as we hit the main path at the top, there were some beautiful sections or gravels path that swooped around the very atmospheric water where two very hardcore swimmers were getting ready to go in. Maybe this would be okay. I was warm enough, and only a bit damp and running relatively comfortably. Then there was some more slippery paths and the odd board walk. The descent down towards Finsthwaite was quite pleasant though the checkpoint was already wet through. I grabbed half a banana (I'd been eating a block of Kendal mint cake of a PH chew every 30 mins) and headed on. The next section in the woods about Lakeside was a bit rooty and a bit muddy, but I was hoping things would improve. The descent down to Newby Bridge was slippery and slowed by a man ahead of me who was struggling with the steepness and muddiness. Mercifully I made it down in one piece but some people around me definitely ended up on their arses and there were already a few with bandages from the first check point. 

I was suprised how many people were walking on the flat road section. One chap lifted his poles up and stabbed me in the knee with them by mistake. Mercifully it didn't puncture but it was a bit sore. I didn't make a fuss and jogged on. I used my brand new speed cup to get water from the immensely kind family doing water and popsicles (usually its roasting on the Lap but not today) at the end of their drive, just because they were there and I felt I should. People like this light up my world. 

At Staveley in Cartmel we began to climb. Initially I was behidnd someone steady but they then wanted me to go ahead and I felt a bit exposed in front of these people. It wasp redominantly plantation for the next few miles, and about 200m of climb. Some of this was very wet but the worse was yet to come as we entered the flatter section towards Simpson gorund reservoir. This woodland was so water logged. There were deep sections of mud, bog and roots. Several people fell. It was slow going, and at times felt like miles and miles of cross country course. Very little of the route seemed to use the forestry tracks, instead taking us down smaller side paths which were probably great fun on a mountain bike, or when the ground was dry, but on that day were just painful. 

Eventually I popped out near Gummer's How car park and somewhere here I skidded and sort reverse table topped when I landed, but also slightly sheared my pelvis causing pain in my SI joint and a spasm up my back. 'Run it off' was my thought. So I got up and started across the road to the climb to Gummer's How. There were quite a lot of people waiting at this gate but Martin wasn't there so I thought he hadn't made it. I noticed I was struggling a bit more on the Gummer's How climb but maybe I was just tiring. My back was sore but manageable. 

Martin was at the top of Gummer's How with  a soaked Oscar and absolutely no view. He wasn't keen to hang around, having seen me. He commented I was quite far up the field for me (about mid table) and also that everyone looked miserable. I had water permating down my neck and in to my sleeves. There wasn't much let up but a lovely lady did direct us all off the hill in the right direction as the marking here was a bit sparse. 

Then it was back to the cross country. Increasingly I realised that stabilising my pelvis in the mud was becoming tricky. Some of the paths had churned up so much and were such an adverse camber that it was almost impossible to traverse them without slipping. I did have some nice chats on this section but my back was increasingly sore. I hadn't gotten my poles out yet as I like to keep them for the second half but started to contemplate it because I was getting shooting pains on uphills. I was quite glad to see some road and make some progress. On the flat road, I could run but uphill and then later down hill were causing shooting pains. I think there was a water station somewhere here, and then we were on a track for a bit. I was yo-yoing people now, as I was probably running some sections quite nicely but then my back would be problematic on the ups. I managed to stop a group of us missing a turn across some more slippy fields and then was jogging on the next road section. I also managed to avoid some frisky cows, and did wonder if they were going to be so kind to the remainder of the field as they were looking pissed. 

Soaked through and struggling with my back 

At the view point at Brant fell a chap was sat down struggling but I carried on. But now the shooting pains were up as well as down and my poles were out. We'd picked up the Dales way and in this next mile it became apparent I could not carry on. I was using my poles to take my weight a bit but the shooting pains from my back to my legs were worse now, and the spasm in the muscles was agony. A few people were surprised when I said I had to stop as I was moving okay from the outside it seems....but I know shooting pains mean damage and I cannot damage my back. So at Cleabarrow, I handed in my tracker and called Martin. He was abit surprised to hear from me, as I was still in a good position for me, and part of me thought I had made the wrong decision. 

But the walk to the collection point (I was not very good at identifying a place for pick up) was agony. Annoyingly, this section of the course was flatter so I might have been able to limp on but i was not going to do another near 30 miles on this back, and that was clear. A lot of people told me to carry on but the tracker was already back at the check point. I was walking but it was sore. I eventually got to Windermere and Martin came and found me in a housing estate. 

The car ride back to the accommodation was hard work. I couldn't sit properly as my back was in pain. The next 24 hours were difficult to sit, and hot water bottles were applied to try and make my back bend. On the Sunday, I walked the dog down the lane and that was pretty bad. The car journey back to Manchester was one of the longer ones of my life. 

But mercifully it is muscular (mostly I suspect because I stopped when I did) with a bit of SI joint thrown in. I've tried not to mope to much but I am sad about what happened; I took very little joy away from that day. It brightened up later and the number of DNFs reduced, but it was quite high that year. The camping field must have been a mire by the end, and I suspect many cars struggled to get out of the field after picking up runners. I didn't get any views nor to the bits of the course I know, though the recce paid off for that one section early on. I have learnt a few things though: do your big race early in the holiday (or not related to a holiday!), have spare kit for unexpected drop bags (they'd said they were shoe bags but I could have packed dry clothes), carry on with core work.  On Wednesday I did two miles with the dog, and I managed a reasonable speed parkrun at Muncast Castle this weekend (with a bit of SI joint pain to pay the price). It made me feel a bit of a fraud for dropping out. Maybe I am. 

I didn't automatically sign up to next years Lap. I had promised Martin and myself that I wanted to focus on speed and fells next year, not distance, and I stick by that. I also need to do some core work, weight loss and have a bit of a mental break. I am thinking maybe the clockwise event in May 2026. My family need me a bit more at the minute (we had another family bereavement this week) and that is life. But I'm going to try sneak in some fell races, some Lakes trips, so fingers crossed for less interesting times emotionally, and more adventures
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