Montane Winter Spine Challenger North

What came before

I started running in 2007 but did not run my first marathon until 2015. My journey into ultra running started cautiously with a 28 mile local race in September 2021. I built up the distances over the next 12 months and a year later I ran the 81 mile Dalesway, my first overnight event, and absolutely loved it. Wow, what an experience to see the sun set, the moon rise, run through the night and see the sun rise again. I wanted more of this! Since then I have run the 90 mile Dales High Way, the Cheviot Goat, as well as two big races in the Alps, the CCC in 2023 and SwissPeaks100 in 2024. I had a crack at the Northern Traverse too, but sadly had to retire after just over 100 miles at Richmond.

The Spine Race series was definitely calling! I volunteered on the Spine Safety Team in January 2024, on the northern section of the route, which gave me a good insight into the race and into this particular section, as we covered several locations from Tan Hill to Byrness.

In June 2024 I completed the Montane Summer Spine Challenger South, From Edale to Hardraw, covering the first 108 miles of the Pennine Way. Not my favourite half of the Pennine Way I must say. Having reccied it and then raced it I don’t think I need to ever see it again. I think Bleaklow sucked part of my soul out, not to speak of Ickornshaw Moor. And before you ask, no, I have no desire to ever do the full Spine Race.

So ‘obviously’ the Challenger North would have to be tackled next, 160 miles from Hardraw to Kirk Yetholm, just over the border in Scotland. A much more remote and less populated stretch of countryside, away from the major conurbations which lie around the southern part of the Pennine Way (Sheffield, Manchester, Leeds and Bradford), and with far fewer villages on the course.

All the Spine races are non-stop, that means the clock doesn’t stop when you stop to eat, rest and sleep. The opposite is a stage race (eg Dragon’s Back) where you run every day, rest at night, and only your running time counts towards the results. The Challenger North, though non-stop, handily breaks down into four stages of approximately 40 miles, so it is possible to treat it a little as a stage race: four long days out and some rest at night, which helps the body to at least stick to normal circadian rhythms. For the lesser mortals amongst us anyway, obviously the people at the front who only take two days and two nights can cope with zero or minimal sleep.

I managed to do a solo recce of the entire Challenger North route at the beginning of November, over six consecutive days, staying in pubs and B&Bs. I wrote a post about it here. It was useful, really enjoyable, and challenging at just the right level, not an easy saunter but not a death march either, six substantial days hiking with a bit of running thrown in where possible, with a meal and a good night’s sleep at the end of each day. I would definitely recommend it!

A word about ‘the lean’

I went into the Challenger North with apprehension about my body’s ability to finish it. Spoiler alert, I didn’t finish, or, to rephrase this, my own finish did not quite coincide with the official finish at the Border Hotel but would fall seven miles short.

At the Northern Traverse I had my first experience of the ultra runners’ lean. I was jogging along quite nicely, pleased to be still running in my second night, when I reached Reeth and realised I was leaning over significantly to my left side. My back was also quite sore. I had a rest in the toilets of the Dales Bike Centre and set out confidently to walk to the Richmond CP, I mean, surely walking is always possible I thought with great optimism. But the pain in my back escalated quickly to such a pitch that I ground to a complete halt in a field a few miles later, and had to ask to be picked up from the road side. During the Challenger South I got it again. Initially I had no backache but a member of the SST noticed I was leaning when I got to Gargrave. I couldn’t even feel it but when I looked at my reflection in the window of the Coop I saw that he was right. It didn’t start to really bother my until the descent into Hawes from the Cam Road, and I managed to finish, but my back did become very painful over the last 3 miles or so and realistically I could not have gone much further.

This was now becoming an annoying ‘habit’, spoiling my enjoyment of these multi-day events. I did lots of research, only to find there is not much information out there, and what there is tends to be anecdotal. The lean is probably multi-factorial, with muscle fatigue and/or electrolyte imbalance to blame, with a greater incidence in older athletes. Well, I am 62 and I am unable to change that, but I decided to work hard on my core and back strength, take in more potassium during the event (bananas as well as electrolyte capsules), and take more rest by stopping and lying down at every check point, whether I particularly wanted to sleep or not. I also decided to hike and not even attempt to run, in case that helped, though there are cases of the lean in long-distance hikers too. Finally I bought a flexible back brace which I popped into my drop bag.

Registration, kit check and a last night of luxury

Registration and kit check were on Sunday, the afternoon before the race, in the Green Dragon Inn in Hardraw. It is about 90 minutes’ drive from my home but I was definitely not going back home in between registration and the race start at 8 am the next morning. Too much driving (even when being driven) and anxiety about making the start on time. Instead I had booked myself a room in the very posh Simonstone Hall just up the hill from the pub. Considering what an upmarket place this is (‘helicopter coordinates supplied on request’) the price of the cheaper rooms was reasonable so I was happy to treat myself. My friend Andrew very kindly drove me up (the chopper 🚁 somehow not being available 🤣) and accompanied me to registration. Kit check of the mandatory 30 items went smoothly. In fact I was subject to a partial check only, but I had brought all items still unpacked in large shopping bags anyway so a full check would have been just as easy. I received the ‘Lindley’ stamp of approval on my hand having passed. I showed my driving licence (bringing photo ID is mandatory and one of those things that would be very easy to forget when you bring a stripped back wallet) and received my race number in exchange, had my tracker photo taken and listened to the race briefing. I then handed in my drop bag to the van. It is tempting to keep it for the last night, and not doing so requires some prior organisation. I wore some threadbare underwear and socks that I was happy to discard in the hotel, and similarly had an old toothbrush, virtually empty deodorant etc that could all be dumped. It saves lugging the drop bag about and carrying it back to the race start in the morning, at 17 kg* it’s not a weight that I find easy to handle, especially not in addition to my race pack which was around 6.5 kg. I then had a lovely long evening in my room, packing, pottering and podcast listening whilst drinking tea. I had brought pizza and a pot noodle as well as lots of fruit from home, no need to add to the expense by having a hotel dinner. I felt relaxed and I could now finally chill out and wait for the start. I had felt very nervous for the last few days about ‘silly things’ (what if I forget a piece of kit, what if the car breaks down, what if snow blocks the road, what if I get a cold), compounded by an ongoing and highly frustrating wait for a replacement Enduro2 watch from Garmin which did not arrive in time despite at least 5 lengthy phone calls on my part. Andrew kindly lent me his, and I also bought a cheaper Suunto Race S watch as ‘spare’, which necessitated my spending several hours getting my head around how to use it (brilliant watch by the way!) Not what I wanted before a race of this magnitude but of course very much a ‘first world problem’.

*the maximum weight allowed is 20 kg and with hindsight I could have got it to around 15 kg. I probably brought around 2 kg of food home again.

Hardraw to Langdon Beck (43m 5200ft)

I had planned to walk along the road to the start. There is a footpath from Simonstone Hall down to the Green Dragon but it’s quite steep (down) which did not seem sensible to tackle in the dark with snow still on the ground. There would be plenty of that on the race, no point tempting fate before we had even started! However as soon as I exited my room I bumped into another runner and his wife on the corridor, and I managed to cadge a lift down with them. At the Green Dragon I had my tracker fitted. We then had to stand outside to wait. A number of runners were sitting in the warmth of the front room of the pub and I was just about to join them when we were told that we needed to leave, as this part of the pub had not been hired. I was underwhelmed and struggled to retain my good mood. By January in Yorkshire standards the weather wasn’t bad but it certainly wasn’t great either. I wondered why the Spine could not have put up a marquee in the starting field. And provided some portaloos too. It had been the same at the start in Edale actually in the summer, when the car park toilets were closed…. Maybe I am a whinger, I know we are meant to be hardy and at most race starts you stand outside in the cold, and I cope with that fine normally. But precisely because I was about to spend four days outside I did not particularly fancy getting cold before the start already. Anyway, I managed to find a nice sheltered spot and a bench in the lychgate, the covered entrance to the church grounds where several runners had gathered. I was wondering whether to put my YakTrax on. I saw no one wearing any traction aids which surprised me. I asked a few people what they thought and most people thought it would be OK without. I didn’t believe them and put them on. Surely there would still be lots of snow and ice on higher ground? Not a bad decision as within 5 minutes of the start lots of runners would be forced to stop at the side of the significant sheet ice on the path to put theirs on!

I looked around in the starting field for some of the other women, there weren’t many of us, but I managed to have a quick chat with Sam Lissauer who would go on to finish in a brilliant joint second place. I am embarrassed to say she recognised me before I recalled who she was! We had only met once before, last summer in a field near Gargrave when she was out running with Hannah Rickman and I was on the Challenger South. Oh boy, isn’t it just like being back in the school play ground, being ridiculously pleased when someone who happens to be able to run faster than you knows your name! Yes, one of the ‘big girls’ deems me worthy of being spoken to. Oh my, do we ever grow up? I think the answer has to be a firm no.

8 am and we were off, up towards Great Shunner Fell (716m). Considering this is uphill and there was a lot of ice and snow this was obviously fast hiking territory for all, bar the runners at the front of the race. I was planning to hike the entire course anyway. It’s a long five mile ascent to the summit but it passed quickly enough, I chatted to some other runners and was settling into the groove (I will stick to the term ‘runners’ even though none of us were running). I reached Thwaite, the village at the other side of this first big hill at about 11:30 and had a quick snack by the bench there: chocolate milk and a millionaire’s square. I had met Siobhan earlier on the hill and here she was again, wearing Kahtoola micro spikes instead of YakTrax. I carried both but had never used my spikes apart from trying them on once at home. I asked her advice and she reckoned the spikes are much better, so I decided to swap mine over, Siobhan kindly helped me. I had not found the YakTrax 100% secure on the icy descent into Thwaite. And indeed the grip of the Kahtoola’s was much better, I ended up keeping them on all the way to the checkpoint at Langdon Beck, finding they helped on the mud and in the bogs too, like cross country spikes would do, and to my surprise not bad on rocks or bits of road.

Next stop the Tan Hill Inn via Keld and Stonesdale Moor. The last few miles before Tan Hill were tough and I was definitely questioning my life choices. Thankfully I could follow the footsteps from runners who had gone before, they had done a great job finding the way through the snow over the moor land. A strong wind had risen out of nowhere, blowing me about, and I wasn’t enjoying myself. A nice hot cup of tea and a snack revived me though. We were allowed to use the pub toilets which required going into the pub itself from the side room where the safety team was based. Feeling the heat of the open fire and seeing happy people, normal people who had sensibly arrived in a car, enjoy their pub lunches, made me not want to go out there again into the wind. I shrugged it off, we had hardly started and I was already longing for some cosy warmth. Get a grip Petra! It was around 3 pm when I left, so I put my head torch on in readiness for darkness, glad that I would be crossing Sleightholme Moor, notoriously boggy, in daylight still. The route is indicated by intermittently placed tall poles, which does help. One of them carries an ominous sign warning people to pass on the right as there is a very deep hole on the other side. The ground was still covered in a lot of snow, now melting, with lots of scope of putting your feet on what looked like solid snow but turned out to be a rapid way down into meltwater and bog. Little streams were starting to turn into torrents. It is here I met Angela White, aka the ‘Running Granny‘, who had left Tan Hill just ahead of me. Angela had just fallen through the wet snow and had gone in up to her chest! We continued together and were to stay together until the Langdon Beck checkpoint that night. It made sense, we got on well and could chat as well as hike in companionable silence, and as some of the stream crossings were decidedly sketchy it felt safer to be with someone else. Just after the A66 underpass we were overtaken by the lead runner and eventual winner in the full Spine Race, Kim Collison, who also happened to be Angela’s coach! A bit later, nearer to Middleton, John Kelly, who was to finish fourth, passed us. It demonstrated how much slower the underfoot conditions had made the course, last year when I started my SST duties at 12 midday at Tan Hill the front runners of the full Spine had already passed there!

Angela and I stopped for a break at the wonderful Clove Lodge Farm, 26 miles in, around 9 pm. Nice to see my friend Linda Grover on SST duties there, we had been on the same team last year. I had a cup of tea and a FirePot ‘just add water’ Hot Chocolate Pudding which I had brought with me, thanks to Fran Blackett @runlikeahaggis for the recommendation! I was worried about how long this first section was taking me, and couldn’t stop thinking about how much faster I had been on my recce. A pointless use of precious brain power. We reached Middleton around 11:30 pm and turned left along the river Tees for the remaining 8 miles to the checkpoint. On the easy ground of the flat fields I was getting away from Angela a few times, my brain was obviously fretting about pace and time, and I briefly suggested that I might want to push on. I wasn’t showing my best side here at all, as I had only recently promised to stay together until the checkpoint. Sorry Angela! Anyway, as soon as we got to slightly more lumpy ground we fell into step again anyway so I could shelve my impatience and ponder the shortcomings in my character. We had a lovely time looking at the moon and the stars, it was a beautiful night. You can read Angela’s blog post here.

We arrived at Langdon Beck YHA at 03:19. It had been a very long section. I was delighted to see my friend Jen O’Neil @jenrunsforjoy, checkpoint manager there. I was decidedly less delighted with the huge number of runners in there when you take into account what a small place it is. My only previous experience of a Spine checkpoint had been on the Challenger South, at Hebden Hey (you only have one full checkpoint in the whole 108 miles) and that had been similarly hectic. This was no better, despite the absolutely heroic efforts of all the fantastic volunteers. Let me make that very clear, the people were wonderful, working in cramped conditions, nothing was too much for them and we were waited on hand and foot. The room was rammed with runners, drop bags, race packs, and volunteers doing a merry dance stepping over bags to deliver food and drink. Heavy bags were being carried in and out constantly.

A bit more detail about what happens in a checkpoint: You arrive and before you can go to sleep, assuming you want to rest, you need to access your drop bag to at least get out your sliders, some toiletries, your power bank to charge your electrical items, and put your wet stuff away. You need your sleeping bag too as the beds are just mattresses without sheets or bedding (as it was the rooms at Langdon and Alston were very warm so I just slept under my jacket, but in Bellingham you sleep on the floor so need mat, bivi bag and sleeping bag). You have this massive drop bag at your feet plus your race pack. There is no spare floor space. Where there is it is often covered in mud, especially in Bellingham. You hope the cup of tea and the bowl of food under your chair will not be kicked over. If you are really lucky there is a spare chair next to you to put some stuff on, otherwise you need to use your lap. Once you have everything you need you have to pack your bags all up again as they need to be stored in a pile in a corner of the room whilst you sleep. You go and ask for a bed at the desk and with a bit of luck there is one for you (I had a bed every time but there can be a shortage). You try to decide whether to leave your electricals charging by a socket, with the risk that someone accidentally takes your head torch, or unplugs it all. Or you can take the whole set-up (powerbank, cables and assorted gadgets) with you to bed. I take it all to bed in a carrier bag as I want my phone as an alarm anyway.

When you come down from your sleep the whole merry dance starts again. You are given a seat, a volunteer brings your bags again, more tea and food too, and you can start to prepare to go out again. Cream on my feet. Clean socks. Check all batteries. Have the right map and folded to the right page. Load the next leg of the course on gps device and watches. Food and water for the next leg. Gloves, hats, layers. Finally when you are confident that you are sorted you zip your bags up. Your drop bag needs to be taken away from you before you can go for kit check of your race pack. You have just put all that back together like a Jenga puzzle and now things need to come out again for the kit check. Don’t get me wrong, I fully support the kit check. But it’s busy, you want to go, and you have to queue up now to wait. In the corridor where there is no space either. Again, I cannot say it enough, the volunteers were heroes and kept their cool. I think I did too. But underneath my smiles and politeness I felt incredibly stressed. This was making me unhappy and it was also holding me up, not that that hugely matters at my level in the field. In my view this is an infrastructure issue: too many runners in facilities that are too small. There have to be solutions, this is not rocket science. Change or enlarge the facilities (e.g. by having additional temporary marquees) and/or reduce the number of runners. As should be clear from the above I have huge admiration for the checkpoint volunteers, especially as there is no way I would volunteer for a checkpoint role myself considering the current conditions.

Langdon Beck to Alston (36m 4500ft)

I stepped out of the Langdon Beck checkpoint at 7 am, Tuesday morning. I am sorry I hadn’t tried the famous curry of the ‘Teesdale Tandoori’, my stomach didn’t fancy it, but I had enjoyed toast before bed and porridge after. I had slept, or at least been in bed, for about 90 minutes during my 3 1/2 hours in the checkpoint. This would be my experience at each of the 3 checkpoints, you need an hour at each end to eat, drink and do your admin. It takes so long because you are tired and less efficient than normal, but also because of the lack of space making everything more complex. I asked Jen to pass a message on to Angela that I had wanted to push on and to give my apologies for having left. I had said the night before that I would rather not commit to sticking together. I am very much someone who likes to run their own race, and whilst I certainly enjoy having passing partnerships during an event I don’t really like to make binding arrangements.

I was delighted that the Cow Green diversion was in place for safety reasons as the river was so high, avoiding Falcon Clints and Cauldron Snout. Falcon Clints are two areas of huge boulders immediately adjacent to the river Tees, I had found these mildly terrifying during my recce, as every step is a potential leg breaker to me, and I had been dreading having to do these again in the race. Cauldron Snout is a big scramble next to a raging waterfall, which looks very intimidating, but I had found that less of a challenge as at least you are going up and can haul yourself up using your hands. A fall would be terrible, but I judged my chance of falling there as relatively small compared to going over the boulders. Anyway, all of this could be forgotten about as we were happily power hiking along the road as day broke. I had joined up with a small group of men, including Paul McMahon who I would spend a lot of time with over the course of the race, and we made good progress over the tarmac, and then the wide track that came after Cow Green Reservoir. It was foggy, but otherwise pleasant power hiking along Maize Beck towards High Cup Nick. Here we were overtaken by the two front runners in the women’s race, Lucy Gossage and Robyn Cassidy, who would indeed go on to finish as first and second. The were definitely running (we most certainly were not) which was great to see, and I gave them a big cheer. We reached High Cup Nick and although there was very little visibility at least this time I knew exactly where I was, and could even lead the others along the correct path, unlike during my embarrassing navigational mishap during my recce when I had started to go down into the valley 😱. I was mortified by my own stupidity at the time, but have since read in Jasmin Paris’ blog that she made the same error during her 2019 win so that made me feel a lot better!

As we moved onwards towards Dufton with the valley below on our left the cloud suddenly lifted and there was a partial view. We all stopped to take pictures. I have been there on a much clearer day, but this still felt like a brilliant gift, to at least be able to see something of this majestic feature.

Reaching the road above Dufton I managed some running, the only time I ran in the whole race. In part prompted by thinking I saw a photographer walking up! Turned out to be just an ordinary walker but eventually there was a real photographer at the bottom of the road. ‘Do I look fast, do I look like Lucy Gossage?’ I shouted out as I jogged past like a snail. I managed a 15 min/mile here 🤣 which was my fastest mile of the whole event. It was downhill too! Running a tiny bit made me feel a bit better psychologically though. I popped into the toilets and then went on to the monitoring point, where you are allowed 30 minutes. Many runners went to the Post Box Pantry for coffee, but I skipped that experience as I only wanted to take one break and make the most of the daylight. It was around 12 midday. Stu Smith from Nav4, who I had met recently on the Tour de Helvellyn was there, and greeted me like his long lost best friend, which was lovely. Also Allie Bailey @ab_runs, who I had seen at various events but never spoken to yet, so I took the opportunity to have a chat. I had a cup of tea, some chocolate, and soon was out of the door to go and tackle Cross Fell.

It was sunny and warm in the valley. I took the initial miles of the 8 mile ascent slowly as I did not want to overheat. On these types of events I try to regulate heat by adding and removing hats, buffs and gloves, and by pulling my sleeves up and down, only adding or removing layers when stopped at checkpoints. Once I have my pack on, especially with the front pack added, I am very loath to take it off as it’s so laborious. I would be glad of all my layers as soon as we gained some height and the wind picked up.

I was near Clëo @wandering.cleo, one of the MRT competitors I saw a lot of during the race, and two men, but they were too fast for me and I had to let them go off into the distance. I did not mind making the ascent on my own, even though visibility was poor, as it had been the same on my recce. The weather was calm and I was confident with the navigation. But I did struggle with my motivation during these long miles. Suddenly I wasn’t feeling it and I was questioning my ‘why’ for this race. I had to have words with myself out there, it didn’t even particularly feel like I should be kind to myself, more that I needed a kick up the proverbial. Which I duly gave myself, by repeatedly reminding myself that there were only two ways of finishing this race: at Kirk Yetholm or if ‘my leg fell off’. I had plenty of time to go over this quite a few times in my head 😉 I thought of all my friends back home who had said they felt inspired by me before I had even started the race, I owed it to them to get to the finish. I ticked off the intermediate summits: Knock Old Man, Great Dun Fell and Little Dun Fell. The radar station at Great Dun Fell was shrouded in mist as before. As I approached the summit of Cross Fell (893m, and the highest point on the Pennine Way) the misty sky started to turn a hazy orange, and by the time I reached the summit cairn and the shelter the most stupendous sunset was in progress. It truly made up for all the miles of self-doubt I had gone through and felt like a wonderful reward. As I started the descent towards Greg’s Hut I noticed the moon rise to the east and a cloud inversion started to gather in the valley.

I reached Greg’s Hut at 17:30, not before I had fallen on the ice just above the hut, ice that we had been explicitly warned about! Thankfully I did not hurt myself despite it being quite a slapstick sideways slip. There was a warm welcome and I enjoyed my first experience of John Bamber’s famous chilliwack noodles, sitting by the fire and with a hot chocolate too life couldn’t be much better. Onwards down to Garrigill, a long 8 mile descent mainly along a tedious track. There were still icy and snowy patches to negotiate which relieved the tedium a little at least. The 4 miles through fields from Garrigill to Alston were mainly very muddy, interspersed with the many infamous stiles which appear to have been constructed to be as difficult as possible for Pennine Way travellers and Spine racers as possible. They caused the undoing of Damian Hall on his 2022 Spine. The mud was copious due to the thaw, and the narrow paths often on a camber, and now very slippery. It was decidedly not fun. To my surprise I caught up with Clëo just outside the Alston checkpoint, she looked rather drawn and I told me she had a difficult evening after not eating enough during the day. I was definitely glad I had partaken of the noodles! We were both glad to reach the warm welcome of the Alston YHA, home of the famous @alstonlasagne, at 22:10.

Alston to Bellingham (37m 4800ft)

I left Alston, alone, at 03:10 on Wednesday morning, having spent 5 hours there. I had tea and porridge, managed a sleep, maybe 2 hours in bed, and a shower, more tea and porridge, and did my race admin. I had not planned to take a shower during the race, I am not a heavy sweater and especially not in winter, but a volunteer at Greg’s Hut had recommended the Alston showers and she was right. It did make me feel better. My sleep had not been the greatest, I seemed to need to go to the toilet incredibly frequently. My bladder obviously had not received the message that it was night. But at least my back had had a rest. The Alston checkpoint was busy, but was perhaps just marginally less frenetic than Langdon Beck. I had more space to spread myself out and even had a table to sit at which was a great help. The famous lasagna looked great but I didn’t fancy it, I had porridge again, twice, with golden syrup, and it was truly delicious.

The fields between Alston and Slaggyford were hideous, as I had expected. They had been muddy and churned up by livestock when I reccied this in November, now after the thaw they were frankly indescribable. The descent by Castle Nook Farm just past the Epiacum Roman Fort was a particular low light, as I struggled to stand up in the mud, desperate not to fall into this quagmire which no doubt had a high sh*t component. I thought of Nicky Spinks, by now already running over the Cheviots on her way to victory, and I marvelled at how she must have just flown over this type of ground. But she is a farmer after all as well as an ace fell runner! A short stint along the South Tyne Railway brought some relief. A long stretch across the moors at Knarsdale and Lambley Common followed. I picked up some lovely salt and vinegar crisps from a box with goodies left for Spiners where the route crosses the A689 near Lambley, thank you to whoever left these! ‘Rasta Ralph’ was not at home when I passed through his farm yard, shame really as I had been quite looking forward to meeting this eccentric character. So onwards to cross Blenkinsopp Common, I found it much easier to navigate than I had done on my recce, when I had had cause to get my compass out. It seemed very simple this time with the path clearly visible on the ground. There was lots of lovely sunshine on one side and a dark sky on the other, and I enjoyed the views over the moor.

Reaching Greenhead the descent off the golf course was so hideously muddy that it was more like a comedy moment. If you don’t want to cry you may as well laugh. I had been expecting this to be bad and it sure didn’t disappoint. Somehow I managed to get down without falling. Shortly afterwards, at 12:20, I reached the Walltown car park, at the start of Hadrian’s Wall, where an SST team was stationed. I had been deployed here too last year, when the whole car park was covered with treacherous sheet ice. Now it was a lot safer, and sunny. SST informed me that whilst the visitor’s centre was closed I could sit in the temporary building next door where there was hot water and a fire! I didn’t need to be told twice 😆. I let Race HQ know that I was intending to stop here for about an hour. I took my pack off and did some back exercises lying on the floor in front of the fire, had tea, and another FirePot chocolate pudding.

As I set off to tackle Hadrian’s Wall and the rest of the section to Bellingham I saw Paul just ahead of me and called out to him. I had only meant to say hello, but we ended up spending the rest of this section together, which was very nice as he was excellent company and the conversation flowed very easily. We had a grand time traversing Hadrian’s Wall during yet another amazing sunset (and subsequent moonrise). The place was crawling with Spine photographers as I guess it is particularly photogenic, especially in the afternoon light. We were interviewed not once but twice! I was getting worried about being a bit overexposed 🤣 but thankfully only one snippet was used. You can see it in this daily update. I love Hadrian’s Wall and really enjoyed our miles here, finally no bogs and no mud for a bit, just grass, plenty of stone steps up and down of course, and beautiful views. I recalled the lovely overnight stay I had enjoyed at the Twice Brewed Inn and pointed out its incredibly bright red lights, visible for miles, to Paul. We were overtaken by some more full Spine runners, including a woman, who must have been Nikki Arthur but I did not recognise her at the time.

Around 6pm we turned north, away from the Wall and towards Bellingham about 10 miles away. It would be a mix of mainly forest and moorland until our intermediate stop at Horneystead Farm, where the legendary Helen has looked after Spiners (and Pennine Way walkers) for many years. I was looking forward to getting there but at the same time apprehensive about getting too comfortable and staying too long, I was tired and just wanted to get to Bellingham. Having been deployed at Horneystead last year on the SST team I had noted some runners stay there a long time! However, by the time we got there I was weary so a short sit down with a cup of tea and some crisps was both welcome and sensible, Paul had some of Helen’s famous soup. Great to see SST team leader Clare Holdcroft there too.

We pressed on for the last five or so miles to Bellingham. Quite a bit of easy road first, but then there is a sting in the tail with lots of muddy fields and bogs again on the approach to Shitlington Crags, not to mention a steep climb. It seemed to go on for about ten times as long as it had done on my recce. I was tired and had various increasing pains in my back and my hip flexors. We had joined forces with two other runners and I struggled to keep up by now. As I was no longer in the best frame of mind I wanted to be on my own, but the others kindly kept waiting me for me despite my protestations that they should go on. I received some lovely encouragement from SST member Linda who was at the top of Shitlington just by the radio tower, I enjoyed having a brief moan! The final descent to the road in Bellingham was an utter mudfest, totally expected but I still suffered a sense of humour failure. Evidence though of how tired I was: we reached the road, the other three runners were just a bit ahead of me and then out of sight as they had turned left into the checkpoint at Brown Rigg Lodges. Clearly indicated with Spine Race flags at the entrance of course. And I have been there before too. I however turned into a driveway just before it. The vehicle gate was closed and it was a very tight squeeze to get myself through. I wondered why they would be so unwelcoming as to have the gate closed. And where were the others? Had they just vanished into thin air? Then I saw that it said ‘Forestry Commission’ on the building. It still took my brain a while to compute that I was totally in the wrong place! Had to squeeze myself back out through the gap and walk 100 meters further down the road. My brain clearly needed a rest. It was a quarter past midnight.

Bellingham to my very own finish line (38m 6732ft)

I was delighted to arrive at the checkpoint, but on entering the space I was somewhat shocked. There is a good description of it in Centurion Running RD James Elson’s podcast here at 1hr 15 minutes in. (James was there at the same time as I was). We did not need to take our shoes off outside, I guess there was no space to do so. Doing this once you were on your chair inside meant a good proportion of the mud from the final hillside was now on the floor in the checkpoint. Together with lots of discarded rubbish it did not make for an appealing image. You had to put your tea and food on that floor too after all. As at the other checkpoints, I could not fault the wonderful volunteers who were doing everything they could to make us comfortable, including sweeping up the mud, a thankless task. It was quite busy, there were only chairs, no tables. I managed to get my shoes, gaiters and overtrousers off and stored them under my seat. I spent longer than normal putting all my electricals on charge, my brain was so tired I struggled with all the plugs and cables and input and output from my powerbank. C to C, USB to C, it all seemed enormously complicated. I had tea and porridge, the latter had become my go-to food on this race. Sleeping takes place in the hall next door, on the floor, and I had heard many reports about how cold it is in there. I got my sleeping bag and bivi bag out of my pack, as well as my air mattress. Having blown it up I put it under my arm, ‘Surfin’ USA style’ (I desperately tried to hang on to some sense of humour and this thought made me laugh) and proceeded to the desk to request a space.

Thankfully I had my warmest down jacket in my drop bag, not a running jacket, but one meant to travel home in or for emergencies, which I put on over all my other layers. I had earplugs and a buff to put over my eyes. The room was like an ice box, and noisy with people coming in and out, but I had the BEST sleep ever. It may have been almost four hours!

When I got up one of my heroes, Sarah Perry @sarahperry19917 had just arrived (she would finish as fourth woman), and with her was Spine photographer Tom @ultra.im.possible, I would see the two of them again at Byrness. Sarah looked pretty shell shocked at how busy the checkpoint was, and I tried to reassure her that it was possible to have a good sleep despite the cold.

I managed to get myself ready to leave. I was actually complimented by the checkpoint manager on my organisational prowess. Well, yes, if there was a podium for drop bag efficiency I would likely be on it 🏆 At least it goes a little way towards making up for not being a fast runner. Paul had also got up but was still trying to organise his kit. He had suggested the previous day that we stick together to the end, to which I had said a (too hasty) yes. I had soon started to have doubts and realised that I really preferred to tackle the last section alone. I also knew he was faster than I am once on the move, and I did not wish to hold him up. Paul told me to go ahead as I was ready, so I admitted I actually wanted to do it by myself, which thankfully he was totally fine with.

I stepped out of the Bellingham checkpoint at 7 am to witness the start of another beautiful sunrise. I was really looking forward to this day. Getting to Byrness would be easy enough, a 15 mile stretch I had enjoyed on my recce, and then just a quick 26 mile hop and a skip over the Cheviots 😉. But I wasn’t really thinking about that, or about the finish yet. As I kept repeating to myself: ‘How do you eat an elephant Petra?’

I knew from previous experience how quickly things can unravel. So all that was in my mind for now was getting to Byrness, having some food at the monitoring station (maximum stay of 30 minutes) and a rest in the church, kept open 24/7 for Spiners who are welcome to sleep there and have a hot drink.

On the hillside above Bellingham I bumped into Hem Rana @hem.runner whom I know from Punk Panther events. Despite being on the full Spine he looked as fresh as a daisy and after a quick chat and a selfie he jogged on up the hill. He even had his poles stowed away! I was totally in awe. He would go on to finish in a fantastic 20th place.

I met a friendly SST team at the next road crossing and then the photographer Eric Murphy, who was waiting for Sarah Perry, it was nice to have a chat with him. Just before the steep climb up towards the forest, past Padon Hill and its monument, I could see a runner in the distance behind me. Thinking it could be Sarah I decided I had better let her go past so I had a rest on a stile in the sunshine. In fact it was Paul who had finally caught me up! He was strong going up the hill ahead of me and soon disappeared into the distance again. I enjoyed the easy terrain of the forest tracks that followed. However as I got closer to Byrness my back began to make itself known with a new type of pain. The pre-existing dull niggle on the left of my SI joint was now mixing it up with recurring searing, burning pains. Brief but repeated, unpredictable, and deeply unpleasant, causing me to yelp with pain every time. This wasn’t my idea of fun. To me it felt like a muscle had been torn to shreds.

When I got to the Byrness monitoring point at 14:45 I asked to see the medic. But food first. This is the first time I had something other than toast or porridge at a checkpoint. I saw the (veggie) mince and mash and my brain said yes please! So much so that I had two platefuls in quick succession. I also managed to get two bananas to take away. The medic kindly gave me codeine for my back, told me to keep taking the paracetamol as well and that I could have more codeine at Hut 1 and Hut 2 if need be. I felt full of optimism. Surely I could drift over the Cheviots on a codeine-induced cloud of numbness? Sarah Perry had arrived too and was tucking into her mince, she was going straight on to tackle the Cheviots. I headed for the church instead. Much as it was tempting to make use of the remaining daylight I felt my back could do with a rest, stretched out on the floor, and come what may I would have to do most of the Cheviots in the dark anyway. There were a few other runners sleeping there, I spotted Paul too. I got my sleeping and bivi bag out and lay down on the floor in between the pews. I maybe rested for just under two hours, it was around 17:30 when I left the church after a quick cup of coffee and my last FirePot hot chocolate pudding. The church supplies a kettle so we can have hot drinks, like most runners I made a donation to the diocese, their generosity towards the Spiners really is extraordinary. I also put on my spare insulated jacket as we had been warned it would be a cold night on the hill, someone mentioned a ‘feels like’ temperature of -6C. Paul was still packing up but would overtake me later on the way to Hut 1 (spot the recurring theme 😉), it was nice to keep seeing him. Wanting to tackle the section alone did not mean that I didn’t enjoy brief exchanges with others.

The Cheviots felt quite benign this evening. Together with the Howgill Fells they are my favourite hills. Another clear dry night, with a full moon once it rose and lots of stars to look at. The going underfoot was relatively good, on the whole it seemed no boggier than normal, and I have been to the Cheviots quite a few times. The 10 miles or so to Hut 1 passed quite quickly. I overtook a couple of runners, Paul came past me and we had a quick chat, then I spent some time with two other men. We had a brief navigational challenge a couple of miles from Hut 1, by a cairn just to the side of Wedder Hill. I had spent a lot of time during my recce going wrong here and having to correct it with a yomp over pathless tussocky ground. Afterwards I had endlessly studied the map. The path forks left but you cannot see it on the ground and it’s quite confusing. I wasn’t planning on making the same mistake again, and managed to persuade my companions that we needed to veer off what looked like the right path. It paid off. However shortly afterwards my head torch battery needed changing so I had to let them go on ahead again. Before we parted one of the runners had asked me: ‘how are you getting home tomorrow?’ and I had said ‘o gosh, I am only thinking about getting to Hut 1 just now’. How prophetic that turned out to be…. I was in a lot of pain with my back and was really just concentrating on eating that elephant in little chunks. Thinking about the journey home was the very last thing on my mind.

I reached Hut 1, official name the Yearning Saddle Lamb Hill Mountain Refuge Hut, at 22:13. The last couple of hours the pain in my back had increased so much again that I knew I wanted more codeine, so I saw the medic and was duly given another dose. I decided to have a little 30 minute power snooze there, just in case the codeine would make me particularly drowsy. I had a cup of tea and ate one of my bananas. There were probably about five or six of us runners in there and some volunteers, it was pretty full and cosy. I had hoped to see Oli @oli.hague on duty there, but was told he had a day off. Poor timing!

I felt OK when I left Hut 1. We were told the average time taken to get to the finish from there is 8 hours (16 miles @ 2 miles/hour). Sounded eminently doable. Onwards to Hut 2, or Auchope Mountain Refuge Hut, nine miles away. I left on my own and overtook some others who had left just ahead of me. Paul came past me and was really cooking on gas and disappeared into the distance. And initially I was moving reasonably well too. The climb up to Windy Gyle was hard work. After that on the mainly flagstone path along the ridge the situation became very difficult within quite a short time. The searing pain in my back was reaching whole new levels that I struggled to deal with. I was slowing down. I was screaming out loud in pain. I tried various mental tricks to deal with the pain and not let it consume me but to no avail. I repeatedly told myself out loud to ‘breathe and believe’, Eddie’s @edwinasutton famous dictum on the Tea and Trails podcast. By now my whole back was seizing up in protest and I had also started to lean sideways. As a result it was becoming much harder to negotiate the terrain. I had to get down a miniature snow field on my backside as I did not trust my feet. I was four miles from Hut 2 and felt I could not make it there without stopping first. This was tricky as there is no shelter of any sort up there, not even a wall. I soon reached the point though where I felt I could not take another step forward so there was no option left but to stop there and then and bivi out. I found a hollow in the heather and grass, just a few meters off the path, which was out of the wind. Thankfully there was a phone signal so I could message Race HQ. As you are not allowed to bivi out if there is no signal, because they would have to send SST volunteers to go and check on you if your ‘dot’ stops moving. It was 02:52. I got my air mattress out, blew it up, then got into my bivi bag and sleeping bag combo. I had plastic bags to put over my shoes so as not to muddy my beautiful Japanese super lightweight sleeping bag (especially sourced for this race!). I was still a little chilly so got my foil blanket out of my first aid kit and wrapped this around me. With this combo I was very toasty and warm. Considering there was still some snow in patches on the ground under my mattress this was not bad going. I had placed my poles at my head, upright in the heather, just in case someone wasn’t walking on the path, as I did not want to be stepped on. As it was I heard some runners go past in the night but no one spotted me which I was glad about, I didn’t really want any attention. Messaging with HQ required me to stick my arm up like a periscope above the heather to get a little 3G signal, but it was enough to send and receive a message. I was so cosy that I actually fell asleep, even though I had only stopped to rest my back. I overslept 🤣 HQ messaged me at 05:40 but I didn’t receive it as of course my arm wasn’t sticking up! I woke at 6 am and sent a quick message that I would be on my way after packing up. That was the hardest part of the whole exercise: you get cold as soon as you climb out of your sleeping bag, it was breezier now too, your hands get cold, and somehow everything has to go back into your pack. Thankfully I had a little spare (expandable) space in my race pack as there was no way I could get my air mattress 100% deflated and packed to its minimal size in these conditions. HQ were very encouraging and said to ask for assistance if I needed it as they could send people to help me. I set off and initially I felt good. I had taken some co-codamol. But within a mile I was back to square one and in terrible pain. Even though I had more than 12 hours in hand I could not see how I could possibly cover the rest of the distance to Kirk Yetholm with this level of agony in my back and diminishing returns from rest periods. The pack had become a huge burden to carry. At 07:10 I threw in the towel: I messaged HQ to request for SST volunteers from Hut 2 to come out to me, to help and to carry my pack for me. I kept moving forward slowly and it was probably around 8 am when I met up with two lovely men who had come from Hut 2. In between asking for help and meeting up with them I did my crying and raging with disappointment out there in the hills. I shed some bitter tears that after all my prep to avoid the lean and back issues these had defeated me after all, and so late in the race. So by the time SST reached me I was calm and had in large part processed my DNF already. After double checking with me that I knew my race would be ended if I gave my pack to be carried (which I knew) I passed it over with much gratitude. Oh what a huge difference that made! That kit, which is essential and had enabled me to survive half a night outdoors on the hill, is also the cause, at least in part, of a lot of back issues. I still had to walk to Hut 2 but it was now much easier to move. I was delighted to find that Clo @clorroe_cam was on duty at the Hut. We had shared some very painful miles along the Cam Road on last June’s Summer Spine Challenger South. Miles that had created a bond. And whilst we both finished at Hardraw neither of us has finisher photos due to a very unfortunate technical hitch that morning. So when I said to Clo to be sad to yet again have no photos she got her camera out to give me my very own finisher photos at Hut 2. That meant such a lot 🥰

After seeing the medic at Hut 2 and having a lovely cup of tea we slowly walked down into the valley to the Mount Hooly hostel, from where, after more tea, and toast with honey 😋 I got a lift back to Kirk Yetholm. It was a tough moment to arrive at the Border Hotel, right next to the finish arches, by car, and the disappointment hit me quite hard once more. But right outside were Jen O’Neil and Hannah Rickman #TeamDNF 😉 and both gave me a massive hug which helped a lot. Of course I was looked after by the Spine volunteers at the finish just as well as if I had run through those arches, and after a shower, clean clothes and some food (a lot of food!) I felt a lot better. I was delighted to know that people I spent miles with on the race, Paul, Angela and Clëo, finished successfully I then spent several hours in the bar of the hotel with Jen, waiting for my wonderful friends Jane and Hilda from Ilkley to come and collect me and take me home.

Epilogue

About ten days have passed since my I crossed my own alternative finish line at Hut 2. Yes I retired from the race and I feel disappointed, but I don’t see it as having failed, nor do I feel I need to do the whole thing again to redeem myself or prove something to the world or to myself. That’s not to say I would rule out doing the event again at some point in the future, it’s a great route, but not for now. I have covered the entire Pennine Way already, I have covered those last seven miles from Hut 2 on my recce, and touched the wall of the Border Hotel. There was just no one to see it at the time. Will Roberts from the Spine Media team said something exceedingly nice about the many runners who did not make the official finish line, including me, in his final update here.

There is no torn muscle in my back. I have been to see my osteopath. It seems to be irritation of the SI joint in response to the repeated impact of non-stop hiking. I found it hard to believe that there is not some major and ghastly injury to cause me such intense pain. Little unhelpful voices pipe up wondering if I have not been a wimp, if I could not have persevered, pushed through, got a grip. Could I have ‘crawled’ to Kirk Yetholm? I really don’t think I could have made it, though there is no way of knowing for sure. I have had significant pain in races: IT bands that caused me absolute agony on the Challenger South, blown quads on the Dales High Way, and I know I can push through a fair bit of pain. I could not get past this searing pain which literally had me screaming to the heavens. I still get twinges of it now and they remind me that it was no fun for sure.

I do not regret making the choice of ‘running’ on my own. I would have felt bad if I had been with Paul as he would likely have felt compelled to stay with me. When the chips are down I prefer to be by myself. I am used to making decisions by myself too. No amount of encouragement from someone else could have got me beyond that pain. On the upside, I had an emergency bivi experience, in January, on a high ridge in the Cheviots, and that has been most useful. I now know I can do that and be safe and comfortable. It has also given me a better appreciation of the mandatory kit!

There is cause for optimism. My strategy of taking more rest, and hiking instead of trying to run got me a lot further. The two previous times I had the lean it started around 100 miles if not before. Now I have reached about 150 miles. The actual lean was actually not as bad as before. I have an entry for the Northern Traverse in April and I have paid for it, so I am going to work towards getting my back fit for that and see if I can make the start line, and perhaps even the finish line. It might be my last attempt at one of these multi-day races. They are addictive, and good for the mind I think, but not good for your body! And I am not just talking about my back here: the fluid retention, the fatigue, the night sweats, all of it points to this level of endurance perhaps not being the best for your physical health.

In case anyone is wondering: my feet were swollen, but absolutely fine. Not a blister in sight. My legs felt pretty good too. Nutrition and hydration worked like a dream. My mind was in a good place apart from a low going up Cross Fell. Really there was nothing wrong, apart from my back totally NOT being with the programme.

Kit list

For those who are interested below is a list of the main items I used on this race. Any questions just get in touch!

• Pack – Instinct XX 20-24
• Front pack – OMM
• Waterproof jacket – Montane Spine (worn from start to finish)
• Waterproof trousers – Montane Spirit (worn from start to finish)
• Base layer top – Montane Primino / Alpkit merino
• Base layer bottom – Montane Long Jane (first two days only)
• Leggings – Alpkit / Ron Hill
• Socks – knee length waterproof socks Dexshell x 3 pairs, Gecko x 1 pair. Changed at each checkpoint.
• Shoes – Hoka Mafate Speed 4 (half size up to accommodate the waterproof socks)
• Insulated jacket – Rab Xenair Alpine Light (worn from start to finish)
• Spare Insulated jacket – OMM Rotor Smock (worn on the last night)
• Gilet – Haglofs Proteus (first day only)
• Hat – Inov8 Extreme Thermo Beanie
• Buffs x 2
• Gloves – Decathlon Forclaz merino liner gloves
• Mittens – Montane Prism waterproof
• Mat – Alpkit Numo
• Bivi bag – TerraNova Moonlite
• Sleeping bag – Nanga Minimarhythm Zero
• Handheld GPS device – Etrex 32X with TalkyToaster maps loaded (I did use it, and found it useful!)
• Watch – Garmin Enduro2 and Suunto Race S
• Head torch – Petzl Nao RL (with spare Petzl Swift RL)