NoT the Northern Traverse

Running through storm Kathleen, and some unfinished business….

This post will not end with the happy sound of my feet going over a finish line, or pictures of a medal. My first major ultra event of 2024, the Silva Northern Traverse, a non-stop race of 180 miles (in reality around 190) from St Bees to Robin Hood’s Bay (the Coast to Coast route), came to an end at Richmond after 116 miles and 46 hours. Retiring, also called DNF (Did Not Finish) is not an unusual outcome in ultra running, where events often test body and mind to the limit and beyond, and the drop out rate can be high. It can happen to anyone, from the elite runner all the way to the participant at the back of the pack. Still, despite a DNF being a definite possibility for anyone toeing the start line on an ultra race, the disappointment when it actually happens is usually significant. I had been lucky so far and had never retired from an ultra, my only previous DNF had been in 2018 during a road 10k in Salford where I stopped after 5k. So this is a new experience I need to deal with. I entered the Northern Traverse almost a year ago, and have been preparing for many months, so a lot of investment in terms of time, effort and emotions has gone in. Not making the finish line is certainly not going to stop me writing my blog, in fact I hope it will go some way to help me process the disappointment. If some others enjoy reading this rather lengthy post it’s a bonus.

Before the race:

A significant part of the preparations had been recceing most of the route in sections, which I did between last December and March, mainly with friends Andrew and Andy, and sometimes on my own. By the end I had covered all but the first 34 miles of the route. Due to the route being point to point it is not the easiest to recce, and involved quite a lot of logistical complexity. Public transport is neither plentiful nor frequent on this route, leading us to mainly use the ‘one car at either end’ option, and as a last resort doing an out and back on your own. At least, being based in Yorkshire, we have the benefit of living not too far away. We had some pretty poor weather at times and I hoped that conditions on the actual event would be significantly better. How untrue that turned out to be! Obviously early April can bring all sorts of weather, especially these days, but to be confronted with a named storm (Kathleen) on the event was particularly unlucky.

As race day approached I spent my time finalising my race schedule (thank you Alex Morley for the brilliant spreadsheet!), aiming for around an 80 hour finish, making various laminated cards containing info on checkpoints, distances, projected times and cut-off times, packing my kit, and obsessively studying the weather forecast. The mandatory kit list is fairly minimal, so one does well to pack significantly more, also in the drop bag which travels ahead of you to four of the checkpoints, in order to have options for all weather conditions. The event organisers, Ourea, had already let us know that in view of the weather forecast the cold weather kit would likely be mandated too. With significant distances between major checkpoints planning your fluids and nutrition is important. I prepared five large ziplock bags filled with snacks for on the move, one to use from the start and four to pick up from my drop bag each time I would have access to it, roughly every 30 to 40 miles (Patterdale, Kirkby Stephen, Richmond, Lordstones). I unpacked all snacks as much as possible, for instance I put my Veloforte chews loose into smaller ziplock bags, coating them in extra icing sugar. How grateful I was later for all that prep, as it would have been a real pain trying to open individual packets in the wild conditions we were confronted with. I am mentioning it not to show off how smart I am, but because it’s a tip I picked up somewhere, so if this helps anyone else it’s worth it.

On Friday afternoon (April 5) my friend Andrew and I took the train from Shipley to St. Bees via Carlisle, a 5 hour journey including an hour’s wait in Carlisle. The journey was smooth, a relief after some potential complications (originally we had booked trains via Carnforth, but this route currently has a rail replacement bus due to a landslip; also more train strikes in progress but thankfully these did not affect us). Whilst on the train an email reached us from Ourea containing a .gpx file with a possible alternative route avoiding Kidsty Pike, the highest point on the whole route, which comes between Patterdale and Shap, this in view of the poor weather forecast. We were pleased to both be able to get this downloaded and onto our watches (and we did end up having to use this file, more later!) We arrived in a windy St. Bees and walked from the station to St. Bees School where registration took place. Unfortunately we had arrived at the same time as the coach full with runners who had opted to use the park and ride (parking their cars at Robin Hood’s Bay) so there was a long queue, but this gave us a chance to chat with some fellow runners in the line whilst we were waiting to be kit checked (which was very thorough!), receive our race number, tracker, and have our photo taken. Nice to see our friend and Ilkley Harriers club mate Ritchie who was volunteering on the logistics/drop bag team. I then walked to my hotel to check in, the Seacote Hotel which is right on the seafront. A lovely traditional seaside hotel which was very welcoming and comfortable, and on this occasion full of fellow runners. After eating a hearty evening meal back at the school (pre-booked with the event) I went to bed early and managed to have a pretty good night’s sleep.

Start to Borrowdale

I awoke to an even more breezy Saturday, though dry as well as surprisingly warm. I handed in my drop bag at the van near the start line; all bags were weighed (max. 15 kg) and I had already seen at registration that they were very strict with the weight limit. I had weighed my bag at home, but still, you never know. I really couldn’t think of anything in there I would be able to do without. Thankfully mine came in at 13.5 kg, phew! Andrew had had to take a couple of items out of his…. The race briefing was at 08:15 ready for an 08:30 start. The runners on the Lakes Traverse (a mere fun run of 100k to Shap) had already set off at 07:30. Before lining up on the start line we were given the opportunity to dip our toes into the Irish Sea and collect a pebble to carry across to the North Sea, as has become tradition following Alfred Wainwright’s suggestion when he devised the Coast to Coast route. I met up again with Andrew who had stayed in a different hotel, also with my friends and fellow Punk Panthers Andy and Rich, and with Ilona and Phil whom I had met on the Cheviot Goat. In the meantime I did some running celebrity spotting and saw Hannah Rickman, Eoin Keith, and then located Gary Thwaites (who was supporting, not running) and Eddie Sutton from the Tea and Trails podcast right at the front. I had met Gary once before (at the Northern XC in Sedgefield) so it was lovely to say hello again and see Eddie in person for the first time. As we are hardly in the same league I also knew I wouldn’t see her again after the start! After a quick hug I made my way back to my ‘rightful place’ towards the back of the pack.

08:30 came and we were off. The course initially travels north for about 4 miles along the coastal path, past St Bees Lighthouse, before turning east and inland towards Sandwith and then Cleator. Mainly grassy running, nothing too muddy, though I found the camber rather uncomfortable to run on, the outside of my left foot started to burn with the constant slide to the left. I had imagined to be in quite a crowd of runners all day so I was quite surprised to suddenly find myself entirely alone as soon as we turned inland. No problems, I like running by myself and although I had not reccied this section it was quite straightforward. Around Ennerdale Bridge I started to gain ground on some of the runners ahead and on the the approach to Ennerdale Water I caught up with Andrew who had made a new friend, Jen, whom we would spend a lot of time with. I found the run along the shore of Ennerdale Water a little challenging, although I wasn’t surprised by that as I had seen YouTube video footage of it before. It is not exactly an easy lakeside saunter as it is quite uneven and rocky underfoot, there was even a bit of a scramble (Robin Hood’s Chair) at one point. I was glad to reach the end of the lake and with it more runnable terrain. Lots of people had gone past me as I am always slow on this kind of terrain, but now on a good track I was making better headway again and caught up with Andrew and Jen once more. After running through the Ennerdale Fell Plantation we reached the Black Sail Youth Hostel where people were stopping to put on extra layers, I put my gloves on and made use of the toilet. Our first real climb as well as exposure to the full force of storm Kathleen awaited.

As soon as we set off from Black Sail towards Honister the force of the wind hits us hard and I struggle to stay upright at times. Every time I lift one foot off the ground to take my next step Kathleen tries to use the opportunity to flatten me. We climb very steeply alongside Loft Beck and this is where I get my poles out for the first time (and they stay out), we then traverse the col below Grey Knotts until we reach the Old Tramway and descend into the Honister Slate Mine. I find Andrew waiting here for me, I tell him not to worry too much as nothing is going to happen with plenty of runners behind me (and we are all wearing a tracker with an emergency button), but at the same time I know it is in Andrew’s character to be caring and helpful, he reckons it’s best to stay more or less together until we are through the Lake District and hopefully away from this storm.

Borrowdale to Patterdale

We reach the first (minor) checkpoint at Borrowdale at 16:40, right on (my) schedule. There is tea and soup as well as various cold snacks. All the food at Ourea Events is vegan, high-quality and delicious. I had heard this and now I am experiencing it for myself. Though I am vegetarian rather than vegan it is great not to have to check if I can eat something, because I can eat everything here! We top op our soft flasks, use the toilet, and eat some food. Jen is tending to her feet and asks if she can come with us, which is a good idea. The next climbs are not going to be any easier. So the three of us set off for the next section from Borrowdale to Grasmere via Greenup Edge, Jen leading, she is strong going uphill. Initially the climbing is fairly easy but the last pull, up Lining Crag, is very steep. All I can think as I look upwards is how pleased I am that I turned back at Greenup Edge on my last solo recce, which was an out and back from Grasmere where I had intended to get to Borrowdale. Caught in deep snow in a white out and without being able to see the path down into Borrowdale I had turned around and retraced my steps to Grasmere. I knew that was wise at the time, looking at what would have been my descent I was 1000% confirmed in that decision! There are now quite a few runners on the trail around us, as we descend Jen and Andrew get ahead and I chat for a bit with a Lakes Traverse runner who has come up from Cornwall, we discuss if either of us will ever run the Arc of Attrition and whether we would make the cut-offs. As we reach Grasmere just before 8 pm I catch up with Jen and Andrew again, it is starting to rain and it will also soon get dark so there are some brief stops to put head torches and over trousers on.

We are now on the next section to Patterdale over Grisedale Hause. I had reccied this earlier this year as an out and back so had covered it twice (in fairly poor weather too, though not a named storm) and had found it very hard then. It feels equally hard now, and of course we have darkness to contend with too. Not even a moon to guide us. Goodness, how grateful am I that at least I know this stretch. I can just see Jen’s and Andrew’s head torches ahead and can also see some behind me. There are a few tricky points where the low cloud interferes with the light on my head torch and it is difficult to make out the true path through what looks like just fields of boulders. It all feels completely endless even though I know it is not. I am not a natural ‘Lake District runner’, this terrain does not come easy to me at all. I can manage, I am safe, I can navigate, I have all the gear and also some idea, but it is not my forte and I long for an easier trail. I see the outline of Ruthwaite Lodge appearing with relief in my heart, knowing that that easy trail is now not far away. Once more I catch up with Jen and Andrew and the three of us reach the Patterdale checkpoint at 22:45. That’s 15 minutes up on my 80 hour schedule though I am not really looking at this at the time. But with hindsight it’s still quite pleasing. Here we are reunited with our drop bags, there is hot food to eat, and we are informed that we are being diverted along the alternative, lower level route across Askham Fell for the next section to Shap, avoiding Kidsty Pike. It truly is music to our ears! I charge my electricals, change my socks, fill my soft flasks, eat food, drink tea and brush my teeth. Andrew gets a plaster on his head from the checkpoint medic, to cover the gash from when he had a close encounter with a rock a little earlier. To his disappointment they don’t have any of the ‘I have been very brave stickers’.

Andrew and I have the alternative route on our Garmins so we are good, Jen cannot manage to download it (poor signal) but that’s no problem as we shall stick together. We later find that there are quite a few runners on the hill who struggled to get the .gpx loaded, we try and help each other as much as we can. But whilst I had succeeded with one part of the prep, i.e. getting the file loaded onto my watch, I had neglected to study the actual route on the map and so had Andrew, this turned out to be quite a significant mistake. Our paper maps did not cover that section anyway, but I could have looked on the OS app. Hearing ‘lower route’ my brain had translated this into ‘low route’ and naively I envisaged some easy saunter along roads and country lanes, with hindsight this just seems ridiculous. You normally cannot get from one valley into another without going over some kind of pass or col at least. So both Andrew and I decide we do not need to add an extra midlayer of clothing, as we don’t want to be too warm on lower ground. This would come back to bite us for sure.

Patterdale to Shap

The original route from Patterdale over Kidsty Pike and along Haweswater to Shap was 16 miles, this one is about 17.5 miles and it takes us up and over to Martindale, along Ullswater and across Askham Fell down to Bampton, after which we will eventually rejoin the original route. The weather is relentlessly terrible, high winds and driving rain and it is very muddy and slippery underfoot. It is also much colder than I had expected. I am barely warm enough and just need to keep moving forward relentlessly, there is nowhere to stop. Taking my pack off to get out another layer is absolutely not an option in these conditions. We are with some other runners. The pace is ok for me, but marginally too fast to be able to eat. I am aware that I am getting colder and that my mood starts to slide, so I know I need to eat, regardless of what anyone else is doing. Maybe they can keep going without fuelling but I cannot. We reach a cluster of houses and there is a wall with a teeny bit of shelter, I say I need just one minute to manage to get snacks out of my pocket (tricky with gloves and large waterproof mittens), by now this feels crucial and I don’t care if I get left behind. But they kindly wait for me anyway. Once on Askham Fell it feels like it can barely get any worse (I guess we could have been on Kidsty Pike….it doesn’t bear thinking about), we are now going into the wind or it’s coming from the side, either way the rain is driving into our faces. Thank goodness for excellent waterproofs, I am actually dry underneath. But I feel cold and worried. What if one of us has an accident, how would you even get into your survival bag in these conditions? Thankfully no one falls. Eventually we start to descend, leave the moor and reach a road. Afterwards Jen tells me we were never more than a mile from ‘civilisation’ but to my senses we might have well been on the moon, it felt so remote. Even on the road it is too cold to stop, we march on, I manage to stuff some more food into myself to keep going, my eyes constantly scanning the sides of the road for a suitable shelter. I have not told the others I am too cold, I guess I feel embarrassed that I didn’t make the right clothing choice back at Patterdale. Eventually, better very late than never, we spot a heaven-sent bus shelter in Bampton. Before I can say anything Andrew says ‘I am going in there to put another layer on’. It turns out he had been equally cold. After this brief stop we carry on along the road and then through a few muddy fields to Shap Abbey and then Shap itself. Andrew has been very quiet. As the road sign for Shap comes into view my watch ‘clicks over’ onto 63 miles and I cheerily say ‘a third of the way’. Andrew says nothing which I take to be an ominous sign. I think to myself, ‘he doesn’t think it’s a third, as he wants to stop now’, and I turn out to be right.

We get inside the Shap checkpoint at 05:15 on Sunday morning, an hour ahead of my schedule, slightly helped by the (longer but faster) alternative route. Andrew says he wants to stop, so I give the standard ultra advice: ‘don’t decide anything until you have had something to eat and have had a rest’, which as a hugely experienced ultra runner he knows anyway. He duly does eat and rest, but he does not change his mind and I do understand. He has fallen over twice and hurt his already sore and not quite healed wrist which suffered an injury earlier this year, and sensibly he does not want to make that any worse. He needs his wrist for his beloved golf, tennis and padel. And I think his heart is no longer in it after the long cold night. Jen and I decide not to make any fixed plans, we will run together if it suits but not necessarily wait for each other. Jen is a slightly quicker runner than I am, and I am faster with the checkpoint admin, also having the advantage not to have to tend to my feet which are holding up well. In other words, even if I leave before her she will catch me up. I feel tired and suddenly nauseous after having eaten, so I lie down across three chairs, set an alarm for 20 minutes, and manage to sleep for a glorious 15. I feel tons better when I wake up, daylight has arrived, and with it my energy. I say goodbye to Andrew and skip out of Shap at 06:45, on my way to Kirkby Stephen about 20 miles away.

Shap to Kirkby Stephen

It is raining hard and the wind is still keeping me company too, but it is light and a whole new day lies ahead so I am feeling good. I cross over the railway and the M6 and initially follow a long wide track across moorland, once I leave the track the ground becomes very squelchy but there is little climbing to be done so on the whole this section is easy. I get cold and decide to put a second midlayer on and change my gloves for dry ones, this means I have to take my pack off. I find a large stone I can semi shelter under and as I am doing my admin there Jen appears, and we carry on together. Somewhere along the journey to Kirkby Stephen it stops raining and the sun even comes out, perhaps somewhere around Sunbiggin. By the time we get to the town it actually feels quite pleasant. The only thing that is beginning to be a real nuisance is my increasing back ache. I remember actually saying to Jen ‘my back is killing me’, but I mostly manage to deal with it by figuratively putting the pain in a parcel and putting it on a shelf. We reach the checkpoint at 13:15. This is a tricky time: I don’t want to waste too much daylight and would like to press on towards Richmond and sleep there as per my original plan, at the same time I feel a short sleep might do me good, like it did at Shap. I particularly think it might help my back just to lie down for a bit. I have never gone through more than one night so this is all new territory for me. The welcome at the Kirkby Stephen checkpoint is great. I also meet my friend Ritchie again, he gives me a hug on behalf of Andrew, who popped in earlier to collect his drop bag before going home. We are so well looked after: you are directed to a chair at a table, your drop bag is brought to you, someone asks if you would like a drink, someone else asks if you would like some food, it’s a well oiled machine and people cannot do enough for you. After putting my electricals on charge and having a cup of tea I try and have a sleep in one of the tents which have been put up indoors, in the sports hall (we are in a school). It’s a faff having to get my sleeping bag out and blow my mat up, and I hope it will be worth it. I lie down but I cannot sleep and after an hour I get up again. I go back upstairs and have some chips, more tea, brush my teeth and put clean socks on. I see Ilona and Phil who have arrived in the meantime. Ritchie tells me Jen is still asleep. I want to make the most of the remaining daylight and am keen to go over Nine Standards Rigg and cross the moorland that follows it before dark.

Kirkby Stephen to Richmond

I leave the checkpoint just after 4pm and start the long climb up. It is very windy but sunny. I am wearing my goggles to protect my eyes from the wind, I am so glad I have brought these.

Reaching the top of Nine Standards Rigg I manage to find some shelter between the cairns and admire the view for a moment before pressing on to tackle the miles of very boggy moorland ahead. I had reccied this section with Andrew in similar weather and it had been very unpleasant indeed. Very soon the sunshine stops and it starts to rain, very hard. Now my goggles are not so handy as the rain obscures my vision. I need windscreen wipers on there. I have to take the goggles off after some missteps due to blurry vision. I am getting very annoyed with the wind and shout into it, loudly, lots of times. I scream at the weather gods to just turn the wind off, make it stop. The ground is incredibly wet and boggy and there is often no clear path. I am generally quite good at reading the ground and manage to make good progress without too many ‘oopsies’ into the bog. I have had plenty of practice in the Cheviots last winter. But maybe I am getting cavalier and suddenly I go down up to my knees with my feet wide apart and in two totally different positions and directions and I fall over. I am lucky my shoes don’t come off. I recognise that I probably tweak my back in breaking my fall but it doesn’t really register at the time. I press on forwards following the line on my watch and there are also a few cairns and poles on the horizon to mark the way.

It feels quite exciting and eerie to be tackling the lead mines section at night and by myself. I am not frightened, but I am taking a lot of extra care on the narrow paths. The stone steps are fine, but any grassy sections are very slippery. I manage to actually run the long section after the Swinner Gill mines on the good track and am delighted with that. The start of the descent to cross from one side to the other at Blakethwaite Smelt Mill is difficult to find and initially I walk past it. I retrace my steps when I can see on my watch that I have overshot. I still find it difficult to identify the start of the path, and it is so steep that I ponder whether I should go down on my bottom, it is grass after all. I manage it on my feet though. Crossing the first stream, which doesn’t have a footbridge, I half fall in. I take five minutes in the ruins of the Blakethwaite Peat Store to eat something. It is such a beautiful spot. I try and take a photo in the dark but it doesn’t come out well. I carry on by starting the climb up the other side of the valley: a few hairpins, then along the side for a bit, then the very steep climb up to Melbecks Moor. I am puffing and panting, stopping every few meters and leaning on my poles to catch my breath. Thankfully the top comes eventually and then I am on the wide path in this kind of moonscape: all ancient waste tips and spoil heaps with an old stone crushing machine thrown in for good measure. It is runnable and I am still running the downs which I am pretty pleased about, though my back continues to hurt. I feel a bit low on energy and sit down on the bench at one of the buildings just past Surrender Bridge, the wind has completely dropped now and it is dry. I make myself a Firepot meal and eat about a third of it, I have hot water in my flask. It tastes nice but it doesn’t sit well in my stomach, though it stays down. A couple of miles before Reeth I suffer some navigational confusion and waste 15 minutes and precious energy going round in circles in a field. Cannot have been paying attention during the recce there! I guess sleep deprivation is now starting to hit. I had already mistaken lots of lichen patches for footpath signs, and seen a nodding dalmatian dog by the side of the trail, which turned out to be just a white rock with black lichen. Coming into Reeth it becomes more interesting as I see a magic roundabout type structure with exotic animals including a giraffe and a zebra. I think it is an innovative kind of display in someone’s garden, but when I come nearer it turns out to be just a dead tree. I leave the gravel path which is awkward to move along, I remember having moaned about this little stretch on the recce, and reach the road in Reeth. It is here I suddenly notice I am leaning over to the right. I have never experienced it but I recognise it immediately as the ‘ultra runners’ lean’, I have seen it on photos and videos: Damian Hall, Debbie Martin-Consani. At least I am in good company, but it is very uncomfortable. I walk (running is now no longer possible) to the Dales Bike Centre where I intend to have a short sleep in the toilet block. Arriving at 01:55 there are two other runners there who are just leaving, so I have the place to myself. I send an SMS to race HQ saying I intend to sleep here for a bit and I settle down on the floor, but again I cannot fall asleep. After a while I do some exercises to try and stretch my back out, I fill up my soft flasks and force down some paracetamol, this is a struggle as my stomach doesn’t feel quite right.

It is only 10 miles to the checkpoint at Richmond, normally these would be easy miles too. I had really enjoyed this little section on the recce. But I am struggling now as my back hurts a lot and the lean feels very awkward. My normal power walk has become a slow amble. Still, I fully intend to walk to Richmond, ask for stronger painkillers and a medical opinion, and have a long rest, after all I have oodles of time in hand. After a couple of miles along the road the path goes up into the woods. I need to sit down on a bench before tackling a long line of stone slabs, they are wet, green and slippery in places. As I climb them I realise this is a point of no return (to Reeth) as I reckon I would be unable to come down these again. Oh well, I don’t want to go back to Reeth anyway, I need to get to Richmond. At the top of the slabs I have to stop again. Suddenly I vomit and I see my Firepot vegetarian paella from a few hours ago again. I fear my paracetamol has probably also come out. I don’t worry about it too much, I think vomiting is just a secondary problem here. My guess is I had not given the meal enough time to rehydrate when I made it. I carry on slowly and steadily through endless muddy fields. How hard can it be to walk 10 miles? I give myself all sorts of pep talks and remind myself of how I had wanted to be challenged to my limits, well here it is, deal with it! The pain in my back is significant whether I am on the road or the mud. I am now so slow that runners who were well behind me catch up with me and whizz past. Somewhere around here Jen appears and very kindly offers to walk with me, but I tell her to carry on as I am too slow. I cross the bridge in Marske and shortly afterwards sit down on the steps by the church, I even get the paper map out to see how much further it is. I am about half way through the 10 miles. I am beginning to wonder how I could possibly cover another 70 miles to the finish, including all those stone steps over the Three Sisters, even after a rest at Richmond. I leave the road for more muddy fields which are a real struggle. After about three of them I reach another gate and look up at the next bit through Applegarth Woods. I can see head torches higher up in the woods and I feel that there is no way I can climb up there, and that I should not take the risk of getting stuck up there. As I ponder my fate my stomach decides to return all the water I have drunk since I first vomited. My misery is complete as I hang over the gate vomiting once more. Had the finish been at Richmond I could likely have crawled those last four and a bit miles. But it feels pointless as I can see no way of continuing beyond Richmond anyway. So I ring race HQ and ask if they can possibly pick me up from the road side if I make my way back there. The woman on the other end of the line is ever so nice and thankfully the support vehicle is not out on another call and they despatch it straight away for me. So my race ends early on Monday morning on a little road near Marske, after 116 miles and almost 46 hours. The girl driving the van is ever so nice as she takes me the short distance to Richmond. I tell her I have never been on the bus of shame, and she tells me they call it the bus of rescue and salvation instead. Not that I am ashamed, but still, it is not anyone’s preferred method of transport to a checkpoint. A volunteer takes my tracker and I see the medic who gives me some brufen which is allowed now that I am no longer in the race. My friend Gill kindly collects me from Richmond, conveniently this is the closest point on the race to my home, only about an hour and a quarter’s drive.

Epilogue

Since my race ended earlier this week I have been avidly dot watching, day and night, and am delighted to report that all my friends mentioned in this post: Jen, Andy, Rich, Ilona and Phil, managed to reach the finish in Robin Hood’s Bay. Heroes, each and every one of them! Andy went through four whole nights to finish on Wednesday morning in the sunshine, I watched it on the live feed and I am not ashamed to say I had tears in my eyes, I was so delighted for him. And obviously sad that on this occasion it was not to be for me. A whole bag of mixed emotions.

I have visited my wonderful osteopath to try and get my back sorted. Looking back I realised that I had pulled my back in the same place when I stumbled over a stone on a recce along Haweswater about six weeks ago. This appeared to have settled down by itself so I had almost forgotten about it. It now turns out that my SI joint was totally out of alignment, which probably happened during that fall. Which wasn’t too much of a problem until I was running for a very long time and then tweaked it again when I fell in the bog after Nine Standards. Well, the SI joint has been manipulated back to where it should be, and hopefully I am on the road to full back health again. Lesson to take away: before any mega race you have invested so much in, it is wise to visit the osteopath for a check up, even if all feels fine, as you could be carrying an injury which you take into your race.

I take many positives from the event: it is the longest distance I have ever run, it is the longest time I have ever run, my legs are fine, I had no blisters, and I largely enjoyed it despite the character building weather. This has been a wonderfully well organised event, all the good things I had heard about Ourea Events are true. Will I try again next year? Watch this space….I can’t say I am not tempted. In the meantime I still have this year’s race to finish and my pebble to deliver to the North Sea, so I am intending to go for a solo run from Richmond to Robin Hood’s Bay some time this summer on a nice sunny day!

With thanks to No Limits Photography and Jen O’Neill who kindly gave permission for the use of their photos. All uncredited photos have been taken by myself.