Pennine Barrier 50

The end of June has always meant the West Highland Way race for me, but after getting my tenth goblet last year I decided to take a year off. With the need to have a back-up crew it's probably the most expensive race in my calendar each year and I'm also starting to feel guilty about press-ganging my family into action for more sleep deprived and midge-infested weekends in Scotland. It will always have a pull for me though, and I'm sure I'll be back. Reading the reports of this year's race has already had me half wishing that I had gone. But I made the decision and looked around for a nice event that didn't drain my physical or financial resources too much but would still be good for the last long day out before the Lakeland 100 a month later.

I had done the GB Ultras Snowdonia 50 last autumn so knew that their organisation was pretty good and their Pennine Barrier 50 seemed to meet my requirements almost spot on. I had always wanted to run the Yorshire Three Peaks course but had somehow never got around to it; the Pennine Barrier completes this 26 mile loop but makes it into a nice-looking 50 miler by adding an approach and return from Malham village.

I hadn't really thought what to do about accommodation until fairly late on, so by the time that I decided a relaxing weekend staying in the vicinity for both Friday and Saturday nights would be best, everything in Malham was full. I booked a room at the Falcon in Arncliffe which was a nice half-hour drive away over the moors, later finding out that the pub had been used as the original "Woolpack" in the Emmerdale TV soap show. All the race registration procedures could be done on the Friday evening at the event base at Malham showground just south of the village, which meant that on the Saturday all I had to do was tumble out of bed and drive over to Malham for the 6am start.

It was clear even at this time that it was going to be a beautiful day, so the compulsory waterproof top was buried at the bottom of the pack and stayed there, it was a tee-shirt outing from start to finish. Most runners were liberally applying sunscreen before the start which seemed a wise move. There was a concurrent 100 mile event which would take our 50 mile loop back to Malham then go onto a second different loop. The 50 or so entrants for this were set off at the stroke of 6am, followed by the 200 or so taking on the 50 a couple of minutes later.

My mountain ultra policy of "run the downhills, walk the rest" was not going to work on this one because although the total climb involved was fairly substantial at just over 9,000ft, it was mostly concentrated in a few obvious climbs with a lot of gently undulating ground in between. I decided that I had to jog all the flattish bits or I would likely be out for the maximum time of 18 hours. Around 14 hours seemed a more sensible target as it would allow me to finish in daylight and get back to Arncliffe for a couple of beers to round off the day, so I joined the joggers, still near the back of the pack, as we wound northwards through Malham then along the track to Malham Cove.  The procession up the cove steps seemed to go a lot slower than I would have walked on my own but it gave an early breather. Once clear of the limestone pavement and the little rocky valley above though, the field started to spread out on the fairly even ground of the Pennine Way and each of us could settle into our own pace.

There was a short, artificial out and back just before the tarn to make sure the course topped the official 50 miles, then nice easy jogging around the tarn, still following the Pennine Way northwards to the foot of Fountains Fell, where I dropped into a steady walk to the summit. I had been over Fountains several times before in my Pennine meanderings but never in clear weather, so it was a treat to see the fine views developing as we went over the top. The descent seemed far easier than I remembered and we were soon at the first checkpoint down in Silverdale Road at nearly 12 miles in. The weather was getting warm now, even still well before 9am, so regular water top-ups were necessary.

Off up Pen y Ghent now, steady walking up the easy track. Just before the final steep section a track directly up from Horton in Ribblesdale comes in from the left (often used as the "escape route" on the Spine if conditions on Pen y Ghent summit are problematic), and this is the point where we joined the Three Peaks "loop". Unfortunately, it was where we also joined several hundred walkers out to complete the loop on what was the longest Saturday of the year. Everyone has their own right to be on the hills of course, so we shouldn't complain about others taking their own advantage of the fine weather and beautiful countryside. It was easy enough to pass them and I got to where the "walking field" thinned out substantially about 12 or 13 miles further on. A short rocky staircase led to the top of Pen y Ghent then a wide easy track down the other side permitted faster movement once again. I had always followed this track back down to Horton, so when we reached the crossroads where the direct route to Whernside leaves it, I was onto new ground for the first time.

A few gently undulating miles on an easy-to-jog track led to the next checkpoint at the base of the famous Ribble Head Viaduct. Walkers and runners alike were starting to show the effects of heat by now, but these are conditions that I'm quite happy with, I would much rather be hot than cold. After a handful of sweets and biscuits and a fresh water top-up I was soon away on the ascent of Whernside. This is a long, gently ascending track pretty well all the way to the summit. I'm sure on a round of the Three Peaks alone I would try to run at least part of it, but today it was a welcome rest from jogging and I cruised up at a steady walking pace. The GB Ultras team seemed to have marshals on every summit as well as all the checkpoints, so it was nice to get a bit of encouragement from them on reaching the top, especially as Whernside summit is approximately halfway around the course and from here on the walking contingent really started to thin out. The descent from Whenside was mostly gentle with a short steeper section in the middle, and I was then down in the valley bottom with the rather steep looking face of the next peak, Ingleborough, dead ahead.

I had marked the course on the mandatory OS map but I was using a race vest for the first time ever (making progress into the modern world maybe but only because I won it in a competition!) and hadn't really worked out the best place to stow a map so it wasn't very accessible. It didn't seem to matter because the "Three Peaks" course is waymarked on almost every gatepost and stile you pass so I was just following those. I knew there was a checkpoint before the ascent of Ingleborough but it was soon becoming clear that I was heading up the fell out of the valley again without having passed it. I stopped and looked around and saw runners approaching me from a different direction, so I back-tracked to where they had come from and found the checkpoint tucked away up a road slightly off the "Three Peaks" route. The price of not paying attention, but it had cost me no more than a half mile or so and I wasn't going to let it spoil my day.

Suitably refuelled I set off up Ingleborough, which in spite of its fierce appearance was mainly an easy-angled ascent with just two or three hundred feet of steep ground somewhere in the middle. The view from the top was simply stunning, across the Dales to the east and right over Lancashire to the sea in the west, and with five of the seven significant climbs on the course now done, a great place to reach. The descent from here down to Horton was long but very gentle and I managed something of a jog all the way down, to another checkpoint on the sportsfield in the village. The field had really thinned out by now so I had to get the map out to be sure of the right exit from the village and onto the track up Pen y Ghent. The compulsory map was an OS Outdoor Leisure 1:25000, a huge sheet printed on both sides. Of course the bit I wanted required the map to be completely unfolded then refolded on the other side to get at it. The day had been really free-flowing up to that point and I rather resented the few minutes that this exercise took. I knew I might need the map again right at the end of the course so I made sure I re-folded it appropriately for quick access to this before I finally put it away.

It was quite a pull back up to the gate just below the rocky bit of Pen y Ghent but it went steadily enough and at that point the "Three Peaks Circuit" was complete, with just the final eleven miles or so back to Malham to do. I caught a couple of runners as I jogged down the easy track to the final checkpoint, which was the same as the first one back in Silverdale Road. One more climb then downhill all the way to the finish. I find that however much I try to conceal it, my brain knows when I'm on the last major climb of an event so contrives to make it feel tough; I had enjoyed all the climbs up until now but it wasn't going to let me have a whole day out without exacting a bit of pain to pay for the trip. On the way up I overtook one runner who had almost stopped, but could make no headway chasing four others that I saw ahead, and by the time I got to the top they were out of sight. Ah well, easy now and I settled into a steady jog on the beautifully angled (for descending) path down the other side, enjoying the views and the fine and still warm evening. I got back to within a hundred yards or so the four ahead as we passed Tennant Gill farm but then I could see they had missed the turn to the left that the Pennine Way takes. I shouted and waved but no reaction, then after a while they realised their mistake when I was parallel with them but a couple of hundred yards to the left, so they started to back-track. I carried on jogging from here and never saw them again. Not having to save anything for more hills I kept up a steady jog all the way past the tarn and across the easy ground on the other side to as far as the start of the rocky valley before the Cove. I caught another group here and stayed with them a while.

The homeward route left the outward one at the top of the Cove. Instead of crossing back over the limestone pavement and down the steps we went leftwards and slightly uphill to pick up the Dales High Way heading for Gordale Bridge. One of the other guys had pushed on faster but I seemed to be leaving the others so was on my own again for a bit. At Goredale Bridge we crossed the road to find a really pleasant runnable track leading down to and past Janet's Foss; even at approaching 8pm there were still bathers in the pool underneath the waterfall there.

I thought I might just get back to the finish before 8pm because it only looked about a mile from here, and it seemed I had cracked it easily when I saw the flags and cars on the showground appear not too far ahead. What I realised a few moments later though was that they were on the other side of the river, and to reach them required a sidestep of a few hundred yards to reach the bridge in Malham village, then back out again. Looking at the watch I made a more determined effort for a few minutes and eventually made it to the finish line in 13:55:52 for 102nd place, job done.

It was a fine day out and as a last long training day before the Lakeland, just about perfect. I had got round in the time I set myself without ever feeling particularly pressed, and the weather and consequent views were special. This is one I might do again.

At the top of the rocky valley above Malham Cove on the outward leg

A Reason for Trying

This isn't a race report or anything technically interesting. It's just a bit of musing. Mainly articulated for me I suppose but writing things down is sometimes necessary to understand one's feelings a bit better. And I needed to do it  with a clear head but soon enough after the events that prompted them for the thoughts to be still real in my mind and not just one of a collection of favourably massaged memories.

Early yesterday morning I pulled out of the Hardmoors 110 race at the Clay Bank checkpoint, which comes after about 80 miles. It wasn't a decision, it was an inevitability by that stage. After a good 53 mile run up the coast from Filey to Saltburn I was right on my planned schedule. I had created a 2 hour buffer over the cut-off time and was good to go on the section of the course I knew best, the remaining half to Helmsley. Yet over the next 15 miles things went wrong. I got progressively more tired and found the final uphill of the the stage to Captain Cook's monument, absolutely draining. Worse, I had slowed so badly that I got to Kildale , the only place on the last 90 miles of the course where you can get inside and regroup a bit, an hour and a half late. I had planned that if I arrived at this point needing some R&R then there would be plenty of time for a good recovery, but I had barely half an hour. I slept for maybe 15 minutes, had some pizza and a few cups of tea, then got out on the course again. On the long but fairly gentle climb back up onto the moors I was continually falling asleep though by now it was daylight. In spite of eating a steady stream of haribos and ginger biscuits I couldn't get going at anything better than a slow walk. Runners caught and passed me at regular intervals. By the time I got to Bloworth Crossing, a lonely but strangely captivating spot and a real landmark on this particular course, the writing was on the wall. At this pace I wasn't going to reach the next cut-off point in time and I couldn't find any way to speed up. I shambled the remaining miles down to civilisation at Clay Bank and called it a day. The remaining runner on the course and the sweeper arrived soon afterwards.

My initial reaction was that this event was now too big for me. I should stay away from 100-milers these days and stick to the 50's that I know I can finish. Time and tide, and all that. But I thought back to a reflective post by a friend, Ian, a few weeks ago, and I hope he'll forgive me for quoting a passage of it here. 

" I’m left a bit frustrated that my performances overall are getting worse and I’m finding it harder to do these events. I trained well for this one but found it a tough slog at many points, especially hiking up the big hills which took me a bit by surprise. Biological and running age is definitely catching up with me, and I can’t do the times or performances I used to be able to do. That I suppose is inevitable, but still frustrating. I’m 53 now, and have been doing a lot of endurance running for almost 30 years. Of course I am going to be slower, my head tells me. My heart doesn’t though, and still expects me to go out there and perform the way I did 20 years ago."

For me the numbers are different but the sentiments are exactly the same. My overwhelming reaction to my recent Hardmoors experience was frustration at an event which 10 or even 5 years ago I could have completed without question.

We have to re-adjust our sights. But how far?

Ian went on to explore this a bit but I think has not yet come to a conclusion. If we lower the bar far enough so that we can always succeed, is there any satisfaction in that beyond a few nice days out in the country. On the other side, if failures to complete our chosen project become too frequent does the frustration of what might have been a few years ago become just too much to make the activity worthwhile? 

Why anyway do we choose to indulge in such a time consuming, frequently painful and occasionally disappointing game as long distance running? Well let's leave aside for now the health benefits of physical exercise and the social and aesthetic rewards of travelling through the countryside with like-minded people, and we are left with what you get out of participating in organised events. Would any of us carry on if there were no races? Well maybe, but then it would be an entirely different activity. So what do we get out of competing? 

Sometimes I will go to an event, run as well as I can without getting too stressed, finish somewhere in the middle of the pack and go home feeling that I've had a great day out. It's fun and rewarding but somehow not memorable, a bit like skiing on the piste or mountain biking a prepared trail.  It's good for the bread and butter, but sometimes you need more to provide the jam. At whatever level we take it, for most people this is a sport, and that means we need to be seriously challenged, by others, by ourselves, or by the course.

We can compete against others, to win the race, to be on the podium, to win our age group. We can try produce our best possible time, maybe do better than we did on the same course last year, to get the satisfaction of improvement and the approval of our friends. And for many ultra runners, this defines their game. It's a conventional athletic activity albeit in maybe an unusual overall environment. But I wrote a piece on my former blog "Running Late" back in March 2012 entitled "The Toughest Race in the World" in which I tried to tease out exactly what makes a race "tough". I came to the conclusion that while one course may be intrinsically more difficult than another in terms of length, height gain, ground underfoot, navigational requirements and so on, the factor that eventually defines just how hard an event is to complete is the time that its Race Director sets as the maximum allowable. To take an obvious example, the Tour du Mont Blanc trail is completed by thousands of "ordinary" people every year; most of them take between 10 and 14 days for the circuit. Now run a race round the same course with a maximum time allowance of 46 hours and half of the trained ultra-runners who set out won't make the finish.

And here I think, for those of us with modest and/or declining abilities, is the key.  We can enjoy events which we know we can finish, but we will get our best rewards from those which we know at the outset are near our limit, and for which the outcome is in doubt.

I thought again about my Hardmoors 110 experience. Was failure inevitable from the start, which was my initial reaction after pulling out, or could I have done things differently to tip the odds a bit more my way?  If I had slowed down closer to the cut-offs over the first half would I maybe not have been hit by the overwhelming tiredness later ? If I had chosen to go with a support crew, would the extra flexibility with food, gear, the ability to sit in a warm car for a few minutes occasionally and to have carried a significantly lighter pack for most of the way have made a difference? I don't know, but there's enough doubt there to suggest to me that this year, this event was not unarguably beyond me but in the balance, and that's a tantalising thought. A challenge right on the limit.

But although the satisfaction of a successful finish is huge when attempting something you know is at your boundaries, there will inevitably be more DNF's.  I can live with that. I grew up in the West Midlands Engineering culture of "the bloke who never made a mistake never made anything". I would never criticize the runners who proudly claim that they've never had a DNF, but can't help feeling that they might be missing out somewhere along the line.  

My next two events are the GB Ultras "Pennine Barrier" 50 in four weeks time, then the Lakeland 100 five weeks after that. The former is a race I have never run in an interesting area that I only really half know. Barring accidents I'm expecting to complete and thoroughly enjoy it, unspectacularly but within the time allowed. The Lakeland however is an event that I have started six times and finished three. The last completion was three years ago and I'm becoming increasingly aware that a week off 71 is significantly different from a week off 68. So is the outcome in doubt? Absolutely. Will this prevent my starting and giving it my best? Not a chance.

You miss 100% of the shots you don't take.

Highland Fling Reflections

I first ran the Highland Fling in 2007. It was my very first ultra race, and as a fairly late starter (I was approaching 59 at the time) I just couldn't have foreseen where it would lead to. Now, with over 80 ultras completed including 9 "Flings" (plus a handful of DNF's I have to admit), I thought it might be interesting to reflect a bit on more than a decade's involvement in this great event.

I have a few memories of that first one back in 2007, my first acquaintance with the West Highland Way trail. The actual ground was quite a bit different from now of course, I'm sure many others will remember. The Garadbhan Forest was completely tree covered and quite gloomy, the track up and over Conic Hill was far rockier and more gnarly than it is now. In fact the ground underfoot almost all the way along the course has improved fairly dramatically over ten years - even the old railway track used to have many deep holes which became ankle-deep puddles as soon as it rained. But the weather on that first trip was fine and dry the whole way for us. I remember sitting in the sunshine at Rowardennan talking to the West Highland Way Race Director Dario Melaragni; I had entered the WHW race later that year and he was saying that we would want it a bit cooler then or everyone would suffer quite a lot.

I didn't really know what to expect. The furthest I had run before was just over thirty miles on my local path "The Sandstone Trail" in Cheshire so over fifty in one go was really into the unknown. I remember enjoying the lochside sections but the steady climb out of Bein Glas was hard (nothing changed there then!). The checkpoint was at Derrydarroch Farm in those days, and I arrived to find Rob Reid taking a dip in the river before going on to claim the "over 60's" prize for the day  -  things were a bit more relaxed in those days. I remember the final section along the river into Tyndrum; I thought I was still running but there was a family ahead out for an afternoon troll  - and I wasn't catching them. I finished in 11:43 and was pleased enough to complete my first ultra, managing 34th place out of 70 starters. The race was won by Jez Bragg in 7:26. Jez got his personal record for the trip down to 7:19 two years later, by then having won three in a row. These were pretty good times from Jez a decade ago; although the record has now been lowered to 6:41 by Rob Sinclair in 2017, that was an exceptional run and the winner this year was home in 7:30.

Looking back at the start list of that 2007 race, I am now surprised to see just how many of those runners stayed in the game and who I got to know better over the years - as well as Jez, there was John Kynaston, Ian Beattie, Ian Rae, Neil MacRitchie, Rob Reid, Mark Barnes, Keith Hughes, Shirley Colquhoun (now Steel) and also Tony Thistlethwaite who was sadly taken from us just recently. Ultra running was a fairly small community in those days.

I assumed when I had completed the West Highland Way in 2007 that I would have had my fill of ultra running, but I sort of got hooked so was back at the Fling in 2008. The field had doubled since the previous year but apart from the front runners it wasn't a particularly high standard. This enabled me to get my first ever prize in a race by coming second in the over 50's category with a time of 10:54. seven minutes behind category winner Tim Downie. (In 2019 this category was won in a time of 8:40!)

I was back in 2009 for my first tilt at the over 60's category. I was still improving and fairly confident I could get ahead of Rob, who was several years my senior. I managed a time of 10:23 but that was nowhere near good enough to beat the eventual category winner Adrian Dixon from Teeside who finished in 9:54. I subsequently got to know Adrian through the Hardmoors races  -  but I never got to beat him! The other thing I remember about 2009 was that I caught a runner near the finish who was running with a small dog, and we crossed the finish line together  - "two tired auld men and a dog". It was Graeme Morrison and his dog Penny, with whom I was to cover many miles on West Highland Way races in the following few years.

The management style of the original race organiser Murdo MacDonald was efficient but laid back in the extreme. His race briefing at the start was always the same and became well-known  - "Welcome to the Fling, there are no rules, just let us know if you drop out, see you In Tyndrum!" The other feature of the start in those days was that the ladies and over 60's men  - "the auld men and the lassies" - were started at 6am, an hour before the rest of the field, so we had the challenge of trying to get as far up the course as we could before we started getting overtaken by the faster runners.

With Adrian Dixon's example I was sure I could get under 10 hours for the race and spent the next few years trying. I recorded finishes of 10:10, 10:18 and 10:09, winning the over 60's each time but still not getting under the magic number.

Before the 2011 Fling (L to R) Murdo McEwan, Jon Steel Shirley Steele,
Steve Walker, Pat (), Mark Barnes, Andy Cole

Approaching Rowardennan in the 2012 Fling

Looking at my splits I felt that I was always doing pretty well over the second half of the course but needed to do the first half faster. This was against my natural inclination to hold a fair bit in reserve until the end was metaphorically in sight, but I was encouraged by the very good Kiwi runner Stu Mills who was active at the time, and whose race philosophy was to "run as fast as you can for as far as you can, because you're going to slow down anyway". On the day (the 2013 race) I gave it my best shot, I remember the section from Bein Glas to the finish hurting all the way but I persisted and got to the end in 9:57.  Stu was running himself that year and I talked to him at the finish  -  "Tried it your way, it hurts too much, I won't do that again". He grinned, "Ah, but it got you your time though, didn't it?"

I think this was also the first year that the finish was moved from opposite Brodie's shop to the present location by the Lower Station, so I guess it's not relevant to compare times before and after this nowadays. I think by now John Duncan had taken over from Murdo, and also introduced the brilliant idea of having registration the night before the race in a pub, rather than in the cold half light of the station yard at 5am.

I had run seven consecutive Flings from 2007 to 2013, but continuing in 2014 wasn't an option as I had some surgery on a long-standing knee problem in April 2014. It gave a temporary improvement but my knees have continued to deteriorate since, so I have to look back on 2013 as the last year I could really call myself a runner. The problem now is that my knees won't take the stress of substantial speed training (it always takes me two or three days to recover from a parkrun) so while I have retained plenty of endurance and the ability to climb hills all day, I no longer have the basic speed to get near my pre-2014 performances. I'm not over worried about it, it's just a fact of life for me, I have to work with the abilities I have now.

So I was back to the Fling in 2015 without any clear plans other than to enjoy it. I had a nice run and finished in 10:53, but I also felt that the race had got rather too big (the field was by now ten times the size of that for my first participation) and a bit impersonal. I had left booking accommodation too late so ended up with a hotel out by the airport, and overall it seemed a bit too much trouble for the reward. Added to this there are so many more other interesting events around than there were ten years ago, so I thought I would give the Fling a miss for a while.

But then last year I completed my tenth West Highland Way race, a total of over a thousand miles on the West Highland if you include my one DNF about 10 miles from the finish. After that I decided to give my family a break from their normal sleep-deprived, midge-infested and quite often wet weekend in Scotland at the end of June which they had enjoyed for 11 years crewing for me, so no WHW this year. I was sure I would get withdrawal symptoms if I missed out on running any of the WHW course, so it was back to the Fling after an absence of 3 years.

Based on my previous experience of finding places to stay difficult these days, I booked the Premier Inn a short walk from the start in Milngavie early last summer, assuming that (a) the race would be on the last Saturday in April, and (b) that I would get in through the ballot, both of which fortunately turned out OK.  My son John (now aged 39) took up running a couple of years ago and was planning to run a marathon last autumn so I asked him if he was interested in the experience of something a bit longer. He was enthusiastic and prepared a lot better than I did. He duly ran the Chester marathon in a couple of minutes over three hours in October, then we both entered the 32 (ish) mile White Rose Ultra in November. I was happy to get inside the first hundred finishers, he was seventh. He then ran the 50 mile Chester Ultra earlier this year and declared himself ready to take on the Fling.

My knees had prevented me doing a marathon effectively for a few years  -  a typical outing was London in 2018 when I got to near 18 miles at comfortably under 4 hour pace then the pain kicked in and I hobbled to the finish in something around 4:20. But in the autumn of last year I had a great session with a specialist knee physio who gave me a method not of fixing my knees (not possible) but of maximising what I was able to do within their limitations, and this has started to see me actually running a bit again  - slowly but definite progress. John and I both ran the Manchester marathon three weeks before the Fling, with him getting round in 2:56 and me in 3:54. As well as a good confidence booster, this gave us both an indication of the time to go for in the Fling, following the "three times your road marathon time" rule of thumb which seems to work for the majority of runners. The 12 hour target time that I had put on my Fling application application back last autumn now didn't seem so much a declaration of hope over reality than it perhaps did at the time  -  though balanced against this I hadn't completed a 50 mile ultra in much under 14 hours for several years.

The other thing I told John was not to bring much stuff because the Fling always has good weather, so when we turned up in Milngavie on the Friday to a forecast of pretty continuous rain it wasn't the best start to the weekend. Everything else went super smoothly though; I had pre-placed a car in Tyndrum so we didn't need the bus back and got easily back by train to Milngavie meet John who had come straight up from Manchester in good time for a rapid registration, a good meal and a reasonably early night. I got leaving the car at Tyndrum wrong though; it was a dodge I'd used on many previous occasions, and I parked in the visitor centre as normal. Except that I didn't notice that the visitor centre has disappeared since I was last there, replaced by a cafe; when we went to collect the car after the race we noticed the cafe, and a big "No Fling Parking" notice  -  sorry JD, won't do it again!

Race day dawned with no rain as yet. John settled himself in the elite "sub 10 hour" pen and I joined the masses somewhere near the back. The race overall seemed to go pretty smoothly for me. I had a strategy for getting just under 12 hours; based on my previous performances I guessed I would cover the second half of the course about an hour slower than the first half, so I estimated five and a half hours to Rowardennan then six and a half from there to the end. It started raining somewhere around Drymen for me, and although it seemed to be more wet than dry for the rest of the race it wasn't unpleasant as the temperature was quite warm. I didn't get around to putting a waterproof on until somewhere along the lochside, some runners including John didn't bother all day. I duly made it to Drymen in 2:08 in 468th place, which turned into 5:13 for 348th by Rowardennan. I've never really understood why so many folk hammer along over the first twelve miles only to slow down dramatically afterwards, but each to his own I suppose.

Over a wet Conic Hill in 2019

A quarter of an hour up at Rowardennan was better than I expected. I was definitely keeping to my "no heavy breathing before halfway" rule so felt comfortable, but it had been a long time since I was still running much over the second half of a fifty miler so I stayed conservative and didn't push on particularly. I enjoyed the northern half of the lochside because of its technical interest as usual and it was good to see John Kynaston marshalling with his team at Inversnaid; we've covered a bit of ground together over the past twelve months preparing for his Dragon's Back adventure due to start in a couple of days as I write this. I didn't attempt to run up the hill at the end of the loch which I have normally done in the past,  but still found time for a minute's reflection at Dario's post. 

Julie Clarke, Neil MacRitchie and team were doing a great job in the steady rain at Bein Glas, Julie remarking "I think you probably know the way from here" just as I left. One thing that I did notice since my last Fling four years ago was that the checkpoint organisation is now incredibly slick at each one, drop bags, water and so on are available to each runner the instant he or she arrives, really impressive. The steep little hill after the railway and road tunnels was the first point that I began to feel that I had come a fair way since the start, but once up on the high jeep track after the climb I was running the gentler bits fine again. A feature of the day on this normally dry track however was the number of streams needing to be paddled across ankle-deep, the result of the fairly continuous rain we were experiencing.  On the flip side, the resurfacing work done recently on the track from cow poo alley to the big gate into the forest must have taken several minutes off the average runner's time; smooth enough for one foot in front of the other and let your mind wander, rather than picking your way carefully around every rock, hollow, and various insalubrious mounds.

From the big gate into the forest it is about 6 miles to the finish. Reaching it in 10:03 from the start, I had nearly 2 hours to cover this ground and still get under 12 hours. I immediately relaxed and slowed down, walking steadily all the uphill bits of the forest switchbacks and shuffling the downs. I think in my mind I had finished, job done, good result. It was only when I got down to the main road crossing and the boggy field after it that I looked at my watch again and saw that 11:30 might just be on, but I would have to run all the way from here to the finish. It was good to get a bit of purpose back; I had to walk two or three maybe 30 yard sections but otherwise managed to keep going all the way to the piper and the red carpet to finish in 11:29:48 in 243rd place out of 726 starters. John was at the finish waving me in having finished in 59th place in a time of 9:27:03.  I later discovered I was the second over 70, finishing just under 9 minutes behind the category winner Graham Arthur. I hadn't given this a thought before or during the race, I just wanted to finish in good shape in a half way respectable time, so it was pleasing to know that for 50 milers at least I'm getting back to there or thereabouts for my age group. Whether it would have spurred me on a bit knowing that Graham was not far ahead, I'm not sure, I think probably not. My plan was to finish not too stressed and going faster over the last few miles would have hurt a bit.

2019 done and dusted

Back for Fling No 10? Well, probably not next year as there are so many other tempting challenges around which I would like to have a go at before I get too old. But I had a really enjoyable day which somehow rekindled my affection for this great race, so I'm sure I'll be back again one of these days.

Many thanks to the organisers John, Noanie and their team and all the marshals for another nice day in Scotland.

Hardmoors 55 - some personal recollections.

This year was the 10th edition of the Hardmoors 55. It was slightly modified this time and called the "Hardmoors 50" to celebrate the 50th anniversary of the Cleveland Way, but as the normal distance is 54 miles and this year's was 52, the titles are a bit academic anyway. But this in no way detracts from the fact that from fairly modest beginnings this event has developed into a truly great race, one that every UK ultra-runner should sample at least once.

On paper it's a fairly modest 50 mile run, rather like but maybe slightly tougher than the well-known 53 mile Highland Fling, with similar height gain and (in theory) a good runnable track underfoot for most of the distance, and certainly not in the same league of difficulty as say the two "Snowdon" 50's or even the late season "Lakes in a Day".  The big difference is that while the Fling is traditionally run in the last weekend in April, the Hardmoors normally comes in the middle of March, and those five or six weeks can make a significant difference to the challenge facing the runner setting out across the North York Moors section of the Cleveland Way, which is where this race is run. In my eight participations in the "Fling" I can't ever remember putting a jacket on, and many times didn't even bother to carry one, whereas in the Hardmoors, to quote Forrest Gump's mom, "You never know what you're goin' to get."

In the inaugural running in 2010, fifty-seven of us set off from a damp Helmsley Sports Club, to find the moors that day covered in a thick layer of mist and fairly continuous rain during the daylight hours. We experienced the moors but never actually saw them. A few dropped out, mainly because they had or were approaching hypothermia, but 42 of us eventually made it to Guisborough. No tracking in those days of course, just hardy marshals to make sure no short cuts were taken, spending hours in miserable conditions in their tents at the Wainstones, Bloworth Crossing, Roseberry, High Cliff Nab and others. The race was won by Stu Mills, a Kiwi resident in the south of England, in 8 hours 54 minutes.  We all used to have great fun arguing with Stu over his ultra strategy - "Run as fast as you can for as far as you can, because you're going to slow down anyway" - but it worked for him not only here but in wins in the Lakeland 100 among others. I was a relative youngster of 61 then, but my time of 11:52 wasn't good enough for the MV60 prize, I was beaten by nine minutes by local expert Adrian Dixon, who came home with John Kynaston, another of the "class of 2010" still involved today. When I looked back over the results I found that of the 42 who finished in 2010, there were 5 of us who also finished the 2019 race. I don't think anyone has completed all 10 to date, but at least one person (Mark Dalton) has done 9, my apologies if there are others who I didn't spot.

We all said the weather couldn't possibly be as bad again, so we turned up again in 2011 for wall to wall sunshine and unseasonal spring heat. One major problem was that there were no intermediate water stations between Os and Kildale, so eaking out the supplies over this 20 mile section was hard.  I finished in 11:21, half an hour better than the previous year but still not good enough to beat the 10:54 of Tony Wimbush who scooped the MV60 win. As a late starter I reached my ultra peak somewhere in my mid sixties and during this period I squeaked sub 10 hour finishes in both the Fling and the Lakeland 50, but never bettered my 11:21 at the Hardmoors; this maybe because it's run  earlier in the year but may also be because it really is a somewhat tougher course.

Sunshine in 2010

2012 was again fairly benign weather. I achieved a similar time (11:23) managing this time to get my only MV60 win (there clearly wasn't any real opposition this year!), but the event was chiefly notable for the Race Director Jon Steele deciding that his organisation was now sufficiently bombproof to allow him to compete in his own race; he finished in the definitely not shabby time of 11:02, claiming first Shire in the process. This was the year Mark Dalton didn't run; something obviously happened to him or me during the process because up until then I had managed to come in ahead of him each year - and this never happened again!

2013 was the first year the race was run in the opposite direction. It was also during a period when the country was in the grip of a severe cold and snowy spell, with bitter gale force winds from the east. Events were being cancelled all over the country. Jon held his ground, and those of us that made it to Helmsley had an interesting day out.

Kildale to Bloworth in 2013 (photo by Phil Owen)

The period from 2014 to 2017 was not great for me, I had a series of injuries, surgeries, and bits of recovery time. I came back only once in this period, in 2015. It was an east to west race and I don't remember much about it, the weather was unexceptional and I finished in 12:12. But then in 2017 I had another bad knee injury from which I have never really recovered. That and the advancing years have meant that these days events like the Hardmoors 55 are now more of a challenge just to finish, rather than a nice day out with the outcome never in doubt. To call me a runner these days would be generous to a fault. But as I have declined, conversely the race has continued to grow in size, strength and status every year. It's always on my calendar and I'll keep coming back as long as I can.

I was back in 2018 for an event now inextricably linked with the "Beast from the East". In reality however, despite all the media hype that surrounded it, conditions were no more demanding (and probably less so, though comparing subjective memories several years apart is an uncertain business) than in 2013 and 2010. The race was west to east, windy and snowy, and quite late on was stopped on the advice of Cleveland Mountain Rescue, with no runners allowed to leave Kildale after around 8.30pm. I was lucky enough to have left just before this happened and finished in 14:38.

And so to this year, my seventh trip along the course. It was shortened by a couple of miles as I said at the start, but Jon balanced this by adding on a few hundred feet of extra climb by a double ascent of Roseberry Topping. I guess most people assumed that the effort required to complete the course would be about the same. In light of my last year's performance, and sadly not getting any younger, I planned to take about 15 of the 16 hours allowed to complete the course. This gave me an average pace in minutes per mile that I needed to achieve, and I made staying just ahead of this my way of managing my race.

As in 2010, we were going to get a wet day sandwiched by two quite pleasant ones, but by now this sort of thing seems to whet the appetite of the Hardmoors community rather than dampen enthusiasm. We were also going to get some gale force winds. On the plus side temperatures were not especially low and the forecast was for the weather to improve from late afternoon onwards, a factor of no interest to the front runners but somewhat cheering to those of us nearer the back of the pack.

So a well-waterproofed group of 435 runners (nearly eight times the field of 2010) set off from Guisborough slightly after eight o'clock. I started off walking up the road but showed willing by breaking into a slow jog along with everyone else around me after a couple of hundred yards. I needn't have bothered as we soon came to the first stile. Do the math, as the Americans say, if each runner takes 3 seconds to cross a stile then 435 runners will take 1300 seconds which is just over 20 minutes and, well you get the picture. I wasn't too bothered, I wasn't in a hurry, though if I'd known how important those twenty minutes would be later in the game perhaps I should have been. A shorter wait for the second stile  -  the field had been suitably attenuated by now  - and we were free. A short wet jog through the woods led to the first obstacle, the infamous Tees Link. This steep and almost always muddy path normally features at the start of the Hardmoors 60 but not the 55, but due to our "shortened" route today we were afforded this treat. I was glad I'd brought my poles along, those without weren't having a great time after 300-odd runners had churned up the surface in the heavy rain.

Up to Highcliff Nab out of the trees and onto the moor and we had our first taste of the wind. It was not quite blowing you off your feet strength, but fierce enough for a certain amount of balance moves to be required fairly regularly, and to make progress when facing directly into it hard work, and it would stay like that for most of us all the way to the White Horse about 42 miles further on.

It was quite impressive to see the continuous stream of runners going up and down Roseberry Topping. I felt slightly impatient not being able to move at my own pace because of the crowds, but looking at everyone's splits afterwards there was really not much time to be lost or gained here, and I was soon on the faster ground over Cook's monument and down to the first real checkpoint at Kildale. I probably stayed longer than I should here with a change of vest, a few things to eat and a couple of cups of coffee, but on a day like it was you felt a bit of fortification was time well spent before tackling the next section.

Wet approach to Kildale

After the long hill out of Kildale up to the start of the moor I expected to jog quite a lot of the section over to Clay Bank  -   it's a good track underfoot and any uphills are very gentle  -  but the wind made it such hard work that I ended up walking most of it. Even the change of direction at Blowarth Crossing didn't seem to make a lot of difference. Only when the track started to descend more obviously after the Round Hill highpoint was I able to put on a bit more speed. I wasn't too bothered though, the average pace on my watch was still showing between 18 and 19 minute miles, which I knew was good enough. 

I was warm going into Clay Bank and I didn't want to get cold by hanging around so I pushed straight through without stopping. Having the two intermediate water stops at Clay Bank and Scugdale makes this long central section a lot easier these days and I knew I had enough supplies to reach the latter. 

Over the three sisters, I think for me the most enjoyable part of the course even in a day of wind and rain, I ran into Sarah Fuller who I had met once or twice but never really talked to. She told me about her plans for the Dragon's Back in May; I was interested because although it's an event that's beyond me now, it's a great course which I have been reccying with John Kyaston over the past year  - John is also entered for this year's Dragon-slaying. I was going slightly faster than Sarah on the ups but she was really leaving me on the downs so we kept meeting and parting. Eventually after some food and water around Lord's Cafe I pushed on and opened up a gap going up Carlton Bank; I expected her to come cruising past down the other side but she never did and I didn't see her again. She can't have been far away though as we finished within a couple of minutes of each other. After the continual battering it was good to get down to slightly lower levels from Scugdale to Osmotherley - you could probably describe it as merely "rainy and windy" rather than "torrential and gale force".

I was looking forward to a bit of R and R at the indoor Osmotherley checkpoint; it had taken me just about six hours from Kildale and I would welcome a bit of respite from the conditions. I wasn't sure what the cut-off at the checkpoint was but I assumed I was OK as my overall pace was still getting me home in just over 15 hours. On reflection, I stayed too long here again, but I didn't really know what was to follow. I changed my top again and found some fresh dry gloves and socks (at the start carrying extra kit seems a bit excessive but I know if I'm going to be out a while in these conditions that I will be glad that I brought it along eventually). I also had plenty to eat including some freshly-heated pizza, lots of biscuits and a couple of hot drinks. 

Leaving Os I guessed I had an hour or so of daylight left in the conditions which should get me beyond the Square Corner, which it did. I finally stopped to dig out my torch right at the top of the hill where the track levels out at the top of the moor. Two guys both called Peter caught me while I was faffing and we carried on together. The four or five miles or so from here to Paradise Farm was another section I had expected to jog, but now we were up high again the wind was still debilitating so we walked or shuffled most of it. It was good to lose a bit of height and get into the woods for a short while before the checkpoint at Sneck Yate. 

I lost the Peters coming out of the CP because we were all doing different bits of admin, but caught them up again a bit further on. The rain was finally stopping but the slippery mud on the few grassy fields leaving the CP should have been a bit of a warning. We were also walking/jogging with a lady called Mandy at this point and the four of us pressed on together to the road crossing at the top of Sutton Bank.  Runners were streaming past in the opposite direction on the out and back to the White Horse, reinforcing what a big field there was out today. In the early years of the HM55 it would be unlikely to see anyone else over the last five or ten miles. The track down to the White Horse checkpoint was muddy and slippery, and this was another place where I would have liked to push on a bit faster but it wasn't really possible to overtake in the conditions so you just had to relax and go with the flow.

A final top up with water and a handful of biscuits and we were off on the last leg. . Again I wasn't sure what the cut-off at the White Horse was, or even if there was one, but we were there just on 13 hours from the start. I knew I had done from here to the end in previous events in a range of times from 90 minutes to just over two hours; in the direction we were going it's a gentle downhill pretty well all the way so a final time somewhere around the 15 hours still looked OK.  We seemed to have lost one Peter and Mandy over the last mile or so, so Peter Hatch and I set off up the steps. These can pray on your mind a bit but realistically it's not a very big climb and it was soon done. We caught our breath along the well-made level path along the cliff edge and looked forward to the final easy run-in.

The first couple of hundred yards along a level, grassy path through the trees from the turn-off back to the Sutton Bank road set the scene. A few inches deep in mud, nicely churned up by at least a couple of hundred runners ahead of us made it hard enough to stand upright, let alone make progress. Instead of an easy jog it was a slow walk. Apart from a mile or so of road past Riveau, the rest of the course through to the finish was much the same, a fairly slow controlled slide. Well, if you can't take a joke you shouldn't have joined I suppose. But it became clear by the road section that although we were travelling a lot slower than we had hoped, the time would still be OK, and we eventually made our way through the Helmsley Sports Club doors with just under twenty minutes to spare.

At the finish with Peter Hatch (photo from Peter Hatch)

I finished in 15:42, my slowest time over the course by a country mile. I was 241st out of 435 starters so I guess many others were spending longer than they expected on the course too, so no complaints. As always the Hardmoors 55 had delivered another cracking day out. Keep it going, Jon and Shirley, it's now an undisputed classic!

PS: After the 30 and 55(50) this year, I'm hoping to drag my bones along the 110 in a couple of months time, on the way to my first (hopeful) Grand Slam.  I won't complain if the weather is a bit more "clement" by then.

"Not another one!"

As Brenda from Bristol would say.

I put my blog "Running Late" to bed after 10 years for sound reasons, so why am I here barely four months later starting all over again?

Well, Running Late recorded my gradual immersion in the world of ultra running, starting at the relatively late age of approaching 60. I wrote about the events I did, the places I went to and my views on equipment, navigation, and I suppose anything else vaguely relevant that I was interested in. When I started the game was something of a fringe activity and after you had been to a few events you soon got to know quite a lot of the people involved. We were all finding our way, there was no Facebook (can you now imagine that time?) and blogs seemed a good way of exchanging information and learning from others.

Running Late is still there, I have no intention of taking it down, and I might even get around to cleaning it up and putting it in a bit better order, making things easier to find and so on if I find the time and inclination. But as a useful vehicle it had run its course. Things are so different now, both in the ultra scene and in my own circumstances.

In just over 10 years ultra running has exploded from a low key, low participation pastime  -  you could enter races like the West Highland Way and the UTMB easily; there were no ballots and I got into both of these via entries submitted several weeks after the entry process opened  -   to the big business, establishment sport we see today. I'm not saying this is a bad thing, it's just how it is. Any weekend you can have your choice of several events, specific equipment choice is huge (manufacturers follow the money), and getting a dozen views on any aspect of the game requires only a ten second Facebook post. I don't read as many blogs as I used to, and I'm sure the same is true for most people.

For several years after 2007 when I ran my first ultra (the Highland Fling, 70 starters compared with near to 1000 today), my performances improved. I was learning a new game and young enough (just about) to get better at it for several years. I've now reached the point where things are of course going downhill, but I hope maybe I might be able to exercise a bit of control over the rate of decline. I still love the buzz of taking part in a big event so it's not something I'm prepared to give up on just yet.

So that will be the basis of this blog. If you're my age (there aren't many of us still in the game I'm afraid) or maybe seeing it approaching not too far over the horizon, you might be interested in my quest to keep going as long as possible, and what I'm doing to manage it. 

So if you are, watch this space.