Running Round in Circles part 3 - The West Highland Way

I just couldn't see it to start with. All these folk out doing virtual challenges to keep their miles up and raise a bit for charities. When "Arctic John" Parkin did over 7000 laps of his back yard to cover a hundred miles I was staggered by the effort and commitment while at the same time thinking "Not for me, no way!" But then the West Highland Way came along again, as it always does at this time of year. This is an event quite special for me, it was my first long ultra back in 2007; the first race after which I said "I'm never doing that again" and was back the following year, an experience I'm sure shared by many.

I hadn't entered this year having other plans (now shelved of course, along with everyone else's), but in spite of the ticking clock I always felt I had time to get back to Scotland for a couple more geriatric rambles up the course in the coming years. And now here was a chance, in the "Virtual West Highland Race", to be part of the thing in a year when I wasn't expecting it, a bonus out of all the adversity if you like. I signed up pretty well straight away.

The concept was simple. You had overall nine and a half days, from midnight on Thursday 11 June until noon on Sunday 21st, to cover 95 miles, an equivalent distance to the full course. Ten miles a day would do it. It didn't matter where you did the miles (different "lockdown" systems were in place in different parts of the UK) or how many runs you took to accumulate them, just get the 95 miles done. It was divided into three "legs" of 36, 27 and 32 miles, each to be reported on SI Entries by Monday night, Thursday night and Sunday noon respectively, so you could see how everyone else was doing. The banter on the WHW Facebook page got up to near the volume normally associated with the real race. In a normal year the race has about 200 starters, chosen by ballot; this year with no restrictions more than a thousand were on the start line.

Even in a "real" ultra race, very few entrants are actually competing with each other, that sort of thing is reserved for a few elite performers at the front end of the field.  Motives for the remainder are almost as varied as the entrants, ranging from testing their own limits to just having a nice day out in the countryside with the majority somewhere in between  these extremes. With the virtual race you were even more able to fashion your experience to suit your own preferences. I thought for a while about doing a ten mile run each day round our local lanes. I had been doing this sort of thing (although generally only every other day) during our own more restricted period of the lockdown, so was fairly hopeful I could knock out the 95 at somewhere around 10 minute miles. This would give me an overall WHW time of under 16 hours, a time only achieved by a handful of runners over the entire history of the real race! But on reflection I decided I wanted an experience a bit more in line with what the real race offers me personally. I don't have the inconvenience of a job so could use whatever time was required. We were discouraged from attempting the 95 miles in one go, a plan which would have been logistically difficult for me anyway so I decided to do the three "legs" on consecutive days; I would also try and match the height gain experienced by the true course, and run the great majority off road with some knobbly sections where available to replicate the ground underfoot. So although I would have the luxury of a good meal, glass of wine and a comfortable bed after each of the first two legs, I would least have the experience of the climbs out of Glencoe and Kinlochleven with enough in the legs to make them feel a bit more real.  I had to get the first leg done by Monday night and wanted to avoid weekend crowds so I decided Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday would be my programme.

Where to run was the next consideration. Ideally I would have gone to one of our local ranges of hills, the Clwydians, which have just about everything needed to replicate the WHW course, but they are just over the border and Wales was still closed to foreigners. My son in Manchester who had also signed up for the VWHW  has the uplands of East Cheshire and Derbyshire on his doorstep but for me to get there would involve over an hour's travel each way every day which didn't seem to be in the spirit of the thing just now. So it would have to be on the West Cheshire sandstone ridge, most of which is a 20 minute drive for me. It has the 33 mile Sandstone Trail along the crest, plenty of paths off to the sides and three clumps of hills, Frodsham and Helsby in the north, Eddisbury and Delamere Forest 10 miles to the south and the Peckforton Hills a bit further south again. Travelling along the crest trail really didn't give enough height gain so I planned three days, one at each of the hill sections.

When it came to doing it, the thing went remarkably easily and I enjoyed pretty well every step. I thought I might get bored with the repetitive nature of some of the route. I took a radio along every day but never turned it on, I was happy with my thoughts in the surroundings. The weather was nearer high summer than late June though, misty starts followed by wall to wall sunshine by late morning and temperatures in the high twenties. Then the thunderstorms in the late afternoons and evenings with heavy drenching rain which caused flash flooding problems in many parts of Cheshire.

8am Monday morning saw me parking in the Delamere Forest Visitor Centre, then starting with a gentle cruisy route through the forest of about 12 miles, a sort of warm up on the easy ground as you get to Drymen sort of thing. A bit more aggressive ground was needed next to get over first Conic Hill then all the undulating ground along Loch Lomond to Inversnaid. The height gain seemed to work out if I spent the next 24 miles doing 13 ascents of Eddisbury Hill by various routes and descents. The hill is about 300ft above the visitor centre but fortunately there are five completely separate routes to the top, ranging from about three quarters of a mile to a mile and a half in distance, so by ringing the changes you don't have to cover the same ground too many times. I was walking the steeper uphills and jogging the rest which seemed to translate into something faster than four miles an hour pace, even allowing for the odd checkpoint at the car for drink and jam butties.

I finished the day feeling pleased at having covered 36 miles with no ill effects (other than the normal feeling you get after covering 36 miles and a fair bit of uphill on foot). The rain didn't start until I was back home, but the quantity that came down made me a bit suspicious that the following morning the trails might be a bit "softer". 

The other niggle I had was the height gain. I don't have a watch with an altimeter these days as I rarely see a use for one, so I had calculated the height gains for my planned days using the OS Route Creation app. But I've recently started using Strava and initially I was quite surprised to find that when my watch, Garmin Connect and Strava have finshed talking to each other (or whatever else it is they do in the one and a half seconds between pressing "save" on the watch and my phone going "Ping, your run is ready to view"   -  I'm always so impressed with this modern technology stuff) that Strava produces a total elevation gain for the run. I guess it does this by plotting the run recorded on some sort of map background with height information. A nice feature but the problem was that the figure I was being given by Strava at the end of the day didn't agree with the figure I had calculated on the OS map at the start. I was short of 300 feet. My day was supposed to be a 5100ft gain and Strava would only let me have 4810! Now as all the boys will tell you Strava is the oracle, if it doesn't happen on Strava it doesn't exist, so I had to find a way of getting that 300ft back; not only that, but I would have to assume that I would have to add another 300ft into each of the following days too. So another three ascents of the ridge went into the now revised plan.

I was off a bit earlier on the Tuesday not being constrained by an official car park opening time, as I was parking by the roadside near another set of hills, the Peckforton group. I had chosen these for the middle section because they have enough rocky and rooty tracks to give some idea of the deteriorating lochside north of Inversnaid, and more rocky and aggressive climbs for the big ascents out of the north end of the loch and up to Auchtertyre, plus some suitable cruisy bits for the easy ground from Tyndrum to Bridge of Orchy. I was stiffish for the first mile or two but soon eased into the day with 7 ascents of Bulkley Hill and 7 of Bickerton Hill, with some easy ascents around Burwardsley and Peckforton in between and afterwards. The ground underfoot was dampish for an hour or so but the moisture soon burned off into another hot hot hot day.  My route only allowed 2 returns to the car so I was carrying a lot more drink around today, but I still finished feeling I'd put in a good enough shift without pushing things too far. I just about beat the rain back to the car

The day was rounded off nicely when I discovered I had made up the ascent deficit of the Monday and was now nicely back on track. I'd listened recently to John Kynaston's interview with Shane Ohly, Dragon's Back Race Director and winner of numerous mountain marathons. One of his top tips for a multi day event was "Sleep is not critical, getting rehydrated is far more important, don't go to bed until you know you have replaced everything you've lost during the day". I found this principle worked really well for me over three hot days and it's a bit of learning I won't now forget.

My original plan for Wednesday was to park again at Delamere and run the 8 or nine miles along the Sandstone Trail to the Frodsham and Helsby hills, do some ascents there then come back with a final bit of ascent in the forest. This would work for the easy running over Rannoch Moor, the ups and downs from Glencoe to just beyond Kinlochleven, the long gentle bit of the Lairig Mor and the final hills before Glen Nevis. But the weather forecast was not great; it was going to be another hot day but the afternoon storms were projected to arrive much earlier today. I thought about it the night before and in the end wimped out. I would do my laps on Eddisbury hill again; this would allow me to keep some really heavyweight weather gear accessible in the car should I need it to complete the miles, which I was determined to do by the end of Wednesday (and in the face of the latest forecast, as early on Wednesday as possible).

I was there just as the car park opened and under way. If someone had told me six months ago that I would set out to make fifteen consecutive ascents of this hill and enjoy it I would have thought them crazy. But the brain is wonderfully adaptable and miles seemed to float by all day. I had a concerning moment around 2pm when I had only three laps still to do, when the sky went very dark and rumbles of thunder started to roll around. It started to rain. But then miraculously the gentle, slight smell of burning rain that you get on these occasions and you have a fair idea of what's coming next, didn't get heavier but simply stopped. The sky brightened and half an hour later there was no sign of a storm at all. I celebrated by making my final descent to the finish the fastest mile of the week.

It really is daft all this running round in circles. But somehow quite uplifting.

Monday, 36 miles, 4810ft

Tuesday, 27 miles, 5760ft

Wednesday 32 miles, 4680ft

Total, 95 miles, 15250ft.  The West Highland Way, 2020.

Data and Information

It was good to do a proper running post last week, remembering my trips down the "Lakes in a Day" course and looking forward to this year's race which will hopefully go ahead in October. But for this piece  I'm reverting to my current occasional pastime of thinking about the Coronavirus epidemic and what it's doing to us all. I was tempted to head this post with the famous phrase attributed to Benjamin Disraeli  -  "Lies, Damned Lies and Statistics" but it doesn't quite grasp what I'm after, which is more about how we often latch onto a single piece of factual information and come to rapid conclusions about what it means without considering whether there are other factors in play that might affect the situation. And from there it is only a small step to selecting only the information which may support a stance you already have, and ignoring the rest.

So for this post I'm going to cover a topic the media loves to come back to fairly regularly, that of comparing our situation with other countries. I am told that (a) we have the second worst death rate in the world, and (b) that this is because the policies pursued in the UK have been completely wrong. Everyone else has done better. Why are we not doing the same as Germany, South Korea, New Zealand, Italy, France, Greece, etc?  Now this may well be a completely justifiable proposition but I somehow feel it's naive to accept it at face value without thinking for a moment or two about some of the many factors that play into the situation. I'll say at the outset I'm not trying to justify  any of the actions that our government has taken. It is not a government I would have chosen, nor one I voted for. It just seems to me that laying the whole blame on policy without even thinking whether other factors might be involved is just lazy.

I'm not going to draw any detailed conclusions on causes from this, I'll just set down some information and speculate on which bits might be relevant. All the figures below are from 10 June when I did the research; they may have changed a bit by now but the overall patterns will still be the same

1. Country "league table" of Coronavirus deaths

Total deaths by country are a meaningless comparison so I have taken deaths per million population as being more informative. I have also omitted tiny countries which do not have a big enough population to be statistically meaningful - for example both San Marino and Andorra are in the top three but I don't think that tells you much about general trends. So here are the 10 worst countries and also 3 from further down the list which are generally considered to be coping pretty well.

Country                  Deaths/million population 

Belgium                  831

UK                          606

Spain                      580

Italy                        564

Sweden                   475

France                    449

Netherlands             353

USA                         347

Ireland                    344

Switzerland             224

Germany                  106

South Korea                 5

New Zealand               4

2. Geographical and Physical Factors which may have an influence

I'm not going to clutter this up with lots more lists or tables, they are all readily available for anyone who spends a few minutes on research, but I'll just pick out what I think might be relevant headlines. The comments below came from looking up all the measures concerned for all the countries on the above list.

The virus spreads when people are in close proximity so you would expect the population density of the country to have some influence.  The UK's density is 268 people per square kilometer, many times more than USA (33),  Sweden (22) and New Zealand (19), but significantly below South Korea (520). The "populous" European countries range from the Netherlands (414) and Belgium (354) through to the relatively sparsely populated France (104) and Spain (92). Germany's density is 232.

Concentration of population into densely populated conurbations will also have an effect. Australia is a classic case of a vast country with almost all its population in cities, but none of the countries on the list above are particularly extreme in this effect - compare the two ends with New Zealand having 1,5m of its 5m population in Auckland with the UK having around 20m of its 65m population in major conurbations, a similar proportion overall.

The number of people visiting from outside the country would also be expected to have an effect, because this increases the number of different people in circulation. This is really only measurable for countries that maintain physical borders. It's easy to compare the 4 million people a year visiting New Zealand (as they have to cross a thousand miles of sea) with the 40 million for the UK (and the rather surprisingly low 77 million for USA), but although countries like Belgium and the Netherlands can say they each have around 20 million visitors a year, those are only people who can be identified as tourists via hotel records, etc; their real exposure to incomers will be far higher due to their completely open land borders, probably at least double these figures.

Any algorithm linking these effects would be very complex, but as a straw man one could argue that on these figures the average Belgian is maybe 200 times more likely to meet a Covid carrier than the average New Zealander, before any countermeasures are taken.

3. Population Characteristics which may have an influence

This is where we move away from factors which may increase or decrease an individual's chance of contracting Covid 19 to those which might affect the outcome if they do get it.

We know now that population age distribution has a significant effect. In the UK 90% of all deaths have been in the over 65 age group, so I looked at proportion of population over 65 in the listed countries. The Europeans are all in a 5% band ranging from 23% in Italy to 18% in the UK . The "non-Europeans" (USA, New Zealand and South Korea) all have over-65 populations of around 15%.  This is not a huge band overall but you would expect the countries with the lower percentages to have fewer deaths by some amount due to this alone.This effect is really amplified if you look at developing countries. Nigeria for example has an over-65 population of only 3%, so pro-rata should have only about 15% of the over-65 deaths that the UK has (all other things being equal, which of course they are not).

It's difficult to find useful information on the second major factor that we are told about, that is underlying health conditions. It's easy to find comparison of death rates but from these you can't then tell what proportion is due to the incidence of the disease and what due to the country's success at treating it. Out of interest, for chronic heart diseases, the UK's death rate is double that of South Korea and almost one and a half times that of France, but is still significantly below the rates for New Zealand, Germany and the USA. I wondered if Type 2 Diabetes might be a factor, but rather surprisingly all the countries on the list show as very similar except the USA which is a few percentage points higher. Obesity shows a larger spread, with 36% of the USA population showing as obese compared with 28% in the UK, 20% in Italy and 5% in South Korea.

We are also learning more recently that economic situation has an impact  -  more poorer people succumb to Covid than richer ones. I looked at the effective incomes of population in my list (this is income corrected for the different cost of living in different countries, so reflects actual purchasing power). The USA comes out as the richest country and South Korea the poorest, with the UK just about the mid point. But this is not the whole story, you could argue that the difference between rich and poor plays a much more significant part than average country income. Again, the USA tops the list with the biggest gap between rich and poor, with the UK in second place. The most egalitarian countries are the Netherlands, Sweden and Belgium. Rather surprisingly South Korea shows up as the third most "unequal" country.

4. Cultural characteristics which may have an influence

This is tricky ground but really cannot be ignored, and is really about how populations react to authority and a "common cause". I'll quote a flippant little example to set the scene. I worked for many years with colleagues from all over Europe and one coffee-break conversation that came up from time to time was the "wet paint" sign.  It was generally acknowledged by the relevant representatives of their countries that a "wet paint" sign to a German means "this paint is wet, so I won't touch it", whereas the same sign to a Brit means "I wonder if the paint is dry yet, I'll just check". But the most illustrative point from this discussion was that both the Brits and the Germans, while fully recognising the thumbnail as fairly true to type, each thought that the point of view of the other was something to make a joke about.

I can't really go much further than that, other to observe that there are cultural differences between populations. Some will generally go along with recommendations and rules set up by their governments (one assumes in good faith) to protect them because they believe it is the most effective thing to do. Some will question and look for ways around them.  Just as a final comment from my time in gainful employment (long ago now) in an international community. We often found that getting exactly the right solution was less important than getting a solution that everyone believed was right. Solid progress towards 80% always beat continual argument on how to get to 100. So even in responses to something like a pandemic, one would expect united countries who have some faith in their government (regardless of the competency, within limits, of that government) to make better progress than disunited ones. 

5. Measuring

All of the above assumes that all countries measure their incidence of infection and death rate in the same way, which of course they don't. We are told that a reliable measure of death rate is the increase in total over the usual rate for the time of year. But this pandemic still has a long way to run yet; there will be deaths already and many more to come I that will be caused by but not directly attributable to Covid. Heart attack and stroke victims that couldn't be got to hospital in time, cancer sufferers not able to get timely treatment, suicides due to economic stress, premature deaths due to deprivation in a drastically depressed economic climate and so on. Different countries will record these in different ways and at different times. 

Conclusions

I said I wouldn't make any detailed conclusions, and I won't. But here are just a few observations that are clear to me from the delving into the data that I did:

1. The overall situation is far too complex at present for detailed comparisons to be made between countries. In spite of the politicians declaring that it will be possible in the future, I rather doubt this.

2. It is however possible to see a few broad trends. A group of a half dozen European  countries, including the UK, have been hit hard. It seems difficult to pull out whether physical factors or policy have caused the differences between them. Has Spain fared marginally better than the UK because of its draconian lock-down or because it population density is only 30% of the UK's? Should Italy be denigrated for a death rate 93% of the UK's (proclaimed by the world's media as disgraceful) or congratulated for looking after the oldest population in Europe? What factors affected Belgium to give it a death rate more than double its neighbour the Netherlands? 

3. Among these countries, and the others of the "top ten", it is difficult as yet to see how their policies have affected their current statistics. Both the USA and Sweden seem to have death rates no worse (and in some cases far better) than the others in spite of patchy or non-existent "lockdown" policies. Is this because lockdowns for the others were ineffective (or came too late) or because Sweden and USA are countries with very low population densities?

4. However, although it is difficult to work out how and why the "poorly performing" countries at the top of the list went wrong, it is clear that some countries did very much better, notably Germany and South Korea (I think comparisons with New Zealand are pointless; they did a good job but with all their geographical advantages would probably have come out relatively well whatever they did). Germany and South Korea are densely populated countries. Germany has more land borders than any other in Europe. They have their share of inherent disease, poverty and inequality. Yet Germany has recorded only one eighth the death rate of Belgium, and South Korea a staggering less than one percent of Belgium's. Their main feature in common is that over the last few generations they have been outstandingly successful in harnessing the collective power of their  people to produce two of the most productive economies in the world. Could there be a clue there?

But I'm afraid that my main feeling at the end of this exercise is that it has just confirmed the feeling I had right at the start; that in general the media does not use information to form an opinion but selects isolated items of data to reinforce the opinions they already have. I'll close with an unrelated item. Over the last couple of days the news has been full of the pronouncement, supported by the OECD forecast,  that Britain's economy will be "The Worst Hit in Europe" as we try to rebuild after the pandemic. Which is true. I took the trouble to look at all the figures. Yes, the forecast for the UK at an 11.5% downturn looks pretty grim compared with Germany at 6.6%.  The figures for France and Italy?  11.4% and 11.3% respectively. Margin for error? Exactly, but let's not mention that.

Tomorrow morning I'm setting out on the Virtual West Highland Way race, so next week I hope to have something a bit more uplifting to write about.

How to enjoy the Lakes in a Day

(I started writing this back in November last year. I must have lost interest or become distracted by something else at the time because I never finished it. I noticed it in the "drafts" section of the blog recently, re-read what I had written and decided that it was, after all, probably worth finishing. It looks, cross fingers, as though this year's event may have a chance of going ahead. If you've entered but not done it before, you might be interested on some reflections on how to make it fun...............).

This not a blow by blow account of running a race. It's more an appreciation of a great event and how those of us with more modest abilities and ambitions can really appreciate it. We've recently had the sixth edition of the "Lakes in a Day". If you are one of the many runners who regard this as a demanding challenge that will push you to your limit as you suffer and strive for your best possible time, then you have my utmost respect but what I have to say beyond here probably won't be of interest to you. However, if like me you want to approach the event as wonderful journey through Lakeland to be enjoyed all the way, then stay with me for a while.

Many ultra races start and finish in the same place. It's administratively convenient, both for the runner and the organisation, and has a sort of symmetry. But however good the route, the obstacles and the scenery, it's somehow never as satisfying as starting in one place and finishing many miles and many hours later in somewhere completely different, a real "journey" if you will, an objective on the horizon to aim for. The West Highland Way race is a classic, starting on the outskirts of urban Glasgow and gradually getting wilder along its 95 miles to finish at the foot of Ben Nevis, truly in the Highlands. There many others; I've enjoyed the Hardmoors races along the Cleveland Way, the Northern Traverse along Wainwright's renowned "Coast to Coast" trail, the King Offa's Dyke race which traverses Wales and the stunning Deadwater, from the Scottish border to the Welsh to give just a handful of examples.

And nearer to home we have the beautiful "Lakes in a Day". It does exactly what it says on the tin, in more ways than one. It starts in Caldbeck, a sturdy village on the northern edge of the fells not far from Carlisle, then traverses the whole district southwards to end in chocolate box little Cartmel just a few flat miles from Morecambe Bay. Along the way it takes in wild moorland, airy rock ridges, the second highest mountain massif in the Lakes, ancient woodlands, lakeshore trails and more gentle pastures towards the finish; in effect, a slice of everything the Lake District has to offer. Underfoot you will find grass of all sorts, from tussocks to green sward, dry to often very wet, rocky tracks and pitched paths, short bits of gentle scrambling and in a normal year as much mud to cushion your landings as you might wish for.

With over 13,000 feet of ascent along its 50 miles, the course is no pushover and aspirants seeking a gentle first 50 miler in their career should probably look elsewhere, but the very generous 24 hours allowance for the trip ensures that the great majority of those setting out from Caldbeck eventually make it to Cartmel. Some are faster than others of course, the new record of well under 9 hours set by Ricky Lightfoot this year seems almost incomprehensible to an old jogger like me, but at the other end of the scale the final finishers will make it within the last hour or so allowed. They will be welcomed home by race director James Thurlow who, will by then have been up for well over 24 hours himself. The "Open Adventure" team run by James ensure that this event is always as well organised as any you will have ever encountered.

The start of it all  -  October 2014

I participated in the inaugural year back in 2014. It was a week after another popular Lake District 50, the High Terrain "3 x 3000" (no longer run these days) so a number of us were reasonably tired at the start, but so impressed by the event we were back in 2015 for more. I managed my fastest completion in 2016, but in 2017 was foiled just before the start by two simultaneous punctures driving down the road from Bowness to Cartmel. I started in 2018 when the weather was warm but extremely wet. That was no problem but I became increasingly concerned by the wind speed as we traversed the higher sections of the course. I had been blown off my feet a year or two earlier in Snowdonia; landing a few yards away the result had been cuts and bruises but also a realisation that had I banged my head on landing it might have been a different story. I didn't want a repeat performance so I wimped out at Grisedale Tarn and did not complete the race. But I was back this year for another trip down the course in good weather, reconfirming what a great day out it is.

Compared with the guys at the front of the field, my times are very pedestrian, ranging from fifteen hours on my best attempt to eighteen and a half on my slowest. But regardless of the numbers, I have always made my priority to absorb and enjoy the day to the full without very much reference to the clock. I think this was clear from my fastest finish, when I can't recall looking at my watch between leaving the last checkpoint and crossing the finish line, which I finally reached in an overall time of fifteen hours.........and forty-one seconds!

So how do you get to enjoy Lakes in a Day?

Well, a bit of preparation always helps. For a typical 50 mile ultra the start point is a sound base in distance running. For a race like the Highland Fling, along the first 53 miles of the West Highland Way trail, I have always said that good road marathon ability will pay back much more effectively than any particular hill running training. My son proved this earlier this year, when with almost no trail running experience but coming off a sub three hour marathon time he managed a nine and a half hour finish. But every step of the Fling is runnable, even for a road runner, whereas the Lakes in a Day course is far from that. Assuming that you can run (or jog) a bit and are happy to stay on your feet all day, the basic requirements for LIAD are to be able to walk up hills all day and descend them efficiently, so for a relaxed cruise down the course that's what you have to practice. For anyone north of Crewe (which is where the North starts, as defined by Stuart Maconie in his book "Pies and Prejudice") or west of the Welsh border, this is pretty easy; just go out to your local hill and go up and down it until it's easy. Harder for those further south and east, but what you are doing is trying to improve calves and hamstrings for the ups, quads for the downs, aerobic capacity for both and the ability to make quick decisions and put your feet in the right places when going downhill. So if you have no hills, try and improvise to get the same result, believe me it will really pay off.  I once knew a guy who trained for the UTMB by running up and down the stairs of tower blocks in London - he got round in well under 30 hours so it worked OK.

Another aspect of preparation that's maybe worth a word is selecting your kit. Like almost all races, the LIAD has a mandatory kit list, but again like all other races this should be viewed as a minimum rather than a recommendation. The kit you actually carry will depend not just on the mandatory list but (a) the weather, and (b) how fast you intend to go. A feature of the course is that there is a lot of climbing over the first half, so everyone, whatever speed you go, will get sweaty and clothes will get damp.  If the weather is good enough for you to avoid wearing a waterproof or windproof then there is a chance that you will dry out during the long descent to the halfway checkpoint at Ambleside, if not you will arrive at Ambleside still damp. If you are still strong enough to run the majority of the second half then this will not be a problem as you will stay warm. But if you walk all or most of the course from here as the temperature drops when night falls, you will need more clothes and a fresh dry base layer  -  how much more will depend on the weather forecast and your experience. I would not make a final decision on exactly what to take until the Friday evening, after consulting the Met Office Mountain Weather Forecast - which is very accurate but only for 24 hours ahead.

If you're up with the leaders you will only take the minimum kit, almost certainly in a modern race vest. If you're a middle to back of pack runner you will have a more relaxed time if you know you have enough to cover getting cold because you will be out longer. In this case I believe it's much easier to take a small rucksack with your spare kit protected in drybags, so you don't have to cram everything in, much easier to pack and access. Most people from mid pack to the end will do more walking than running anyway, and the running will be downhill or at worst on the flat, so an extra gram or two to secure your comfort will make very little difference.

Another thing to plan is what and when you're going to eat, but we'll come to that later. Let's stop the preamble now and get to the start.

The start line is as convivial as you could wish for, with coffee and a warm place to hide in the pub on the start line. No need to stand around in the cold outside. You know the race will start at precisely 8am, because RD James is keen on that sort of thing.

After the count-down the great majority of the field will run off at various speeds down the road. I don't normally bother to join in because it soon goes uphill and then there will be a queue to get into the narrow path leading to the lane up to Nether Row. After this constriction, the lane goes slightly uphill on asphalt for a mile or so. Jog if you're keen or cold, I find it saves very little time over a brisk walk which is anyway good enough to get you warmed up a bit for the day ahead.

Once through the last gate and out onto the open fell you start the first climb of the day, a mile and a half of gentle ascent to High Pike. The first half is on a jeep track so you can go at your own pace, but the second is up a narrow trod. Unless you come up behind someone going extremely slowly here it's worth just staying in the queue and going with the flow; pulling out into the rough grass alongside to overtake costs far more energy than the time saving is worth. This is a hill where heavy breathing definitely isn't necessary; if you've got your feet of ascent in the bank from your preparation just take it easy and cruise this one to arrive at the top feeling you're just nicely warmed up.

An easy jeep track follows, downhill at a gradient that makes running really easy, I normally have my first run of the day here. It continues like this with one or two slight undulations to the wooden Lingy Hut near the top of Grainsgill Beck. There are some damp bits and a few puddles along the way and you'll see runners carefully trying to avoid getting their feet wet. Don't bother with this energy-wasting exercise, just plough straight through  -  you're going to ford a river in twenty minutes or so anyway. On the early editions of the race there was no path from the Lingy Hut over Coomb Height, but an obvious trod has now developed so it's easiest just to follow it. However, pay attention when you are over the crest and start to go downhill. This whole hillside used to be deep heather and really hard going if you got a bad line, but the top half all burnt off in a fire in 2016 so now as the trod starts to disappear it is easy ground and you can run almost anywhere. If you carry straight on in the same line, the trod re-appears as it goes through the lower section of heather. This is still quite difficult though, and a better tactic is to start to trend leftwards as you lose the trod on the crest, this soon leads to a quad bike track which takes you easily all the way down to the River Caldew.

In the five times I have crossed this river on the event, it has been a completely dry hop over boulders once, a shin-deep wade twice, a slightly more than knee-deep wade protected by a safety rope once and a bridge built by James' team once. The year I missed (2017) there was also a bridge. Even if there is a bridge you won't get away with dry feet as immediately after the river you have to cross another  smaller but still significant stream. So whatever you meet, the deal is don't faff and just get on with it.

Bridge over the Caldew in a "wet" year

Once over the two streams you face the longest climb on the course to the top of Blencathra. Again, for the first two or three years this started as trackless tussocky grass where everyone picked their own line, but a trod has now developed making life much more pleasant and less strenuous. Nevertheless, if you are a pedestrian at my end of the field it's going to take you an hour's steady plod to reach the top, so engage a suitable gear, think nice thoughts and get on with it. If you can get into a good rhythm you can reach an almost zen-like state on climbs like this where it really seems no effort at all. The key is to go at a pace that you could keep up all day, don't stop and don't break the rhythm. About half way up you join the bigger track coming up from Mungrisdale Common which leads directly to the eastern summit of Blencathra where Sharp Edge comes out.  You will see runners peeling off this track to cut across the grass directly to the main summit; don't follow them, it is marginally shorter on the map but over trackless grass and hard work. From the eastern top it is a five minute or less stroll on nice short grass to the main summit, where you will find a marshal who will almost certainly be Joe Faulkner. He was there in his tent in the mist in 2014 and has been there every time I've done the event since (I think he goes home in between times though).

It's worth noting that all this ground from the Lingy Hut to Blencathra summit becomes harder in mist as there are places where there is no visible track on the ground. The field is so big these days that there will normally be a few people still in sight unless the mist is really thick, but if you're not confident of your navigation this is one bit of the course where a recce could be valuable.

In 2014 we all shot off down Hall's Fell Ridge into the thick mist and scattered in all directions. After a few hundred feet I knew I'd made a mistake, stopped and got the map out (the 1:25,000 OS, not the one James gives you at the start which tells you where the course goes but is really not a big enough scale to actually navigate by). I realised I'd gone way to the right so I traversed back and found the ridge again and descended with no further incident. The race photos show lots of people that year emerging from the gulley to the west of the ridge so I clearly wasn't the only one. Most other years we've had much clearer conditions, the field has been bigger, and the number of marshals on the ridge has grown from zero in 2014 to I think at least four this year, so it's not easy to lose the way now.  But the rule that I've learned over the years for this section is if in doubt, the left-hand option at almost all points is the best way. The actual scrambling down the ridge is very easy and not exposed (no big drops), so unless you are of a very nervous disposition it should cause no difficulties if you take your time and go carefully. Ten years ago I could descend this ridge in about thirty minutes, but this year it took me over fifty as I'm getting a bit older and less nimble, but even if you take an hour that's still fine as far as completing the race comfortably goes.

Down Hall's Fell in 2014

From the farm at the bottom of the ridge, the Bob Graham Round (which also descends this way) goes straight on across the main A66 to Newsham House, followed by a boggy track up to the Old Coach Road and a very steep pull up Clough Head. Clough Head is also the next main objective of LIAD, but by way of an altogether more pleasurable experience.

Easy jogging through a few downhill fields leads to the first checkpoint at Threlkeld Village Hall.

The checkpoints, or "feed stations" as they are referred to on Open Adventure events, are something special. On LIAD they are all in warm, spacious indoor locations so you can get warm and dry and regroup a bit emotionally (not that that will be necessary if you take my pleasure-oriented approach to the day of course), with lashings of tasty food appropriate to the time of day. Now this is where one of your strategic decisions  comes in. After Threlkeld there is at least two miles of easy runnable ground, and after the Ambleside checkpoint a lot more, but you won't be running it if you eat your fill. So you really have to decide whether you're a runner or a tourist at this point. For one of my completions on the course I pretended to be a runner, grabbed a quick cup of coffee, stuffed a sandwich and a handful of jelly babies in my bag and was on my way jogging down the road in a couple of minutes or so. But that's really no fun, so every other time I've taken the tourist approach, enjoyed ten or fifteen minutes rest, a couple of mugs of tea and enough croissants to see me through the next few miles, then walked out of the hall and all the way to the next climb. For a pleasurable trip it's also useful to fill up your water bottles here because you won't get another chance for some time.

The climb up Clough Head, the northernmost outpost of the Helvellyn range, is the last really big one of the day. The course used to take the Bob Graham route but as this has now deteriorated into a slippery scar up a steep grassy grassy hillside due to the passage of so many feet in recent years, James has changed it for a more durable approach up from the old quarry at the end of the Old Coach Road. A mile or so of quiet asphalt is required to get you there but worth the effort because the climb is then steady rather than taxing. The first few hundred feet rather puzzlingly avoids a good path by a line up the grass a few hundred yards to its left, but keep the faith, the path is reached before long and takes you without too much trouble to the top of the hill, and the start of one of the best running ridges in Lakeland.

Start of the ridge from Clough Head towards Helvellyn

Breakfast should have gone down by now so you have the opportunity of a fine, grassy, slightly descending run for the next mile to the vicinity of Calfhow Pike. The ground starts to go uphill from here again, and though the speedy will continue running there is no need to as a steady walk will be almost as quick. On LIAD we are not required to visit the summits of the Dodds, but although there is a track shown on the map that avoids the first (Great Dodd) by going right, the start of the track is not clear on the ground. I've found it's best to slant off earlier rather than later but keep going diagonally uphill, the track will then appear soon enough and take you easily round the re-entrant of Millgill Head. From here, good tracks and mostly easy running avoid Watson's Dodd and Stybarrow Dodd and land you at the col of Sticks Pass. There should be plenty of runners around still, wherever you are in the field, but if it looks like being misty and you're not confident of your navigation it may be worth having a gps trace on your watch from Clough Head to here.

The ground changes here and you will be on stony tracks for the next few miles until beyond Fairfield, but on the plus side it becomes navigationally very easy. A series of steady ups and shortish downs (as you're gaining height all the time) lead over Raise, Whiteside and Helvellyn Lower Man to Helvellyn summit. There's a good shelter just beyond the summit to cower beside for a few minutes for a breather and some food and drink, if it's turning out to be that sort of day. A wide, easy track takes you jogging southwards from here but if your mind wanders and you miss the slightly uphill path at the junction a few hundred yards further on you'll end up down by Thirlmere with a long walk back up, so best to stay alert. The path gets rockier as you traverse below the summit of Dollywagon Pike, then turns into an engineered rock staircase almost all the way down to the outflow of Grisedale Tarn.

I've normally run out of water here so this is where I fill up, in the moving current of the tarn outflow; I'm always happy with this source but if you're nervous you can put a purifier tab in the bottle to be extra sure. At this point most runners are about two thirds of the way (in time) between Threlkeld and Ambleside. On one of the warmer editions of LIAD I passed a lady runner on the ascent of Fairfield who said she was worried because she was very short of water; I hadn't the heart to comment that she'd just passed several million gallons of it.

Descending towards Grisedale Tarn  -  water here!

The climb up Fairfield is not as bad as you think it's going to be; it's steep but short, only about a thousand feet and it gets easier as you go up. And you know it's the last significant climb on the whole course. From the wide stony wilderness at the top you are rewarded with a nice jog down to the final rocky obstacle, Hart Crag. I'm always beginning to feel I've had enough rocky ground by here but again it's not too long. After the first bit of ascent the path seems to want to skirt the summit by going left, but you can pick up the line of cairns and worn rocks going back right easily enough. It's a bit scrambly from the top down to the next col, but this is where the ground changes back to mostly grass again.

Easy walking (and a bit of jogging if you're keen) to the top of Dow Crag leaves you with probably the last major decision of the day. From Dow Crag the route goes due south for about three miles, following a solid stone wall all the way. There is a path on either side of the wall but ways through or across the wall are few and far between. So do you choose left or right?  The more established track is on the left (east) side, but the passage of feet has taken its toll. It's good solid running for periods, interspersed with the occasional deep bog and threadbare little rocky descents. The other (west) side is much grassier, occasionally slippery on the downhills but much kinder on the feet which may be a consideration by now. Either way, this is the opportunity to get that average pace,  which has taken such a beating over the last few miles, back up again with a good solid run all the way down to Ambleside. These days I normally take the west side, on which the path runs out eventually forcing you back over to the east just above a last little rocky step in the path which I've never managed to find a way around. It needs a couple of handholds and possibly an inelegant final slither to deposit you on easy ground which leads through fields and a bit of road down to the next checkpoint in Ambleside church hall, and pizza! This whole descent from Dove Crag to Ambleside can be pure pleasure all the way if you get it right.

The "right" side of the wall towards Ambleside

Now many runners may think they've put in a good shift by now, feeling pretty battered by the ground and maybe the elements, and wondering how they're going to cope with another 22 miles, because all that effort has so far only resulted in 28 miles of progress down the course. And it's starting to get dark. The key here is to forget about all that sort of stuff for 15 minutes or so, change into a dry shirt, put on some clean shoes and socks, have a cup of tea and enjoy the pizza (or the soup, or sandwiches, or fruit, or whatever else takes your fancy, it will probably be there). When the world feels a whole different and much friendlier place again, make sure your torch is working and head out for "something completely different"  - the second half. In spite of the hour and what has gone before, you will now start to cover the ground much faster  -  really, you will!

Where it gets dark of course depends on your time. The leaders will finish in daylight, the best I've done is to get to Sawrey, six or seven miles south of Ambleside, before switching the lamp on. For my last trip (and I'm pretty sure the next one) Ambleside is where the darkness begins.

When we ran the first edition back in 2014 James had put three or four arrows to show the way up to and around High Dam near the southern end of Windermere because none of the available maps reflected what was actually on the ground. The rest of the route was unmarked, resulting in runners getting lost all over the area between Ambleside and the finish (demonstrating what competent navigators we all were....).  Since then, signage has been improved on this section year on year (more I suspect for the benefit of the local residents rather than the runners) so that it's now possible to run from Ambleside to Cartmel rarely if ever consulting a map or other navigational aid.

Out of Ambleside the course follows gravel cycle tracks alongside or not too far from the road for several miles, almost as far as Wray, where a short road section leads into the forest on Claife Heights. A gentle climb on good forest paths reaches the summit then easy jeep tracks down the other side (nice views if it's still light!) to Far Sawrey village. Half a mile of narrow road leads to Windermere shore.  All the ground from the high point in Claife woods to the lakeshore is runnable, even for tiring pensioners. A mile along the lake shore seems further than it is, narrow paths through fields and woods, along the water's edge (and one year in the lake), but still joggable without too much effort. Another short road section then more of the same along the lakeshore, just as tortuous but still only just over a mile. The lake is finally finished with as you cross the road by the YMCA centre.

Now unless you're prepared the next fifteen minutes will be an unpleasant surprise. Since Ambleside the course has been rolling along with occasional gentle uphills but nothing too taxing, so to be faced with a real climb this late in the affair seems somehow a bit unsporting. The track from the road up to High Dam is very steep; but it is short enough to be taken (by someone out to enjoy their day at least) very slowly. That's the key to success in my book. Once you're up there High Dam seems a quite magical place, I always feel I should go and see what it's like in daylight one of these days. Across the tarn edge then easy going down through some pleasant woods leads to a couple of gentle downhill fields and the final checkpoint in Finsthwaite Village Hall.

By the time I get here this always feels like a little oasis on some long trade route; travellers coming in out of the night and then going off again, having tended to their needs and replenished their supplies. People eating, drinking, sleeping, mending feet, sometimes just sitting and staring; helpers making drinks, bringing food, offering encouragement. It's this place above all that makes LIAD feel like something much beyond its 50 mile length, more reminiscent of scenes on much longer events. I'm always in two minds whether to stay a while and enjoy the atmosphere or push straight on and just get the thing done. In the end I'm normally tempted by at least a bowl of soup and a cup of coffee to see me through to the end.

Just two or three hours to the finish now but still plenty of variety. A brief climb through woods out of Finsthwaite leads to a steeper narrow descent with multiple steps all the way down to civilisation at Newby Bridge. The Swan Hotel appears from the left with suitable cheering from patrons in the garden if you're early enough. Across the main A590 then a bit more uphill on a minor road gets you to about a mile and a half of bridleway to Brow Edge. This starts off as an easy jeep track but turns into a rough trod across moorland pasture; if there's been any rain at all recently this will be muddy and slippery pretty well all the way, but a lot of extra effort will only result in five minutes saved so time to take it easy and wait for better ground to appear.

Knock the worst of the mud off and carry on, a brief down and up along a narrow surfaced lane, then right along a driveway past stables to Bigland Tarn. The going is good again here along good tracks and paths without too much ascent or descent, though you will probably get the odd cow looming out of the darkness from time to time. A pleasant easy descent through woods leads to the last road crossing at Grassgarth. Then a final up and down over mostly grassy tracks in easy fields (though with a rather weird stile construction at the halfway point) comes out at Speel Bank Farm, from where you are on asphalt through to the finish. 

You may feel that it's just a bit cruel to be faced with a final climb on the road, but it comes early on and is thankfully brief, then it's nearly two miles of gentle downhill to the finish. If you've paced things well enough to enjoy a steady jog all the way home from here you will generally pass plenty of limping, hobbling and "just taking it easy" runners along the way. As you pass the racecourse and approach the town you will be guaranteed some final support, from the pubs if it's early enough, from runners that have already finished making their way pack to the racecourse car park if it isn't. Then just out of the other side of the village to the school and you're done. Congratulations, warmth, food and a satisfying sit down are waiting.

This really is a grand day out. Will I be back in 2020? No question.

2019 Finish  -  not fast but still fun!

The Etiquette of Exercise

I haven't been too enthusiastic about the many "virtual" events going on at the moment, mostly a lot of running around in circles it seemed to me, but then the proposal from the West Highland Way Race team caught my imagination. I have to declare an interest here though, I've done the "real" version a few times over the years and while I've had a couple of summers' rest from it recently I always intended to go back for one or two more. I did have a bit of a dream that I could make the 2021 race my 100th ultra but that won't happen now as even if I could catch up the events I've missed this year, next year's event will be full to overflowing with entrants deferring from this year. So the "virtual" version, timed to finish at the cut-off time of the actual event, and divided into three legs to mimic real places on the course looked like a worthwhile enterprise to somehow stay in touch with the WHW atmosphere.

In the virtual gig you have 9,5 days in total to run the 95 miles of the course, and my first thought was to do just that, 10 miles a day. Even at my pedestrian pace a sub-20 hour total would be on, a time I could never have dreamed of on the actual course (my personal best "for real" was 22 hours 23 minutes when I was a lad of not quite 65). I'm sure we will see some cracking performances though as every entrant plays their own particular game, devised to meet their individual preferences and restrictions. But I'm pretty lucky, I don't have any work to go to or other promises to keep so I decided it would be fairer to the course to try and recreate as much of the WHW experience as I could. So I divided the course into eleven sections based on well-known official and unofficial checkpoints and determined to construct a course that I could run to replicate as far as possible the distance, elevation gain and style of running represented in each of these sections.  This would be an interesting exercise in itself, but the first question to be answered was where to do it.

With no restrictions I could reach a perfect area on the Clwydian Hills, about a twenty minute drive from Chester.  This range which rises to just above the 1700ft contour and is traversed by the Offa's Dyke path has long, undulating jeeptracks, 1000ft climbs, sections of rugged, bouldery path and calm woodland trails, in fact everything that you get on the West Highland Way. The only problem is that it is in Wales, and Wales is closed.

I'm happy not to go to Wales if that's what the Welsh government wants, but it prompted me to look at the government guidance on travelling for exercise in Wales, Scotland and England just to see what it actually said. Up until now I had only seen bulletins from the various police forces, supposedly knowledgeable items in the national press and of course all the pronouncements of the social media experts. If you look at their official websites, the Welsh government advises that you exercise as close as possible to home, ideally starting and finishing from home without driving. The Scottish government advises that you exercise within your local area, adding that a distance a distance of five miles could be considered as being within your locality. The English government says you can drive as far as you like to exercise so long as you return home on the same day. Oh dear, however have we got to here? Apart from this I was amazed at the sheer length of the advice documents on what seems to me to be a fairly simple business.

Personally, I have three rules which I stick to as my approach to dealing with the current situation:

1. Stay 6 feet away from everyone except for incidents of a few seconds (paying a bill for example).

2. Wash hands as soon as possible after touching a surface that could have been used by others.

3. Stay aware at all times to remember to apply rules 1 and 2. (I could have said stay alert instead of aware but apparently this is a word that people in England don't understand and get confused by).

Now if I had to go to work or negotiate more challenging situations I might have to introduce another rule or two, but for going out for a run, going shopping and anything else I personally might need to do these three seem fine for me. If I keep to them, the risk that I will catch or pass on an infection is very low. Not zero, but very low.

But if you use this as a basis for working out some advice to give people, it's difficult to see how you could sensibly arrive at any of the governmental policies outlined above. If you ignore the spirit and play by the "rules", the English policy allows people to make long car journeys, coming back tired after long days out with all the potential for greater demands on motoring and even emergency services, while the Welsh and Scottish ones constrain people to exercise in their crowded parks and suburbs rather than letting them go a bit further afield to find spaces where they could more easily keep their distance from others.  I guess I'll never understand politicians.

I could go to the Peak, North West Yorkshire or even the Lakes to find my "West Highland Way Route". I once climbed all the Wainwrights in a year without staying a single night in the Lakes, so it's completely feasible. But I think in the current climate just a bit of common sense is required; stressing the infrastructure of the country when you don't really need to seems a bit selfish somehow. So I'll go along to my other local playground at Delamere Forest and the Sandstone Trail, twenty minutes in the opposite direction from the Clwyds (but unfortunately with only maximum height gains of around 300ft), and work it out over there.

The etiquette of going for a run these days.