So how hard is your race?

This is really just a bit of fun but it may have a bit of practical use as well, if anyone is contemplating a race and wants an opinion on how hard it is compared to another that they may have already done.

So I have attempted to evaluate a few of the races that I have done over the years and then put them in a "graded list" of how difficult they are to complete.  I have always operated at the more modest end of ultra events so my "most difficult" race is a relatively easy undertaking by modern standards, but I would be interested to know how some of the popular more difficult events compare. 

I'll start by explaining the factors I used to try and make a comparison, and how they affect the chance of completion, then go on to my list at the end. I have only included races that I have actually completed under race conditions, or for just two  where I know the ground extremely well and have done a comparable race on the course. Also, I have included two races (the Mercian Challenge and the Lakes Traverse) which I have not done as themselves but completed within the time allowed when doing their "parent" races (Offas Dyke and the Northern Traverse respectively). I have excluded non-UK races as I haven't done enough to make good comparisons, and winter races (Dec-Feb) held in mountain regions, because they present completely different challenges and are not really comparable.

So here we go, first the factors I considered:

1. Time of year

Not guaranteed, but in general and on average there are months when the weather will be kinder, and that will make your race easier. You will have less mud and wet ground underfoot, carry less kit, do generally less faffing and need less regrouping time in checkpoints. How much of the race a "completer" will have to face in darkness is also a factor which increases difficulty.

2. Length

Obviously, all other things being equal, a longer race is harder than a shorter one. But other factors may sometimes be more important than length.

3. Height Gain

Again obviously, the more uphill you have, the harder it gets. But how much uphill is there? The race director will tell you how long the race is, and apart from an odd one or two percent no-one will really disagree; satellites are pretty accurate for horizontal positioning and plotting.  But he will also tell you how much ascent there is, and the figure he gives you will depend on what system he uses to measure it. For reasons which I won't go into here, all the systems (Strava, Garmin, OS, Trace de Trail and so on) use different algorithms, mapping systems and accuracies, so can come up with wildly different estimations of height gain. What I have done to get a common comparison is to plot all the races I have considered on the OS map system, without using the "click to trail" feature (which again changes the result but is only available for routes in National Parks), as accurately as I can, and then use the OS height gain estimation. This means that some of the figures you will see won't agree with what the race is advertised as, but they will at least all be comparable with each other.

4. Rate of Climb

This is important. If your race gains 10,000ft over 30 miles, that's a different game from one gaining the same height over 50 or 100 miles, in terms of how much ground is likely to be runnable. I have just taken a straight average here, total height gained divided by distance travelled. The purists may not agree with this but again, it gives a good comparison between different events.

5. Ground Difficulty

It's easy to get bogged down (no pun intended) here with subtle differences, but it is clearly easier to run on a road or well-gravelled jeep track than over a boulder field. I have kept this simple with a three grade rating. Grade 1 is a route which includes lots of ground where you can run steadily without looking at your feet, grade 2 is where you will regularly need to look where you are putting your feet and make fairly frequent adjustments to individual stride and foot placings, grade 3 will contain significant sections where you will be using your hands.

6. Longest Distance between Food Resupplies.

This makes a diffence to difficulty because as the distance to food resupplies goes up, obviously the amount you have to carry with you increases, but also your options for choice goes down. With regular well stocked feed stations you can make choices as you go, as mood and appetite varies. Without them you have to live with your pre-made choices for much longer periods. The easiest situation for the runner is if the race permits a support crew, I have just noted these as "SC" in my table. At the other end of the scale are events where you have to go for days with what's in your pack. Some events allow competitors to access shops, cafes, pubs, etc along the way, which obviously mediates the distance between resupplies, and I have indicated these. Other events ban the use of such establishments.

7. Time Allowance

The physical nature of a course and access to support points goes some way to define the undertaking. But the over-riding factor that makes a race easy or hard is the time allowance you have to complete it.  The Lakeland 100 follows a route that many middle-aged ramblers would be happy to complete in a week or ten days; cut the limit down to 40 hours and around half of the (hopefully) trained ultra-runners setting out on the course fail.

8. Minimum Average Speed

This in theory is the overall difference divided by the time allowed, but it doesn't always work like that. Some multi-day races have the same time allowance for days of different distances, and some continuous races have intermediate cut-offs that demand you go faster over some sections than the overall average. The figure I have given is the highest speed you will have to maintain for a significant proportion of the race to meet cutoffs. This gives an idea, especially important in hilly events, of how much you will actually have to cover at a running pace to meet this average speed.

I've also added a couple of bits of post-event data which I think contribute in some way to the comparisons of overall difficulty. These are (a) the current race record, where I have been able to find it, and (b) the percentage of the starting field which finished. For the the latter, I have just taken a snapshot of the result of all events in 2019. I could find an average but it would be a lot of work and probably doesn't give you much additional information.

In arriving at a ranked list I haven't attempted to build an algorithm. This has been tried by people more competent than me, but they throw up silly anomalies because evaluating and weighting the various factors is so complex. I think an overall judgement having done the events is at least (and possibly more) accurate. But of course, other runners who have done the events may come to a different conclusion, and that's maybe part of the fun.

I have also included a few events in the table below my ranked list. I know the ground very well on these but have either never attempted or never completed them so can't really make a judgement on their rank. I would be interested if anyone who has done them could help out here. Note that the figures for the Dragons Back are in its current 6 day form which is much harder than previous years.

So here we are!

* = you can use shops, cafes, pubs, etc

Deadwater Double

I really didn't intend to go back to Deadwater, having had a great experience at the 2018 event, but sometimes these things have a way of just drawing you in. So I thought rather than just relate what happened this year I would try to reflect a bit on my race, and on the race itself, in comparison with my earlier visit.

Rainy start line briefing

1. My own performance

I was a late starter into ultra running, completing my first event 14 years ago when I was 59. I reached some sort of respectability by my mid 60's, for example completing the Lakeland 50 in just under 10 hours and the West Highland Way in 22 and a half, but since then there has been a steady decline in my performances and these days I am very much a back-of-pack "completer" rather than concerned about any particular times. So I approached Deadwater in 2018 with completion as my only goal. I got to the end though it was touch and go at times, and this made me feel I needed to find a few ways to make things easier this year being three years older. I could improve a bit with kit and food but not much, the difference would have to come from race strategy. It occured to me that while the long days in 2018 had taken me a long time (on the longest I finished less than an hour before having to start the next day), I had plenty of time left in the evenings of the shorter days. So I should really take the shorter days, particularly days 1 and 2, easier, to leave more "in the tank" for later in the week. I was too indisciplined to carry this out to best effect. I was only about 20 minutes longer on Day 1 (though still came in last place) and 80 minutes on Day 2; I could and should have taken longer, though the weather on these days was not great giving no real incentive to hang around. The other tactic I decided on was to slow down or rest whenever the going felt tough, and not to bother too much about the time unless the next day's start became pressing. I knew from many continuous races that I can go for two or three days without significant sleep if necessary.

Overall the race went well for me. I never felt really tired except on the final two or three climbs of Day 4, and this was probably because I did the last 10 miles or so with another runner (Bev) at a pace faster than I would have sustained on my own. But also towards the end of Day 4  I was conscious of a pain on the top of my right foot. I assumed it was rubbing on the tongue or top edge of my shoe, but found it was due to a swelling from some sort of bite. This got progressively worse over the next two days, swelling much more, showing signs of infection and causing sensitivity at the skin and discomfort when flexing the ankle. Advice from the race medic Chris was that the best tactic at this stage of the game would be to carry on to the finish then get it looked at then. He examined it again before Day 6 and took my temperature halfway through the day to confirm this was still the best approach. With the benefit of hindsight this proved absolutely spot on. Any attempt at treatment before the finish would have had very limited benefit and cost a lot of race time. (I actually started on antibiotics the day after the finish and three days later they have only just started to have some discerible effect). It just made Days 5 and 6 a bit painful.

My total finish time was 82:13:33 compared with 81:08:37 in 2018 so I was pretty pleased with that. Without the insect bite I would certainly have done a better time than 2018 (for example Day 6 this year took me three and a half hours longer than in 2018), though the fact that I didn't have to use any "race time" for catching up on sleep this year was also significant (this is explained a bit further on).

2. The rest of the field

There were 20 starters and 16 finishers, at 80% a far higher completion rate than previous years.  Times can't be compared directly with 2017 because part of the course that year had to be omitted because of really bad weather, but comparison with 2018 (18 starters and 10 finishers, a 55% completion rate) shows that the class of 2021 came to the event much better prepared. There were some seriously good runners at the front in 2018, three of them beating the 2021 winning time, but not much quality beyond that. The 5th place time in 2018 would only have got 12th in 2021, showing that a feature this year was good performances right through the field.  I think this year will give prospective entrants a much better read on what to expect in the future. Good, competent, and "good enough" times for the race, and sensible targets for each day are getting much better established.

3. Course diffences

There were two course changes this year from 2018.

The first added a mile or so and a couple of hundred feet of ascent along Hadrian's Wall onto Day I to the new Camp 1 location at Winshiels rather than Haltwhistle. It then added another couple of miles through fields to Haltwhistle the following morning. This made the course longer overall, but coming between two of the shortest days I think made very little difference to the overall undertaking. I also felt the mile along the Wall added to rather than detracting from the race experience.

More significantly, Day 4 the "Long Day" had to be reduced by 10 miles to around 50 miles, with these miles being added back into the start of Day 5, again due to an enforced campsite relocation. At the outset this seemed to make the event intuitively easier, but there were plusses and minusses. It meant the route itself was different and more arduous for a couple of miles. Instead of the mostly easy-angled steady ascent taken by the Pennine Way from Calderdale to Stoodley Pike, the new route took a steep footpath up from the valley for several hundred feet to the overnight stop (actually a camping barn for this night), followed by a direct and more-or-less pathless ascent of steep side of the Pike first thing next morning.

For runners capable of completing the original Day 4 (Horton to Littleborough) in say 20 hours of less, I don't think the change was particularly significant. For those like me who are not, the difference is that the sleep you get (for me never likely to be more than 2-2,5 hours on this particular "overnight") could this year all be taken at the campsite so not in "race time", rather than after the following morning's start when it just adds on to your Day 5 time.

I'm sure the debate will continue on this one.

4. Weather

Weather can significantly affect your enjoyment of an event like this. It's more than just whether the actual running is pleasant or not, but much more about management of kit. Even if it's dry, stuff gets wet  -  shirts from sweat, socks and shoes from wet ground and so on. In good weather you have some chance of getting these dry again, in bad weather almost none. I think on average the weather in 2018 and 2021 was about the same, generally poor at the start and improving towards the finish. We had a drier day through the Forest in 2018 but a much bleaker day over Cross Fell, and Day 5 along the canals was really baking. I found the canals much easier this year in spite of having a sore foot. Runners have different tactics for dealing with the wet, I spoke to two who had brought clean socks for each day (to be binned at the end of the day). That's something I might think about for multi day events in future, though RD Richard has a penchant for finding routes which take you through some wet ground early on each day, so the benefit may be more psychological than real. We didn't have the continuous bad weather experienced by the 2017 race, so for that we should be thankful.

5. Atmosphere

What was really noticeable on both years I have done this event is that it was a really happy experience from start to finish. All the runners and support team were supportive and friendly throughout, there were no moaners, prima donnas or drama queens, everyone just got on with things and helped each other when they could.

This was true even though the support team, with just one or two exceptions, was completely different in the two years I ran. Even the systems varied, for example this year we chose our overnight tent companions at the start and stuck with them through to the finish, whereas in 2018 tent occupancy gradually developed through the event such that the faster guys (earlier to bed and later to rise) got together and slower people did the same. It didn't seem to make any difference to the ambience overall.

I can only put this down to the unobtrusive but clearly super-efficent way Richard runs the show.

Whether this atmosphere could be maintained with the maximum possible entry (50 starters), where getting to know everyone else on the journey would be much harder,  I don't know, but I would hope it could.

6. The future

This is an event that deserves a future. It provides something that you don't find much in UK ultras, a really significant challenge that doesn't require a lot of running ability to complete. This genuinely is one where so long as you keep your head in the game and look after your feet, you'll get to the finish. Over the three years it has run, 34 people have now completed Deadwater, and I hope that all of them give it as much publicity as they can over the next year or so to make sure that 2023 get a big entry list and so becomes another success.

So to all my fellow runners and all the support staff on this year's event, a sincere thanks to everyone; it was a pleasure and a privilege to share your company along the way. Experience shows that somehow, the majority of us will stay in touch, I think Deadwater does that to you.

As for me, well 2 years is a long way away just now. But I did say last time that I wouldn't go again. I feared that after such a good experience in 2018 that 2021 might be an anticlimax. It wasn't............

Deadwater 2021 Finishers and RD Richard Weremiuk

The "Mandatory Kit"

I was about to contribute to a Facebook thread on this following the very recent tragedy in China, but reflected that I couldn't express a complete and reasoned view within those constraints, hence one of my (now very occasional) blog posts. As always I will start by saying that I don't expect everyone, or in this case maybe not anyone, to agree with me; just my personal views as a grumpy old man if you like.

But I have a real problem with the concept of "Mandatory Kit". 

I can understand why it has become the norm for many events but I am still not sure whether it is the best way of keeping participants safe. It will take me more than a sentence to explain why.

I started hillwalking nearly 60 years ago and progressed over the decades through rock climbing, summer and winter mountaineering, ski touring, mountain biking, and latterly fell and ultra-running. In the last 15 years I have completed over 90 ultras from 30 mile pastoral outings to more challenging stuff like the Tor des Geants (and failed to complete maybe a dozen more). I am saying this not with any sense of bravado, just to record that I have spent a total of many months if not years in mountain environments.  During my lifetime I have seen several of these mountain activities progress from the little known and little understood fringe to mass participation sports. Alongside this, progress in clothing and equipment, information and hi-tech communication has made them potentially far safer than years ago. When I started rock climbing the consequences of a fall were inevitably serious and often fatal. When I first ventured into the Scottish mountains in winter, Goretex hadn't been invented. When I was most active as an Alpinist, weather forecasting was rudimentary or non-existent depending on the location. I have climbed in areas of the world where there was at the time no possibility of mountain rescue. Progress is continuous and it's difficult to remember sometimes how things were before. The mass use of mobile phones has only happened in the last twenty years. The early editions of all the big ultras in the UK were run without trackers. 

But in times past when you knew something had the immediate ability to bite you, then you made allowances. You started slowly, building up experiences that you could rely on. You served an apprenticeship with people further along the road, pushed your boundaries slowly and learned how to stay alive. In any venture into a mountain or upland area, you knew what to expect and what to take with you to achieve your aims for the project while staying safe.

Well, a bit of a ramble you may think, but how does this affect 2021 ultra running? 

The sport has developed rapidly over the past ten years into many diverse formats, but the one that concerns us here is ultras that are held in mountain or upland areas, at times of the year when challenging weather is possible (for some areas this may be year-round).  For many of us, these are the most attractive events, the challenge and beauty of the terrain adding hugely to the experience of going out and running a fair way with a lot of like-minded people, at whatever speed we may be able to manage.

But in spite of the safety improvements over the years, mountains are still potentially dangerous places. It is still possible to fall, to get lost, to succumb to hypo- or hyperthermia, to fall ill in an inaccessible location, and so on. I have never organised a race but I assume part of the risk assesment process for RD's is to have a strategy in place for (a) trying to avoid these situations if at all possible, and (b) evacuating an affected runner if it happens anyway. And one of the actions in trying to avoid problems is to have a "Mandatory Kit List". And here in my view is where the problem begins:

It is my view that anyone who requires a mandatory list to tell them what they need to carry to operate safely in a particular environment does not have sufficient knowledge or experience to go into that environment, ie they should not be there in the first place.

Mountain or upland ultras are not simply races that happen to be run in nice places. They are different events requiring a completely different skill set. I am not going to win many friends with the next couple of observations, but it seems to me that many participants in these races (a) do not understand the nature of the arena they are entering, and (b) consequently, they go into races badly underprepared, both physically and mentally. They do not understand the potential of what they are getting into.

To give a couple of simple, maybe even trivial examples; 

1. I have participated as a support runner in numerous recces of the Lakeland 100 course over the years, and have quite frequently heard the course described as "brutal". The course actually follows tracks that are used by hillwalking senior citizens most days of the year.

2. I still hear comments about the weather on the Hardmoors 55 in 2018 (the "beast from the east" year) as being "extreme". It was in fact near zero temperatures, a 50mph wind and brief periods of snow, predicted completely accurately 24 hours ahead; conditions that occur multiple times a year in the UK hills, and which a regular Spine or Tour de Helvellyn participant would have considered a normal day at the office.

These are just examples of people who had not (yet) got themselves familiarised with the terrain and conditions under which these types of races are run. 

Further, I have come across runners who were lost and unable to navigate because it had got dark or misty (not exactly rare occurrences), runners who had warm layers in their packs but were unable to access them because they had allowed their hands to get too cold to work the buckles, etc.etc. This is all about experience. 

So even if a runner carries everything that the RD has deemed essential, if they are out of their comfort zone and make bad decisions on how or when to use it, it will not necessarily guarantee their safety.

I have taken part in numerous events when the weather has been challenging. I have encountered runners wearing far more than the mandatory kit who were struggling with cold; under the same conditions there were other runners who were very lightly clad, I assume with minimum mandatory kit (or maybe less) who were completely comfortable. We are all different at how we generate energy, how we use it, how much fat we carry and so on.

So what may be satisfactory minimum safety kit for one runner may be completely inadequate for another. We all have to find out what works for us.

For what it's worth, my personal approach to this is briefly as follows:

1. I will research the event I am entering and decide what my race strategy and emergency strategy will be for that individual event. It will certainly be different for different events. Based on this I will decide on my personal kit list for that event. I don't understand the "I always take item (x)" point of view because I can't think of an item I would "always" take.

2. I will take everything that is on the RD's list. Hopefully it will coincide to some extent with my own, though there may be things on there that given a choice I would not take. It's his race so he's entitled to call the shots and I never query or argue.  There will almost certainly be things not on his list that I will take, because I think they are important for me.

3. I will assume that once away from manned checkpoints it's my responsibility to get myself out of any mess that I get into (as far as humanly possible), and that any outside assistance in this is a bonus not to be relied on.

In general terms, and for people who hold different views from me, I really don't believe there is a quick fix for this issue. Rigidly enforcing mandatory equipment lists may prevent one or two tragedies in future, but certainly not all, and I believe is fraught with the issues outlined above. I just have a hope, maybe unrealistic, that we can change the focus of the debate by thinking about the following points:

1. There is a lot of focus on social media groups encouraging runners to "take the mandatory kit". This is fine, but the implication that this is all you need to do to stay safe is not. All you can logically say is that by carrying the mandatory kit you should be safer than if you don't; in terms of absolute safety for each individual you can claim nothing more. We should make the point every time that you should take every item in your bag or vest, not because someone tells you to but because you know what it's for and how to use it. And if you know you need more then take it.  Paying the entrance fee for a race does not absolve you of the prime rule for any mountain activity, which is that the ultimate responsibility for safety lies with the participant, on their knowledge, training, and ability to make good decisions in the environment involved, not the event organiser.

2. I worry that much of the vernacular used in ultra running is at odds with its safe practice. We hear a lot about "finding your limits", "pushing through the pain" and similar concepts. A runner in such circumstances will not necessarily make good decisions, with the attendant safety compromises. For me, an event should be approached as a project, assessed for what is required, all the necessary knowledge gained and training done, then a plan made and executed. No heroics, just do the job. Let's cut out some of the hyperbole.

3. I have some concern about the growing number events advertised as "fully marked course", even in mountain areas. Now if you're on the UTMB on a good identifiable trail and never more than a few yards from the next runner in front or behind in the endless stream this may be OK, but I have been on events where flags have been trampled and moved by animals, blown away by high winds, moved by unthinking or mischevious humans, or simply at a distance such that in thick mist you could not see one from the next, with no track on the ground to give a clue. Whatever you think the flags are going to do for you, if you can't do without them then you shouldn't be there. Doesn't matter what mandatory kit you may or may not have, if you don't know where you are and how to get to where you want to be next then you are in some trouble. For mountain ultras, the ability to navigate is not an option but a necessity.

I think that's about enough of this little rant for this session, I hope you've got my general drift whether you agree or not.

I'll just close with the reminder that quite a while ago the UK police stopped referring to "Road Traffic Accidents" and started calling them "Road Traffic Collisions".  Accidents don't just happen, they are almost always the direct result of someone making a bad judgement call. And until we understand that staying stafe in potentially hostile environments relies on experience and good judgement rather than following lists of rules (like mandatory kit lists),  many runners will still face risks that they are unfortunately unable to appreciate.

John Kynaston

The last contact I had with John was early this year when he left a comment on a blog post I had just published  -  "Great write up as always Andy. Looking forward to seeing how 2021 works out for you, especially how working with Dave Troman will help you. It will be great to run together at Deadwater but hopefully before that as well." Less than 24 hours later John suffered the heart attack from which he never recovered. The brutal unexpected shock will remain with those of us who knew him for a long time, the hole he leaves in the running community will last longer still. 

I knew John for more than a decade, and though we lived 250 miles apart and rarely met more than a handful of times a year, our friendship worked as though he lived next door. Many others will say the same, John was such an enthusiastic and prolific communicator; it was very easy to stay in touch.

It started I think back in the autumn of 2006, when both of us, from very different athletic backgrounds but neither having run an ultramarathon before, entered the following year's West Highland Way race. No ballot or race for places in those days of course, you just posted an application off to race organiser Dario Melaragni and he phoned you to assess your suitability, a conversation ending something like "Well I think you'll be OK then, just get some training in and I'll see you in June". While I quietly contemplated what on earth I had got myself into, John had already started a blog to record his training, thoughts and ambitions. In a time before established social media, the forums on event websites and blogs of competitors were the only way you could find out about what was going on, but even amongst these John's heart on sleeve attitude was already something a bit different. To an introvert like me, his confidence to share his thoughts with the world whether things were going well or badly was inspirational. 

John was of course a far better runner than me, getting under 23 hours for the West Highland Way at his first attempt and going on to record two sub 20 hour finishes in subsequent years. The race hooked me too though, and what I thought was going to be a one-off venture into the strange world of ultra-running back in 2007 turned into a major part of my life; I met John almost every year after that at both the West Highland Way and the Highland Fling, when he was either running himself or marshalling. I remember a couple those occasions especially. 

In 2011 after 4 consecutive high standard finishes, John set out with a target time of 21 hours. At a pace in line with my normal pedestrian finish in those days of around 26 hours, I was surprised on reaching the Glencoe checkpoint, about 72 miles in, to see him just leaving; he was having a tough time with a bad loss of energy and sore feet. I eventually caught him again and passed him at Kinlochleven. For such a good runner it would have been easily understandable for him to feel it just wasn't his day that year; call it a day and come back in better shape another time. Not John; he slowly and painfully walked it out, never for a minute considering giving up, to finish in his slowest ever time by a margin of about 5 hours.

He reminded me of this when I was sitting on the tailgate of my team's car in the Bridge of Orchy station car park in bright sunshine during the 2016 race. I was chatting with John who was crewing for a mutual friend of ours that year. I was feeling pretty sorry for myself, reflecting that attempting this event less than two weeks after completing the 190 mile Northern Traverse wasn't perhaps the smartest trick I'd ever pulled. I was way down on energy and motivation and maybe looking for confirmation that a withdrawal would be sensible, but sympathy wasn't forthcoming. John pointed out that I'd gone into this with my eyes open and there was more than enough time left to walk to the finish from that point should I choose to do so. Suitably chastened, that's what I did. But a spark was maybe lit the other way too because a couple of years later John ran the Northern Traverse himself.

Other vivid memories of John and the West Highland Way are the wonderful welcome my son (also John) and I got when he and Katrina marshalled at the bonfire at Lundavra as I struggled to a 30 hour finish one year, and the moment he presented me eventually with my 10th goblet at the finishing cermony in 2018, all those years after we started back in 2007.

Though not the media mogul bestriding the ultra-running world that he later became, many years ago John launched a series of podcasts devoted to the West Highland Way. I don't know how many there were eventually, I'm sure hundreds. I volunteered to contribute one in the early days, not realising that once JK got his "producer hat" hooks into you then there would be no escape, ever. I ended up doing quite a few for the West Highland Way series. Then recently when John found out that I was targetting the Hardmoors 110 for my main 2021 race, an event that at this stage of my career it is possible but by no means probable that I can complete, his immediate reaction was "Great, how about doing a monthly interview letting us know all about your journey to get there!". 

John stayed with his local races in Scotland for the early part of his ultra career, but was tempted south to the Lakeland 100 as its reputation and popularity started to grow. Many Lakeland runners have made use of the superb informative videos he produced on his reccies of the course with Dave Troman; by now John's meticulous preparations for his events were beginning to become legendary. His first attempt on the race was in 2012. I was running the Lakeland 50 that year, which used to start somewhat later than it does now, so for most of my race I was catching and passing Lakeland 100 runners. The convention was (and still is) that you give them a word of encouragement as you pass, as they have travelled 55 miles further than you by that point. My mind must have been elsewhere as I shouted a cheery "well done" to the figure I passed just over the crest of Gatescarth Pass, because I hadn't gone five yards past when a "Hey Andy!" wafted back. Of course it was John and we jogged and chatted for a few minutes, before I sped on in my pursuit of a respectable "fun run" finish. John seemed to me to be going well. He finished in 34 and a half hours, a time I would have put down as one of my finest achievements, but he was a bit disappointed. His spreadsheet told him he could get under thirty, so that was what he wanted. Three years later he was back. I was marshalling at the finish line in 2015 and made sure I was there at just after midnight to welcome him home and check him in with just  over 29 and a half hours on the clock. Job done.

Most of my conversations with John had naturally been about running, but November 2015 saw us both entered in the White Rose Ultra in the southern Pennines. He was down to do two laps of the 30 mile course while I was content with one. This meant that our chosen pace was pretty near the same for the first lap and we ran almost all of it together. The five hours or so that that it took allowed us to range wider over other topics. John told me of his early career in the East, while I was struggling with strife-torn British industry and helping to run a small engineering business. Since I left my roots in the Midlands much of my life has centred around Merseyside so we had a lot of shared knowledge of the area; I had to confess that we were on opposite side of the Great Divide as I had become a Red when I first moved to Liverpool to start a research degree in 1970. I even discovered that John had been good friends with the guy who had been the pastor at the Evangelical Church a hundred yards from our current house when we first moved there just over thirty years ago. It really is a small world. The only downside of the run was when the event photographer snapped us on the track up towards Wessenden Head with the words "Well done, old timers!"

"Old Timers"

I had a couple of attempts at the Dragon's Back in 2015 and 2017 but never got beyond the mid point of Day 3. I was carrying an injury both times but I think the main problem was that it was a race that just came too late for me, Father Time and deteriorating knees couldn't really be overcome. But John knew all about my attempts and asked me a year or so before the 2019 event whether I thought he could do it. With a sub 30 Lakeland under his belt I was sure he would be fine, but the unrelenting climbing and technical ground on the DB often takes runners by surprise, so I recommended he had a look at as much of the course as possible during the preceding year, so he could plan his training accordingly. I love the territory it goes through so offered to accompany him on any exploration he wanted to do.

Through the summer of 2018 we reccied the first three days of the race over three separate weekends and experienced nearly all the weather that Wales can throw at you. Day 1 was wall to wall blue sky and blazing sunshine. 

Sunshine at Pen-y-Pass on Day 1

Day 3 over Cadair and Plynlimon was generally more "Welsh", misty and chilly with bouts of wind-driven rain at times.

Bleaker weather on Plynlimon Day 3

But Day 2, generally accepted as the toughest day on the course anyway, was, to use a popular term these days, "biblical". We never saw a summit (or much else overall). We battled high winds over Cnicht and the Moelwyns,  got very nearly lost in the tortuous heather-strewn ground north of Cwm Bychan, and traversed the Rhinogs in a continuous downpour, including a thigh-deep wade over the col between the two eponymous summits. On this last outing I was equipped with tough waterproof trousers and a full-weight mountain jacket. John, as always, was wearing shorts.

(John always seemed oblivious to bad weather, it was just something that was part of the day out. One late evening in October as we were enjoying a meal at the finish of the 2016 Lakes in a Day event, when John had just said that his races were now done for the year, I persuaded him to join me at the inaugural running of the Wooler Trail Marathon in late November. On the day of the run there was a hard frost down to the village. All the boggy ground following the Pennine Way along the border fence was frozen pretty well solid. It was about minus 15 degrees as we traversed the Cheviot summit. John was still in his shorts.)

Start of Wooler Trail Marathon - the only shorts in sight

We completed Day 4 of the Dragon's back the following spring and John wiped off Day 5 during a visit to his father-in-law who lived nearby. He then put his plan together, followed it (including a few dozen ascents of his local hill Ben Lomond), and of course completed the race in good style. But I had so much "inside track" knowledge that it was easy for me to win his "Guess My Time" competition on this one!

I could reminisce about other shared moments, from the  Lakleand Trails 100k to the Grand Tour of Skiddaw, from Ring of Fire reccies to the "Beast from the East" Hardmoors 55 and so many more, but I'll leave those to think over in quiet moments in the future.

In a lifetime of climbing and skiing I have learned that you can at some times break all the rules and have a wonderful experience, while at others you can exercise all the diligence possible and still get bitten by the mountains. And so in life itself. One of my grandfathers had a hard early life as a soldier in the Boer War, before taking up a sedentary job as a chauffeur. He smoked for seventy years and his only exercise beyond middle age was to walk a few hundred yards to his local pub for a pint, which he did almost every night of his life. He carried on in good health until his mid-eighties, when he simply just passed away. But I have in the past six months now lost two friends, both fit and athletic way above being just good for their years, in their early sixties. Life it seems is not fair. The only way I can begin to make sense of this is to feel that we should focus not on the years we may or may not have, but in how much we put into those years; we really do need to "fill the unforgiving minute, with sixty seconds worth of distance run".

There was no better example of how to do this than John Kynaston.

RIP JK.

2020 - That was the year that wasn't.

Around this time of year I normally look back over the year just gone and try and preview a bit the one to come, but as we all know it's been a funny sort of year. Eight races that I had entered during the 2020 got either cancelled, postponed, or rearranged to a date that I couldn't make. I'm sure many other people had similar experiences. Disappointing but as runners we can always find some sort of way of getting out of the door if we're persistent; the guys who I really feel for are the race organisers who often moved heaven and earth to get their events on, usually to no avail and at a lot of personal cost, both financial and emotional. I hope as many as possible of them manage to survive to better times, we really need them.

But I did manage to get a few things done.

In early February, when Covid was just something happening elsewhere, we had more normal winter issues at the 43 mile Brecon to Cardiff Ultra. Storm Ciara was forcing the cancellation of events all over trhe country but the brave crew in South Wales held on and we were rewarded with a very windy, extremely wet but ultimately satisfying day out, which I finished in 9:29:48, nearly an hour slower than when I had last done the event two years earlier, but in the conditions that seemed good enough. A week later the event would not have been possible because the whole valley had by then flooded to dramatic levels forcing a lot of home evacuations.

Nearly a month later on the first day of March, it was a cold but crisp and sunny day for Beyond Marathon's 42 Mile Millenium Way. From Newport to Burton-on-Trent this was an easy and enjoyable day trip for me from Chester. It still had it's share of submerged riverside paths and a couple of miles of shin-deep mud at one point, but I managed to finish in 8:45:48.

Then came lockdown of course and I spent weeks running round my local lanes. Even the local Delamere Forest was closed.  During this period we saw the start of the "virtual" event, where competitors are invited to complete the the mileage involved in the cancelled real one but at a location they can access, usually over a defined time period. I didn't really see the point to start with but then the West Highland Way version arrived. Before the Covid thing I had a sort of plan to enter the West Highland Way in 2021 and make it my 100th ultra; it was where it all started for me back in 2007 and I had been involved almost every year until recently.  My plan wasn't going to work now, the 2021 race would be full of entrants rolled over from 2020 and it was very unlikely that I would find enough events still running to get me to 100 by June 2021 anyway. So I joined the 2020 virtual event just to stay in touch. We had from 11th to 21st June to rack up the required 95 miles, but I decided that if I was going to go virtual I wanted to make my experience as close to the real thing as I could. Our local forest and the Sandstone Trail were accessible again by June; I couldn't sensibly arrange back-up for a continuous push, and local opinion would still have frowned on being out through the night, so I went for three consecutive days and arranged my route so that my total ascent would match that of the real race. It worked out as:

Monday 12th:        36.0 miles  4800ft ascent  8:23:50

Tuesday 13th:         27.0 miles  5800ft ascent  7:37:10

Wednesday 14th:     32.0 miles  4700ft ascent  7:25:38

Totals:                       95 miles   15,300ft ascent  23:26:38

It was very hot weather at the time, with thunderstorms each evening, but I actually enjoyed the experience quite a lot, even though some tracks and ascents had to be covered many times. Clearly the time out each night made a huge difference, but it was still nice to get a sub 24 hour West Highland Way  -  many years since I last achieved that!

We were able to get back to the Lakes again in July, which allowed me to enter my second virtual event, the Lakeland 50. I originally thought I might do this on the actual course, but on reflection I wasn't too keen on using public transport to get to the start and finish (I am after all in a "vulnerable" group!) so I constructed a 50 mile route based on our place in Keswick. It was a bit short on height gain compared with the real route but a bit tougher under foot so I guessed about the same sort of challenge. I completed my route in 14:47:38 and had the bonus of meeting Lakeland organiser "Uncle Terry" Gilpin, out for a walk with his grandsons, as I descended Far Easedale.

Some races had started to get going again by August but the one I had entered, the GB Ultras "Race Across Scotland" wouldn't work, I guess because of its proposed use of many village halls and the understandable reluctance of the communities it would have passed through. Looking around for something to focus on, I decided to have a shot at the Abraham's Tea Round which seemed to be gaining some popularity and was right on my doorstep, with the start and finish of the round at George Fishers in Keswick. It's not a long trip at just over 30 miles, but the 11,000ft of ascent and the steep ascents/descents in some places are well felt. I was hoping to get under 12 hours but on the day could only manage 12:34:49   -  I guess a return match is probably called for. Maybe I was short of climbing for the year.

Organised events resumed for me at two Beyond Marathon races in September.  The Gritstone Grind follows the 35 mile Gritstone Trail in East Cheshire. I'm surprised I wasn't more aware of this trail before, it's far more attractive than the Sandstone Trail on my doorstep in the west (but also with double the climbing!).  I finished in 7:52:36 which I was fairly happy with, even though my son John with whom I'd shared a car to the start managed to get it done in under 6 hours.

A week later the White Horse 50 took me to an area I'd never visited before, the downs around Marlborough in Wiltshire. It's gentle, easy countryside, attractive in a wide open spaces sort of way, sparsely populated. There was only just over 4000ft of climbing on the whole course, still, I'm happy to get inside 12 hours for any 50 miler these days so was satisfied with 11:37:39.

Sterner stuff a month later with the Hardmoors 55, rescheduled from March, my eighth time on this particular run. Warmer weather than at the normal time of year for the race, but still with the expected ration of wind, rain and mud. 15:17:06 was half an hour faster than last year for me but still nothing to write home about. I had the feeling that as the year went on I was losing ground a bit.

After this, all the events I had planned got binned in the second and subsequent lockdowns. Virtual events started springing up again aplenty but I wasn't sure this was the best use of this bit of my life. I decided that if I wanted to make a better fist of next year than I had this then just chasing a lot of slow miles wasn't the way to go.

After a bit of thought I signed up with coach Dave Troman, a friend who I have known for quite a few years, in the hope that I can hopefully slow down my decline and maybe even make some marginal gains, with a main target of completing the Hardmoors 110 at the end of May. Just over two months into my training programme I'm really enjoying the change and the discipline, so more enthusiastic about the future than I was in the Autumn.

Just to tie up the statistics, I ran a total of 1983 miles in the year which is fairly typical for the past few years. I climbed a total of 174,000ft, which is way down; in recent years I have normally ascended around 100,000ft more than this, whether this affected my performance in the hillier events like Abrahams Tea Round and the HM55 I don't know, but it won't have helped. For the third year running I also failed to "run the year" (ie 2020 miles in 2020), although I'm really not concerned about this. I could have made up the miles needed easily but made my decision to go for quality over quantity when I started with Dave and I'm more than happy with that.

So what about next year?

Well as I said earlier my main target is to complete the Hardmoors 110 at the end of May. It's the only one of the classic "hilly" 100's that I should be able to do (the UTS is alas now way beyond me I suspect) and yet have never got around to. Ten or even five years ago I would have felt completion was not an issue, I would have been more interested in getting some sort of time that I considered respectable, but nowadays it's very much on my limit. It's five or six miles further than the Lakeland 100, with almost exactly the same amount of total climb; better ground under foot but four hours less to get round. What it doesn't have though is the Lakeland's "look after you at every step" checkpoints every few miles. Only two indoor checkpoints with hot drinks at around 20 and 70 miles (and since Covid, not even these), otherwise cold water and a few sweeties in between is all you get. This is because it is designed as an event where most competitors will have a support crew, and to gain admission to run unsupported you have to have some sort of proven pedigree. I have tried it once before, unsupported, in 2019. Carrying enough food to make progress possible and enough kit to cover both the roasting sun and driving overnight rain we experienced during the event, I ran out of time after about 80 miles. You don't start any event believing you will fail, but those where it is a distinct possibility definitely have more spice than those where you know you will finish, so I can't resist another go. With a bit more focussed training and (hopefully) a support crew I should be able to make a better showing this time.

In discussion with Dave T I've tried to plan other events earlier in the year to support rather than conflict with this main goal. A long time ago I had entered Lady Anne's Way which this was due to go on 30th of January. It wasn't an ideal interruption to the plan, but I was still enthusiastic about the event and had decided to go and treat it as  a longish walk to minimise the effect.  It's now been understandably cancelled and I have no idea yet when/if it will be re-run so I'll deal with that when we know more.

At the end of February I'm planning to run the Northumberland Coast Ultra. This is a short (35 miles) flat event which I have run before. It's a beautiful coast and the run fits well with development towards the Hardmoors.  The organisers Endurancelife always base their events on lightweight outdoor checkpoints with very little faff and have managed to keep a lot of them going through last year, so I'm pretty hopeful that this one will go ahead.

I was a bit regretful not entering the Hardmoors 55, it's one of my favourite events and I do hope to complete 10 of them before I get too old, but a tough event at the end of March didn't really fit the plan.

Then at the end of April I'm entered into the Open Adventure Lakes Traverse. This is a 60 miler which takes arguably a lot of the best parts of the Northern Traverse, run concurrently and which I really enjoyed back in 2016. I will take it at a reasonably comfortable pace, and as well as enjoying a great event in (hopefully) some improving weather for the year, I will get a good "time on feet" day about six weeks out from the Hardmoors.

Beyond May I haven't planned so rigorously, I'm waiting to see how the first half of the year turns out!

I have a deferred entry in the Lakeland 50 which I will definitely do at the end of July, and also one in the Race Across Snowdonia a couple of weeks earlier. I'm really enthusiastic about the latter event, it's a sort of two day version of the Dragon's Back and definitely due to become a classic if Mike Jones at Apex can get the first one or two off the ground, but it may be just an event too far for me this year, I'll judge nearer the time.

One I definitely don't want to miss though is Deadwater in late August. I did this when it was last run three years ago and it was overall one of my best experiences in ultra races.

Other deferred entries are the Lakes in a Day in October and Tour de Helvellyn in December, and I also have a voucher for a GB ultras event at some point. And I still have to get the Joss Naylor Challenge done at some point. Covid permitting, looks like a good enough year ahead.