Welcome to what is, by now, the once-a-year, annual blog reflecting on 12 months of running culminating in the Lakeland 100. Some things change, some things stay the same. One thing is for sure, in the last 12 months I feel like I have aged 12 years. I generally exist in a lovely, happy bubble; blissfully (but very deliberately) ignoring all the dark things lurking outside that bubble. It gets incrementally harder to ignore those dark things with each passing 12 months, be it health (of others or yourself), finance, work, the house – whatever. A dark start to this year’s blog? I apologise. But there is a point, and it is this:

What happens when the thing you generally rely on to balance the equilibrium of life (ie going out for a run) becomes one of the pressures that contributes to the problem?

This was not an overnight issue, it crept in over what gradually became my worst six month spell of running since I began to actually call myself a ‘proper runner’ way back in the summer of 2011. ‘Worst’ may not be the right term, as it wasn’t a deliberate decision on my part. Maybe ‘least effective’ would be more accurate, if a little less sensational for the purposes of creating drama in a blog!

August 2023 – April 2024.

So let’s step back 12 months. For those who remember, don’t remember, or don’t care (although you’d have stopped reading already were this the case) let’s start at Lakeland 100 2023 where, for the second year in a row, I had – to all intents and purposes – a second consecutive dream run and finished in a very pleasing course PB of 29hrs 2mins. If you really want, you can read about it here:

Lakeland 100 2023 Review, 29hrs 2mins

2022 was similarly successful, you can read about that here:

Lakeland 100 2022 Review, 29hrs 42mins

The point of re-hashing these (aside from showing off) is to point out that I felt I had established a quite successful 12 month cycle in order to reach optimum performance at my A race which, for the last 3 years at least, has been Lakeland 100. (Often, like this year, my only race!)

So, 2023 Lakeland PB in the bag and a lovely, restful family Summer holiday completed, I set about on the tried-and-tested method of spending late Summer and Autumn focusing on getting some short and speedy work in and getting back a bit of that aerobic fitness that is inevitably lost when you focus on long, slow mountain miles for a period of time.

Initially, this was pretty successful. Autumn is generally the only time of year I find time to get to Parkruns and I targeted them as a means to push myself over 5ks and get used to being back in the hurt locker. This sounds a bit ridiculous in a Lakeland 100 blog but I have said many times that a full-gas 5k hurts way more than a nice, steady-paced 20-odd miles in the mountains. I get way more nervous before a Parkrun than I do an ultra because I know, if I really push myself, just how much a 5k is going to hurt, even if I do generally know it’s going to be over in 20 minutes.

I got to six Parkruns in a couple of months, trying to tie them in with trips or family visits, so I got to Horton Park (Bradford), West Park (Wolverhampton), St Helens and even Highbury Fields in London, where I clocked my fastest time of that spell in 18.46. All of them were in the 18.45-19.15 bracket though, so I was consistent and, considering the lack of Spring and Summer speedwork, reasonably fast, which is always a pleasant surprise.

Parkrun pics including: St Helens, Dicko’s 250th, Wolverhampton meeting Dominic Kemp, Highbury Fields.

Leanne, Lottie and I also volunteered at a couple of races: the annual Wigan 10k at the start of September and Haigh Hall (Wigan) Parkrun in mid-September.

Finally, I got a couple of races in for Wigan Harriers: the Northern Road Relays at Birkenhead Park and the first cross-country of the season at Kendal.

Again, I ran reasonably well in both but specifically remember thinking, after the Kendal XC; ‘Right, the speed is starting to come back, let this race be the baseline for Winter and let’s make every subsequent XC faster and get fitter and fitter.’

Little did I know at the time, but that mid-October XC race would be the highlight of the Winter and, in actual fact, was easily the fittest I would be until the following Summer!

There were four main factors that, to all-intents-and-purposes, finished me off (running-wise) until after Easter:

• I got the 100 day cough. Obviously, at the time, I didn’t know it was a 100 day cough, but it started early November, I sort of got rid of it (I thought) and tried starting running again through December, but it stopped me again over the Christmas/New Year holiday. I sort of got started running again (again, I thought) but it came back at the end of January/early February. By then, as you can imagine, I was pretty fed up. I had zero fitness in my legs and my lungs couldn’t cope with it anyway.
• I caught ‘Old Man Legs’! Yes, I know I am obsessed with getting old. But, in hindsight, I probably pushed the speedwork a bit too much in September/October. I went from slow trail running in Spring/Summer to all-out Harriers sessions and Parkruns on flat tarmac! I was also wearing the fancy new shoes a lot of the time. Not carbons necessarily, although I would use the Hoka Carbon X from time-to-time, but I was wearing Saucony Endorphin Speed shoes for training, which have a plastic plate rather than carbon. I’m not sure how much all of this was responsible, but by late September I had marathon-style DOMS in my legs, particularly just above the knees, all the time. My legs ached walking up or down stairs, I couldn’t get up from a kneeling position without sounding like a pensioner, and any sort of crouching meant I physically couldn’t get up again without holding on to things! It was ridiculous! Even driving a car – sitting down for long periods of time – was painful. Madness. Funnily enough, running was the only time it didn’t hurt! But every run felt literally like the first run after a marathon and, after a while, it was starting to get me down mentally. Put my cough and my aching legs together, and running really really stopped being fun.
• The Weather! Oh my word! I know we like to moan about weather – but, really! As a general rule, I love Winter. Those frozen, crisp mornings with crystal clear blue skies when you can see your breath. Getting all wrapped up and getting out in the fresh air. No, that was not this Winter! This Winter started in November, it went on until May. (I’m not kidding!) For six or seven months it felt like we went out running in rain, wind, a temperature of roughly 2-3 degrees with a wind chill (rain chill) at minus one! It went on and on and on. None of that lovely Winter weather, none of that dawning of Spring – just wet, windy Winter; on and on and on. Us trail runners like a bit of mud – it’s the best strength training there is – but even I have to admit that, by March, I’d jacked in trail running completely; I was just sick of getting caked in mud and having to clean everything every single time. Never mind the fact that I was so unfit by then, it was killing me just to get out at all!
• Family life. This one isn’t a moan, it’s just a fact of life. I am truly blessed at home and always remind myself of how lucky I am. But we’re busy! Work for myself and Leanne, eldest daughter, Hannah, now at college with a job and a social life significantly busier than Leanne and I – all of which she requires a taxi service to and from! Middle daughter, Nancy, and her obsession with horses and the youngest, Lottie, just into everything, including swimming lessons on a Harriers training night! All of which gives any husband/parent all the excuses they need not to go out running. And for quite a while there, I used all of them! I had to make a real effort to get out running at all and, given that I didn’t feel well and my legs hurt even when I wasn’t running, I fully admit that I stopped thinking about running at all. It wasn’t so much that I couldn’t be bothered, it was more like, by March and April, I was so busy that going for a run never even crossed my mind. For the first time since 2011 really, I wasn’t even thinking about running. Not a slump as such, more simply an absence of running with no desire to try and fit it in.

Now, if this all sounds terrible and depressing, I apologise. It really wasn’t. It was just a very busy life, I’d had a cough all Winter, I felt like an old man and I was quite happy being busy and useful at home, being a good husband and Dad. Running was an added pressure that I didn’t have time for so, over time, I removed that from the equation and focused on the other things. And this would have been fine – I suspect there is more than half a chance that I could have carried on quite happily in the same vein. However, there was just one little thing in the back of my mind, one little running nag that, sporadically, popped into my mind and made me feel that I really should be lacing the trainers up…

‘You’re entered in Lakeland 100 you muppet! Are you going to start training, or what?!’

By April 20th, I literally had not run at all for a month. Not injured, not ill – no excuse at all, just not running and with no great desire to start. At that point, I had only run 295 miles in the year, a total I would usually reach in January and February alone. In the six months from November 20th to April 20th including the Winter cough period, I ran a grand total of 417 miles. I know that might sound like a lot to non-runners, but it really isn’t. Bearing in mind that the majority of those 400 miles were jogs and trots to try and get my lungs used to it again followed by an entire month off – I was as unfit as I have been for over 10 years.

So, here I was, Saturday 20th April, with that little voice in my head as above:

‘You’re entered in Lakeland 100 you muppet! Are you going to start training, or what?!’

I consulted the calendar:

14 weeks to the Lakeland 100.

Account for a proper two week taper at the end:

12 training weeks to Lakeland 100.

Give yourself a couple of weeks to actually build-up any sort of running again; don’t want to get injured before I start by diving straight in to 50 mile weeks!:

10 proper training weeks to Lakeland 100.

Now, knowing me as many of you do, you might think that this was the crucial bit of motivation to get me going. It often is. But I hadn’t run for a month. There had been no pressure to go out running for a month. I hadn’t sacrificed anything else to go running for a month. I hadn’t let Leanne or one of the girls down, I hadn’t not made their tea or sorted out their washing, not given them a lift to work or not taken them to swimming lessons or whatever, for a month. I was quite happy playing houses and not stressing about the fact that something or other was stopping me running, for a month. And I was enjoying it too. It was quite nice not to be a selfish runner. So I openly admit, even on Saturday 20th April, with 14 weeks to the Lakeland 100 and zero fitness, my first, over-riding thought was:

‘F*** it, I’m not doing it.’

I remember it, clear as day. I genuinely thought I’d be a happier person not putting myself under the pressure of getting out to train. Guilt about the family holiday we could have had didn’t work, even telling family and friends that I wasn’t going to do it didn’t seem to be causing any worry.

So, how did I get to finally getting my arse in gear? To use a phrase from general ultra-running social media: what was my ‘Why?’ In the end, it was very straight-forward.

Dominic Kemp.

Image 1: with Jon Cadman (left) and Dominic Kemp (centre) in September 2022 when Dom was quite ill. Image 2: with Dom in September 2023 during his remarkable recovery.

Dominic Kemp was from Wolverhampton. Nothing to do with my in-laws in actual fact; he was a friend of a friend in running circles. I’ve known Jon Cadman many years (a funny story in itself!) and Dom was a friend of his. But, judging from what I’ve read since, once you were introduced to Dom, you were no longer a ‘friend-of-a-friend’, you were a friend of his, and treated as such, no matter how rarely you were in contact.

Dom knew a lot of people, he was very well known in Wolverhampton running circles and well known mostly, it seems, for selfless acts and an unwavering enthusiasm to help others. He was instrumental in setting up Wolverhampton Parkrun at West Park, for example, still the best Parkrun I’ve been to (a small sample size, granted!). He loved Lakeland 50 and introduced a lot of his friends to the event, including Jon, and this became the annual focus of their Sunday long runs and general training, all coordinated, obviously, by Dom.

He was fascinated by the step up, and the differences between, the Lakeland 50 and 100. He had no intention of doing the 100 himself (or so it seemed!), but was genuinely interested in how I trained and what the different challenges were. But he was just an interesting guy to chat to full-stop, whether about his running, current or historical, or anything else.

Dom had been battling cancer for a couple of years. But it never stopped him enthusiastically supporting his friends in their training, or messaging me (and, I suspect, lots of others) before the race to wish us luck, or avidly following the dots! By the time I ever got round to looking at my phone after recovering from the latest 100, there would inevitably be messages (plural!) from Dom. Not just congratulations, but messages during the race telling me how well I was going, what position I was in at a CP, how far inside my best time I was etc.

If you read my 2023 blog last year (link above) Dom played quite a part in it. He wasn’t well enough to travel to Coniston, but he sent me a lengthy good luck message on the morning of the race and told me Jon would fill me in on the medical bit. I feared the worst but, in the marquee after registering, Jon told me how amazingly Dom was doing, and what a recovery he was making. I said last year that this news alone certainly contributed to me firing round in a PB.

As the photos above show, Dom and Jon came to meet me at Wolverhampton Parkrun in September 2022 and Dom came to meet me again in September 2023, and the difference between the two photos a year apart, is startling. Dom enthusiastically told about the medication he was on and the transformative effect it had had. He spoke about returning to work part-time and how golf was replacing running a bit to help him keep fit. He also told me he already had accommodation booked for Lakeland 2024 – he wouldn’t be running, but would be there in person to support! Jon couldn’t meet us that Saturday morning last September, but Dom came down to meet me anyway. He wasn’t a friend-of-a-friend, he was a friend. (And at Wolves Parkrun, that was a privilege, because he was everyone’s friend and everyone wanted to talk to him!)

It was, therefore, a real shock to get a message from Jon in mid-December last year to say that Dom had taken a turn for the worst due to contracting Shingles and having to come off the cancer medication. He died later that same day, 14th December, 2023.

I’m sure it has been comforting for his family and friends to learn just how far reaching Dom’s influence and kindness stretched. Maybe, if you are a Parkrun tourist, can I recommend that you get yourself to West Park, Wolverhampton, one day. It’s a great 3 lapper, it gets you ‘W’ in your alphabet (not easy!) and, just perhaps, you could thrash out a PB. Because, if you did, you’d get to ring the Dominic Kemp PB bell. Next time I’m in Wolves, I have a Parkrun PB of18.43 to beat and, just like this year at Lakeland, it might just be Dom who gets me round.

April – Race Week, July 2024.

So that became my ‘Why?’ I was getting round the 100 for Dom. Coincidentally, Jon was injured and, despite an entry, would be unable to compete in the 50. How could I look him in the face and say ‘I couldn’t be arsed’, when he would love to get round in memory of his mate? Then, as ever, there’s Rob Lister, my original ultra-running buddy, still unable to run after a hip op. (Not hip-hop, that’s something different.) Finally, I think I knew, deep down, that if I didn’t at least try to train, I would be gutted come July when the pre-race banter kicked off on the Facebook group! So there it was, I was doing it out of respect for Dom, and out of FOMO come July! And it worked.

I used the last 10 days of April to be sensible and just get out running again. After that, I have to say that the next 10 weeks were probably the best block of pre-Lakeland training I have ever done. Not in terms of my fitness levels, which really only got anywhere near good enough in July when I hit the taper button, but in terms of consistency, the amount of hill work I did and, thanks to Leanne being very kind and acting as impromptu-coach, no less than four visits to the Lakes to train, along with a fifth trip to cheer on my brother at Lakeland Trails 100k.

I’d be lying if I said I really enjoyed it; the pressure of putting myself in a ‘now-or-never’ position of HAVING TO go out for a run, without really wanting to, is what really added to that feeling of stress that I mentioned right at the start. But I loved the four Lake District visits – that’s why we do it, isn’t it? – and, as the fitness gradually came back, so did my confidence. I know what it takes to get round Lakeland, and I know how to do it. You don’t need to be 100% mega-fit (although, obviously, the fitter you are, the better!) but you do need to be injury-free and mentally ready. That doesn’t mean it’s going to go smoothly necessarily, but it means I was never panicking about not being fit enough. I knew, if I stuck to my (intense 10 week) training plan and avoided injuries, I’d be OK.

Plus, the bad weather actually helped me in May and June. I’m not a brilliant runner in the heat, but I was fortunate that it was never actually hot enough in May and June to ever not go out running! If we’d had the usual May heatwave I’d have been in big trouble!

The four Lake District days were planned in order to get as hill fit as possible and ramp up in difficulty as I got fitter, in order to make the actual LL100 route feel easier than the training runs.

June 1st – 17.6miles, 5791ft ascent – Grasmere to Glenridding (over Fairfield and St Sunday Crag), then back to Grasmere via Grisedale Tarn on Lakeland Trails 100k route. With Dougie and Mike.

A relatively gentle return, but exactly what was needed at the time. A really nice day out with brother Dougie and fellow Wigan Harrier and LL100 legend Mike Harris. An early indicator that my ‘old man legs’ were not going to handle long Lakeland descending well unless I got myself in shape!

June 22nd – 26miles, 9918ft ascent – Keswick to Dunmail Raise; first two legs of Bob Graham Round. (Minus Fairfield and Seat Sandal.) Solo.

Go big or go home! A solo day out, so could plan something bigger without having to worry about others. A great but, honestly, chastening day! I was running out of water and was worried about missing my bus back to Keswick, so missed the last two hills out. To be honest, this day kicked my arse, but that was what I wanted and needed really. The climbs were as arduous as expected (on many a Lakeland I have looked up at Clough Head on my way to the Coach Road and thought ‘No way!’) but it was the straight-line descending that really took me by surprise. My ‘old man legs’ just could not do it, or not at any sort of speed anyway. Dropping off Dollywagon towards Grisedale Tarn, I genuinely thought my legs were going to give up the ghost, hence my decision to bail out straight to Dunmail Raise. Oh, I did run out of water and I did miss the bus! Nine hours. Epic day!

June 30th – 28miles, 7976ft ascent – Ambleside to High Street inc Wansfell Pike and part of Kentmere Horseshoe, down Long Stile Ridge to Haweswater, then back to Ambleside on the LL100 route; with Mike.

Back with Mike, four weeks to race day, hitting some more lumpy bits and another really technical descent, which were becoming quite a feature of this set of lakes visits! All good though; the plan being to make the actual race route feel easier. And we both certainly felt like we were moving really nicely once back on the wider tracks of the race route from Mardale Head back to Ambleside – although this may have been, at least in part, due to the lovely, civilised pit-stop we had at the little cafe in Troutbeck! Race CP style practise this was not! Race rules dictate that you are not allowed to stop for this kind of ‘outside assistance’ on race day, and the refreshments were so good on this recce stop that we felt this might make us feel a bit grumpy going straight past on race day!

July 6th – 35.5miles, 8474ft ascent – Coniston to Keswick on LL100 route; with Mike.

Three weeks to Lakeland and this is what we had worked towards. Mike was keen to see the night section again, and I always think that Coniston to Braithwaite is a great recce – in the race, you need to get to Braithwaite in decent time and in decent shape. A lot of people tend to recce to Buttermere (probably because it’s 26 miles so is a marathon day out) but then get taken by surprise by how hard they find the climb to Sail Pass on race day.

Anyway, for the second recce in a row (we did it in 2022 as well) we got to Braithwaite in exactly 9hrs 3mins. This was very reassuring as, once in race mode (ie without photo stops, general scenery gazing, shop visits for refreshments, the inevitable running with a little less urgency etc) we knew we would be getting to Braithwaite quite a bit quicker than this on the day. It also allowed us to check out the stream crossing at Black Sail Hut; the bridge having been swept away in Winter floods. The crossing was quite a bit more straightforward than I thought it might be, there was a nice flat bit with no rocks pretty much right there. Feet were going to get wet on race day, but at least it wasn’t going to be a treacherous crossing, unless it rained a lot in July! All that said, Mike did show a very high level of agility and balance in getting across with dry feet on this day!

We got to Keswick avoiding the A66 – that was a pleasure we would save for race day! – and I was delighted with how fresh I felt. This was exactly the confidence boost I needed. There were two or three really useful bits of learning, or reminders, that were to prove very useful on race day:

• The weather forecast in the week leading up to this recce was nothing short of biblical. So much so, in fact, that I amended my kit for the day and packed two lots of clothes and two lots of waterproofs – we were getting the bus back from Keswick and I thought I would definitely need dry clothes for the return journey. On Friday, (we ran on Saturday) the forecast still looked bad, but the rain percentage had fallen from 90s to 50s. We arrived in Coniston to quite a bright morning and actually had a beautiful day of cool, bright weather, save for one very heavy downpour which started as we descended to Buttermere and finished just after we climbed out of Buttermere. Proof indeed that weather forecast gazing is a fairly redundant exercise in the run up to Lakeland weekend!
• I felt quite lethargic and grotty on the first couple of legs. I’d had a tiring week – I had taken part in a sponsored run for my daughter’s primary school and, on Thursday night, had run round their school field from midnight until 3am! I’ve no idea why I thought these two events would be mutually exclusive! However, as is often the case on this route, I perked up descending towards Wasdale and, for the first time that year, felt really sprightly on the bigger ups and downs from Wasdale to Braithwaite. I can’t say I was descending fluently, I think my legs have given that up for good, but I was moving efficiently and relatively quickly. Proof that you can have bad spells in a long race and still feel a million bucks later on!
• Unfortunately, the negative effect of this was that I allowed the idea that I often don’t feel great on legs two and three to also enter my sub-consciousness. Did this play a part in what happened on race day? I don’t know, but I need to re-focus my mental preparation on this in future.

Race Week.

This being my 5th Lakeland 100, (I DNFd in 2018 and finished, slowly, in 2019 – you can also go back and read about those in my blogs!) my race week routine is also pretty established at this point. Being employed in education, I am in the fortunate position of being largely able to rest up in the week prior to the race, aside from endless kit-faffing and list checking! My family is, by now, very considerate of my need to nap endlessly, (I’m not being lazy, I’m preparing meticulously for the race…) and several house tasks that really should be addressed in the first week of the holiday remain ignored. (I told you ultra running is a selfish pursuit!)

One difference this year was race weekend ‘accommodation’. Last year, as part of my 50th birthday treats, we spent the weekend in a lovely AirB’n’B in Hawkshead. This year, it was back to the tent in the field. However, one amendment to this was made: the weather was not good in the build-up, so Leanne booked herself and the girls into a little apartment near Penrith on the Friday night, just in-case the field/car parks were waterlogged and shut down for the weekend. (Penrith being useful because they could get up on Saturday morning and come and give me a cheer in Pooley Bridge at breakfast time.) So, with the tent and two cars required for the Friday journey, logistics and additional packing lists were an extra consideration in the build-up.

My kit is very much tried and tested these days and there were no major new purchases required. I had new Hoka Speedgoat 5s for the race, so ran them in a couple of times in the build-up. The new 6s had come out in June, but it’s always too late for me to want to transition to a different shoe for the race so, as usual, stick to the kit you know for the race, I’ll try the 6s in Autumn.

That final lakes recce on the route had finally sparked my enthusiasm and confidence, so I was – eventually – very much looking forward to race day and getting on with it!

As usual, I also had my race CP splits card prepared. Here it is, for anyone interested:

I post the above with the following caveats:

• I would strongly urge anyone not to get too hung up on times during the race. Once you start running, all I ever do/advise is to go at a comfortable pace dependent on the conditions underfoot, the weather and how you feel. Do not try and speed up to ‘catch-up’ on your projections! I am a stat nerd but I do not focus on these splits religiously during the race. If anything, they are a guide for my dot-watching family so they have an idea how I’m getting on. This is an important point, as you will see in my race review below.
• I’d done the race four times before (including the 2018 DNF at Mardale Head) and recced the course countless other times. So, by now, I have an almost exact idea of how long it takes me to do each leg UNDER NORMAL CIRCUMSTANCES. You are not guaranteed normal circumstances on race day – quite the opposite in fact. But it does mean that I now know, if I’m feeling OK, that 30/31 hours is ‘par for the course’ – if I am having a good race and conditions permit, I’ll be sub-30 hours.
• A couple of people I know were interested in, and had asked me, what a 30-hour race might look like in terms of splits, so I put quite a bit of thought, and research of my previous runs, into the above splits. These are dependent on which bits of the course you like or feel are your strengths, though. For example, some people may be slightly slower than me on the rocky, technical sections but faster than me on the flatter, more runnable terrain. (I suspect I am slightly slower on the fast, runnable sections compared to others; I think I walk quite a bit more of those stages than some.)
• All the above said though, if you were/are someone who is interested in the 30 hour time barrier, the above splits might be useful as a starting point!
• Marc Laithwaite, Race Director, posted something really relevant in the build-up to the race. He was stressing not worrying about the time, just having a good time. I was determined to hold this thought in my head. After four consecutive races with four consecutive improvements in performance, I was very aware that this could not go on forever. I was definitely ‘race fit’ after a great May, June and July, but I did feel it was quite ‘superficial’ fitness, not the deeply-engrained fitness feeling you have when you have worked really hard in Winter and Spring. I spent the week of the race focussing my mind to not get stressed if I fell behind split times. (It wasn’t as simple as just not taking them with me; like the course route and statistics, these are just numbers that I know off by heart at this stage, I don’t need to be looking at them!)

Race Day.

Friday 26th July finally arrived and I was up and off at 7.35am. We were under strict orders from race HQ not to arrive before 9am – so I made sure I would be there at 9.05 after gates opened and not block up the village beforehand. Everyone is different, but I just do not want any stress on race day; the sooner I get there, the better. Plus, experience has taught me that putting up the tent, registering, packing all your kit for the race, trying to get some sleep and socialising with friends – especially the ones you only see once or twice a year – all takes considerably longer than you think it is going to take!

From that aspect, everything went like clockwork. I ended up pitching the tent practically right next to the marque at 9.15am. (Thanks to Mike, who arrived right on cue and helped me put it up!) I suspect I was in the queue to register before 10am, but the queue was pretty big even by then, and only appeared to get longer as the day went on. Was this the first sign on the ground of the additional number of entrants for both races this year? There were a few more as the weekend went on.

The registration process was as efficient and organised as ever – this really is a flagship event in every way possible, and they have their systems set with military precision. In fact, the only problems I ever see at this event are due to the – at times – staggering incompetence or ignorance of competitors or supporters! I’m not sure how anyone could enter an event like this and not read any of the pre-race information which is sent out with the exact same level of military precision.

I bought one of Uncle Terry’s books – signed too. I bet he regretted starting to sign them; he must have been sat there all day! (Best not mention this to Marc either…)

From this point on you start to bump into friends: old and new, regular and rarely seen, and in many cases people I see once a year only, in Coniston! I am afraid to write a list here, as I would inevitably miss someone out by mistake, so I’m not going to! But a few notable chats were had with Gareth Davies (on X as Runny McRunface – @gazitude) who I had chatted to quite a lot about his race plans, after he scorched past me near Skelwith Bridge last year on his way to a very fast 50 finish. In fact, we had talked so much over the year that I actually felt strangely invested in his 100 debut and really hoped he would go well. If we both did OK, it wasn’t out of the question that we’d see each other a few times on the course.

The Kilpatrick family: Mariam, Jonny and Aria, have become a feature of the last couple of races and were the first people I saw. Mariam, making her 100 debut, had been battling an ankle injury in the build up. Jonny, a sub 24hr 100 runner last year, aiming for a fast 50. Phil Tickner, who ran 28hrs and literally a couple of seconds last year, was back to finish the job. (In fact, he destroyed it, finishing 41st in a stunning time of 26h 41m! Well done, Phil!) I literally see Matt Rushbrook annually these days; often at registration and then at whatever point he flashes past me on his 50! This year it was approaching Mardale. A good sign for him; maybe not for me! Rachel Lawton from Wigan Harriers, if she is between volunteer shifts! Denise Zachariasz has countless 50 finishes under her belt and is an inspiration to all. Carolyn Binns – a legend in every sense of the word.

I could go on (apologies if I saw you and haven’t said) but pride of place has to go to Jon Cadman. You will remember earlier that I said he was unable to run the 50. Well, a couple of weeks before, he decided that the lure of getting round for his good pal Dom was too much to resist, so here he was, un-trained and unfit, but determined to get round in however long it took in memory of Dom. What can you say? Legend.

Jon wanted to introduce me to Mel Sykes, who I knew of through her recent brushes with ‘celebrity’ (she would hate that I’m sure!). Firstly, when she was elevated to the podium in a race in 2023 after a ‘finisher’ above her was found to have made use of transportation and been disqualified – a case which hit national and international headlines at the time. But more recently, to us Lakelanders, she is a well known voice as ‘The Yorkshire Correspondent’ on the Young Hearts Run Free Podcast, and for her utterly remarkable comeback from a very serious health issue last September. I believe that, medically, she shouldn’t really be able to run like she is at this stage of her recovery, but she had already finished 3rd in the Spine South Summer Challenge recently and has an entry in this year’s full Winter edition. It was lovely to meet her once or twice through the weekend, and again a few times on course, as she yet again demonstrated her ability to prove that nothing is impossible if you have enough desire, will and determination. What an inspiration to all.

As ever, time was ticking more quickly than expected, so I went back to the tent and packed my officially checked race kit and tried to force some pasta down my throat. I have to really make myself eat breakfast and something at early lunchtime, and then again after the briefing (usually tuna sarnies). I tend to eat late normally, so remembering to do it early enough with the unusual 6pm start is always a challenge.

Something else I always make time for on race day is a sleep. Some try and some don’t, some want to some can’t! But sleep deprivation has, historically, been a real weakness of mine so, with the 6pm start and potential for two nights on the trails, I just try and get whatever sleep I can. I have a feeling that this was where I sowed the seeds of my race difficulties.

It wasn’t a baking hot day by any standards, but it was one of those days where the inside of the tent got very hot very quickly. I was sweating buckets within minutes and peeling off any clothes and covers I was using. I also had a drink by my side which I kept going to but ultimately, in hindsight, it was probably a very bad idea to spend over two hours in what amounted to a sauna just before a big ultra! I had set an alarm for 4pm but ended up getting up at about 3.15pm as I’d woken up by then and it really was too hot in the tent to be comfortable. I made sure I drank steadily throughout the rest of the afternoon but, at the end of the day, I think I pretty much started the race dehydrated. Fortunately, I recognised this early enough to do something about it.

The race briefing, no matter how many times you go, always produces something that will surprise you. This year, as Marc Laithwaite continues to get old and emotional before our very eyes, was the introduction of higher faith into proceedings! The Vicar from Top Gun (!) was there! Actually, he is Minister/Vicar at Kentmere and his wife was running (and completing, I understand!) her first Lakeland 100, so Marc invited him in to say a few words, which really resonated. Last year, it was Marc telling us to ‘Run 100 miles now while you can, because you never know when you might not be able to do it again,’ which really hit home. This year, Lawrence praying for us and willing us to get round using the power of friends and family who are no longer with us, certainly struck a chord.

From the briefing, there suddenly feels like no time until heading for the start pen. Again, experience has taught me to be pretty much ready before the briefing, then you don’t have to worry about it. Mike’s family had arrived and were waiting by our tent. My Mum and Dad were there, which was lovely; Leanne and the girls nearly got caught in traffic but made it in time. I told Leanne I didn’t feel brilliant; I don’t know if it was just pre-race nerves but I think I knew in my heart-of-hearts that I had sweated too much that afternoon. Then, in a flash, it was time to head for the start pen. At the time, we didn’t think we were that near the front but, having watched a few videos of the start, we were very near the front indeed – perfectly placed, in fact. There seemed to be absolutely loads of runners this year.

The annual rendition of Nessun Dorma never fails to pull at the heart strings, and really gives the event some gravitas. Then, in a blur of good lucks, well wishes, AC/DC and a wall of supporters and noise, we were off on the round once more. Until we meet again, Coniston!

Lakeland 100, 2024.

Legs 1-3; Coniston to Wasdale, 19.4miles, 4hrs 26mins (30 hr split – 4h 30m)

Deja Vu, On Stage Two!

Being my fifth time, I know what to expect of the run through the village now, but it is still a moment I try to cherish. I am, however, just a little jealous of those doing it for the first time. There really is nothing like it and the first time it genuinely takes your breath away. Perhaps it’s because everyone cheering you through the village knows just how hard this race is to finish. I think that is why, no matter how many times you start this race, you have to fight good old-fashioned nerves. We are all starting the race, and that is to be celebrated, but no-one – and I mean no-one – can be certain that they are going to finish it.

However, once the emotional start is over with, it is never too long before I yearn to be by myself on the trails. I think it is perhaps because I take part in so few races these days, that I am simply not used to having loads of runners around me! Jon had gone up to the Miners Bridge, less than a mile out of the village, to give us a cheer. I actually went and high-fived him this time; I wanted him to know that I was sharing his mission to take Dom round with us. It is a natural bottle-neck here onto a single file track but, due to our good position, we only stood there for 30 seconds or so (although it feels like a lifetime!). Jon said that the queue was massive after that though, runners actually sitting down on the wall to wait! (More starters than usual? Too many? I didn’t see it, so I couldn’t say.)

Even though we were probably about 150 runners back (about where we usually start – and finish) the single track felt a lot slower than usual. We always walk up (no bad thing) but I don’t remember having to actually stop before. Wigan Harrier buddy Steve Nicholls was in his usual spot holding the second gate up here – it’s tradition! I always try and just keep nice and calm during this section, it would be easy to get frustrated but, in the long run, it doesn’t hinder your race – in fact, it possibly helps.

Turning down the track towards the Walna Scar Road, it still felt busy. The photographer was there somewhere to capture the moment, but it is definitely more of a group shot this year!

Mike (in blue), Mel Sykes (in red), myself (in green) navigating the early traffic!

A last few cheers in the car park at the bottom of the Walna Scar Road before, finally, heading out onto the fells and everything falls quiet. Mike and I ran up to the flat section here before the climb opens out before you and we both, for the first time, took the running poles out and settled down. You still have a mixture of all sorts of people doing all sorts of different paces here; you just have to try and ignore them all and do your own thing. We climbed steadily although I personally felt that I did the very last steep switch-back or two a little bit too fast – I was very aware of feeling surrounded and wanting to get in my own space.

I only mention this because, on this most lovely of evenings, bright and breezy, I felt Mike and I descended really steadily and sensibly and were therefore both very surprised to get to Checkpoint (CP) 1 at Seathwaite in 1hr 26m; a couple of minutes faster than I have ever done it! I was actually a bit cross as I felt certain I’d done a nice, sensible 1h 30! Still, time in the bank, a very quick refill of a bottle (less than a minute) and off we went on leg two.

Mike and I were joined here by Jamie Munro, also a Wigan Harrier and Endurance Store trail club regular. After heading through the woods towards Wallowbarrow, we pass through a farm (ssshhhhh!) and turn uphill into more woods. I’ve had funny over-heating moments climbing up here before in both 2019 and 2022, so I try and take it easy here. I had a quick drink, salt tablet and decided to munch a couple of Shot Blox before reaching for the poles and climbing, but the weirdest thing happened. No sooner had I started chewing, I could feel the heart rate going up. Totally bizarre – am I wish-casting it into existence? Hot, sweating, uncomfortable. Mike and Jamie were up ahead as we made our way up and into the woods, but they disappeared out of sight quickly as I took on some fluid and slowed down, hoping my body would relax. Just like 2022, it was like an out-of-body experience. It’s only a short climb and I was soon up and around the corner at the top, turning towards the deer gates and farm in open land. I just felt hot, sweaty and energy-less. I stuck to walking as people gently jogged past me. Out onto the wetlands I went and into the woods again beyond; single file, a bit of pressure to keep moving quickly but, at this stage, if anyone came up behind me, I just let them through. This section was also the first inkling we had that the ground was going to be wetter on race day than it had been on any other Lake District visits in recent weeks. It had rained heavily on Thursday apparently, and the water appeared to be sitting at the surface.

I didn’t feel terrible and I (deep down) knew it would pass, but I was just lacking energy and , therefore, feeling a bit deflated and sorry for myself which, in reality, probably doesn’t help in the grand scheme of things. After the rocky, bracken covered descent into Eskdale, we hit more runnable land in the valley. I found I could trot along OK, but there was a very specific effort threshold (very low) beyond which my body would quickly tell me to slow down again. At this point, I was ensuring I rapidly drank both my water bottles so that I could fill them up again at the next CP and also getting salt capsules down me at regular intervals.

I arrived at Boot CP, 14 miles in, bang on 3 hours – the fastest I’ve ever got there, although I had no idea how that was so as I felt like leg two alone had been forever. I filled both bottles up again (I use High5 electrolyte tabs) and guzzled a few cups of flat coke. Mike was just leaving the CP but came to tell me he had lost his salt tablets. My first thought was to share some of mine but, this year, I was only carrying a very specific number because I always take too many spare and end up binning them! Plus, I was going through them at quite a rate of knots at the moment, so I was a bit worried I was going to run out of them myself. But Mike said he didn’t want them anyway, (probably best not to try new things like that in a race!) and off he went. One more thing of note at this CP. Lovely people though they are (thank you!), they quite often have a Christmas theme I think. I love Christmas, but in December! I am one of those grumpy people who gets stroppy with people putting decorations up in November and Christmas songs in shops in October, so this did not improve my mood, although I was keen to ensure I still wished them all happy new year as I left, to try and show my appreciation!

As a general rule, I start enjoying myself on leg three of the race, as this is where you feel a bit more removed from the crowds and get to breathe a bit of fresh, evening air as you climb onto the moor top. It wasn’t happening tonight though – and not just because I now had ‘White Christmas’ stuck in my chuffing head! Feeling drained, I plodded on as a steady stream of people passed, including Mel Sykes and Runny McRunface at some stage here. I just had to be patient and keep reminding myself I would recover, if I ate and drank the right things. But there is absolutely no doubt about it, I was sulking!

One of the best features of this year’s race was that, in keeping with the Top Gun theme (I never did like Top Gun – or Tom Cruise films in general, I’ve found) everyone was allowed to have nicknames or ‘call-signs’ on their numbers. I thought this was great and really hope this can continue in future years. I think more people know me as GB Sticks than Mark these days, but Gareth is just Runny McRunface to me, (although it didn’t all fit on his number, so he was McRun!), Mel was Yorkshire – entirely appropriate, Mike (Harris) was Bomber – it was great, and it really made everyone seem more distinctive instead of overtaking 22 Rachels or 15 Matthews. There were some really good names, too! (Don’t ask me to remember any of them now, though!)

The ground underfoot approaching Burnmoor Tarn was also wetter than three weeks previous, making the surface a little energy sapping to try and run on, especially if you were already feeling that way out. But I was more or less by myself now, dusk was becoming night, and I knew my favourite stages of the race were coming up, so I was desperately trying to fight my way out of my bad mood.

My headtorch went on in exactly the same place it always does, at the top of the descent into Wasdale. I pottered down and, heavy-legged, walked the majority of the road into CP3 behind the pub. That leg was definitely a slow one but, at the end of the day, I was there before 10.30pm, (by 4 minutes) which I personally find is my par-time for CP3. So nothing had been lost yet, I just needed to find some mojo and energy.

Legs 3-5; Wasdale to Braithwaite, 32.8 miles total, 8hrs 33mins (30 hr split – 8h 30m)

On The (Rocky) Road To Recovery!

I had told, and always do, anyone entering the 100 for the first time, what a great CP Wasdale is. For me, the race starts at Wasdale. Everything before it is a warm-up. At Wasdale, it goes dark, the path goes up (and down), the more technical trails begin in earnest and, upon leaving the CP, you are thrust from noise, people and light, often into total silence with nothing but you, your headtorch, the mountains and the night for company – in summary; the adventure truly begins at Wasdale. Legs 4 and 5 are my favourites of the whole race, every year. But also, there are the Sunderland Strollers! You cannot feel miserable in their CP, they simply won’t allow it! Every year is a classic – my personal favourite, though, was the Alpine themed year: yodelling music, lederhosen, apres ski – the business!

So you can only imagine my horror when, already fighting the sulks, I approached the the bridge at the CP to see… CHRISTMAS!!! AGAIN!!! Don’t these people talk to each-other???!!!

Again, I wanted to show my appreciation, so I said my season’s greetings and happy new years through gritted teeth! In all seriousness, the Strollers are an epic bunch. I filled the already empty bottles again, utilised my spare bottle for extra flat coke – which I did at every CP from here on in. Three bottles between every CP – unheard of, for me. I was drinking so much that I didn’t want to eat much, but grabbed a few orange segments to take with me and headed back into the night. Happy New Frigging Year!!!

In terms of the race though, I was at last in my happy place. Alone in the night. And, I think, this helped to balance my equilibrium and prove that this race is as much about mental performance as physical. Talking of physical, as the race pitched steeply uphill, I still found I could not power up as I would have liked, but I could find a steady pace and stick to it without feeling offside. I was neither catching people up, nor being overtaken, which was a start!

I reached the summit of Black Sail with no further issues, passing a couple of people just as we began to descend. It was clear from the off that it was going to be pretty wet and slippery down what is already a technical descent. In previous years, I have thrown myself down here with wild abandon, so I made a mental note to myself to just play it safe and get down in one piece.

I only mention this fact because, no sooner had I thought ‘take care’, I booted the very first big rock that I came across with my left foot! It was one of those rock kicks where you know, with soft running shoes on, that you have trashed you toes straight away! That wasn’t the immediate problem though – the immediate problem was where was I going to land, and how much was it going to hurt? So much for being careful! In my younger days, I recovered this kind of stumble all the time, so it was with some surprise that I managed to land on my feet and, immediate calf cramps aside, emerge unscathed from the heart-in-mouth moment. ‘Ooohhh, nice recovery!’ shouted the lad behind that I had just overtaken! (That would have been embarrassing!)

Throbbing toes aside, I did take care on the rest of the descent which was pretty wet so, as with the recce, I felt I just got down it safely rather than fluently. With no bridge to aim at on the way down anymore, Race HQ had kindly put a rope over the stream crossing to cling on to and manned it as well, which was a nice touch. The rope was right over the nice, flat section I used three weeks before so, again, you could simply walk through without having to worry where to put your feet. It’s funny how you spend weeks worrying about your feet getting wet and then, in the race, just do it without a thought. (To be fair, our feet were already wet, so it wasn’t an issue!)

Up-and-over Scarth Gap without issue, and onto the descent. Just like the recce three weeks before, I suddenly found myself moving much more smoothly here all of a sudden. The mental tide was turning!

As I approached the woods at the bottom, it started to bucket down for the first time. (Just like it had on the recce, this was getting weird!) The forecast was for short, sharp showers, but I was still very much over-heated, if no longer suffering, so I opted to not bother faffing with the waterproof and only get it out if it was an absolute necessity. I used the woods as shelter and found that, for the first time in the race, I could really happily trot on at a reasonable pace. I actually started to overtake one or two people. This continued into Buttermere and the CP itself; the positivity was definitely starting to flow.

I hadn’t seen Mike or Jamie since Boot but here they both were. Mike, just leaving, was looking good. I knew he would be pleased with his time to here. Jamie, unfortunately, was just starting to become quite ill. I grabbed more flat coke, filled the three bottles (I was still drinking loads!) and grabbed possibly my annual favourite race snack of the whole route – hotdogs! I was aware I was drinking a lot and possibly not eating enough, so needed to make sure I got food in when the mood took me.

Poor Jamie was not well. He’d finished the year before having been sick practically all the way round. I didn’t know how he did it then, and I would be just as astonished this year when he did exactly the same again! Unbelievable resilience. I wished him well and set off into the woods, still sheltering from the rain, hot dog in hand. Braithwaite is the gateway to easier terrain, and I was now on a mission to get there!

Again, just like the recce (this was starting to freak me out a bit) the heavy rain stopped as soon as I emerged from the woods into the long valley that leads to Sail Pass. I found I could really get a yomp on on the flat and gentle rise sections, only the steepest pitches still had my body hitting the ‘overheat’ alarm. But I knew I had the situation under control now and just needed to manage my way through the next few legs. Again, everything seemed to happen quickly, I was soon climbing the really steep pitch up towards Sail Pass – just 10/15 more minutes of intense effort needed – then relax into the long descent to the lights of Braithwaite.

I finally caught Mike and one or two others here and pretty much went straight past.

‘I thought he would catch me here!’ said Mike to the other chaps. ‘He’s pretty rapid uphill!’

It was very nice of Mike to say so, but he seemed to be missing the fact that we were just about to complete the most challenging legs of the race and I’d been behind him the entire way!

‘Yeah, I’m so good uphill that it’s taken me 30 miles to catch you up!’ I replied!

Although I went straight past, I knew Mike would be delighted that he had knocked off his nemesis stages of the race in such short order, and this was setting him up for a great race. I suspected he wouldn’t catch me on the descent, but it was not out of the question that he would catch me again later on and, if he did, he would definitely help me to travel more quickly over the type of ground that I sometimes get lazy on.

The next person I caught was Calamity James. I misread her call-sign though and assumed it said Calamity Jane! (James was her surname.) I can only apologise to her for singing Deadwood Stage to her – any annoyance I felt at this then being stuck in my head for the next few hours was at least tempered by being thankful that I’d finally stopped singing chuffing Christmas songs!

As is always seemingly the case for me, I am on such a high cresting Sail Pass, knowing the tricky ground is behind me (for now!) that I fair floated down to Braithwaite, regardless of how wet and slippery it was underfoot, passing several other people on the way down. From Seathwaite to Wasdale, it felt like one-way traffic of people cruising past me; from Black Sail Hut to here, I was the one picking people off at quite regular intervals.

On the grassy slopes approaching Braithwaite, I passed Gaz (McRunface!). ‘You got your mojo back then?’ he asked. ‘Yes, I think I have!’ I replied. As I got to the CP door, Mel Sykes was coming out. She was looking good and recommended the rice pudding!

The CP staff at Braithwaite are lovely (I could say that about every CP, mind). I didn’t want to lose any of my momentum, so I think I didn’t even bother with a cup of tea this time. Again, it was fill bottles (3), guzzle flat coke, grab some more orange segments and head for the door. I did have a little look at the food – last year, some angel had made corn-beef hash cake! I couldn’t see any, so off I went.

Legs 6-8; Braithwaite to Dalemain, 59.1 miles total, 15hrs 05mins (30 hr split – 15h 10m)

Knocking Off The Hard Yards.

Orange segments often become my food of choice on ultra races when it is really hot. When it’s cold or mild weather I’m fine eating. But I really struggle to eat when it’s hot and I find orange segments an ideal ‘in-between’ solid and liquid snack. I took this as a sign that my body still felt hot and bothered, even though it was pretty much a perfect running night. I was feeling better though, rather than worse, and this was confirmed by the fact that I happily ran the entire A66 section all the way to the foot of the Latrigg climb, and felt comfortable doing it. Now I was in the teeth of the race and enjoying it again, although the sharp rise here did remind me that I still could not attack the steep bits. On the way up, I reminded myself to glance to my left for a spectacular view of the stream of headtorches heading down towards Braithwaite a couple of miles away.

I absolutely love reaching the Glenderaterra valley in the dark, as you get another spectacular headtorch show from high above the valley, spotting the headtorches right at the valley head and the headtorches emerging back out of the valley on the other side. I was moving nicely now, still popping salt tablets like they were going out of fashion, vaguely aware that I was on a pace very similar to my 2022 race and, therefore, in the ballpark of 30 hours – mostly because I know that, in the last couple of years, I have still needed my headtorch after the Blencathra CP.

Leg 6 is a deceptively long one, but it seemed to pass quickly. I wasn’t running with any great energy, but I was running. I was soon turning off the wide track into The Blencathra Centre for CP6. I often have a cup of tea here but, again, opted to just keep going while I felt OK. I did try some Swiss Roll, just for the sake of trying to eat something different, but I didn’t enjoy it and walked out with orange segments again! There really is no legislating for what your food cravings are from one race to the next.

So, as I sit writing this blog now, I am looking at the split times, which were good, with no real recollection of why I felt like I was struggling, other than the knowledge that I know I felt like I was struggling! I make voice note messages to myself leaving CPs, just so that I know how long I spent in them. I’ll show you details at the end, but I was spending three or four minutes in CPs, instead of one or two, just to ensure I fuelled, as I felt energy-less. When I play back the recordings now, I sound shattered! They are really short; not chatty at all. For example:

‘Four minutes in Blencathra... Swiss roll… Coke and orange… Plodding on…’

They’re all like this! But, in reality, I was moving well. My legs were fine. My feet were fine. I keep using the word ‘energy-less’ because I don’t know how else to describe it.

I’m pretty much certain it has thrown it down every single time I have left Blencathra down the years (bloody Coach Road!) and this year was no different! Once again though, I still felt hot, and knew I would be under the shade of trees on the old railway line towards Threlkeld, so I again chose not to put on my waterproof. This time it really did chuck it down, but the trees just about did enough to help provide some element of cover. Again, as if to show that my body was able even if my mind was weak, I ran the entire length of the railway line, all the way to the climb towards the Coach Road, something I’m fairly sure I have never managed before.

It was still raining as I emerged from the trees. Last year, I had put my jacket on at the Blencathra Centre, taken it off at the bottom of the climb, then had to put it back on again on the Coach Road! I decided I would make a decision when I’d climbed up to the Coach Road, and was rewarded when it stopped raining. This mental boost was built upon when I was able to look up at the Clough Head climb, which had been such a tough pull a few weeks before, and feel happy that I didn’t have to go up there today! A good example of training on hard stuff to make the race feel easier!

I’m not sure I’ve ever done the Coach Road in the race without it raining, so I kept myself positive with this fact, despite feeling like I walked a lot of sections I could potentially have run. Anyway, the miles ticked by and, soon enough, I was approaching the CP. There was something nagging away at me here, a feeling I am just not used to which, unbeknown to me, was to become a feature of the rest of the race – I felt like I could do with the toilet. Now, I’m not going to get graphic with you (because I probably will later) but I have a pretty iron constitution and, in nearly every race I’ve ever done, I am able to eat whatever I want whenever I want, and the need to evacuate the materials in haste has never been a problem. Anyway, I figured I would be fine, so ignore it!

I’d never seen the infamous Dockray midges before here as it has always been pissing it down, but here I was in the dry and I can confirm that, yes, there were midges! In fact, now that it was daylight (the headtorch had gone off on the railway line) actual sunshine was threatening. Also unbeknown to me, as I’d stopped looking, I was to-the-minute, bang on my 30 hour pace. Things were going well, my brain just would not tell my body this!

I always try and have soup and a sandwich here; the next leg is the longest in distance (not in time) of the race, loads of it is runnable, so the last thing you want to do is not fuel up and bonk on a three mile long country lane which can all be run along. The kind volunteers here added a bit of cold water to the soup so that I could guzzle two cups with a cheese sandwich, then I was straight off down the hill towards Aira Force. 10 miles to Dalemain…

Leaving the CP at the same time was another lad called Mark (Cox). Of all the runners on-course, he was the one that I would see the most of for the rest of the day. One of the first things he told me was that he was pulling out at Dalemain! He’d had an unusual preparation, you could say – it certainly made mine seem simple! He’d been injured all year, only decided he was going to race three weeks ago; did a three week training block of (if memory serves me correctly) 63 miles, 37 miles, taper week! I told him it was remarkable that he was this far on the course in such a quick time, and recommended he just go steady and he might surprise himself. He sort of agreed, then set off running down the road ahead of me!

Once you emerge from Aira Force, the views of Ullswater as you climb towards Yew Crag are always breathtaking. I can’t say I was looking or appreciating them, I was just, to use my phrase again, ‘plodding on’, but effectively at least. Once I reached the road section, about four miles from Dalemain, I rang Leanne (it was about 8.15am I guess.) I can’t really remember the conversation, but Leanne says she was really surprised at how low I was, and how miserably I spoke. (That does match the voice recordings, though!) Leanne is the best supporter you could have, she told me, over and over, ‘You are exactly on your 30 hour pace, though! You’re doing great!’ I don’t think I really wanted to hear it, although it was undoubtedly useful to be reminded that I was actually doing really well.

The tracker that she was watching apparently gave estimations of when I would be arriving at the next CP. ‘You’re going to be in Dalemain by 9.35!’ she said. 9.35?? 9.35????? I was only 3.5 or so miles away! ‘I’m going to be there loads earlier than that!’ I said, finally showing a bit of fighting spirit! ‘I’m going to run all the way there once I’ve stopped talking to you! 9.15 at the absolute latest!’

And with that, I was off! And I did run all the way there! And I got there at 9.05am! 15hrs 5 minutes of race time. A little later than the last couple of years but, as Leanne correctly said, still 5 minutes inside my 30 hour splits. The power of seeing your supporting family is very real!

Legs 9-10; Dalemain to Mardale Head, 75.6 miles total, 20hrs 41mins (30 hr split – 20h 15m)

The Battle Of The Somme!

Arriving at Dalemain just after 9am makes one slight difference to getting there before, as I had the last couple of years. I believe the car parks open to spectators and 50 competitors at 9am, so there were a few people knocking about at Dalemain. The first I saw were Jayne and Dave Collins from Wigan Harriers, already in position by the tent entrance. ‘Wow, you must have had some terrible weather!’ they said. Erm, not really, I thought. They said they’d see me on the way out.

The Dalemain tent was the usual hive of activity and the drop-bag organisation was top notch. I found the last seat in the tent, right by the exit and, as it happens, by the medics bench. Due to being out in the two heavy showers, my base layer and top were properly saturated so I took them straight off. However, perhaps a sign that my body temperature never really regulated, I was quite comfortable with no top on at that point, so I set about organising my bag re-fills and eating without one on. I have tried really hard to get my Dalemain CP time down in the last couple of years, and have managed 19 and 21 minutes. However, today I felt that re-fuelling was the biggest priority. I had barely touched the Kendal Mint Cake, Malt Loaf and Haribo that I normally guzzle, never mind the Shot Blox – I think my body had decided I wasn’t having any more of them today. I would say Shot Blox are usually my first choice of energy snack but, after the leg two meltdown, I really didn’t fancy them for some reason.

I gobbled two lots of stew and bread, which went down really well, although it tasted a bit funny (refer to Mardale CP later.) Wayne Booth was on duty in the tent and did a wonderful job of running round for me! I had at least two cups of tea as well; something I may usually have had a few of by now. The medics had no-one to see to at this point, and I was aware that my back was a bit sore from the wet, so I asked them to put some of my body glide down my spine where I couldn’t reach myself. Again, no job too small, they were only too willing. I do feel terrible ‘bossing people about’, but every volunteer in every aid station literally cannot do enough to help you. Thanks to everyone!

Mel Sykes was in there, and left about 15 minutes after I arrived. She was in good spirits and going well. This would be the last I would see of her, she would just break 30 hours with another great performance.

While I was in there, the Lavery family appeared at the entrance. ‘Blimey, you must have had terrible weather!’ they said. Erm, I was starting to wander if I’d missed something! It turned out it had absolutely thrown it down in the night in Coniston, rain that I had obviously largely avoided, and everyone driving up from Coniston that morning had driven through the same thing again. I had missed all that – but that was about to change!

It is a joy to put on a dry t-shirt in the marquee but no sooner had I done that (see pic above) than the heavens absolutely opened! I was so pleased with myself for having not used my waterproof and kept it dry. Now, I was going to put on a dry base layer, dry t-shirt and dry waterproof and get absolutely soaked within seconds of putting them on! Good old Lake District!

Fuelled, and with provisions sorted, and with my nice, dry clothes on, I ventured out. I had spent 29 minutes in there, a bit long, but needs must and I had eaten loads, which was really important. I asked where the toilets were as I felt I still needed to go, but they were out of the marquee in the wrong direction, so I decided I wasn’t going back to them. Never mind, it’ll go away!

Jayne, Dave and now Rachel from Wigan Harriers were all by the little footbridge, as were the Lavery family, and the car parks were starting to fill quickly.

‘Hang on! Stop so I can take your picture!’ said Jayne! Are you kidding?! Anyway, I did!

It was absolutely hosing down! The above picture is less than a minute outside of the marquee – soaked! Not a total disaster though; just for once, the weather forecast was for quite an improvement and bright finish to Saturday, which made a change from every other year I’d raced. Still, I don’t really bother with the weather anymore, best to just ignore it, plus I was preoccupied looking forward to seeing the family, so there is always a bit more spring in my step approaching Pooley Bridge.

I guess terrible weather is often worse for spectators than competitors, so I felt quite sorry for my Mum and Dad stood on Pooley Bridge in their clobber under the brollies! I think I recognised them before they recognised me! Then, just in the village, Leanne, the girls and the Harris family. It really is up-lifting to see family and friends. At this point, I was probably feeling better than I’d felt all race; the food at Dalemain and a sit down had definitely helped. I was confident I could push on now and get a decent finish in.

Hasty goodbyes and good-lucks, then I was off up the road towards ‘The Cockpit’ path junction and onwards down to Howtown. There is no doubt about it, I felt much more like it, boosted by family and food! This was re-enforced when I got to the top and found I was happy to trot along the path and down the hill. I was reminded of last year, where I was faster to here but had very sore feet and could not run much from this point on. In actual fact, my bad mood this year had masked the fact that my feet were absolutely fine, my legs were absolutely fine – I was, in fact, absolutely fine! I gave myself a pat on the back for getting through a long rough patch, although I couldn’t help but notice that, as I trotted downhill, my tummy was turning over. ‘I should probably use the toilets at Howtown…’

I trotted down into Howtown at 17hrs 17mins race time. Guess what, right on my 17.15 30 hour projection. (By the way, I didn’t know that at the time! All these time checks are in hindsight, I knew it was 11.15am but I had never looked at my splits – this is all for the benefit of the story in the blog!) However, this was to be the last CP where I would be on the 30 hour target – little did I know what was about to come! (Everyone who took part in the 50 or 100 is already starting to shiver, as they know what is to come!)

I went to the toilet and did what had to be done. The problem is though (aside from the confined space of a portaloo not being ideal when you’ve been on your feet 17 hours!) that you have to faff getting your kit off (bags, belts, poles etc) then you have to complete the transaction (I’m still trying hard not to be graphic) and then you have to re-apply all the anti-chafing lube that you have just wiped off. I know I was in there 8 minutes ‘cos I time these things! A 9 minute stop at Howtown CP: one minute to fill water bottles so… 8 minutes of business faffing!

Straight up towards Fusedale I went. No point delaying the pain, just get it over with. I know it takes exactly an hour to get to the top – would I be a bit slower today? Well, no I wasn’t; I was an hour and one minute! Conditions were OK, I gradually caught about 4 guys who were in-front of me most of the way up, another good sign. All looking good. It’s never a pleasant climb, nothing more to be said. Got. It. Done.

Unfortunately, the next sections to Mardale Head, which should take 2 hours (for me) took 2hrs 20mins – and not because I was struggling this time.

Traversing the top of High Kop was an effort. The bogs were in full force, but it just felt like there was water everywhere. I never even really bothered with a run as you couldn’t really get started. I just felt like I was picking my way over bogs and splodging through puddles of saturated land. It can often be a nice, soft, spongy trot up here, resting your feet before the rocks to come on the water side but, today, it was just wet and draining.

The steeper drop down toward Haweswater was actually a bit easier than usual. It was so wet that your feet actually sank a bit, meaning that I didn’t slip as often as normal – just one arse-plant, which wasn’t bad in the circumstances.

But then I got to the bracken…

Now, it is important to bear in mind that I got here at about 1pm, so I was in front of all the 50 runners – all of them. And I guess I would be in approximately 125th place out of, say, 700 starters in the 100 race too. I say this because the state of the mud and bracken at this point was so bad, it looked as if I was dead last of the 2500 odd people who took part – like they had all done it already – but they hadn’t! It was horrendous!

I don’t know how long that little section down to the path took, but it was a while. I caught a couple of other guys up and one of them was nearly crying! I told him he was really near the bottom, which he was. (I didn’t tell him there was quite a lot of the next two miles that would be like this as well!)

There isn’t a lot that can be said about the next hour or so. Only that I could put all my experience to good use here and really focused on the positives:

• The weather was nice,
• I was in front of the 50 runners,
• Aside from one or two other competitors, I was pretty much on my own, so could just make my way at a safe pace – no accidents required!
• I wasn’t ‘thinking’ about a fast time, so pace didn’t matter, just get through it in one piece,
• If the conditions were bad now, what the hell would they be like in the hours to follow as over 2000 other people passed through? So I was lucky, really…
• It could have been worse – I could have been one of the nice families out with their dogs walking in the other direction, with no idea how many runners were about to descend towards them! (I always feel sorry for them! ‘Oh let’s have a nice quiet walk in the lakes!’)

This was indeed, where ultra runners come to die! I dreaded to think how high the drop out rate would be at Mardale Head this year – for how many runners would these conditions be the final straw? I was reminded of my own DNF at Mardale Head, I was reminded of my mate Warren who used to call Mardale Head ‘Azkaban!’ I just kept my head down, (and kept my head!), and kept – plodding on!

As the path finally opens out in the last mile or so towards the valley head, it actually felt like physically emerging from a nightmare. It was like a weird dream. The first of the 50 runners were starting to pass now, only the top 3 on the tight, single track section (I was amazed how far they were in front of the rest, even at this early stage) and probably about 12 to 15 of them by the time I got into the CP at Mardale Head. One of them was Matt Rushbrook, clearly having a great run.

A bit like Dockray earlier, this was only the second time I had ever got to Mardale and the weather was OK! I could sit outside and it was pleasant – and I definitely needed to sit down after that! I was just delighted to get there in one piece!

Like Dalemain, I needed to ensure I fuelled up and I wasn’t going to worry unduly about how long it took. As Marc so wisely said ‘We aren’t here for a fast time, we’re here for a good time!’ Today was all about the finish now, and eating was going to be important to keep my recovering energy levels up.

I had a bit of banter with a few of the Spartans about various things: I’d never been so pleased to see them, I wasn’t used to seeing them without waterproofs or holding on to the gazebos to stop them blowing away! They said I was very cheerful – they hadn’t seen where we’d been!

I can’t remember what flavour the soup was, but it tasted exactly like tobacco! I mean exactly. I realised at that point it was from ‘burning’ my tastebuds with all the sweet nonsense I’d been eating all day – or an excess of salt! Anyway, I persevered and had two soups and two cheese sandwiches and then got cracking.

Jonny Kilpatrick arrived while I was there. He was going well. I hadn’t actually seen Mariam at all so had no idea if she was ahead or behind. Jonny said she was behind and her feet were absolutely trashed. I crossed my fingers for her. (She did finish, and her feet were destroyed!)

Legs 11-12; Mardale Head to Ambleside, 89.4 miles total, 25hrs 33mins (30 hr split – 24h 40m)

Type 2 Fun In The Sun!

I left Mardale Head after an 11 minute break – actually a quick stop for there; I always fuel up at Mardale as, on a good day, I don’t want to stop at either Kentmere or Ambleside – I aim for the stew at Chapel Stile. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to do that today, but we’d see.

The 11th leg has annually been my least favourite leg, and not because of the Gatesgarth climb. It’s the Sadgill descent, the valley bottom, and the little climb over to Kentmere that has always worn me down. But, having run it in the recce recently, I was determined to not get in a bad mood about it – it was hard enough fighting the tiredness at this stage without getting in another mental funk.

I just ground out the climb; it’s not a bad one really, just 30 minutes of yomping, knowing you’ve knocked off another big barrier to the finish. The weather was still quite pleasant; 50 runners were starting to pass at regular intervals now. As I topped out I was passed by James Schofield, a fella who comes into our school to do cycling with the kids. Nice guy – he was flying! He had spoken to me about the 50 but very much gave the impression that he pottered around; this was a lot faster than pottering around!

The weather was nice but it was still wet underfoot; the descent was at its slippery best, which is awkward on tired legs. I really wanted to run along the valley but don’t think I did too much. Not much to be said at this point, you guessed it – just plodding along! – although the encouragement of the 50 runners was appreciated as ever.

As is often the case, I was passing and being passed, by the same 100 runners all the time. I’m gutted I can’t remember who any of them were! Mark Cox was definitely amongst them – still churning it out having not dropped out at Dalemain!

As I climbed out of Sadgill valley, the sun, as forecast, burst from the cloud cover and it was immediately a few degrees warmer. Literally, I have never experienced lovely weather on the Saturday of a Lakeland, it was quite a shock to the system! I remember having to fight the mental desire to moan about it – ‘Oh God, now the sun has come out!’ – and remind myself that I don’t take any notice of the weather; good, bad or otherwise. I was mentally kicking myself because of a moment in Dalemain CP where, in a fit of pique, I threw my sunglasses into my drop-bag when it started raining! It’s not a disaster, I thought, I’d dig the visor out of my bag at Kentmere…

I managed to get through the leg in good shape; tired but no specific issues or struggles, as is reflected in my leg time, which was good in comparison to other years. Nothing eventful happened, except…

As we dropped into the farm just before the Kentmere valley, the gate was being guarded by an enormous white bull! I only noticed as about four fast 50 runners passed me and suddenly appeared to be veering off the path! They went round the bull easily enough but he was not happy about it! He bellowed and mooed at me (I just googled ‘What noise does a bull make?’) and stamped angrily. On any normal run, I would be sourcing alternative routes immediately, but after 80 miles, I was going through that gate whatever the consequences!

In any case, the bull is not the main blockade to a 100 runner attempting to get to Kentmere. The main blockade is the three stepped stiles over the huge dry stone walls! To be fair, I’ve got there in much worse state in other years, so I did OK all things considered. I felt OK mentally and physically as I arrived at Kentmere, but the need for a toilet had returned and I decided that I would at least try some food as well to try and maintain the (low) energy levels.

Thanks to Team Montane, the Kentmere CP is always an absolutely buzzing party and, due to getting there a bit later this year (5pm; 23hrs of racing) it was quite busy. I live on pasta at home, but for some reason can never really be bothered with it in a race. I tried, but my stomach’s need to be emptied rather than filled, meant I didn’t eat too much. Last year I had tried a couple of smoothies and quite enjoyed them, but they had created a gurgling tummy for the rest of the race, so I wasn’t going to encourage that today – I already had it! Gaz (McRunface) came through the CP quite quickly looking determined – I hadn’t seen him since Braithwaite.

Off to the toilet – add another 10 minutes to the stop – then gather my belongings and get going. I dug my visor out of my bag (no sunnies though… D’oh!) and off up the Garburn Pass – the last significant climb of the route. By now it was very bright and sunny and, to my annoyance (I tried not to be!) the problem was that, now we were moving roughly West, the sun was shining straight into our faces. Not a problem, that’s what visors and caps were invented for. Except, with the Garburn pass being very wet underfoot, the sun was reflecting off the wet floor straight into our eyes. What I needed – was sunglasses!

Still – weather is irrelevant – I was moving just fine and climbing just fine as well. By this stage there are all sorts of people doing all sorts of paces, and I actually caught Gaz again near the top. He was keeping a close eye on his sub-30 spilts and felt like he could get there with a decent finish. I knew enough to know that I would not be finishing that fast, and wished him well as he set off on the descent. He didn’t quite make it, running out of gas in the last few miles. But it was a great debut from him, none-the-less. He says he won’t be back – but we all say that!

I was moving and feeling OK though, and managed to run the descent myself. Last year I think I walked from Fusedale and kept my poles out all the way. Here, I was still running descents where possible and the poles were still going away for the downhills too. I was possibly powered by the thought of the next family cheer in Ambleside but I think it would be fair to say that, considering the stage of the race we were at, this was as good as I had felt in the entire race!

There’s always a few supporters in Troutbeck to give you a cheer, which is a nice boost. The cafe (from the recce with Mike) was still open and I had a wry smile to myself at the thought of stopping for a cream tea! Having climbed out of the village, the lovely view of Windermere in the sunshine really does give you the feeling that you are on the homeward stretch.

I was still trotting as I descended through Skelghyll Woods although, when tired, the ground is quite treacherous through there – I always think of the lady who kit checked me last year who had broken her leg there one year. As I emerged from the woods, I passed Mark Cox for the umpteenth time; he looked pretty wrecked and said he was definitely dropping out at Ambleside. He sounded pretty set on this matter, although I did at least make a token gesture of telling him to just keep moving and not be too hasty in his decision. Unfortunately, he did stop there. I hope next year he is able to expand on his three-week plan and should then finish no problem!

It really is quite strange at that stage to re-emerge into civilisation in Ambleside when you feel you have barely seen a soul since Pooley Bridge. There are loads of Wigan folk who come up to support these days and there were so many of them outside The White Lion in town that I couldn’t really take it all in! I just wanted to get to the CP and see the family by then. I think the Lavery family were sat outside the chippy before I crossed the road towards the CP. This area here is the closest you get to the start-line atmosphere and it is lovely to be cheered on by so many people.

It was lovely to see Leanne, the girls and my parents again, as well as the rest of the Wigan running community! I’ve often done a quick two minute stop here but time was not pressing today – it was 7.30pm so I was 90 minutes behind last year’s pace and, therefore, over 30 minutes behind sub 30. It was nice and warm and, at the end of the day, the family have all been stood around for the best part of 2 days by now just to support, so I stood there for a few minutes, fuelling-up and having a chat. Bizarrely, I could smell the cheese and pickle sandwiches from quite a few feet away, so I ate a couple of them!

Leanne wondered what time I might roughly finish. I told her it would be about 31 hours. Which is exactly what it would be – maybe I shouldn’t have stopped and chatted after all!

Legs 13-15; Ambleside to Coniston, 105 miles.

Just plodding on! And plodding, and plodding…

One more round of goodbyes and ‘See you at the finish!’ shouts, and I was off to finish the job. There’d been some lows and some highs (although I’d only really taken notice of the lows) but the finish had never been and never was in doubt – it was just a case of getting it done. I had no pretentions of ‘pushing on’, just to yomp it out. One thing was for sure though, family support had gone a long way in this race.

I marched up the steep mile out of Ambleside with a bit more of a smile on my face – it is a nice feeling to push your personal boundaries a bit and, although there was still 14 miles or so left, I could taste the end and was looking forward to it.

I made a half-hearted attempt to run down the descent on the other side and could do a bit on the more gentle gradients. But the steep bits were tough on the tired legs now (especially the road down to Skelwith Bridge!) and, as I entered the Langdale valley and the lovely, smooth flat path to Chapel Stile, I knew that I absolutely could not be arsed trying to run anymore! I’ve never quite worked out whether this is a weakness or a strength – I’m full of admiration for those that force every last drop of effort out of themselves and collapse at the finish line – but I have trained myself so hard these last few years to try and conserve energy in ultra races that I seem to not be able, or have the desire, to ‘drain the tank’ at the end. I don’t want to batter myself, I want to finish feeling OK. Strength or weakness? I’ll leave that up to you! That said, I did tell Leanne in Ambleside to make sure she brought me a camping chair to the finish line as I did not think I’d be able to stand up at the end! So perhaps I was shattered and am only now looking back through rose-tinted glasses?!

All that said, I do walk pretty fast and I was soon approaching Elterwater where, as a nice surprise, Mum and Dad had driven out to see me one more time before setting off back to Bradford.

The next friendly face I saw was Emma Humphries, my run-buddy for a large stretch of the 2019 race, who was on her way to a decent finish in the 50 and passed me just before Wainwright’s Inn. The next friends I saw were in Baysbrown Campsite, just before the Chapel Stile CP. I was distracted by the overwhelming smell of BBQ coming from the various tents when I heard a ‘Come on, Mark!’ The runner in front of me was also called Mark, so I assumed they were talking to him! But it was Gary and Ruth Peet from the running club! Wigan really was taking over the Lake District!

It was great to get to Chapel Stile in the light again; it was great to get there at all, as I realised I was going to need the toilet again. But first I found my friend Kim Ashworth, who was running the CP, and said hi! It is lovely when a familiar face is there to help out, but as with every CP, everyone is amazing. Angela Green was helping there too but was not around when I arrived. I got some more stew inside me (it tasted exactly like tobacco, funnily enough) and a couple of cups of tea, put away the visor, got out the headtorch as it would soon be needed, and in those five or ten minutes, decided whether I could get away without going to the portaloo – which was the wrong way out of the CP. I decided I couldn’t get away with it – so there went another 10 wasted minutes. I then went back through the CP so I didn’t mess the timing systems up and got on my way. The funny thing about Chapel Stile CP was that, for some strange reason, Darth Vadar was there. I also thought that what Kim and some of her mates were wearing was a bit weird, but didn’t think too much about it. It was days later when I realised it was a Star Wars theme! Shows how much I know about sci-fi, which can be added to Top Gun in the list of films I don’t like!

So off I plodded (obviously, how else would I be moving by now?) towards Side Pike, Blea Moss and Tilberthwaite. I put my headtorch on as we descended the steps opposite The New Dungeon Ghyll Hotel and was thrilled beyond words (I cannot even begin to explain how much!) when we got to the dry stone walls where those massive ladder-stiles used to be, to see them replaced by gates! Oh, the wonder of it! I bet that took 5 minutes off my finish time!!! Thank you farmer/National Trust/whoever!

I was probably in my own little world long before the headtorch went on so once it was, it really was head-down and keep moving. I’ve mentioned before and it was still true at this stage, that I did not have a single rubbing point, sore spot, foot issue or anything. The rocks and bracken crossing above Blea Moss were the only time I felt any foot pain, but it was so wet there that after the conditions we’d had on most of the route, I could consider myself very lucky that my first blister feeling came at 99 miles in! The last section to the road was practically wading, but I didn’t really care by then.

Down the road (oof!) and then up-and-over to Tilberthwaite. I usually get a little emotional pull of the heart-strings at the first sight of Tilberthwaite, but not so much this year. I don’t know if it was because I am now just used to finishing the race, that a bit of the drama has gone. Or if I had been tuning my brain to get to the finish from such an early stage of the race that my brain wouldn’t allow me to process it as near enough to the finish? I don’t know, but I walked straight to the CP, gave my tenner in to the marshal, and went straight up Jacob’s Ladder.

For the un-initiated, who are probably wondering why there is a CP after 100 miles, Lakeland 100 is 105 miles and Tilberthwaite CP is at 101.5 miles! I went through the CP at 11.48pm so I knew I would be finishing in 31 hours and a few minutes. Again, I had no desire to chase the hour boundary – just keep moving and get it finished safely. To be honest as well, I’d only been able to walk uphill at one very specific pace all day, so I wasn’t going to start racing now!

That last climb did seem to go very quickly though. I always astound myself at how much hard work I make of that little scramble climb at the top of the quarry – this was not the first year I nearly fell off! I crested the top of the final climb and gravity informs you that you have begun the final descent. I looked at the time – 12.30am – but, again, decided that I wasn’t going to chase the time, I was going to get down safely rather than dangerously.

I did start running once we got on the road at the bottom, but at the Miners Bridge, saw I only had three or four minutes to the hour so knocked it off, much like last year and the 29 hours – I really must plan to not finish so close to an hour barrier in future! Still, I definitely had the warm glow of a job well done again; I had managed the race pretty well from start to finish – certainly from the first moment of feeling a bit wonky all that time ago in Seathwaite and, given the conditions underfoot for large parts of the course, could be very happy with my performance.

As I entered Coniston village the Lavery family were there again to cheer me in! Hannah and Nancy were at the top of the road so that they could run down into the marquee and tell Leanne I was coming. I crossed the finish line in 31 hours and 3 minutes. Job done. 4th job done!

The Aftermath.

The marshal in charge of removing my tracker congratulated me and asked how many times I’d finished before. I told her this was my fourth.

“Oh, you’ll be back next year for the slate then!”

Erm, nope. I’m not doing it next year.

The cheer going into the marquee is always a great touch, and Leanne got to see it this year, which was ace. The lady who presented me with my medal asked me how many times I’d finished before. I told her it was my fourth.

“Oh, you’ll be back next year for the slate then!”

Erm…

I went to have my photo taken. I held up four fingers for the photo. The photographer asked if it was my fourth finish. Yes, yes it is.

“Oh, you’ll be back next year for the slate then!”

For goodness sake, can I just finish this one before everyone makes me come back next year, already?!

Leanne (with a camping chair) and the girls were there, along with the Wigan Supporters’ Club. It was great to see them, it was great to sit down and not have to get up again. It was just great. I was very happy, if tired. All told though, considering the mental effort, I was pretty much unscathed from the whole thing. I knew I’d destroyed a couple of toes on my left foot from playing football with that rock on Black Sail almost exactly 24 hours previously, and there was the blister of some sort under my foot that I’d felt on Blea Moss, but I was fine really.

Leanne was already enthusiastically telling whoever came to say hello that we were definitely going to book accommodation for next year as it is ‘slate year.’ By this stage it didn’t matter whether I said I was doing it or not, it was happening around me. And, if there was any doubt, Darren Jackson came to say well done. Darren’s husband is Andrew Meadows, who is the brother of Jenny Meadows, the retired British 800 metre runner. Bare with – I’m not name dropping – it’s relevant.

‘How many finishes is that now?’ asked Darren.

‘Four,’ says I, nervously, because I knew what was coming next by now.

‘Great, I’ll be here next year for your slate!’

‘Erm, I was sort of thinking that… umm, I’d kind of said that…’

Leanne jumped in. ‘He reckons he isn’t doing it next year, but he is!’

‘You #&%$ing well are doing it next year!’ (Darren.) ‘I’ve got accommodation booked and everything! I don’t put in the effort of coming here every year just so that you don’t ~&%$ing do it!’

That was it, then. 2025 and the year of the slate it is!

I only tell you this story (with the Jenny Meadows name drop) because, less than two weeks later, Darren went viral on social media when Keely Hodgkinson won gold in the 800m at the Olympics and an exuberant Darren was captured live on TV. The BBC posted it on social media the next day saying ‘Keely’s number one fan! Everybody needs a supporter like this!’ Well I am very proud and lucky to say ‘ I know! Because I have!’

Andrew, Darren and Keely! (See, he’s like that after every race!)

The next couple of hours were a blur. Leanne did an epic job of keeping me in food and cups of tea on a pretty much non-stop basis. It was lovely to see so many runners I knew coming in to complete their adventures – some for the first time, others more experienced. Kelly from the running club arrived for her second 100 finish, taking a good chunk off her previous time; Leanne and Hannah sorted her out with food, drink and clothing as well! Jon Cadman was not far behind at all, which was quite staggering considering his (lack of) training – personal inspiration is a powerful thing. Mike came in with another strong finish – although he gave it so much hammer-time on the last leg that he nearly did hit the deck in the marquee! KellyAnne and Kat from the running club, making their 50 debuts, came in looking like they hadn’t even done anything! Matt Lavery had a great run. Tim Jefferson finished in emotional style. There were others – apologies if I haven’t mentioned. It was all quite brilliant and, certainly by the time I went to bed, I had already decided that I wasn’t going to miss something this fantastic again next year for all the world!

Some friends finished before me (Mel, Gaz), some friends finished while I was asleep (Mariam), but it was a real privilege to see Jamie Munro finish the next morning – superb perseverance. Carolyn Binns finished again too; amazing performance.

It was quite hot the next day so we listened to some of the presentation from outside, then got the tent down and went home. I had to drive this time as we were in two cars – we only live 90 minutes away but I had to stop twice! The drive home was tougher than the race!

Aside from my body clock being an absolute disaster for over a week after, I had no ill effects at all. We went off camping in Cornwall at Treyarnon Bay, right on the cliff on the coastal footpath. It was so lovely, I ran nearly every day, just a little trot out, but feel I have re-discovered my love of running. Certainly in the holidays, at least! Even the family did a bit of running; Leanne and Hannah one morning, all of us at Eden Project Parkrun (where I bumped into a fellow legend, David Speake) and then, for a breakfast pastry and coffee with Leanne and Lottie. We’ll see if I can keep it up when I’m tired after having to work for a living again.

Learnings and Musings from Lakeland 2024.

• First of all, my performance, which I was very quickly very pleased with! I was well aware that I couldn’t keep improving year on year, so was pleased with how I mentally handled knowing I was slower this year during the race. My mood was not dictated by the times (because they were OK) my mood was dictated by not feeling great in the early stages. I think I allowed that to manifest for nearly all the race when, in actual fact, I was fine for pretty much all of it! Within days of finishing, I couldn’t remember what I was sulking about during the race, which has made it quite difficult to write about here!
• As for the time of 31 hours, I feel that this backs up my opinion that 30ish hours is ‘par for the course.’ I did nearly all the legs in exactly the same time as ‘usual’. (Taking 2023 times as a little bit faster than usual!) I was an hour over 30 hours and that hour can be found by 3x 10 minute toilet stops, an extra 20 minutes on the Haweswater leg and an extra 10 minutes in Dalemain CP. That’s 60 minutes in total! Therefore, 30 hours is par for the course. If I run really well I’m under 30 hours!
• All that said, I DEFINITELY took on board Marc Laithwaite’s advice: ‘It’s not about a fast time, it’s about a good time!’ Obviously, it would be great if I could run another fast one, but I realised this year that I’m not bothered if I don’t. I’ve done two ‘fast ones’ and if it doesn’t happen again, I’m just going to make sure I do what I did this year, and get round in one piece without killing myself!
• For those of you who do want to pour over data, here are my total times, individual leg times, and time spent in CP times for all my Lakeland 100s. You will note that, this year I spent 115 minutes (nearly 2 hours) in CPs compared to 71 minutes last year. That’s 44 minutes right there! (I needed them this year though; hence my comment above about getting round without killing myself.)

• We had decent weather this year – three big rain ‘showers’ and the rest was lovely. Some might say they were more than showers and, fair enough, I wouldn’t argue! But it wasn’t forecast to rain the whole time and it didn’t. In fact, it rained less than could have been reasonably expected with the forecast. I pretty much totally ignored the weather again this year, which I am pleased I can do. In fact, I only got annoyed with it when the sun was shining in my eyes from the reflection off the floor. (And that’s only because I binned my sunglasses!)
• The course was really wet underfoot, and High Kop & Haweswater were the worst I have ever seen them. Conditions like that make it very hard and tiring; therefore you are much less likely to run fast, so fair play to anyone who ran fast times this year! (The course record went, btw!) But, bizarrely, last year in the wet my feet were pretty wrecked, this year – in the same shoes, socks etc – they were absolutely fine. I don’t understand it, but I’ll take it! (nb I don’t wear waterproof socks or shoes, I don’t ‘treat’ my feet with anything, and I don’t take off my shoes and socks in the race at all. I’m not saying that’s what you should do, but that’s just how I handle it. Last year it slowed me down, this year it didn’t.)
• Talking of shoes, some of you will remember my detached sole disaster last year! None of that this year, thankfully, but I did the same thing, ie new Speedgoats, about 20 miles on the clock just to make sure they fit the same as every other pair I’ve had, then race in them to maximise grip and comfort. Here’s what literally one Lakeland 100 (in this year’s conditions) does to a brand new pair of trainers:

• Due to the rock booting on Black Sail, I lost a couple of toenails on holiday. The girls love it when my toe-nails fall off. Every time! (I may be lying here…)
• People still ask why I do it and then still reply with ‘Well I couldn’t do it!’ Fair enough, maybe you could, maybe you couldn’t, but EVERYONE would be amazed what their body can do if they tried. I’m not saying 100 miles, I just mean in general. You have to prepare, you have to train, you have to plan, you have to be prepared to push through a pain barrier or two – but you’d be surprised what you can achieve, I guarantee it.
• Support is everything. Thanks to everyone who was up there giving a cheer, or watching the dot and sending messages, or however else you did it. Thanks especially to my amazing family, and especially Leanne, who is the best supporter I could have and facilitates this nonsense! Not just on race day, that’s the fun bit, I’m talking about the rest of the year, when I must be a nightmare to live with at times!
• Thanks to Marc Laithwaite, Uncle Terry, and absolutely everyone else who helps or volunteers. It is a truly epic event on a truly epic scale. Every year I get a bit more insight into the organisational nightmare it must be. What a thankless task at times! But what a weekend! What a race!
• I’d like to think I’m inspiring someone, somewhere. Several people say it to me after the race, but I never see or hear them putting trainers on, or anything else, so while it may be something, it isn’t inspirational. Inspiring someone is when they actually do something! It could be our little Lottie though, who loves running – although that may not be an accurate assessment, as she loves everything! But she wants to go to Junior Parkrun every week, and I am going to try and take her every week. You never know…! Hannah says she’d like to do the Lakeland 50 in four years, which is lovely, but refer to my point above about having to actually do something before it becomes inspirational. Saying it doesn’t count.
• And what inspired me this year? Ultimately, it was a bloke from Wolves. A bloke who inspired all his mates to go up to the Lake District once a year and push themselves to do something that they probably didn’t think was possible. The same bloke who set up a Parkrun in his City to inspire hundreds and hundreds of people who probably didn’t even think they could run 5k to go and run 5k every week. That’s inspiring. Dom, this one was for you.

GBSticks, 31.8.24. (Ballot opens tomorrow…)