Lakes In A Day - My Story : PART 1

Lakes in a day - 50 mile Ultra Marathon

Saturday October 10^th 2015

Foreword

My original objective, 8 weeks ago, was to see if I could get in the top ten of the Lakes in a Day Ultra Marathon. Being a carer for both my disabled wife and Autistic son, it was always going to be challenging, finding the time, energy and motivation to drive my training. It had been a roller coaster of a journey just to get to race day, with emotional highs and lows along the way. Blogging about my experiences has been a total revelation, helping me to express myself and made me accountable for my food and training. Thanks to everyone who has read it and helped me along the way.

I couldn't have even contemplated, let alone complete this journey without the help and support of several people. First Id like to thank my wife for her continued love throughout my training and race. She struggles everyday but still wills me on to complete my goals and totally understands why I run. Also to my son Oliver, who is an absolute star. He gets excited hearing about my runs and I hope one day he will join me on the course (to run not just cheer!). I love you both with all my heart.

Next I would like to thank my great friend, mentor and Bootcamp coach, Gareth Brownson, you've been instrumental in my training since day one, giving me advice and your never ending passion. You listened to my race ideas and give me some expert knowledge. Plus it was your fault I got into Ultra running in the first place. Then nicely connected is my GB Bootcamps friends, especially Phil and Kerry Armistead, Alastair and Michelle Macdonald, Diane Armstrong, Paul Managh and Garry Clamp who all made the trip to see me at Ambleside. It was a very selfless and wonderful thing you did for me and it lifted me up to see you all there. Thanks also to all my other GB friends for the comments, messages and support along the way. Its good to know you are all behind me. I`d like to thank and also recommend the wonderful “Cake Fairy” who happens to be my little sister Paula Winter for her support in making my fuel bar. She took my idea and with passion and expertise turned it into the most amazing, tasty and calorie laden flapjack the running world has ever tasted, they were fabulous and I will be competing on them for years to come!

But perhaps most of all I would like to thank Michael Armstrong and Ricky Mason for being my training partners thorough the months and the most amazing support crew on race day. We've created such a strong bond between us and it was so good to have you both along for the ride. You are both very special to me and we've become more like brothers along our journey together. I definitely owe you a pint or two!

Anyway, enough sentiment, in the words of Rizzle Kicks “lets skip to the good bit!”....

Prologue

The phones alarm warbled and vibrated on the bedside table as it woke me from a fitful nights sleep. It was 4am on a cool and dark October morning, a special day, it was race day.

The day Id been preparing for all summer, training, sacrificing and planning to see just what I was capable of, just how far I could push myself, was finally here. I wiggled my toes and rotated my ankles beneath the duvet as I do every morning, letting some blood flow into the joints before I got up. I turned and pushed my legs out of bed and rose slowly, steadily from my pit.

I stood and turned around. Where Id been laying stirred my doppelgänger. He was the carer in me, constantly thinking of others, looking after everyone, selfless, committed to the cause, ever worrying, always exhausted. He opened his eyes and went to sit up. I reached out and softly held his shoulder down. “Not today friend, your not coming. Stay. Sleep. Rest. I will need you when I return. Today is for me and I must do this alone. Only the runner is to go today, no-one else. ” I said to him in my imagination. He turned over and went back to sleep, the emotional baggage he carries, packed in suitcases around the bed, left there for another day. It was extremely important for me to make the mental break, separating my two psyches, compartmentalizing them. I couldn't afford to think about any thing but the race, out there on the mountains it was going to be so tough. I had organised help for Joanne and Oliver today so my conscience was free, enabling me to, well...to just run. My lovely wife whispered “Good luck, I love you” and I tiptoed out of the bedroom.

After breakfast my two amazing “Ironmen” friends (don't worry they don't dress like Iron man, well not that I know of! They had both smashed Ironman UK this year) had offered, well actually they had told me, in no uncertain terms, they were driving me to and from the event today. They greeted me with open arms and we hugged in the street (yes men do hug, its good for us!). I hadn't seen them in ages, our lives taking different paths in the last few months.

We got in the car and headed to Caldbeck, to the start of the race. They planned to follow me all day, driving to different points to cheer me along the way. I was totally humbled by their support, Im so lucky to have such good, caring friends. Ricky, Michael and I had been through so much together, it was assuring to have them there today. They weren't allowed to help me in any way with water or food, but their support and encouragement would be more than enough assistance.

The car pulled into the tiny, village of Caldbeck, with plenty of time to spare. The quiet village centre would be soon awakened by the hustle and bustle of 350 ultra runners, readying and composing themselves for the start of the race. We made our way to the race HQ, temporarily set up in the Oddfellows Arms Pub and I had a hot milky brew and a toilet stop. Outside the pub they had put up a huge map of the route and we studied it, talking about the different sections, Michael and Ricky looking at points where they could pop up and see me throughout the race. Behind us, the sun gently rose above the fells and we were treated to a horizon full of colour as it made its way skywards. It looked like it was going to be a beautiful day.

 

Looks easy!

With only 30 minutes to go we popped back to the car so I could get my kit and lube up. Now that sounds wrong on so many levels but its so needed when your running long distances. I got out my Body Glide (still sounds wrong) and liberally applied it to my feet, in-between my toes and around my ankles. Next I put some on my shoulders where my race pack would be all day and finally (here it comes) my crotch area. Its not nice but its the area that chafes the most. I had my hand down my shorts applying the grease, moving the glide stick under my bits, when a woman spectator walked right passed me. It must have looked like I was humping the car and Mike and Ricky wet themselves laughing (bastards!).

The final coaches arrived, squeezing their way through the narrow lanes, bringing the final few competitors to the start. We all congregated around the pub, some warming up, some checking kit, one idiot was even smoking!!! The atmosphere, although peaceful, was charged with electricity, buzzing from person to person, you could feel it in the air, almost making your hair stand on end. A familiar face found me in the crowd. Andy Wray came over to me, looking as ferocious as ever. I had ran the recce with him a few weeks ago and he was on top form this morning, entertaining us in his ever witty way for the last few minutes before the start. It was great to see him and the craic seemed to relax me, lightening my spirits.

A loud voice came over the tannoy and the race director stood before us. I wanted to be near the front, to get a good start but I just couldn't get through all the bodies and ruck sacs. I got as close as I could and listened intently for the start gun. I was focussed, sharp, my mind clear on what I had to do. “3,2,1, go”. I set off into the cool morning air, trying not to think of the daunting task ahead, just being mindful and staying set in the moment.

Section 1: Caldbeck to Threlkeld. 10 miles

 

Here we go!

I was a bit further back in the field from where I wanted to be at the start of the race, so I pushed my way through the runners to the front of the pack. I hoped to get a good start and I didn't want to get caught up early on the single track trails which lead up and out onto the Caldbeck fells. Ricky and Michael were at the top of the road cheering me on and taking the first of many pictures of my race, I waved and got back to the task at hand. The pace felt good as I stretched my legs out along the track, following the lead car out of the village, the race leaders, running just a little bit in front of me. At the foot of the fell I found myself in 4^th place. I would give myself a couple of miles to see how the pace was and then decide whether to crack on with them or drop back a bit.

 

The first climb of the day was a steady sloping, well trodden path which was part of the Cumbrian Way. It made its way diagonally through the heath to the top of High Pike, some 500m above the village. The gentle slope took us slowly to the top, winding its way across the hills treating us all to some spectacular views of south west Scotland, only a caber toss from our starting location. The Solway Firth and Scottish mountains beyond were perfectly clear and crisp in the early morning light. They gave me a unique and stunning view of our neighbouring country, which filled me with awe as I ran on. I had gradually settled in behind a runner who was using trekking poles. I matched his pace with a power walk and we steadily made our way up. Once at the cairn of High Pike, I allowed myself another look at the incredible view before making my way down onto the track headed southwards, towards Blecathra.

The track, still part of the Cumbrian Way, made its way across the bumpy, baron landscape. I ran gently on the soft surface dodging the muddy patches only deposited there a few days earlier by the rainfall. My pace and heart rate were still ok so I continued on for a while longer. By this point the two leaders were nearly out of sight, putting down a seemly impossible speed over the undulating and rock strewn path. The sun, that was gently warming the air, combined with the heat my body generated and made me feel quite warm. I rolled my sleeves up and let the cool air onto my arms, reducing the temperature slightly.

The trail ended and I picked my path through a boggy section, leaping from rock to rock, using them as stepping stones across the stinky, peaty mud. From here it was an up and over Coombe Height, a small yet danger fraught fell, full of heather covered gullies and bogs, ready to pull me down, trip me up and end my race. I gingerly made my way up, concentrating on the unseen surface beneath the rough and fragrant heather. As I reached the top I was getting very hot, sweating beneath my long sleeved top, only 5 miles into the race. I didnt want to risk overheating so I took a moment to peel off my top, just leaving my technical tshirt on. It was so much better and it felt like I could breathe again.

At the top I veered left and tried to catch a track which led down to the River Caldew. A few more runners had caught up from behind as we started the run down the heather covered hill. The straight route to Blencathra, if I took it, would take me over the rough heather, slowing my process and using up much needed energy, so I stayed left, knowing the trail was there somewhere, a slightly longer distance but much easier under foot. A few competitors shot off in other directions, making me think I was wrong, but there it was, the tiny track down.

I was soon joined on it by other runners who stormed down, running much faster than I was prepared to, so I let them go, saving my legs for later. The bottom took a lot longer to come than I thought then I ran along the track parallel to the river, looking for a place to cross. If the river had been full and raging, the event team were going to erect a bridge for us to cross, but it was quite low so wet feet ensued as I picked the easiest, shallowest and safest place to cross. I pulled myself onto the opposite shore and prepared myself for a long, arduous slog up Mungrisedale Common to Foule Crag and the summit of Blecathra beyond.

Mungrisedale Common stretched out over about 2 miles. Heather and bracken covered the hillside as it rose steeply up to the rocky Crag, almost 500m above me. I bunched up with some other runners and we power hiked up the fell. It was extremely hard going, the heather felt heavy under foot, the summit seemingly unreachable. The climb was taking a lot of energy early on in the race, it was only 7 miles in and already it was difficult, leeching away at my energy reserves. My legs and hips were working extremely hard to keep pace with the relentless uphill march. Im so glad I had done extra training on the hills and completed umpteen weighted squats and lunges in preparation for this event. It would be hard but I was ready for it.

I unwrapped a flapjack and tucked into the moist bar, enjoying its salty and sweet flavours. My sister had baked them for me to my specification, I wanted a very high calorie, moist and easy to chew solid fuel source. Having tried several brands to no avail, I tasked my sister with making me an ultra flapjack, with chia seeds, rock salt, salted cashews, manuka honey and whatever else she could utilize. They tasted amazing, the sugar and salt going straight into my bloodstream, the carbohydrates from the oats and nuts giving me the energy I required.

I settled myself into a rhythm, powering up the rough slope, not concentrating on how far the top was away, just looking at the ground in front of me, judging each step, picking the right path through the undergrowth. I ignored the burning in my calves, pushing the hurt way down inside, banishing it as I had done in training. After a good thirty or so minutes of hiking we reached the scree base of Foule Crag. Some runners went west around the base of the scree, but I chose the main path, a short but steep switchback to the top. It was slow going but I soon reached the end of the path and was able to run again across to the summit of Blencathra, passing the huge, white cross made of stones. It had been laid there in memorial of a walker who died up there, countless years before. An eerie sight in such a desolate and harsh place. A stark reminder of how dangerous the mountains could be.

I was soon on top of Blencathra, looking all around at the spectacular views. A marshal greeted me and after a quick hello I went straight ahead to descend Halls Fell. It was an extremely steep and rocky ridge that I had ran down weeks before at the organised recce. The last time I ran it, I must admit, it was a bit too fast for my liking. It felt great at the time, the adrenalin pumping but definitely was a bit reckless of me. I looked over the precipice and a vertigo inducing drop off gave me that tingly feeling in my legs, making my head light and a wave of nausea threatened. I pushed the feelings way down in side, mustered my resolve and dropped down the path, leaving the mountain top quickly behind.

 

Halls Fell, high above Threlkeld

 

Immediately, as I started the descent, the rocks felt really greasy underfoot, like a moist dew had coated them in a slick, oily substance. I slipped and skidded down a small section landing on my arse. I quickly righted myself but not before I heard the unmistakable noise of a high speed camera shutter. It sounded like it was laughing at me as it clicked and chattered. The photographer had captured it all on film. Damn, I never get a good action shot! “Fall shot, Got Ya” he joked as I passed. The slip had made me instantly cautious and slowed my descent right down, sometimes sitting and sliding down the rock, sometimes facing the rock to climb down it. The sheer drop either side of the ridge not helping my ever decreasing confidence. The rocks felt cold under my fingertips as I pushed off the face, coming down between a crevice in the ridge. I was still running but my concentration was laser sharp, focussed on the path, zeroing in on the best line through the rough and craggy fell. Slowing down a bit was the right thing to do and especially being this early in the race I didn't want to smash my quads or take a tumble from a quick descent.

 

A rocky descent

A group of four or five runners bounded down to my right, shifting their weight effortlessly as they navigated a perfect line through the rocks. They made it look so easy and I could see them already nearing the bottom when I reached the half way point. The lower section was an easier, but still rocky, selection of paths and switchbacks which I negotiated steadily. Finally I had reached the bottom safely and without incident. Wow, what a tough section that was, I thought as I ran through some farms on the outskirts of Threlkeld, feeling quite glad to have got that descent out of the way.

Coming into Threlkeld

I made my way down to the feed station where Ricky and Michael were waiting, lifting my spirits and pushing me forward. Ricky inadvertently followed me into the feed station updating me on my progress. I was in 8^th place after about 2 ¼ hours racing. He was quickly bollocked by a marshal and asked to leave the feed station! I sniggered, grabbed a banana, some jelly beans, refilled both my bottles then headed out to start the next section.