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.

Lakes In A Day - My Story : PART 2

Section 2: Threlkeld to Ambleside. 18 miles

I knew the second section of the race, which went over Helvellyn Ridge, was going to be the hardest part, but I had no Idea of just how tough it would turn out to be. I left Threlkeld still feeling strong, focussed and full of (jelly) beans. I was running by myself and kept my pace light as I came to the A66 that intersected the run route. There was a mandatory part of the route here. The A66 is an extremely busy and fast road between Penrith and Keswick, so the race organisers didn't want anyone to cross the road, in fact it was an instant disqualification (or a quick death) if you did. I could see why as the cars whipped past at about 70mph. We were to use an underpass that ran beneath the main road, over a small river and onto an old, disused railway line. I followed the path, slowing occasionally to take a bearing, the path in front of me looking and feeling longer than its map counterpart. It wasn't and I soon found myself trekking through Threlkeld Common up to the Old Coach Road which crossed the fell, far below Clough Head.

I looked up and could see a pack of runners ahead of me, on the fell side, moving slowly up the slope. They didn't look to be very far ahead of me as I climbed the fence at the foot of the fell. I got excited for a moment, thinking I had closed the gap. My gaze lifted beyond the runners, the gigantic Clough Head loomed high into the sky and I instantly knew this was going to be a tough, tough climb. I started out, making a switchback route up the hill. It was extremely steep and hard going. My calves started to scream and burn as they quickly filled up with lactic acid, working harder than ever to push my feet up the steep, green incline. About a quarter of the way up I found the trail which led to the top, well I say trail, it was a series of footholds in the hillside, carved out by the thousands of walkers and runners who have traversed this path over many years.

Each foothold was a good step up and I had to lift my shoe and drive it into each tiny alcove on the slope. It was exhausting and utterly soul destroying. I just felt as if I was going nowhere, constantly spinning on a sadistic grassy treadmill set to level 99 - “nightmare” ascent. I had to stop for a moment, get a breath and have some water, desperately trying to calm my racing heart beat. I pushed hard again, determined to reach the top, to escape the beastly slope. I searched inside myself, to find more power, to drive ever forward, to work harder. I strode up in a rhythm like the beat of a drum, left, right..., left, right.... breathe deep. I struggled onwards, wasting more of my valuable and very finite energy. I quickly drained about half of my water, drinking to cool myself down. The heat was still rising and my body temperature started to soar, my breathing became fast and my heartbeat started to red line. In parts I was clawing the dirt, bear crawling up the grassy wall. This was really tough and all I could think about was how much it was taking out of me with still a good 37 or so miles to go. I dug deeper into my resolve and pushed for the top hoping my normally excellent recovery would meet me at the summit. Up, forward, grab, step, up, breathe, up, step, breathe was all I seemed to be doing until finally after what must have been 15 minutes, the slope slowly levelled out and I found myself on a path. I had done it, but at what cost? I would more than likely find out later.

I slowly jogged along, letting my heart beat settle to a more normal running rhythm and pushed on past Calfhow Pike towards the Dodds. From the top I could see the summits of the next few climbs, the twisting path snaked across the landscape like a giant serpent, slithering through the hills as it moved its long and thin body over the undulations. Great Dodd was first. It was another climb but only half way up before I skirted around its circumference and over a fell to Watsons Dodd. The slope was a bit more forgiving and I power walked up the well trodden path. The trail was quite soft underfoot and my shoes were picking up the claggy mud, weighing my feet down, making life a bit harder. I had another flapjack and an energy gel then went for my water bottle.

I had two 500ml bottles full at the start of this section and I was down to half already. It was a long and hard section about 18 miles long with no checkpoints or water stations along the ridge. I had to really hold back from drinking any more liquid, I had to conserve and ration myself or dehydration would quickly get hold, especially with the tough technical terrain still to come. I bunched up again with two runners and we silently plodded across the ridge line towards Stybarrow Dodd.

The path here was really boggy, with long stretches of mud and water covering the ground. It was really heavy going and I had to push hard on the extremely soft and malleable ground. Just before the trail led us up to the Dodd, I stepped across a puddle, right up to my muddle! Well virtually, my right foot broke the surface of the brown murky water and continued down until my knee was fully submerged in the mire. The forward momentum of my body carried me into the hillock on the other side, slamming me against it and knocked the breath from me. I stood and shook my leg, It looked and felt like I had donned a heavy, muddy plaster cast, my foot and lower leg completely encased in the brown, thick sludge. Not even the laces on my shoes were visible. I needed some water or a stream to wash it off but nothing was around so I kicked of what I could and squelched on behind the other runners, my breathing just as heavy as my leg.

I made my way along the ridge, encroaching slowly upon Helvellyn that was perched high in the distance. The midday air was really clear, giving me 360 degrees of amazing and inspiring views. The Lake district stretched out in every direction, offering a spectacular, natural masterpiece, painted with a pallet of autumnal gold and green, worthy of hanging in any art gallery. Hills, mountains, valleys, lakes, streams, forests and fells seamlessly weaved together to create a vast and beautiful tapestry across the horizon. There was so much beauty to look at, it was almost overwhelming as I stood and took in the vista before me. I looked upon the world around me, letting it fill me with its energy. I drank in the pure air, it calmed my breath, it soothed my soul.

The mountain race route

This is the reason why I run. Why I push myself over and over again. Running in nature pushes me beyond what I ever thought I was possible of, reaching quite literally for new heights, searching for that elusive high. In these races I find the real me, hiding deep within my being, on top of the world surrounded by stunning mountains and fells. I find out something new about myself every time I run. Its wonderful. Its uplifting. Its now a part of me, ingrained into my personality, defining who I am.

I pushed on towards the highest point of the race; Helvellyn. At nearly 950m high I was glad that I was most of the way up already. I gently ran down past Lower Man through the ever increasing masses of walkers who were taking advantage of the unseasonably warm and clear weather. Whether my mind was wandering or I was looking towards the summit of Helvellyn, I don't know but I kicked a protruding rock on the path.

I was just starting my stride cycle so my left foot was behind me. All my weight and momentum had shifted to my right side, ready for a foot strike that didn't come. I fell forward and slammed full weight into the hard rocky floor. I threw out both my hands and felt a heavy force on my right palm. My sternum was punched by a hard granite fist, knocking the wind from me. I tried to roll with it but my knee smashed into a stone before landing on my side, more stones riddled my thigh with hard, bullet like impacts.

A group of hikers had a look of horror and concern on their faces as they came towards me. I stood quickly and gave them a thumbs up and noticed blood running down my hand. My right palm had a nasty cut, in the fleshy part that tends to bleed a lot. The worst thing was, I had completely winded myself and couldn't get a proper breath in. I walked slowly up to the summit and saw two men running towards me. They looked muscular and athletic as they ran down the slope, I`d say almost heroic, yet there was something familiar about them (ok, don't milk it!!). I was so relieved to see it was my amazing friends, Michael and Ricky, concerned and bombing towards me. They had parked the car at Dunmail Raise and hiked up the trail just to see me pass for literally two seconds. It meant so much to me to see them there.

 

Ouch!

 

They had seen me tumble and rushed to my aid. We met and I sat at the side of the trail, trying to breathe. I lied and said I was fine but needed to patch myself up. I was really shook up and quite shocked by it all if I'm honest. I removed my pack and got out my emergency kit. I tried desperately to compose myself and do a systems check, going over my body, fault finding and getting some well needed air. I removed a plaster and a wipe from my first aid pack and cleaned the wound before applying the plaster. I was so glad Id packed the kit, remember safety first children! I didn't want to get disqualified for outside assistance, although this circumstance would probably have been acceptable, so I denied the lads offer of help. After all, if it had been ten minutes earlier I would have been by myself, and, I have been a first aider for 13 years! Michael and Ricky then just stood and back and took photos! Well what are friends for?

Plasters out!

The flap of skin Id knocked off was right on the corner of my palm, making it hard to get the plaster to adhere, so I got out some gauze tape and wrapped it around my hand. It looked spectacularly shocking, like I had sliced half my hand off, not just a nasty cut and I laughed briefly with my friends about how awesome it looked. I had to take a minute to compose myself and saw Helen, the leading lady coming up the path. Id ran with her on the guided recce a few weeks before so we knew each other and she asked if I was OK. I didn't want her to stop so I waved her on. I wished her well and she pushed on looking so smooth and fluid as she ran along. I gathered myself together, put my pack back on and stood up. I said farewell to my friends just as another runner came along and he enquired if I was alright. I set off with him and he said he would stay with me for a while to see if I was. It was incredibly selfless of him and would be the start of a great, race buddy friendship.

A helping hand.

The mountain body slam had really shaken me up. I was really sore in my chest and right thigh, the cut in my hand not even registering pain in comparison. The hard fall had jolted my upper body, jarring my shoulders and ribs that were now suddenly sore and aching. My confidence had taken a blow too and my pace dropped as a result, taking extra time over technical sections that I would normally flit effortlessly across. The worst thing was my breathing. I've taught and trained myself to take big, deep belly breaths, filling my lungs to the maximum, delivering the most amount of oxygen to my muscles. It hurt when I breathed in, every time my chest expanded it felt like it was constricted and sore. It wasn't good. I needed to get to Ambleside, to the checkpoint, get some food and water , then regroup ready for the last 22 miles. I knew the second part of the route was no where near as taxing as the mountain section. A DNF was not an option, the distance wasn't an issue, I just had to get off the mountain, get down and have a time out. That's where Chris came in.

We ran together for a while and introduced ourselves, chatting as we gently crossed over Helvellyn. The pace was perfect for me and we got to know each other as we came around Nethermost Pike, headed for Dollywagon Pike. The trail was still very technical and I was glad I had someone beside me. I steadily padded across a rocky section, still unsure of my footing and if I'm honest, being a little over cautious. I lifted my second bottle and swilled some electrolytes around my mouth, letting the cool liquid refresh me before realising I was nearly out of water. I scolded myself and stopped drinking, leaving myself about a quarter of a bottle for later and I would need it!

Dollywagon Pike came and went before we dropped down a steep and technical switchback path to Grisedale Tarn. I remembered this as the 40 mile mark of my last ultra and looked down the valley at the route I had taken that day. I had resigned myself to not racing for now, I couldn't get up to pace because I couldn't breathe properly and I was happy running with Chris. He was extremely easy going, light hearted and we got along really well. The path down was slow and tricky and we passed a few mountain bikers headed up, carrying their bikes above their heads. My legs were getting tired and my thigh shouted at me with every heavy step down.

My mind suddenly became a jobs-worth health and safety officer. You know the type, dressed in high vis, packing a clipboard and tutting at everything. He risk assessed hazard after hazard as I made my descent. Every stone was painted bright yellow, highlighted as a trip hazard. At every patch of mud a wet floor sign suddenly appeared warning of an impending slippery accident. Every steep section was roped off and “CAUTION SHEER DROP TO YOUR DEATH” notices hung on the yellow and black tape. The mountains started to close in around me as I became over cautions and fearful of everything.

Come on Lee, breathe, focus, relax, be confident, believe in yourself, I said silently in my mind. I tried to calm my racing heart and tried to stop over thinking everything or I knew I would be in trouble. I concentrated on taking small steps, padding safely down the rocky trail. I tried not to think about the dangers all around and just concentrated on running. Left, right, left, right, breathe.

At the bottom, the second place woman came down the switchback behind us looking very strong and determined. She stopped to take a drink from the tarn and we pressed forward, up Grisedale Hause, turning sharply east, straight up another monster ascent to the top of Fairfield. It was a very steep path up the side of the fell and looked almost vertical from where I was.

As I started the long climb, my lungs started to heave as I tried to suck in some air. The pain and the pressure on my chest was horrible and I had to release the straps from my race pack so I could try and expand my ribs. It felt like a massive weight was bearing down on my sternum, crushing my capacity to take a deep breath. I was getting a little worried and sincerely hoped I hadn't done any lasting damage. I think Chris sensed I was struggling and held back a little, chatting away to me, taking my mind off it. He told me he was looking out for the final flight of a Vulcan bomber. It was due to pass Ambleside that afternoon. As we talked, we found out we both had a background in engineering and talked candidly about it for a while as we trekked towards the summit.

 

Struggling up Fairfield

The climb up Fairfield was long and winding, with loose rocks everywhere making footing difficult. We ascended slowly but surely, gradually getting closer to the top. It was very a very tough climb indeed and took more and more of my energy reserves as we moved up. One good thing in all this was my posture. Because I had worked so hard in training, my solid core supported me, letting me climb without leaning forward, helping me to open my chest cavity as much as I could, helping me to breathe a little easier.

 

To the top of Fairfield

After what seemed like an eternity we finally crested Fairfield onto a Rydal Head, brimming with walkers, fell runners and hiking tourists. The Fairfield Horseshoe is a very popular yet demanding route heading out from Rydal up to Fairfield sweeping across and back down to Ambleside in a huge “horseshoe” or visa versa, which ever way you want to tackle it.

I ate another flapjack as we walked up Hart Crag and had to finish my water, I was so thirsty. There was still 5 miles to Ambleside and the feed station which meant at least an hour without water. I had to be careful. A few feet later Chris drained the last of his water too. We were now in the same, very dry, boat. He knew this part of the route very well and stuck to the right hand side of the wall which split the descent across High Pike and Low Pike. I had been down there before with my good friend Gareth and we had struggled to find the best path down, which ever side we crossed onto it was the wrong one!

High and Low Pike were littered with bogs, rocky outcroppings and steep, grassy slopes for most of the way down. Negotiating the hazards was no mean feat and took a massive toll on my already depleted reserves. About half way down the second placed woman caught us. She looked on a mission and ran strongly as she powered along the trail making every step look effortless. My head was starting to feel fuzzy and my mouth became dry from the lack of water. Dehydration was a very real danger and we were both desperate to reach the checkpoint. We came to a very steep section along the path that required climbing down and a jump. The second place woman has slowed here and we ran along just behind her. She was also desperate for water.

My eyes started to feel very dry along with my mouth as the lack of water started to tell. If felt like my brain was rattling around inside an empty skull with no fluid in it, my stomach sent me all sort of signals from hunger right through to nausea. My body started to sway a little as we climbed a style and I was really light headed for a moment. I had to keep moving. I had to get to water, to the feed station and rest, get something down me. My right foot started to get sore under the footpad as my laces loosened off from the constant barrage of descents over the last few hours. I really needed to stop and collect myself, but not until I reached Ambleside, it was so close and I felt if I had stopped, I wouldn't have got going again. I concentrated all my will on reaching the checkpoint. As we ran over Low Pike, Lake Winderemere shimmered in the distance looking still and tranquil in the early October afternoon.

A thunderous noise blasted and bounced across the valley to my right and a mysterious, dark triangle came into view. As it grew closer, the unmistakable, sleek winged shape of a Vulcan Bomber majestically soared past, giving us a very special air show. We slowed down as she banked gracefully in the air, sweeping towards the Lake, showing us the camouflaged fuselage beneath the massive wing. It was perfect timing and Chris was ecstatic at seeing the cold war plane at such a good vantage point.

We watched the jet fly into the distance and Ambleside came into view. It beckoning us towards its busy streets, far below at the head of Lake Windermere. A mile or so later, after some easier paths through the bracken, we finally, mercifully came down off the fell into the very busy honey pot. We got a few strange looks as we followed the road into town and followed the race arrows round a corner to the Parish Hall. As we ran down the street, I was greeted with the most amazing reception I had ever had at a race.

 

Battered and bruised coming into Ambleside

I can't do justice in words to how important having support at an event is, whether its a 5k, school sport or an ultra. Hearing your name shouted by someone that's gone out of their way to see you, albeit for only a brief glance, makes a truly massive difference. You can be down and out, on the bones of your arse, ready to drop out and suddenly a voice you know lifts you above it all. Its powerful, emotional, uplifting and makes you feel like your someone, not just a number in a race but someone people care about and want to see do well. It is a wonderful and energizing experience. If you know anyone that is doing a race, event or competition, make the time. Get to the line and cheer them on, the louder the better! Take flags, make placards or blow up balloons and make them feel special. Even better jump out on the route somewhere unexpected, like the top of a mountain, (Ricky and Michael!) for the maximum uplifting effect!

My friends and training buddy's from GB Bootcamps, some with their partners, were gathered in the street, cheering me into the checkpoint. It was emotionally uplifting and I was so relieved to reach the checkpoint, that I stopped and hugged each and everyone of them. I was amazed and shocked to see so many people there to cheer me on, instantly boosting my deflated spirits. Ricky and Michael were there too, there never ending concern and support for me showing through. They asked me how I was then updated me on the race. I had dropped to 11^th place but I really wasn't bothered by it at the time. I was going to run the rest of the race with Chris and enjoy the last section. I didn't think I could lift my pace any more with the pain in my chest.

GB Bootcamps posse

I made my way into the hall and necked half a litre of water straight away. It had an immediate impact, refreshing my body and clearing the haze from my head. I sat down and a first aider came to change my dressing. He sprayed an antiseptic foam on my hand and my mind sharpened up, the stinging pain shot straight through my hand. “Oh I never told you it would sting did I” he said as I grimaced in mild pain. Chris had sat down with a bowl of pasta. I soon joined him and tucked into the tomato twists. The feed stations were, without doubt, the best I've had the privilege of eating at. It was a pure smorgasbord of energy and sustenance, offering everything from fresh fruit and Clif Bars through to hot soup and packets of sweets. An outstanding, helpful and friendly feed station indeed! So good I think it needed a tourist board rating! *****

I ate my pasta and sipped a lovely strong coffee whilst I removed my shoe. There were a few bits of mountain floating around in it and a hot spot had developed from all the descending. I took off my shoe and the ball of my foot was bare, I had worn a hole in the sock. These are moments that I prepare for, when planning pays off, for when a curve ball comes your way. What's the famous saying...”Fail to Prepare and you Prepare to fail”, not today thank you! I stripped my socks off and took out the spare pair from my pack. My old faithful 1000mile socks fitted like a glove (but on my feet! Its a bit of a stupid saying in this instance). I slipped my fresh sock covered feet back into my completely shit up shoes and tightened the laces. I felt a million times better. I stood, put my pack on my back, grabbed a bag of midget gems and headed out of the door.

Feeling better

My concerned friends, stood outside the door, noticed the difference in me straight away and I offered a double thumbs up signalling I was ready for the penultimate section, through Claife Heights to Finsthwaite. It was about 15 miles of relatively flat terrain, well, it was flat compared to what we had just traversed. My brother in Law appeared with his family and I hugged him, cheekily covering him in my muddy stench haha! I gave all my spectator ladies a quick kiss and made my way out of Ambleside with Chris, ready for round 3, re-energised, refuelled, focussed and motivated.



Lakes In a Day - My Story : PART 3

Section 3: Ambleside to Finthswaite - 15 miles

I was a new man. I felt much better, my energy levels had refilled and my spirits lifted by my amazing friends. My feet felt comfortable again and the hot spot had disappeared, giving me confidence back to run and descend. This first part of the section was relatively easy, both Chris and I had both recced the route here and didn't need to use the map. We ran out of Rothay Park down to the main road and out of Ambleside.

Leaving Ambleside

Now, we both had running gear on, bottles, belts, electronic tracker and a bloody big race number. It was obvious we were in the middle of a race because we had a bloody big race number on! Not one car stopped to let us cross and I thought at the time it might have been a good place to put a marshal or at least a “slow down, runners crossing sign” to give the ignorant drivers a hint! Eventually we had to take a chance and nip through the traffic to the cycle path on the opposite side, not ideal after 29 miles.

The stop had done us both well and we skipped down the path full of adrenalin and food. We ran along and the pace gradually increased as we made use of the flat and solid surface. Ultra marathon alarm bells started to ring in my head. The safety announcement in my head went off “TOO FAST, WARNING TOO FAST, SLOW DOWN”. I motioned to Chris, who was running abreast of me, “lets slow this down”, I said “we are going too fast” I warned as I slammed on the anchors. He agreed and admitted he wasn't feeling too good after eating at the waypoint. We slowed it right down and plodded through Clappersgate and out on the paths towards High Wray. It was getting near early evening and the temperature was still really warm and humid, the sweat was dripping from me.

We ran through a small wooded area and my friend, Alastair, was there, crouching down taking a picture. I love it when people show up, unannounced and support me, it gives me such a buzz and a lift. I thanked him again and we pushed on up a small hill. My chest clamped down on my chest, stopping me again from taking a deep breath. I struggled up the tiny hill and said to Chris if he wanted to push on without me I was alright. He admitted he wasn't feeling great after the stop and we both agreed we were happy running and finishing the race together. It instantly released us from any pressure, Chris has a target of Sub 14 hours and I had one for Sub 12 and a top ten place. That was highly unlikely now with my bruised and sore sternum anyway so I sat back and enjoyed the company, the running and the rest of the race.

 

Through the woods

Blelham Tarn soon came into view as the cycle path twisted and turned around the small B road it was running parallel to. The tarn in the distance was beautifully framed by the trees behind and the western fells in the distance. It was a stunning view, if a lot lower than the ones we`d had just an hour ago on the high fells. We power walked up the steep hill into High Wray and passed the magnificent gatehouse and entrance to Wray Castle. Its stone turrets and mini battlements perched high above the road, like it was a smaller replica of the castle itself. We turned down a corner and up a steep climb into High Wray. This was about the last of the road and cycle path sections and it was good to get back to some trail running.

The map lead us up a track and started the gentle ascent towards Claife Heights, nestled high on the western shores of Lake Windermere. We were only about 500m from the water but we had hardly see it since leaving Ambleside. The trail, still climbing up, led us into a heavily wooded area full of evergreen trees. The incredibly fresh and unmistakable smell of moist pine conjured up images of winter, Christmas trees and of a warm glass of mulled wine, cupped in my hand, steaming in the early October afternoon. The pace we set and the steady, undulating path made the going quite easy. We chatted more as we ran and the miles ticked by almost effortlessly. We talked about our jobs, music and our lives, the conversation deepening as the distance and our friendship grew. I really enjoyed his company, each of us taking the lead from time to time and occasionally reminding the other to have a gel or something to eat.

The wooded area gave way to a massive pasture, spotted with small tarns and grazing sheep. The path led us through the middle of the small bodies of water, skirting between them. I looked over Moss Eccles Tarn, imagining the famous Ms Potter, sketching and writing there in the beautiful summer months. This area was so inspirational to so many people, Potter, Wainwright and Wordsworth to name but a few. It was so easy to see how the natural landscape helped them to contemplate, compose, write and paint, or just to spend time there, ambling through the stunning scenery all around, letting it absorb into their work. I love the way ultra running makes me think, makes me question and wonder about the world around us. I truly do love it.

Far Sawrey was near or was Near Sawrey far? I wasn't quite sure as we ran over the main road and down towards our rendezvous with Lake Windermere. We opened a gate out onto a common and there she laid, still, serene and beautiful in all her splendour. The great water course rippled and shimmered in the bright autumnal afternoon pushing a calm but cooling breeze over my moist skin, cooling and refreshing. From the path I could just make out Stoors Hall on the far banks of Windermere and knew we were about half way down this section. I still felt good as long as I didn't try and breath too hard or push the pace. Chris and I pushed along the deserted track along the western shore of the Lake, not really being able to enjoy the view. We had to keep out wits about us and our eyes on the ground. The path was quite rough in parts and had lots of exposed and gnarled tree roots stuck everywhere, ready to trip us up like a prankster sticking a foot out, the slick and muddy surface not helping matters.

One of the things you have to get used to in ultra marathon running is going for a poo in the woods! This run out was no exception and only a few minutes later, I got massive stomach cramps and I had to go. I nipped in the bushes, well away from the path and squatted out of sight but overlooking the water. Seconds later, a bloody small boat with three men in it sailed passed. All three men looked in my direction, pointed and jeered loudly across the peaceful water. Damn it, busted! “Cant a guy get any peace out here” I thought as I finished my business and listened to a “weyhey” from my floating cheerleaders (bastards!). :)

After my “inter-loo-d” (see what I did there) I re-joined the path and we pushed on a couple of miles through the overgrown single track, towards the YMCA centre before a large climb up to High Dam. The both of us were getting short on water again in the warm afternoon heat as we hit the trail, ascending steeply over leaf covered pathways and steps. Several of the wooden steps which linked the pathway were in disrepair and we suggested the YMCA outward bounds should fix them on their courses. The climb wasn't easy but nowhere near as tough as what had come before so we pushed on up through the golden hillside forest. I had to stop half way for a breather, I still couldn't get enough air in to let my body work hard and I felt quite unfit when we set off again. My legs were getting tired from the climb, especially my right thigh which was sore and bruised from the earlier tumble. A direction arrow was hung high in a tree towards the top of the trail. It pointed forward to a sheer scramble, about 10m long, up to the top of the hill (which was starting to feel like a cliff!). We both looked at each other and went for it, power hiking and scrabbling all the way up. We had done it, that was the last big climb of the day, the rest just being “undulations” until the finish.

The top of the trail led towards High Dam, a small tarn in the forests above Finsthaite. The race organisers had way marked this section for reasons that were obvious if you're ever been up there. With its close location to the YMCA, the High Dam area is riddled with pathways, trails and tracks all used for orienteering. Not a single track appears on a standard 1:50,000 map, which we had our route on and according to the race director “If you follow the wrong one you end up in Narnia!”. The bright arrows would also help those runners behind us who would soon be hitting this area in the dark in just a few hours time. The trail twisted and turned through the leafy glades until it lead us to the main tourist path which runs around the circumference of the tarn.

The path felt almost smooth to what we had been used to in the mountains and we moved along to the end of the tarn where the dam is located. The water rushed out below us as we crossed over the path creating that wonderful roaring noise that is both so calming and so loud. The path dropped quickly down, towards the tiny village of Finsthwaite. The stream flowed along by the side of us, matching our pace as it flowed to the old bobbin mill far below in the valley. My quads tired quickly as we made the steep descent, feeling heavier and heavier with every step. The mountain descents had chewed me up today and I was certainly feeling it now. The path levelled out into a lush green field and we trundled along, over a couple of styles (feeling like major obstacles after over 40 miles) and ran into Finsthwaite. Ricky and Michael popped out from behind a wall and I beamed a smile across my face. Seeing the lads out on the route made me feel so good and well supported throughout all of the day, I was so grateful to them. They said they would see us at the Swan Hotel and I joked saying we`d race them there. Through the lovely village in the Parish Hall laid the final checkpoint and feed station in our epic journey.

 

43 miles and still smiling!

 

Section 4: Finsthwaite to Cartmel and the Finish 7 Miles

As I entered the feed station, the two runners that had been so far in front of us were still there, just about to leave. Chris and I looked at each other but said nothing. We both new what this meant, we had caught up and could possibly pass them. The two runners said hello and we all enquired how the other was. We parted ways and they set off. Chris and I filled our water, grabbed some food and walked to the gate, which led to the woods beyond the Hall, only about a minute behind them. There was only 7 miles left in the race, over the fells into Cartmel and the finish. We looked at each other and said almost synchronised “we can have these two you know”. A plan cracked open and hatched between us. We would keep back a bit, pushing them all the way up the fells then try to catch them as they tired. A second wind rushed out of the trees, filled us full of spirit and determination, blowing away the memory of the mountains and focussing us on the two competitors ahead.

I turned, closed the gate and spotted a runner coming into the checkpoint behind us. This was getting tasty and I wondered if it looked as good from the satellite view of us, beamed from up high into all my friends and families computers and phones back home. The live tracking enabled everyone to watch the races progress from home, keeping an all seeing eye on our every move. One thing was for sure, the last section was going to be fun!

The two lads pushed up the next hill and into the woods beyond. It was a really intricate trail leading through the forest and I was glad it was way marked. I had previously tried to find the correct race path on two occasions and failed both times. We ran along at a comfortable rate keeping the two runners in our sights and gently gaining ground on them. Every hill or climb they came to, they ran up, drawing more and more energy from their depleted tanks. Chris and I sensed this and power walked up each climb, conserving our energy for later. After a fast decent down a switchback path through Water Side Wood we came out on the road behind The Swan Hotel. Ricky and Michael were about to get stuck into a drink outside as we ran past. They cheered us on, telling us we were getting quicker and catching the runners in front of us. I waved them goodbye and a massive wave of energy washed over me, empowering me for my final assault on the course.

The main A590 road was unusually quiet as we nipped over its tarmac surface and up a side road to Canny Hill. It was a short but steep, winding road so we power walked up it. My legs, aches and pains had disappeared with the sudden rush of adrenalin, injected from the chase. I was going to enjoy this. Chris and I both suddenly felt great, ready for a battle and a game of team tactics. A bridleway took us off the road and over the fell to Backbarrow. The race suddenly seemed to shorten into 5 miles and we both kept good pace, in tandem, pushing each other along through the bracken. The guys were in front of us again, just up on the hill only 150 yards ahead. We opened the gate in our way and Chris closed it quietly “we don't want to panic them do we” he said, sneakily dropping the catch as lightly as he could. We were both enjoying this so much. It felt like the race was between just us four, that we were the hunters and they were the prey. Something ancient and bestial about us resurfaced in that ferny landscape, a primordial need to chase down. The ultimate persistence hunt full of endurance and unbelievable terrain.

The path led to a small forest full of muddy, twisty paths that looked as if it had held a Grand National that afternoon. It was littered with the biggest hoof prints I had ever seen, I commented that it must have been a stable of shire horses that galloped through looking at the size of the tracks. It was hard going on the soft surface and we had to slow in parts to negotiate the boggy path.

 

Eventually we cam out at Brow Edge onto a minor road and up a hill to Bigland Hall. We could see our prey just ahead, ascending the hill quickly and using up the last of their energy. Suddenly dusk was upon us and we had hardly noticed the encroaching darkness. It would be time to light up soon and don the head torches, but not just yet. At the top of the hill, before Bigland Hall was a black 4x4, stood outside it was a very excited Ricky. “You've got em, they are knackered” he said in the half light. I thanked him and moved through the gates of Bigland Hall, towards the Tarn and a showdown.

The two lads in front had ran out of steam and had slowed to a walk just up the path. We quickly reached them and they ran in front of us for a while before gracefully stepping aside to let us past. For all our posturing and tactics both Chris and I felt a little guilty for overtaking them. But at the end of the day, this was a race and we still had some energy left to burn. A gate blocked our path onto the Cumbrian Coastal Way and it was soon opened. We didn't look back as we took off over the hill, leaving the two competitors behind us. That gave us a massive boost of energy and focus. It would just get us in the top ten if we kept going and not let anyone else pass us. It pushed us forward with renewed focus and power. The grassy trail descended down as did the fading light so Chris asked me to get his head torch from his pack. He lit it up and took us through the dark woods, down to the road crossing at Grassgarth. We walked for a short hilly section while I foraged around for my head torch in a tightly packed bag. On the other side of the road, both fully lit, we forged our way across Speel Bank, under a forest canopy and out to a farm track and the last two miles of the race.

I took off my head torch and glanced behind into the dark hills. I spotted a single light as it bobbed and tracked its way across the black. Was it the runner who had caught us at the checkpoint or had one of the lads decided to chase us down? We weren't about to find out. Both Chris and I started to accelerate on the gravel path, picking up pace and hopefully putting enough distance between us and the runner behind. The final corner came upon us and the white, sharp sign pointed towards our goal, Cartmel 1 ¼ miles. I had ran this a few weeks ago and knew it was a steady downhill, all the way into the Town. The pace quickened again as we both sensed the end was in sight. Our head torches bounced and weaved down the small country road, bringing us closer and closer with every step. I joked as we passed the famous racecourse “and its Plews and Winter, they're on the final furlong, here they come, nearly at the finish”. It felt amazing, pushing the pace this late in the race, not knowing if someone was on our heels. A sharp left hander at the sticky toffee shop pointed straight through the town towards the priory. Only a quarter mile remained and we were strong, together in the night, pushing each other towards the finish, towards our ultimate, ultra goal. Two bright arrows directed us towards the school and we spotted the finish line. My amazing friends were there again, beckoning me in, willing me to finish. Ricky, Michael, Diane, Izzy (Michaels family) and Gareth gathered there, clapping and cheering, looking pleased and proud as I passed them. Chris and I slowed down, it was important to us to finish together. We held hands and crossed the line ecstatic and jubilant. We hugged and were congratulated by the race director before he hung our well earned medals around our necks. What an amazing day. We all made our way inside for some food and a seriously well earned rest.

 

Chris and I = 10th place!

 

Epilogue

As we entered the school the organisers cut the racing tracker off me and handed over a meal voucher. I was suddenly famished and grabbed a hot potato with tonnes of cheese and beans. I sat down with my amazing friends and tried to convey the race to them. I felt amazing and chatted to them and some of the other finishers. The first three women had now all finished and I watched them in awe as they received their awards. Helen, first placed lady had smashed the women's course record and won herself a few hundred pounds in the process. I have to say, I couldn't congratulate the women enough in their amazing achievements, they were so strong and determined out on the course and proved that as the distance gets greater, the difference between men and women gets less and less. Its no coincidence so many women are competing at such a high level in ultra running and coming first overall, winning outright in major races.

 

Gareth, Ricky, Michael and a Potato

 

I finished up and Michael and Ricky were taking me home. I was so grateful for this, especially when I stood up and 4000m of ascent hit my legs. I waddled out of the hall, thanking all the officials and helpers as I left. About 5m outside I stood, bolted to the spot. A massive wave of nausea struck me, knocking me dizzy and sending a tremor through my body. The temperature had dropped quickly and I was in minor shock. I recognised the symptoms quickly as did my friends, grabbing me and putting my jacket onto me. They took me to the car, only parked feet away and I could hardly stand, shivering uncontrollably in the street. I had to grab onto the roof rack to stop myself from falling. I was going to feint, I could feel the blood draining from my head. I grabbed the rail tighter, closed my eyes and focussed on my breathing, trying to still my racing heart. I concentrated, in, out, breathing slow and deep, my ribs still sore from the afternoon. After a minute or so I had come round a little and Ricky got me in the car whilst Michael had put the heated seat on and grabbed a blanket. They both wrapped me up and belted me into the car ready for the trip home. The heat hit me straight away, I quickly warmed up and felt much better. I was OK again by the time I got home and was escorted in by my two epic friends. I thanked them profusely, after they left I celebrated with my family. I basked in their love and pride then slipped into a hot bath with a bottle of cider and a pizza to contemplate my unbelievably wonderful, brutal day.

I had been through it all, through the mountains and trails, through tiredness and pain. It was an epic journey, so brutal yet so beautiful and I had made a good friend in Chris. It was a completely different race from my last Ultra Marathon. I had been alone for 99% of the race that time, alone with my hopes and fears, contemplating and thinking my way around the course. This had been totally different, running in close groups then running with another person was an uplifting experience, creating a bond in such a short space of time but in such a harsh environment. I loved the race and the course, the mountainous terrain was very difficult and has given me some great experience I sorely lacked before the race.

I'm learning so much about racing and myself in these Ultras and I genuinely cannot wait for my next one. I would definitely recommend this race to anyone contemplating an ultra marathon, just make sure you get some hills in first! In the end I shared 10^th place with Chris. I completed my goal that I had set so long ago and my training and preparation were spot on. I felt like I was just getting into my stride about 40 miles in so its a great sign for next years 100 miler!

It was a fabulous and uplifting experience running the - Lakes In A Day.

 

Lee Winter - Ultra Runner

Its Nearly ready / A big thank you.

Hi everyone, just letting you know I'm still here and I haven't forgotten about my blog. I'm only 6 miles from the finish in my race report/ story /account / 10,000 word dissertation (I'm not joking!!) ,  so I'm hoping to get I finished tonight and post it before the weekend.

I've just been recovering this week,  was sore Sunday and stiff on Monday but I feel great now. I'm dying to go for a run but deep down I know need to rest for a couple  weeks and let the damage heal properly. The damage you do to your central nervous system is massive and you can easily get sick, injured or infections. You cant see it but its there in the background. I've read lots of accounts of athletes being out of action for months after coming back to training so soon so I will wait and keep walking to work for now.

Thank you...whoever you are

I would like to express my gratitude and thanks to a anonymous friend who has paid  for a few hours cleaning service for  me and my family. Totally out of the blue, I was phoned by a cleaning company who said they had been contacted by someone who had read my blog and wanted to help. We were shocked and stunned by this persons generosity and good soul.

Whoever you are, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. I'm so grateful for the help you've given to my family and we will put the hours to good use. You are a true friend (whoever you are) and your generous gift made me cry. Thank You

Race Day

Wow what a journey its been. The race was brutal, beautiful, epic and possibly the hardest thing Ive ever done. I probably wont blog for a couple of days now as its gong to take a while or me to write the race report.

44 miles in and still smiling!!

Thanks to everyone who supported me along the way, you really helped me push through the pain.

Im still waiting for the final results but I think I finished in the top 10 in 11hrs 40 min.  Im extremely pleased and proud of the result. I am very, very sore today, I totally went for it yesterday and pushed beyond anything I thought was possible.

Right Im off to write a mini adventure story. See you soon :)

1 Day to Go..

278

 

Sorry again, its a very short blog tonight. Ive be at work all day and have been up to Cartmel to register. Im just about to go to bed as Im getting picked up at 5am. The race starts at 8am from Caldbeck in north Cumbria. To track my progress go to: http://live.lakesinaday.co.uk/

Registration

Im registered.
Im relaxed.

IM READY.

See you on the other side! Night Night.

2 Days to Go...

Sorry readers, Im going to keep it short tonight. Ive got lots to sort out and I need to get an early night.

Ive got most of my kit together and my nutrition is sorted. My talented sister has made the most amazing flapjack with Chia seeds, honey, rock salt, dried fruit, oats and cashew nuts. Shes got the consistency spot on too and they taste amazing, a bit like salted caramel. They are packed full of minerals and calories so they will give me the fuel I need. My kit is all laid out ready for inspection tomorrow. All that's left to do is go to Cartmel after work tomorrow and register.

Running 3.1miles 9.50/mi  30 min

Tonight's run was just a light effort up to Biggar Bank and along the easy trail. I didn't want to over complicate things so I  stuck some slow, relaxing tunes on my Ipod and let the soft music of Bob Marley and a few other artists, chill me out. Three Little Birds came on and I relaxed into the mellw Reggae beat, almost swaggering like a Rastafarian. The lyrics smoothed way the stresses of he day as they always do. "Don't worry, about a thing, coz every little thing, is gonna be alright"

I completed the run and stretched out feeling calm and relaxed.

Food Diary:

Breakfast:
Oatso Simple Porridge with Chia Seeds and Nuts

Lunch:
Mackerel Salad with Brown Rice, avocado and egg

Fat free greek yoghurt with berries

Dinner
Beef Casserole and Brown Rice

Snacks
2x apples, banana, Paulas Ultra Flapjack (tester!), vegetable crisps.

3 Days to Go!

 

3 days, that's all that's left! Its been a hell of a journey, I've so enjoyed getting here. 

Today has been a whirlwind, it started early as it usually does. I rose with the alarm and headed downstairs, Oliver right behind me. I got a coffee and started making my lunch and dinner. A slow cooker beef and tomato casserole was on the menu for dinner and should hopefully last us 2 days. After breakfast I got ready and walked to work, suddenly noticing the cooler weather, creeping in under my jacket. My work day flew by and was highlighted from a visit from my Sister and my Mum. My little sister, Paula, is a fantastic and talented baker and makes the most amazing and imaginative cakes as “the cake fairy”. Shes doing so well with her new business and Im immensely proud of her, I dont think Ive actually told her that, so there you go sis! ( I will tell her in Person too!)

As Ive been planning for my race and trying different fuels, my weapon of choice seems to be flapjacks. However you cant seem to get a really good, moist and calorie laden one without paying a lot of money. A thought popped into my head last week. Could I make them how I wanted? The answer is no I cant bake for toffee (no pun intended), I can cook, make an exquisite sauce but baking seems to allude me. Its a good job I know someone who can. I asked Paula if she could bake me some flapjacks to my specification with the ingredients I needed, such as salt carbohydrate and sugar. She relished the idea and brought me a sample today. It was amazing and she went off to buy the final ingredients. She joked about making them for a living, I will let her know if they work!

I walked home, popped into Tesco for some supplies and made my way home. Oliver was out with his carer so my 4 mile taper run beckoned. I completed the run, had some dinner and tidied up. Oliver was tired when he got back and we played minecraft for a bit before bed.

I cant believe the race in nearly here, Im as excited as I am nervous. Bring it on!!!

Running: 4.41 miles 9.30/mi 40 min

This evenings run was all about keeping my muscles loose and not using too much energy. I ran half of my normal Walney route, keeping my pace light and low. It felt very slow in parts but I was still

going the required pace. Hopefully training at a higher intensity will make the slower pace feel effortless. It certainly did tonight.

My race plan is now set in my head, I know what Im going to do and how Im going to do it. After talking my plans through with my good friend Gareth, he helped me solidify my ideas into a plan. I thought about them as I ran, visualising key points in the route, pulling them from memory. Tonight's run was effortless and I enjoyed the cool evenings breeze while I ran along the trail, watching the sun drop into the ocean, far beyond the horizon. I got home and had a gentle stretch session.

A nice easy run, at a very low intensity and I felt like I could have ran all night.

Food Diary:

Breakfast:

2 pieces of fruit and a flapjack at work (I was busy and ran out of time)

Lunch:

Piri Piri Mackerel Salad with Quinoa, Avocado and egg

Fat Free Yoghurt with Blueberries

Dinner:

Slow Cooked Homemade Beef and Tomato Casserole with Sugar Snap peas and wholegrain rice.

Snacks:

2x apples, banana, nuts and seeds

Dream runner

I was a bit stressed when I left for work this morning. Oliver hadnt had a good night and he ended up asleep on my side of the bed. I slept in his bed (shhh... dont tell but I got the best nights sleep in ages!). Hed struggled last night and we had a bit of a poo incident that left two beds and six towels smeared in the stuff. Joanne was exhausted. It meant there was a ton of washing, ironing and bed making, all waiting for me to return. We were also out of food and waiting for a big shop. There was nothing for lunch so I had to nip to tesco, looking for a healthy meal. Nothing was under my control as I left for work. The guilt rode up as the mess shouted me from the house “come back”, “Joanne cant manage”. I pushed the thoughts aside and made my way to work. On my return the house, mess and jobs were still there, digging their fingers into me, clawing and reminding me to continue. “Dont stop” they said, “dont rest”, “dont you dare stop ”. I really do worry and stress when I have to leave the house upside down. More often than not, Joanne sees Ive not managed that morning and tries to help, hurting herself in the process. Its so frustrating.

Running: 7.14 miles 10 / mile 1hr 15 mi

Alarm rang, eyes opened, 5.15am.

I was dressed, shoes laced, jacket on.

Confused, half asleep but automatic, committed.

A cup of dark liquid steamed,

I stood before the door, the key turned.

I ran.

Morning air, slightly awake.
Torch cuts a bright swathe through the darkness.
The lane jogged, not a thought in my head.
Breath; measured, shallow and calm,
Footsteps; so light and so soft.
I ran

Pace; slow, easy, effortless.
Though inky blackness,
The ocean whispered gently
Trail dark, strange, new and untrodden.
Different but familiar in the warm, early morning.
I ran

Sweat clung to me, hot, sticky, pungent.
Sand moved; soft, moist, malleable.
Pebbles rocked.
Round shadows shifted and danced.
Morning light, rose from black water.
I ran

Figures walked and drove to an early start
Pavement hard, smooth
headlights bright, hurried in the dusk
Home beckoned
Slow down, heart rests
Id ran

A bizarre, semi dreamlike run this morning. I was half asleep, sat back as if in a running armchair, my mind, separate, drifted along side.

Food Diary:

Breakfast:

Oatso Simple with Chia Seeds

Lunch:

Chicken breast salad with humus

Dinner:

Roast chicken with sweet potato mash, carrots and broccoli.

Greek Fat Free Yoghurt

Snacks:

2x Apples, nuts and seeds, 9bar.