tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16303705319450180652024-02-25T03:56:25.340+00:00Nick Ham - long distance runnerNickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07454804247569172043noreply@blogger.comBlogger252125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1630370531945018065.post-76452172905547815412017-04-12T21:09:00.001+01:002017-04-12T21:34:53.869+01:0039th Calderdale Hike 37mi. 01/04/2017.<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
Race 2 of 12
in the 2017 Runfurther ultra-running championships.<o:p></o:p></div>
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A large
turn-out of keen runners descended on Sowerby Cricket Club for the third and
final running of this route. Speedy names and faces I recognised at the start
included Ian Symington, Kevin Hoult, Daniel Page, Chris Davies, Nicky Spinks
and Karen Nash, to name but six.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<o:p>Runners get ready.</o:p></div>
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Dry weather
for over a week would give way to a morning burst of rain just on Saturday. I
expected it to be already with us by the 9am runners’ start but it was delayed by
2 hours. We even enjoyed broken sunshine for a while. The sun was just about shining
on the approach to CP3, Ryburn Reservoir, 4.6mi. I was chatting with Jerome
McAllister, who reminded me that we finished the Bullock Smithy Hike together
in 2015 and that he’s planning to do The Spine next year after completing The Spine
Challenger (the first 100 miles) this year. Rather him than me. I could never
take on such a daunting challenge. On the climb towards CP4 he left me for
dead, never to be seen again (he finished 22mins ahead).<o:p></o:p></div>
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<o:p>CP2 @ Fiddle Lane.</o:p></div>
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<o:p>CP3 @ Ryburn Reservoir, Jerome shortly to disappear.</o:p></div>
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The rain
finally hit at 10:45 on the approach to CP5, Windy Hill, 9.7mi. and was gone
well before CP6, White House, 12.8mi. As the rain began to spit with a black
pall looming ahead, I stopped in a sheltered spot just before emerging onto the
road to put on my lightweight Montane Minimus smock – a rather useless garment
that passes all rules with its taped seams but has always lacked any semblance
of waterproofness. However, I knew it’s all I would need today. As I did this,
a group of runners including Mick Cottam and Ian Hodge overtook me. They didn’t
take my cue. I knew they’d soon regret it; I knew what was coming.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The rain was
driving in heavily as we climbed to the checkpoint via the most direct road
route. I watched those in front struggling with their rucksacks and jackets to
don rain protection on the move when already wet, while I happily trotted up
the road, dry for the moment in my own temporary cocoon, until the seepage
would make me as wet as they already were.<o:p></o:p></div>
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For the
first time, I had my map and compass tucked away in my bum bag. I knew exactly
where I was going. My last reconnoitre of a week earlier had pioneered a final
route optimisation between CP7 and CP8 that avoided the turbine moor. It was much
quicker and more runnable.<o:p></o:p></div>
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We soon
became very spread out and sightings of other runners became less frequent,
with me catching and overtaking earlier-starting walkers, and runners (who had started
at the same time as I) doing the same to me. I always slow down. I was just
keeping Mick and Ian in sight from CP5. At CP7, Sladen Fold, 14.5mi. they were
just leaving as I arrived. I gave chase to see which way they would go. Mick
turned left to take the turbine moor route. Ian followed somewhat indecisively
after appearing to change his mind and direction. I carried on along the canal
towpath for a few miles towards Walsden to take the climb through Ramsden
Woods. Trouble is, the ability to run had all but deserted me now. I struggled
to shuffle my way along as I watched two other runners who had chosen the
parallel road route slowly pull away from me.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The climb
through Ramsden Woods was steep, picturesque and relatively short and it delivered
me to another lane that was once again runnable all the way to CP8, Coolam,
18.9mi. Mick arrived at the same time as I did, from the opposite direction. In
view of my serious slowdown, he would have been a long way ahead had we taken
the same route. He went ahead and was soon out of sight. As for Ian, there was
no sign. I assumed he was ahead and out of sight too.<o:p></o:p></div>
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As in
previous years, my slowdown continued, with running feeling like the most
unnatural thing in the world. As usual, I had to take walking breaks along the
perfectly runnable Limers Gate. Having availed myself of sandwiches whenever
available at the checkpoints, I grabbed another one at CP9, Slate Pit Hill,
21.6mi. Let’s see if that would find its way into the legs.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The descent
to Cornholme through the mountain bike woods was lonely, muddy and treacherous,
from slipping down in the mud and risking crashes with barely-in-control
cyclists. At the bottom in Cornholme, I caught up with a group of walkers –
known LDWA stalwarts – who then proceeded to leave me for dead on the next
climb towards Mount Cross. The sun was now out and it was getting rather warm,
just like in previous years. I didn’t catch up with them until 5 miles later
near the road crossing in Todmorden. Two checkpoints had passed in the
meantime.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<o:p>Stray horses on the Calderdale Way.</o:p></div>
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By now my
body was finally cottoning on to the fact that all this food I was eating
needed to be delivered to the legs to sustain forward motion at a pace that’s
not too embarrassing. I powered my way (relatively speaking) uphill to CP12,
Lumbutts Church, 28.7mi. and then on to CP13, Erringden Grange, 31.7mi. I had
found my equilibrium at last.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<o:p>CP13 @ Erringden Grange.</o:p></div>
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A group had
just overtaken me and I wanted to see if they would take the detour via
Mytholmroyd with its excess descent and ascent. They kept having walking breaks
when I wanted to run, but I held back just enough at a discreet distance. Lo
and behold, they turned left downhill on their wild goose chase and I ploughed
straight ahead in the direction of Hoo Hole, where lo and behold for a second
time, I happened upon Mick Cottam. He mentioned something about a sore foot
that must have been holding him back on the steep descent. I overtook him but
he had me good and proper on the steep, oh so steep climb towards the final
checkpoint, CP14, Nab End Quarry, 34.5mi. He was soon gone to finish 4mins
ahead.<o:p></o:p></div>
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My new
target was now Nigel Ainsworth, who was running along the track as I climbed
towards it. I gave chase out of CP14, expecting to be on the losing end of a
tussle to the finish. However, this time it was my turn for a rare dose of
glory. My tank had something in it for a run all the way downhill to finish in
8:10, while Nigel must have been running on fumes at that point. He came in
just 2 minutes after me. Good effort Nigel after taking the long way ‘round via
Mytholmroyd.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<o:p>Giving chase to Nigel out of CP14.</o:p></div>
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<o:p>Seconds to finish.</o:p></div>
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<o:p>Nigel is close behind.</o:p></div>
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As for Ian,
he was not ahead after all. He finished 55mins after me. There were navigation
issues on the turbine moor, which is not surprising given the fact that this
was his first attempt at this route. I had seen the warning signs with his
floundering after Sladen Fold. The Calderdale Hike does need to be reconnoitred
if you want to avoid frustrating walkabouts.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Up at the
front end, Kevin Hoult won in 5:10, Ian Symington finished 2<sup>nd</sup> in
5:14, John Bottomley was 3<sup>rd</sup> in 5:47 and Daniel Page came 4<sup>th</sup>
in 5:53.<o:p></o:p></div>
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First woman
and 9<sup>th</sup> overall was Nicky Spinks in 6:27. Second woman and 19<sup>th</sup>
overall was Karen Nash in 7:14.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Here’s the
best of the <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/nickham100/albums/72157678988374733" target="_blank">photos</a> I took.<o:p></o:p></div>
Nickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07454804247569172043noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1630370531945018065.post-75100133939644583802017-04-12T20:01:00.000+01:002017-04-12T20:16:56.180+01:00Edale Skyline fell race 21.2mi., 4,643' ascent. 26/03/2017.This was my first time on this one. It does a clockwise circuit of the Edale Valley up and down the surrounding peaks and includes a descent down the other side to Ladybower. It's quite a toughie, even in the glorious wall-to-wall sunshine and dry conditions this year.<br />
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Our first visit to Ringing Roger on the way out.</div>
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Win Hill summit from Ladybower.</div>
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Because it was my first time I'd studied the route in great detail and plotted my maps meticulously, so I knew where I needed to go. Some veterans, on the other hand, who were running on past experience failed to heed this year's route changes, so they went astray. They still finished ahead of me.<br />
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Almost smelling the finish after Grindsbrook Clough.</div>
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I was pleased with my performance and 4:50:05 finish. I knew I couldn't have gone any faster and that I'd pushed to the limit when the lightheaded-bordering-on-collapse feeling came over me after running as fast as my legs would carry me from Ringing Roger back down to the finishing field. I finished in the bottom 18.4% of starters. That's testament to my ropy genes and the quality of athletes that take part in fell races.<br />
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Arriving at the finishing field on the point of collapse (photo courtesy Riccardo Giussani).</div>
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Photo album is <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/nickham100/albums/72157680182374350" target="_blank">here</a>. Just look at that weather and the views.Nickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07454804247569172043noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1630370531945018065.post-81649960463911555392017-03-16T19:40:00.000+00:002017-03-16T21:07:09.757+00:00Haworth Hobble 32mi. 11/03/2017.<div class="MsoNormal">
Race 1 of 12 in the 2017 Runfurther ultra-running
championships.<o:p></o:p></div>
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‘The Hobble’ always has a fast and competitive attendance
but this year’s depth of field was exceptional. In addition to its familiar
status as the first Runfurther race of the year and the first (arguably the largest)
annual gathering of quality trail and fell ultra-runners, it was also a qualifying
race for an international ultra-running championship. For the first time ever,
entries had to be closed in advance at 500. The size of the entry was reflected
by the registration queue, which wound its way out of the school, up the path,
up the steps and onto the road, while the queue for the eight Portaloos snaked
back and forth around the school grounds. A late start was certain. I was
amazed when we were only barely 15 minutes late in shuffling our way up the
Haworth cobbles towards Cemetery Road. Race organiser Brett, out of sight and
earshot up the hill at the head of the throng, must have given the sign.
Hundreds of conversations were suddenly cut short as we got on with the day’s
task.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<o:p>Gassing until the G of the silent BANG.</o:p></div>
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<o:p><br /></o:p></div>
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Bronte Bridge was soon reached. My shoelaces were already
coming undone. The first climb to the stile queue provided the ideal
opportunity to get them sorted out with double knots. We snaked our way via the
first photographers of the day to Top Withins and down to the Walshaw Dean
Reservoirs. The flagstones, which thankfully were dry (apart from the submerged
ones, obviously) made for easy running, while the runner at the front of the
queue prevented overdoing of the effort early on.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Climbing from Bronte Bridge.</div>
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I was feeling good as we approached the first checkpoint at
Widdop Reservoir (7.6 miles). Rick Ansell, a familiar face for many years on
these events, overtook me for the final time as we climbed away from the
reservoir. He slowly disappeared ahead on the long crossing to Hurstwood
Reservoir. A steady stream of runners was now overtaking me. True to form, my
slowdown had already begun. The leader over Top Withins must have been too fast
after all. I’d probably need to set off walking to avoid a slowdown.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Rick follows me out of CP1. He would finish 53 minutes ahead.</div>
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The turbines on steroids (they’re much bigger than they used
to be) loomed into view as we approached Checkpoint 2 at Long Causeway (13.3
miles). The aerofoils disappeared into the cloud base at the top of their
rotation but the day was already shaping up to be warm. What little breeze
there was had disappeared, and humidity was high. I grabbed a quick biscuit in
the hope that its energy would somehow find its way into my legs and keep me
going until Checkpoint 3 at Mount Cross (15 miles).<o:p></o:p></div>
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HOT DOGS, with cooked onions! I stumbled away from CP3 down
the washed-out, freely swilling footpath-cum-stream bed in scoffing heaven.
Ketchup smeared my chops. This would keep me going for a bit.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw9ijou1ZEyma2vVozHue7VG9alUWEFZTx2hlvAQaGgGCnu2pqettZlAZUo9bF-AIaUg12j18cODVUSI5uJnE1nGtI46n0UwfxXwsDKHYuxN25GvDlJwSCnvgdK4xX_HL08WQ2ZfcJCbU/s1600/39_Waiting+for+my+H.D..JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhw9ijou1ZEyma2vVozHue7VG9alUWEFZTx2hlvAQaGgGCnu2pqettZlAZUo9bF-AIaUg12j18cODVUSI5uJnE1nGtI46n0UwfxXwsDKHYuxN25GvDlJwSCnvgdK4xX_HL08WQ2ZfcJCbU/s640/39_Waiting+for+my+H.D..JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Sustenance at CP3.</div>
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For the first time ever we had to queue at the stile at the
bottom in Todmorden. The event really was busy. The climb up the other side was
laboured, to say the least. The hot dog didn’t quite have the effect I’d been
wanting. The legs were emptying fast. Perhaps the whisky at Checkpoint 4 at
Mankinholes (19.2 miles) would sort me out, if there’s any left.<o:p></o:p></div>
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TWO BOTTLES! AMERICAN OAK CASKS!! A snifter was dispensed
and a fairy cake was downed to put out the fire.</div>
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A cheeky little snifter at CP4.</div>
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I set off running along the
path to the foot of Stoodley Pike with renewed vigour. That’s as far as it
lasted. The haul up to the Pike wasn’t pretty. The run/walk down the other side
towards Hebden Bridge wasn’t much better. Andy and Sarah Norman caught me up on
the descent down the road. Comments to the effect of “what are you doing back
here?” were made. On the steep climb up the steps towards Heptonstall I virtually
ground to a halt with no energy, jelly legs and feeling faint. I held onto the
hand rails like some unfit thing who hardly ventures out of the house. Andy and
Sarah said I should be speeding on miles ahead as they left me for dead in
their wake. “Something’s not right”, I thought. “Perhaps I should go to the
doctor for a full service and MOT”. Walking as fast as I could go up the road
to Heptonstall I was still getting overtaken, but all the overtakers were walking
too. I looked forward to the next food infusion at Checkpoint 5, New Bridge
(24.5 miles).<o:p></o:p></div>
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Descending to Hebden Bridge before the haul up to Heptonstall.</div>
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JAM DOUGHNUTS! I sank my teeth into a soft, moist,
luxuriously juicy example as I shuffled my way onwards and upwards. I was still
getting overtaken by others whose walking was more energetic than mine.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I had just about missed my previous PB finish time (5:58) by
the time I arrived at Checkpoint 6 at Grain Water Bridge (27 miles). Another
refill of my water bottle and I was off up the road without wasting a second, in
pursuit of anyone in my sights. I was overheating in the humid, stagnant air so
I removed my long-sleeved running top. I felt an energy return as my sweat
began to evaporate and cool me down. Running vest was far more appropriate
right now. I walked and shuffled my way to Top of Stairs (yes, really), picking
off one or two along the way. However, the group I was really targeting pulled
away on the descent of the treacherous rocky track towards Lower Laithe
Reservoir. I didn’t trust my clumsy jelly legs down that so clumsy bimble it
was for me. I downed my second gel of the day to get me over Penistone Hill
without getting caught. It must have worked because I continued to be the one
doing the catching. However, it wasn’t quite enough to avoid another PW. I ran
in to the finish in 6:51, equalling my PW of 2015, nicely in the bottom 29% of
finishers. The good thing was, I didn’t feel wasted afterwards so I was fit for
a productive first Runfurther committee meeting of the year and late return home.
Being unable to run fast (or run at all) can have its advantages.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD5Xl3wfgljmpl_eeDeOif3KexxxJEx7mPcLJIfX37BaqxYj8hJt8g6cmQymNcE0GPId2FZRdY3J_vrJlj9rCxNN07I5XKCzrVBt6puE4uZjH8UBYg1POdXT827ZSfLI3XX-qq2l2BGjQ/s1600/73_Finish.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD5Xl3wfgljmpl_eeDeOif3KexxxJEx7mPcLJIfX37BaqxYj8hJt8g6cmQymNcE0GPId2FZRdY3J_vrJlj9rCxNN07I5XKCzrVBt6puE4uZjH8UBYg1POdXT827ZSfLI3XX-qq2l2BGjQ/s640/73_Finish.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Seconds to finish.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Now if we look to the front end of the race, Thomas Payne
was the first in 3:54:18 and first woman was Julie Briscoe in 4:31:54. Astonishingly,
the first eight finished in under 4 hours. Furthermore, the previous record (I have no idea) was broken by the first few finishers (can anyone fill me in on the details?). I can image less what it must be like
to cover that distance on foot over that terrain in that time than it must be
to teleport, shape-shift, levitate or penetrate a wormhole through the
space-time continuum to the finishing desk.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I took some <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/nickham100/albums/72157677946825624" target="_blank">pictures</a>, which tend to concentrate around
checkpoints when I wasn’t exerting my supreme efforts, or dying on a climb and seizing an opportunity for a few seconds' rest.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
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SportSunday's pictures are <a href="http://www.sportsunday.co.uk/haworth-hobble-2017" target="_blank">here</a>.</div>
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<br /></div>
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Here are the the WoodenTops pictures:</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://photos.google.com/share/AF1QipNKIvLSBFm85Vx-sKd-zoIjP5lrJPfttxoScMut0l5dQmDWAb3py6uXcyEBKDTRIg?key=dldEbElybWxDalRZbUQxT3FybDR3dUJ2Um9CVlFn" target="_blank">Set 1</a></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<a href="https://photos.google.com/share/AF1QipPOMeAmk0uyhPiMJ5Oa_HKUOn3y_bpn2hHwkSh6765cR7vYOhX1munQqm_9MMHEaw?key=TFVBanFJMWJvVmN5NzItMjdMMFhfbVgtMkNxLXhB" target="_blank">Set 2</a></div>
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<a href="https://photos.google.com/share/AF1QipPL6cra2MMfxKvoEeotuUeWDgbUNTmS5j4kjwKUPHz3uf71U4oOp2vadsraU8dZ8g?key=cHpDaTd6NDNtZjhEbk1KZG9oT0Q3THFYWHdLUmhn" target="_blank">Set 3</a></div>
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<a href="https://photos.google.com/share/AF1QipN2ppR_i0DJnvGCNgtDA-4LoZ4JOOYx8IGuf7_MCezs4ZKkTbTn4KpnFemptAS1ZQ?key=eGVJdWZrN1Y1WUQ5dlZYQmd6TXdWbllnRThjOEZ3" target="_blank">Set 4</a></div>
Nickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07454804247569172043noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1630370531945018065.post-35490270232838139492017-03-15T22:34:00.000+00:002017-03-15T22:34:08.186+00:00So what happened after Lakeland 100 2016?Even though I imagined otherwise, running races proved to be out of the question while the knee recovered from overuse. Both of them had been complaining for years, it has to be said. The increase in shorter faster races (mostly fell) over the past 3 or more years at the expense of some of the Ultras brought me to the brink and the Lakeland 100 was the final nail in the coffin<br />
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<div style="text-align: center;">
Up The Nab English Champs fell race, 07/05/2016, courtesy <a href="http://www.overyonderphotography.com/" target="_blank">Over Yonder Photography</a>.</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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<div style="text-align: left;">
The year became one of DNFs (Did Not Finish), DNSs (Did Not Start) and DNEs (Did Not Enter). Races that I did complete rewarded me with PWs.</div>
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<br /></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
One month after Lakeland 100 at the end of August I was booked to do the <a href="http://utmbmontblanc.com/en/" target="_blank">Ultra Trail du Mont Blanc</a>. I knew it was an impossible ask with my dreadful state of fitness and knee trying to recover, but since everything was already booked with my brother due to join me for the 10-day holiday in Chamonix, I went anyway. I was unsure about even starting but the weather was perfect, if rather warm, so I found myself among the crowd at the start ready to rumble but expecting to crash out on the first descent. Shockingly, as we waited through the announcements with music pounding our bodies, I found myself thinking: "I really don't want to do this".</div>
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Aw do I 'ave to? Can't make me.</div>
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Once underway I couldn't believe how tough the first climb felt. I didn't remember it like this. By the time we descended towards Saint Gervais it got dark. In previous years, darkness hadn't descended until miles past Saint Gervais. Runners were already falling by the wayside with the heat, lying down, vomiting. Fortunately I had no such problems. I had emptied two bottles of drink with electrolytes on that first section. My only problem was weakness and lack of any semblance of pace. Amazingly, the knee was holding out, so I had no excuse but to carry on in spite of my mind telling me otherwise. I departed the checkpoint less than half an hour ahead of the cutoff.</div>
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A little further along as I attended to a loose shoe lace I was caught up by the familiar forms of Martin Thomerson and Brandon Webb. Just when I was so desperate to throw in the towel I had the distraction of a couple of good running friends to snap me out of it and keep me on the running straight and narrow. Martin had almost finished writing a book about his ultra-running experiences and this event would provide the material for the final chapter. I have the book and it's a brilliant read I couldn't put down until I'd finished it. <a href="https://www.amazon.co.uk/Kept-Me-off-Streets-Sleepless/dp/1526203235/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&qid=1489605519&sr=8-1&keywords=it+kept+me+off+the+streets" target="_blank">It Kept Me Off The Streets</a>.</div>
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We ran through the warm night and into the next day, kicking up the dust from the dry trails. With each long, tortuous descent I was prepared for the knee to bring me to a halt, but no. I was able to plod on, checkpoint by widely-spaced checkpoint, to see how I went. As time progressed, my ultimate aim became to reach Courmayeur at 50 miles. This would be way beyond my initial assumption of not starting at all.<br />
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The first warning signs began to appear after dawn on the descent from Col de la Seigne towards Lac Combal, which was hidden beneath a blanket of valley fog.<br />
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Descent from Col de la Seigne.</div>
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The descent was steep and rocky and the knee finally began to 'talk' to me. It wouldn't have been so bad if we could have continued down the track to Lac Combal like in previous years, but a new gratuitous detour redirected us left, back upwards over boulder fields and snow fields to Col des Pyramides. A marshal blocked our passage down the original logical route. When I jokingly pretended to go that way he wagged his finger at me and said: "No no no, it's forbidden." We both had a good laugh before I dutifully turned left, upwards and off-piste with everyone else on the wild goose chase. I could see why the organisers did it. The views were stupendous. However with energy deserting my legs I had to take multiple sit-downs on boulders to eat yet another energy bar, admire the views and watch the stream of walkers plod slowly and wretchedly by, poles-a-clicking. (At least my hand-held bottles were silent.)<br />
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The detour via Col des Pyramides Calcaires.</div>
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I wasted so much time resting I was certain I'd miss the cutoff at Lac Combal. Partly to save the knee, partly through weakness but mostly because I'd given up, I ambled lazily down to Lac Combal ready for an interesting ride down from the mountains to sanctuary, so imagine my surprise to discover that cutoff was still an hour away. Oh bum. I needed rest so I laid down for a shut-eye. The sun warmed me nicely. In previous attempts it has still been in the middle of the night at this point.<br />
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After 20 minutes of listening to goings-on around me, including the departure of a 'retirement bus', feelings of guilt dragged me up to continue my journey along the glaciated valley and to the next climb to Arete du Mont Favre. The sun was high in the sky and it was hot. As we dragged ourselves upwards, the paparazzi helicopter buzzed us repeatedly before landing at the top behind a hillock.<br />
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On the long descending traverse to Col Checrouit I kept a lookout for the mountain top on the left and the Helbronner cable car station. My brother and I had surveyed our route from there a few days before after travelling across from the French side by cable car.<br />
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The checkpoint at Col Checrouit was not far off shutting down when I arrived. Previous times when I've been here we barely had the first signs of dawn in the sky over Courmayeur. Now we were basking in blazing sunshine. A live band was playing. I sat, listened and watched and applauded their skill. I had time to kill. I knew Courmayeur would be my ultimate destination and cutoff my saviour. Guilt finally forced me on my way when the Italian waiter from this mountainside restaurant that formed the checkpoint began to return his tables to normal service (cutlery wrapped in napkins and glass tumblers for water).<br />
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Approaching Col Checrouit.</div>
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I teetered / tottered / bimbled / ambled / whatever-other-slow-adjective-you-can-think-of my way down in the direction of Courmayeur, stopping along the way to take photos of the scenery and overtaking competitors. The temperature was baking so I was content to not be giving a toss and keeping my knee merely talking to me gently instead of screaming in violent protest. By the time I arrived at the bottom in the early afternoon, sunlight flooded the valley with the temperature pushing 30 deg C. In previous years, dawn has only just broken and it would be a long time before sunlight would reach the valley.<br />
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Steep dusty descent to Courmayeur - just what the knees ordered (not).</div>
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The Courmayeur checkpoint seemed strangely dead as I approached. There were no drop-bag monitors looking out for incoming runners and shouting race numbers back to the drop-bag crew. All we got now were the last remaining drop bags left hanging on racks for collection, without fanfare. I grabbed mine and climbed the stairs to the inner sanctum with 12 minutes to spare for a sit-down meal of pasta. My race was over - 50 miles in over 19 hours with some climbing involved.<br />
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Courmayeur - dead upon arrival.</div>
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For 50 miles I took a ton of <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/nickham100/sets/72157674239728315/" target="_blank">pictures</a>. It's the scenery.<br />
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<b><u>Conclusion</u></b><br />
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Backing off on the speed and volume of running has done nothing for the fitness but it's allowed the knees to recover from the weekly hammering I'd been giving them. They feel better than they've done in years.<br />
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<b>Some statistics for 2016:</b><br />
Total distance >1,523 miles<br />
Number of Ultras 11<br />
Total Ultras (1996 - 2016) 200*<br />
Number of races 74<br />
Number of PBs 3<br />
Number of PWs 17<br />
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* The Round Rotherham 50-miler in October (where I got a PW, naturally) was my 200th ultra-marathon.</div>
Nickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07454804247569172043noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1630370531945018065.post-88738569693334010492017-03-14T20:00:00.000+00:002017-03-14T20:00:16.134+00:00Two more Lakeland 100s came and went<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmJexC9bpQfhDqrtXTdT5pnb1lNMGM4OUVSDKwVOPTqgcCT6GmH3znVGY7khkVFG28nRr5anMRTJWd2S3bncv6w4jf4eSB6FVcGUynRqnk6awcNvKI3uvmWWrfP7GzID3U8hAG6-1-ZFc/s1600/069_Little+Dave+presides+over+CP6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjmJexC9bpQfhDqrtXTdT5pnb1lNMGM4OUVSDKwVOPTqgcCT6GmH3znVGY7khkVFG28nRr5anMRTJWd2S3bncv6w4jf4eSB6FVcGUynRqnk6awcNvKI3uvmWWrfP7GzID3U8hAG6-1-ZFc/s320/069_Little+Dave+presides+over+CP6.jpg" width="198" /></a><b><u>Lakeland 100 2015</u></b> rolled on by, where I ran in a pink tutu in honour of LittleDave Cumins, checkpoint captain extraordinaire at the Blencathra Centre. It was a strangely liberating and comfortable experience - despite the normal running attire underneath. ;-) It also served to mark the special occasion of my 500 mile award (five Lakeland 100s completed). Finishing time was 35:25:02 but that was after going backwards after Ambleside. After being on PB pace through the pub-goers of Ambleside with daylight to spare, the wheels well and truly fell off and the last 15 miles took me 8 hours to grind out. Night fell and sunrise returned during those 15 miles.<br />
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LittleDave appears right, resplendent in pink at Blencathra.</div>
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Dressing up by the checkpoint marshals has become a theme to add levity to the proceedings when the going gets tough. They compete to outdo each other. One or two runners give them a good 'run' for their money. L50 runner James Harris caught up with me as I left the Mardale Head checkpoint.<br />
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The full photo album can be found <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26082075@N05/sets/72157656672164912/" target="_blank">here</a>.</div>
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Nick and James at Mardale Head.<br />
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The coveted 500 mile award in 2015.<br />
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Then <b><u>Lakeland 100 2016</u></b> was soon upon us alarmingly quickly, with a few PBs and PWs in between (more PWs of late as the year marches on). This would be my 50th race, 9th Ultra and 2nd Hundred of the year. I was set up for an easier pace with Stuart Blofeld. Stu had recently completed the <a href="http://www.wawaudax.com/route.html" target="_blank">Wild Atlantic Way Audax</a> on his <a href="http://www.elliptigo.co.uk/?gclid=CIfpu6yY0s4CFUe3GwodaDEDsQ" target="_blank">ElliptiGO</a> bike, an awesome achievement, so he wasn't planning on going fast. I would tag along with him in an orange tutu this time (less of a clash with the running club colours, don't you know). The weather was perfect - not too hot and it didn't rain. We jogged along through a warm and sweaty night (a familiar scenario on the L100) into a new dawn on Saturday at Braithwaite. The diversion after Blencathra due to the washed-out bridge had us bypassing the perfectly safe road crossing via the bicycle/pedestrian refuge to go 'round the houses' via the additional self clip to arrive back to where we could have been <u>quite safely</u> 10 minutes earlier. Jenni Cox, who was in our running group at that point, had her ear bent about 'elf an'safety nanny state gawn maird'.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd7RTT-0-4WRqNANL4D29CzMJZK-chPDAqQ27BuNrGj1YchFnzgEsMhE8jnOVm-F6UXeSXrJXHp4In-qA2SvoEHlgGDK75SG0zDWPA9zpa19c4InpLBwNUyd9d0itBS_vZI9QJirsLMgM/s1600/067_Little+Dave%252C+CP6+chief.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhd7RTT-0-4WRqNANL4D29CzMJZK-chPDAqQ27BuNrGj1YchFnzgEsMhE8jnOVm-F6UXeSXrJXHp4In-qA2SvoEHlgGDK75SG0zDWPA9zpa19c4InpLBwNUyd9d0itBS_vZI9QJirsLMgM/s400/067_Little+Dave%252C+CP6+chief.jpg" width="255" /></a>Shuffling our way along the wrecked coach road to Dockray (those floods really did do some damage), the midges were mercifully scarce this year. I can't imagine why. The long section to Dalemain saw us enter the estate just after the L50 runners had been released. They would be on their circuit of the estate. I felt compelled to run as fast as I could to reach checkpoint and drop bag sanctuary before the first L50 runner caught us. This was the best time to arrive at Dalemain because the support from all the L50 supporters was so uplifting. I think they were cheering the tutu though. We all made it with time to spare. As we sat in the tent and the L50 runners streamed past, a streak of pink signalled the passage of LittleDave Cumins. He had managed the Blencathra checkpoint once again through the night before shutting up shop and getting himself to the L50 start to run it in a blistering 11 hours.<br />
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(Fairies reunite and clash colours at Blencathra.)<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7nLOL7tr5KXDeiyRDimgBkgeFDmQu1b7V7V0iWJmakeBnGw_D9hSYJmg3ph6dIySDJPaFWzzJbC2J_lHGFKuxjUpDG4uNqVdBoClJtB2DxeocU3B7HtsrDyjFlHt_tAUNBEq2W6RIJDE/s1600/Pooley+Bridge.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7nLOL7tr5KXDeiyRDimgBkgeFDmQu1b7V7V0iWJmakeBnGw_D9hSYJmg3ph6dIySDJPaFWzzJbC2J_lHGFKuxjUpDG4uNqVdBoClJtB2DxeocU3B7HtsrDyjFlHt_tAUNBEq2W6RIJDE/s400/Pooley+Bridge.jpg" width="260" /></a>Suitably refreshed and re-socked to stave off trench foot and blisters, Stu and I were on our way to Howtown and beyond. As we ran through Pooley Bridge I was greeted by Mark Willet, who just happened to be walking along. I'm sure it must have had something to do with this most auspicious weekend. Great to see you, Mark.<br />
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(Pooley Bridge photo courtesy of Mark Willet.)<br />
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We mostly walked to Howtown in the afternoon heat. I tried to run a few times but soon gave up. Walking was definitely on the menu.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgktu7obYe9v4tfilMw5yKSevLsyfefHZSO_EPsCHxDlE7qipFwcPArytOtReyJsSZO6cR_41YaEq8cxKH3bXJEPDsU0omzhbkklwCNpe-EyCQFR_LrfI9QvKrMI7tnHA7CcbCbQOkZaDk/s1600/101_CP9+%2540+Howtown.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgktu7obYe9v4tfilMw5yKSevLsyfefHZSO_EPsCHxDlE7qipFwcPArytOtReyJsSZO6cR_41YaEq8cxKH3bXJEPDsU0omzhbkklwCNpe-EyCQFR_LrfI9QvKrMI7tnHA7CcbCbQOkZaDk/s400/101_CP9+%2540+Howtown.jpg" width="256" /></a>The hillbillies and cowboys at Howtown were really uplifting. This is essential at this stage, where we L100 runners are experiencing the suffer-fest. It's probably the heat of the afternoon taking its toll. When we arrived I was taken aback by ".... is all we've got left" ending the description of available comestibles. Surely we're not that far back down the field? Nevertheless, suitably refreshed (I would never have known), Stu and I plodded our way up Fusedale past the false summit to the ultimate high point at High Kop. From there we should have been able to run down to Low Kop but the legs were having none of it. I plodded, bringing up the rear.<br />
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The descent to Haweswater continued in the same vein until my left knee began to protest with alarming ferocity (strange, since it's always been the right one that's niggled the most for the past 7 years or more). By the time we reached the interminable 'path' beside Haweswater I couldn't load the knee at all. I'd already downed some Ibuprofen, which had done nothing for the pain. Stu offered a couple of Paracetamol. I'd not tried those before under such dire circumstances but I was willing to try anything. As I struggled along the minor descents over the next hour, standing and wondering how I could negotiate them and manage the pain, I realised that the Paracetamol were doing nothing either. The pain just got worse. I was crippled to a standstill. Tears of anger and screaming frustration welled up. There was no way I'd be able to manage the final 29 miles of ascents and DESCENTS after Mardale Head if a simple step down caused so much pain. Even walking on the flat and uphill was getting painful as I dragged in to Mardale Head at 75 miles, the most remote checkpoint where I would never choose to withdraw, no matter how bad things were. Trouble is, I couldn't walk any more.<br />
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Mardale Head: Stu would continue, I would stop.</div>
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I asked for a medic to give me a once over. She tested for quad tightness, leg flexibility, any signs of pain with passive bending of the leg. Nothing. I was in good shape. Yeah, right. Try active bending of the leg. Get me to walk down a step, a gentle slope and you'll soon know about it. My Sportident dibber was unceremoniously hacked from my right wrist and I was officially retired from my 6th Lakeland 100. Stu had stuck with me dutifully as I dragged in to Mardale but he was now free to continue without external impediment to his first L100 finish. Thanks Stu for your company and support while I wallowed in self pity.<br />
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I realised afterwards that I should have offered him the tutu to continue its journey to the end. Perhaps I saved him from embarrassment by not 'thinking on' and foisting it upon him. I sat in the checkpoint drinking tea and soup and eating sandwiches provided by the caring marshals. I'd been cooking a load for a good few hours by now so I seized the opportunity of my retirement to have a relaxing sit-down and add to the pile in one of the two well-used Portaloos, still toasty from the day's unbroken sunshine. Flies tickled my bottom as I relaxed and pondered my ignominious situation. The fact that I have to use such facilities these days on a Hundred tells me how well I eat compared to years ago, when the need never arose until well after the finish.<br />
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After returning to the checkpoint I soon began to shiver in the rapidly cooling evening air. A frigid night was in store. A marshal suggested I board the retirement bus ready for the next departure after dark. Very soon I couldn't bear to sit in a seat with legs screaming with pain as they began their recovery process. I had to get out and walk around to get some relief. I was shivering uncontrollably. A kindly marshal offered me a place in her car as she was about to return to Coniston. Another needy retiree joined us. Oh the joy: I could sit with legs outstretched. On the way we did a circuit of Ambleside in the last remnants of dusk to cheer the runners on. I should have been right there right then, getting cheered at myself.<br />
<br />
I made my first ever premature return to the school without announcement or fanfare, sidling my way in sideways hoping to go unnoticed; no medal, no T-shirt. I'm not used to this. The good thing was that Stu went on to finish successfully on Sunday morning after 38 hours and 15 minutes out there.<br />
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Saturday night recovery positions at Coniston.</div>
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Stu completes in 38hrs 15mins.</div>
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Stu took a <a href="http://ultradiscostu.blogspot.co.uk/2016/10/lakeland-100-uk-ultra-marathon-2016.html" target="_blank">video record</a> of the event.<br />
<br />
My full photo album is <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/nickham100/sets/72157670877737770/" target="_blank">here</a>.</div>
Nickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07454804247569172043noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1630370531945018065.post-48170940077249503422016-07-11T22:30:00.001+01:002016-07-11T23:17:55.834+01:00Montane Lakeland 100 (105mi.) Fri 25 - Sun 27/07/2014.<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 13.3333px;">Nearly 2 years overdue but I thought it was about time I finished this report with L100 2016 nearly upon us.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 10pt;">I wasn’t in tip-top
condition for this. From being fighting fit a week earlier with 4 PBs for the
month, infection, fever and a strong course of antibiotics that would end as
the race began had left me feeling less than energetic.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">The long hot summer
of 2014 was continuing very nicely when I arrived in Coniston on Thursday
afternoon. A notice on the door of the B&B asked guests to check their
shoes for contamination before entering. A recent cheapskate cosmetic tarting-up
of the local roads, combined with the hot sunshine, was resulting in tar and
gravel being trodden in. Friday was forecast to be equally hot. If it was hot
enough to be melting tar I feared melting ultra-runners as well. It was going
to be tough.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Before dinner I
wandered around to the school to begin to soak up the atmosphere. They were
beavering away getting things ready. A major delivery of provisions had just
arrived. I joined many others with the unloading, carrying and storing while
Marc ticked things off his long list. Many hands made light work but even so,
dinner was severely delayed. There was LOADS of stuff. The ‘Rola Cola’ alone
was at risk of creating its own gravitational disturbance. I marvelled at the
logistical enormity of the whole operation.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">A hearty breakfast on
Friday continued my strength build-up. I drove around to the school to park up
for the weekend. Registration was slicker than ever:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Follow the barriers
through kit check;<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Race pack collection;<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">SPORTident timing dibber
fitting to wrist;<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Weighing – 62.9kg – I’d
lost 2kg.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">The rest of the day
was mine to relax, chat with new arrivals, doze in the car (I needed the doors
open for cooling even though I was parked under the shade of a tree), eat
lunch. Mmmm, fish and chips. Stephen McAllister knows what’s good for him.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Pre-race fuelling.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">The race briefing at
16:30 was as informative and entertaining as ever. Race Organiser Marc
Laithwaite hit the nail on the head with his analysis of the reason people give
for running an Ultra:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">“Why?”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">“To challenge
myself.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">But it only becomes a
challenge when it becomes difficult, when the suffering really sets in. When
you’re sitting at a checkpoint feeling bad, you have a choice. You can decide
to call it a day and end your suffering early or you can decide to get up, walk
out and continue your journey to the end. Barring physical injury (forget
superficial tissue damage like blisters) it all depends on mental fortitude to
keep going. <u>Then</u> you’re challenging yourself.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">I would try to keep
those thoughts in my mind and hope that they would get me through to the end.
This might have been my 19<sup>th</sup> Hundred and 4<sup>th</sup> Lakeland 100
but nothing’s guaranteed and I certainly wasn’t feeling invincible. To add an
extra minor uncertainty I would be trying a brand new pair of Scarpa trail shoes
just picked up on Thursday morning. They felt very comfortable so I wasn’t too
worried.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">I had another
lie-down in the cool of the school before the start, delaying until the last
minute my exit to deposit my drop bag in the heat. It contained precious ham
rolls that had to last another 3 days. As we waited to funnel into the starting
pen, Charlie Sharpe came up to say ‘ow do. Although I’d followed his impressive
exploits on Facebook (he’s a bit of an animal is Charlie), the last time we’d
spoken in person was after the Tour de Helvellyn last December. My money was on
him as a possible winner. Garry Scott was another good running acquaintance
that was remade. The Lakeland 100 is good for bringing us together like that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Finally we filed into
the pen, dibbing to register our participation as we went. I immediately took
up position trespassing near the front line to mix it with the big boys. Crowds
lined the barriers inside the school grounds and out onto the streets. Former
L100 winner Stuart Mills called across from the other side of the barriers.
He’d be running the L50. He wished me luck. I suspect he was thankful not to be
setting off in this oven we were experiencing. It was in the high twenties and
the sun baked us, aided and abetted by high humidity and zero breeze.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Just before the start
the adopted L100 theme song (or dirge if it's not your cup of coffee; I prefer tea), Nessun Dorma, was belted
out over the PA by professional tenor <a href="http://www.alexanderwall.co.uk/" target="_blank">Alexander Wall</a>. He coped amazingly well despite the dodgy PA with blown tweeters (just like the old Peaveys in the school hall) and DJ mode which shut off the orchestra backing whenever he sang. Like a true professional he kept perfect time and tune while having to sing from memory, audible cues only appearing when he paused and the orchestra burst forth once again. Come on Marc, get it sorted for 2016. I offered my services on your blog post but the comment failed to appear.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Good singer, shame about the equipment.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Coniston to CP1
Seathwaite (7.0 miles)<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">We were off, running
at conservative pace through Coniston to the cheer of the crowds. We joined the
stony track that climbed out of Coniston, where those with any sense and those
without superhuman tendencies slowed to a walk. I welcomed the break already. It
was hot. Ben Abdelnoor was cheering from the side lines. I assumed he’d be
doing the L50 again and wished him luck, but he wasn’t this year.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">The SportSunday
photographers were in their usual place near the start of the Walna Scar Road,
capturing some superb images in the strong evening sunshine.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">I sensed right from
the start that my fitness was lacking. Where I ran last year, I jogged. Where I
jogged last year, I walked. Where last year I ran from the summit of the Walna
Scar Road as if on a fell race overtaking all before me, this year I tottered
clumsily and weakly while everyone else overtook me instead. I was already 8
minutes behind last year’s time at CP1 but the thought of not finishing never
entered my head. I’d emptied my drink bottles and needed a major refill plus
electrolyte infusion. That first checkpoint was manic with water all over the
kitchen floor and severely overloaded marshals.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Seathwaite to CP2
Boot (14.0 miles)<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">I was doing so much
walking as our journey continued in the sultry evening with the setting sun
glaring in our faces. I was 28 minutes down by the time I arrived at CP2 in
fading light, resigned to my slower pace. I’d enjoyed some more banter with the
SportSunday photographers before the checkpoint, to which a fellow runner
remarked: “Would you mind curbing your fan club, Nick.” I laughed some more.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">The steep descent to Eskdale before CP2 @ Boot.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Boot to CP3 Wasdale Head (19.4 miles)<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Sun shade cap got swapped
for head torch before leaving CP2. It was virtually dark by the time I reached
Burnmoor Tarn. Last year I’d have been at Wasdale Head by now. I’d resisted
switching my head torch on. I took the obligatory photo of the tarn in the
gloaming, this time having to rest the back of the camera on the footbridge cross-member
to steady it for the 1.5 second exposure time.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">We were made to feel
loved as we passed through the gate onto the grassy footpath before CP3. An
arrow pointed the way and the notice read: “Beautiful people this way”. The
marshals on this event are second to none with their encouragement. They all wore
marshal T shirts with “Supporting the legends” printed on the back. Cheering
and bell-ringing led us to CP3 in the barn, which was as colourful as ever with
its disco lights and hippy personnel. I was 45 minutes down here but did I
care?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">I’d swapped back and
forth with Fredelina Yong. We’d done battle on a couple of local fell races
earlier this year, me beating her once and her beating me once. We were good
competition for each other. She came in to the checkpoint just as I was about
to leave. I’d be seeing more of her I was sure.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Wasdale Head to CP4 Buttermere (26.3 miles)<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">I left CP3 with
renewed vigour, overtaking others on the climb to Black Sail Pass. The steep
descent to the River Liza and Black Sail Yoof ‘ostel is rough and treacherous
at the best of times, but in the dark it’s something else. Head torches spread
out below me as I descended in their general direction. I soon realised that I
was on a pleasant though very steep grassy descent that was better than I
recalled, and it was dry. A prominence of land loomed to my right. The closer
runners I’d been chasing were no longer in view. I must have inadvertently
drifted off the path to the left and they must have been over the other side on
my right. I wasn’t concerned because I was still descending in the right
direction, and underfoot conditions couldn’t have been better. Further down at
the end of the prominence, the other runners appeared and our paths merged onto
the final boggy descent to the footbridge. (That bit is never dry, even in dry conditions
like now.) At the bottom I looked back up at the pursuing head torches scattered
across the fell side.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">I’d forgotten how
tough the next climb and descent to Buttermere is. On the climb a runner was
bent over by the side of the path, vomiting repeatedly. He must have emptied
the contents of his stomach, and some. We asked after his welfare. I asked if
he wanted a message relaying to the next checkpoint. He said yes. I memorised
No. 17. I feared it would be a long delay because I wasn’t moving fast at all.
I walked most of it, taking the right fork and lakeside path for the first time
on the approach to Buttermere (it’s much better with fewer undulations than keeping
straight on).<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">I was 1hr 5mins down
at CP4 and it had taken me nearly 8 hours to run a marathon. We were still
legends though. I informed a marshal about stricken number 17. I was genuinely
concerned about him and wondered how he’d make it all that way to sanctuary
when so incapacitated. Only afterwards when I checked the results to see what
became of him did I discover that not only did he finish, he actually caught me
up at that checkpoint!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">I enjoyed my first
ham roll to get me fuelled and on my way to Braithwaite. So far my fuelling and
hydration had been going well, with no nausea and no extreme lows, but it was
still early days.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Wasdale Head to CP5 Braithwaite (32.8 miles)<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">I always look forward
to this section. It’s challenging and interesting even in the dark – ascend around
three inlets, fork left, climb some more to the top then navigate and descend
very carefully; it’s steep. We moved under a clear, moonless, starry sky. The
air remained warm and sultry and I was sweating still in the shorts and
sleeveless base layer I started with. I began to dread sunrise and the heat that
would come with it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">The first signs of
dawn were already starting to appear as we descended towards Braithwaite. I
would have left Braithwaite by this point last year. I was pleased though to
see more of my surroundings than I’m used to at this point.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">It’s a long descent
before we finally fork left through Barrow Door just before Barrow hill. A
couple of head torches could be seen wandering about on the top. They’d failed
to take the fork. They set off in pursuit when they saw my head torch on the
correct path. They soon overtook me.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">As we enter
Braithwaite and the sharp right turn that zigzags down to the bottom, it’s
surprising how others continue straight on to take the long way round. This
year was no exception. I called them back but they knew best. I’d gained on them
and a few more as we arrived at the church hall. I was now 1hr 6mins down –
just about ‘holding my own’.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Every year,
Braithwaite provides the first scene of proper suffering, with runners trying
to nurse themselves back to health with the right amounts of the right food and
the right drink to allow them to carry on. I didn’t feel too bad considering. I
felt like an impostor in an institution of wretchedness. Tony and Giselle
Dudley and helpers do a grand job every year, helping us back to health here.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Images of wretchedness abound at Braithwaite.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Braithwaite to CP6 Blencathra Centre (41.3 miles)<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">As always, the air
felt frigid upon exiting the church hall even though it was well after
daybreak. It is because this is a low point and the cold air always gathers in
the valleys. It would get much warmer again as we gained altitude.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">On the gradual climb
to the first self-dib point I caught up with Raj Madhas, who was taping his
feet. They were not in a good way. Raj was another runner I’d swapped back and
forth with over the miles. As I plodded onward it wasn’t long before he came
running past. He must have some magic tape. As for my own feet, everything felt
fine apart from pressure points making themselves felt on the tops.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">The sun rose unbroken
and unobscured in clear sky as we approached the self-dib. I wanted shelter
from it. We got that when we crossed to the other side of the valley for our
descent towards the Blencathra Centre. I walked most of the way. I tried to run
but the legs were having none of it. I got overtaken aplenty.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">I knew that CP6 had a
new crew – Team Little Dave – but I did not expect to be greeted by a pink
fairy. Even the Union Jack was colour coordinated. Little Dave, a top bloke if
ever there was one, had excelled himself to lift our spirits and lighten our
early morning Lakeland 100 misery (well, this is a common low point). However I
wasn’t feeling too bad, still managing to avoid any major lows. I was now 1hr
7mins down so still just about ‘holding my own’. Second ham roll got scoffed
here for the next long stage.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">CP6 had improved
under its new leadership – less sterile and more homely. The camouflage
‘modesty screens’ probably added that extra feeling of intimacy / cosiness /
homeliness. If you want to know how that works you’ll have to do the event next
year. Little Dave knows what he’s doing.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 13.3333px;">The fairy flits around his domain at Blencathra.</span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Blencathra Centre to CP7 Dockray (49.0 miles)<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">We negotiated the
fallen tree just after CP6 that we’d been warned about. On the descent of the
lane and right turn through the gate to the railway track bed, three open air
campers were sleeping on the left. Either they were pretending to sleep or they
were inebriated, because the regular clanging of that gate since dark o’clock would
surely have prevented any normal sleep.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">The climb to the old
coach road was completely dry and bog-free. The sun was higher in the sky than
I’m used to at this point, but thankfully the intensity I’d been fearing overnight
was now being slightly tempered by some high level cloud.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">The coach road
dragged on interminably, especially when mostly walked. As we approached CP7 we
were greeted by cheering, bell-ringing marshals. Such encouragement is
priceless on an event like this. One of them commented to me: “I’m glad I
didn’t have to come out to meet you this year.” Quite, and what a memory. No
fuelling problems this year. </span><span style="font-family: "wingdings"; font-size: 10.0pt;">J</span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;"> I was now back to 48
minutes down, due mainly to the multiple sit-downs I had to take last year until
the digestion came back to life.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">I tried to recapture
some of last year’s fuelling magic at Dockray. I finished the third ham roll
I’d started on the coach road and washed it down with the first strong coffee of
the event to really kick the digestion into action like it did last year.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Dockray to CP8 Dalemain (59.1 miles)<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">The fuelling worked
to a degree. I was running and catching people again for a few miles. On the
path around Gowbarrow Park overlooking Ullswater it was as hot as ever. 2014
was right up there with the hottest of them.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">By the time we
reached the lanes into Dacre I was reduced once more to a walk. Those I’d
caught and been running with disappeared into the distance. I needed a bottle
refill to mix some electrolytes and started to scan buildings for outside taps.
Soon I passed a farm with someone working outside. I walked up to beg for water.
He already seemed to know what we were doing and was happy to oblige. He led me
into a dingy barn and switched on the 60W bulb. It made no difference. We could
just about make out two taps on the wall, one hot and one cold. He tried both.
“I’m not sure which one’s the cold one. I think it’s this one.” He left it
running for me to fill my bottle. It was tepid but I put that down to the
exceptionally warm summer we were enjoying. I thanked him and wandered up the
road to sit cross-legged to get the electrolyte tablet to pop in. I thought
about the taps, their plumbing arrangement and the sound the water had made as
it came out. A horrible thought began to dawn on me. There had been an absence
of hiss, which suggested an absence of pressure:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">“That was the hot tap
he made me fill my bottle from!”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Images of a polluted
header tank with unmentionable dead things in it flooded my mind. This might
provide the tipping point to hospitalisation on top of the sweating and gently festering
ham rolls that were keeping me going.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Due to my slower pace
and the half-hour earlier start time of the Lakeland 50 (11:30 instead of
12:00) I had not expected to see any L50 runners, so I was delighted to see
streams of runners circling the perimeter of the Dalemain Estate as I entered.
I found their encouragement to be really uplifting when they saw the L100 race
number on my backpack and broke out into spontaneous applause. This event
really has got every detail covered to create the best possible ultra-running family
of mutual understanding and respect. Name, number and event on backpack inform following
runners, allowing them to pass comment or whatever, should they so wish.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Applauding 50-milers leave me standing at Dalemain.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">I was ready for a
sit-down upon my arrival at CP8. I was back to 1 hour down but I couldn’t give
a whatsit. I was doing the best I could and I was resigned to it taking longer.
I was still moving forward and feeling as contented as it was possible to feel
at 59 miles of the Lakeland 100. I sat cross-legged on the grass in the
marquee. A marshal brought my drop bag in double quick time and I gave my
camera lens its first proper clean (rather than a smearing on my shorts) using
a fresh sock. Ultra-running animals and legends Jon Steele and John Vernon gave
their encouragement from outside (penetration of our inner sanctum was
forbidden). I was waited on with meat stew and bread, Swiss roll and custard,
and tea. Raj Madhas sat in the corner tending to his feet again. This would be
the last time I’d see him before the finish (and finish he did). With a fresh
pair of socks and a restocking of supplies including three more ham rolls, nicely
warmed and humming quietly to themselves, I gave my thanks and departed.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;"><br /></span></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">The Dalemain sanctuary.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Jon and John look in from beyond the threshold.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Dalemain to CP9 Howtown (66.2 miles)<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">The early afternoon
sunshine was at full strength again as I walked away feeling contentedly
fuelled. I was alone again but it wasn’t long before I caught up with a lone
100-miler followed by the 50-mile </span><span style="font-size: 13.3333px;">back marker</span><span style="font-size: 10pt;">. It was nice to chat in passing. On
the climb out of Pooley Bridge the suffering really began to set in. Digestion
was showing the first signs of rebellion and I was not able to drink as much as
I should. I walked virtually every step to Howtown, by which point I was in serious
drink deficit.<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Little Dave was on
his way back up the hill as I descended to CP9. He was doing the L50 with his
brother. Mutual encouragement flowed freely. He told me afterwards that I’d
looked rough.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">I wandered into the
checkpoint 1hr 17mins down, worried at the state I’d suddenly found myself in
and genuinely fearful for the next long, tough, hot, exposed stage to Mardale
Head. It would be foolhardy to start it. Garry Scott reminded me afterwards
that he spoke to me and helped while he was waiting for the bus transport back
to base. He had retired a few hours earlier. I had little recollection of this.
Was I really that far gone?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">What I do remember is
struggling to find level ground for the chair I was sitting on and a marshal
expressing concern for the runner who’d been lying down to recover before going
off for a swim in the lake to cool off. She’d given him strict instructions to
paddle, not swim (for obvious safety reasons) and he still wasn’t back. A short
while later, Brian ‘Stolly’ Stallwood appeared looking very wet.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">“Did you swim?” she asked.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">“Yes”.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">“Naughty boy. I’ll
confiscate your strawberries for disobeying orders.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Stolly had decided to
call it a day. He was burning up in the heat and could not imagine embarking on
the next stage up Fusedale. This reinforced my own fears. I downed the
remainder of the electrolyte drink made with the header tank water at Dacre plus
another bottle with the last of the checkpoint’s orange squash. I began to feel
a bit more lucid.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">With drink bottles
topped up (water in right hand and Cola in left as usual) I stood up with Marc
Laithwaite’s words ringing in my ears. I chose to walk out and continue on my
way despite the voice of sense and rationality in my head telling me to stop. A
sign at the exit that said “Just get on with it” helped to galvanise me into
action.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Venturing forth into the unknown.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Howtown to CP10 Mardale Head (75.6 miles)<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">I knew I was doing
everything in my power not to fail as I walked up that lane in ‘the oven’. I
had as much drink as I could carry and I knew the streams where I could top up
when (not if) it ran out. I had more than enough food to keep me going for
hours. I had my sun cap to keep the worst of the sun’s heat off my head. I had
the emergency survival gear we must take on events of this nature. I’d just
keep putting one foot in front of the other. If it went really pear shaped on
the climb I could turn around and go back to the checkpoint.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">I crossed the
footbridge that led us back onto the fell. A female runner was in distress by
the side of the path with a male runner giving advice and spelling out her
options, one of which was to return to Howtown. It was sobering. As we ascended
Fusedale I realised that I was catching and overtaking both L50 and L100
runners (don’t know why but that always seems to happen here, no matter how
slowly I think I’m going). I arrived at the oasis where the stream passed
underneath the path and a weather-beaten tree provided shade. Runners were
sitting in recovery, drinking from the stream or cooling themselves in it,
dipping caps and refilling water bottles. I felt no need for any of that and
walked on through.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Resting in the shadow by the oasis.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">As I climbed, people
in varying states of disrepair rested by the side of the path, sitting, bent
over looking quite ill, vomiting, or lying down trying to grab 40 winks in the
blazing sunshine. As the path became rather steep a woman was sitting by the
side in tears. I asked what was wrong. She was having a panic attack over the
enormity of what she had taken on. I could understand because I hadn’t been far
off that myself. I tried to help her to rationalise her thoughts:<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Did she have plenty
of drink with her? Check.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Did she have plenty
of food? Check.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Sun protection, cap,
etc.? Check.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">I explained that
there are streams where she can refill her bottles if her supplies ran out. If
she carried on putting one foot in front of the other, looking after herself
along the way, she’d get there no problem. If she really didn’t think she could
go on, the best would be to walk back down to Howtown. I don’t know if she
continued. I hope she did.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">I began to realise
that the sun wasn’t as intense as it could have been. A high layer of thin
cloud had moved in to take the heat off. In addition, a cooling breeze kept
blowing from over the hill. By the time I reached the high point of the event
at High Kop, conditions were quite pleasant and bearable. However the oomph was
deserting my legs once again and the runners I’d overtaken on the climb now began
to overtake me on the descent.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">By the descent
towards Haweswater I had to sit down to eat ham roll number 4 (the first of the
ones that had stewed in my drop bag). I washed it down with the remainder of
the Cola I’d carried from Howtown. At the big footbridge I refilled the freshly
emptied bottle in the stream. I found the new improved path to the right that
joined the narrow, undulating rocky path beside Haweswater, by which point I
was feeling surprisingly energetic again. I ran most of that path (at least the
parts that are runnable) to Mardale Head, overtaking many L50 and a few L100
runners in the process. Even so, the checkpoint took much longer to appear than
I thought it would. That path really does drag on.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">I was 1hr 37mins down
by the time I arrived. Steve Mee was a familiar friendly face helping out on
the checkpoint. I asked for a Cola top-up. “Sorry, none left.” The checkpoint
looked rather depleted as if I was Tail End Charlie, but cut-off was still a
long way off yet and there were still plenty of runners behind me. This was the
only checkpoint that appeared prematurely run-down like this. I know it’s
remote but I hope it can be better supplied in future.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Arriving at Mardale Head. The Rola Cola wasn't the only thing in drought.</span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Mardale Head to CP11 Kentmere (82.1 miles)<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">I set off climbing to
the next pass and soon forgot about the Cola denial. As in previous years, the
clouds were beginning to thicken. The descent of the other side down that
rocky, treacherous track was even more interminable and unrunnable than ever. I
couldn’t do anything other than walk. As Kentmere gradually drew closer, true
to form the first rain started to fall. I just avoided having to put
waterproofs on before arriving at the Institute. Does it ever not rain at
Kentmere? I was now 1hr 43mins down.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Jenn Gaskell provided
a warm welcome and waited on me admirably with tea, smoothie and savoury pasta.
They really hit the spot. Jenn has taken on some serious Ultra challenges in
recent years so she instinctively knew what we needed. I took my time emptying
my shoes of stones and letting my increasingly sore feet dry out a little. All
this walking was tugging at the soles, causing them to break down. That’s
normal. What wasn’t normal was the pressure point that had definitely developed
on the 5<sup>th</sup> metatarsal on my right foot. The shoe uppers seemed to be
less than ideal.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Jenn provides a nice welcome at Kentmere.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">The rain was still
coming down so on went the waterproof top and bottoms. It was also well on the
way to getting dark so camera got put away and sun cap got swapped for head
torch once more in readiness for the second night. I felt in no mood to venture
out again but “I’ve started so I’ll finish”.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Kentmere to CP12 Ambleside (89.4 miles)<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">I left the checkpoint
with freshly filled Cola and water bottles. Within 30 seconds there was an
explosion to my left and something hit the side of my face before landing on
the grass verge. The Cola gas pressure had blown the top off my drink bottle. I
made sure I released the pressure more regularly after that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">I resumed my
walk-cum-shuffle and immediately began to overheat. Typical. Unzipping jacket
and rolling up sleeves wasn’t enough. I was burning up. I stopped to take the jacket
off and put it back in my rucksack. A minute later, big rain drops started to
hammer down. TYPICAL. I carried on for a few more seconds to see if it would
stop but it only got heavier. I hurled verbal abuse at the sky as I took
rucksack off again to retrieve jacket, during which time I got soaked and
nicely cooled down. After that I was able to move in comfort through the deluge
even with the jacket on. Bonus!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">I wasn’t used to
doing this in the dark without the visual cues to jog my memory. I caught up and
tagged along with runners ahead, moving forwards to join other runners whenever
I felt able. Running was off limits; we just walked or shuffled as fast as we
were able. The rain was mercifully short-lived and soon died out to reveal
another moonless starlit sky. As we approached Skelghyll Woods I was moving
ahead but there were no more head torches in sight. I knew not to descend left
too early like I did last year. Navigation went perfectly into Ambleside then
went awry just before the checkpoint when I turned left too early. I and
another runner who’d followed me floundered about in the church yard trying to
get to the checkpoint building which we could see, before realising that we had
to exit the way we’d gone in and follow the road round to reach it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">We entered the sauna
that is CP12 (it’s always too hot in there). I was now 2hrs 13mins down. Ham
roll number 5 got washed down by another cup of tea to set me up for what I
always feel is the homeward stretch: only 15 miles to go.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Ambleside to CP13 Chapel Stile (95.0 miles)<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">I tried not to linger
too long before heading out across the park to hit that steep track upwards and
chase down the next head torch beams. I was feeling much less alert than I
usually do. In fact I felt as if my brain was shut down and just functioning
enough for survival. What was strange was that, even though I was so tired
there were no visual anomalies in my peripheral vision, no hallucinations, nothing.
I was just a brain-dead zombie in pursuit of head torch beams ahead.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: 0.0001pt;">
<span style="font-family: "arial" , sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: 10pt;">I soon tagged onto
another group. By the time we reached the flat, oh-so-runnable riverside path
to Elterwater I could only walk at 2mph. The others went ahead. When I reached
the other end I went around the </span><span style="font-size: 13.3333px;">car-park</span><span style="font-size: 10pt;"> in circles trying to find my way out to
the road. My brain was frazzled. At that point the others came back down the
road, having turned right by mistake. We found our way to the track on the left
hand side of the river up to the quarry. I caused a bit more off-route
floundering in Chapel Stile before we found the track to the camp site then
CP13 with the aid of someone’s GPS. (2hrs 33mins down.)<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">The Langdale
checkpoint was big, spacious and an oasis of calm. The meat stew has always
worked wonders here, restoring energy to tired legs, so I had some with bread,
and coffee for that extra caffeine kick. I was ready to go but the people I’d
entered the checkpoint with weren’t, so I jumped up to join another group that
was just leaving.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Chapel Stile to CP14 Tilberthwaite (101.5 miles)<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Unlike last year when
I led a group of 50-milers from CP13 in unbelievably energetic haste, this time
I was following, dragging my sorry a*se and trying to stay awake. We came to
the high ladder stile with Conservative tendencies (pronounced leaning to the right).
I made a hash of descending the other side on my uncharacteristically tired
legs, missing the bottom rung and landing in haste on all fours between and
astride rocks. No damage was done but the top popped off my drink bottle again.
The Cola I’d carried from Kentmere soaked into the ground. There’d be no more after
that.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">In stark contrast to
last year I trudged weakly up the steep climb after the left turn, always bringing
up the rear. The first hint of daylight just allowed us to glimpse Blea Tarn on
our left as we headed towards the dreaded rocky then boggy navigation to the second
and final self-dib at the lane. I’m not used to having daylight to navigate by at
this point. We walked down the lane to turn right onto the interminable track up
and over to Tilberthwaite. ‘Interminable’ becomes a lifetime when you can hardly
walk. I was utterly spent with nothing left in the legs. Those I’d been
shuffling with quickly disappeared into the distance and over the horizon,
leaving me to trudge in self-pity and utter wretchedness. My legs were dead and
my feet were sore. The Scarpas weren’t doing me any favours after all. I
eventually trudged into the final checkpoint 3hrs 12mins down.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Tilberthwaite to FINISH Coniston (105.0 miles)<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">I spent as little
time as possible sitting down at Tilberthwaite, just enough for a bit of food
and another coffee in the hopes that the caffeine might kick-start something,
anything, into action. I walked up the steps and paused at the top to look back
down onto the checkpoint. I rarely get to see it in daylight. I wished I had my
camera out. As I walked slowly to the final high point I got overtaken by
another 100-miler who was also walking, but not as slowly as I was. Then I was
alone again for the steep, rocky descent, which I took painfully slowly and clumsily.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Once onto the
runnable track down into Coniston I was too weak to take advantage. I tried to
run and failed. I could only trudge at barely 2mph. As I did so, “Huge Guy”
came bounding past me at speed to finish 3 places and 9 minutes ahead. I had
run with him and swapped back and forth for most of the event. His name was
Hugh-Guy but his rucksack strap covered the label to leave “Hug Guy”, so he effectively
became “Huge Guy” for the duration of that event until his rucksack was
unbuckled.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">When I hit the tarmac
at the bottom of the track I took my shoes off to ease the foot pain and walk
the final half mile to the finish in socks only. The relief was immense. The
strappy uppers of the shoes (part of the lacing system) had pressed into the
tops of my feet and bruised the metatarsals. Someone who was walking up the
track must have taken pity on me. He turned around and walked with me to the
school, offering words of encouragement. My final dib in 37:21 was 3hrs 43mins
behind last year’s time. I was led into the hall to an announcement and a round
of applause, draping of medal, issuing of finisher’s T-shirt, surgical removal
of dibber and printout of split times. I was elated to have finally finished so
the recovery process could commence – drying out, mug of tea, large bacon and 2
egg barm and crash-out on the crash mat with distant sounds of finishers and
applause ringing in my subconscious.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">It was hard won this year.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: "arial" , "sans-serif"; font-size: 10.0pt;">Photo album is <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26082075@N05/sets/72157645874658410/" target="_blank">here</a>.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Nickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07454804247569172043noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1630370531945018065.post-70830586785619113732016-07-11T19:24:00.000+01:002016-07-11T22:32:49.305+01:00May 2014 - main event The Valleys 100Only 2 years overdue, here's a completed draft from 2014. Enjoy the memories.<br />
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May is the month of serial compulsive fell racing, with back-to-backs, evening and weekend races, all short and intense. If Saturday mornings are free I would do the parkrun as well. I have found that keeping the body on the boil like this increases speed, maintaining or even reducing race times as I advance through my early fifties. I even got my first ever mentions in race results in 'The Fellrunner' (the FRA magazine). Many fell runners aspire to getting their name in the Fellrunner results, especially slower ones like me. Age sometimes has its benefits.<br />
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The end of May always brings one of the main highlights of the year - the annual 100 mile event of the Long Distance Walkers Association. This year it would be based at Pontypool and would take us on a journey through the valleys of South Wales.<br />
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<b><u>Sat 03/05. Glossop 3-day race 1: Chunal fell race.</u></b><br />
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Final descent before final climb to the finish.</div>
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Three and a quarter very steep miles from the Grouse Inn between Hayfield and Glossop on a beautifully warm, sunny day. Conditions underfoot were exceptionally dry. I was pleased to get a PB considering all the walking I had to do (a lot of it is too steep to run and even then you're blowing out your a***e). I rewarded myself with lunch at the Grouse, eaten outside of course. <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26082075@N05/sets/72157644098899737/" target="_blank">Photo album</a>.<br />
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<b><u>Sun 04/05. Glossop 3-day race 2: Moorfield 5k road race.</u></b><br />
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Waiting at The Beehive for the next finishers.</div>
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This is a hilly circuit on country lanes from The Beehive pub in Glossop. 6 seconds outside PB this time but I still rewarded myself with al fresco lunch at the Beehive afterwards. <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26082075@N05/sets/72157644103385598/" target="_blank">Photo album</a>.</div>
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<b><u>Mon 05/05. Glossop 3-day race 3: James's Thorn fell race.</u></b><br />
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Nearing the top.</div>
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This 5-miler is a tough out-and-back with a loop at the top to climb and descend James's Thorn. I was very annoyed to go off-route at the top. With half-dead brain due to the intense effort and thanks to removed marker flags, I made the mistake of following runners ahead instead of veering left, turning what should have been a PB into a PW. It was a grand day for a detour, though. <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26082075@N05/sets/72157644153298939/" target="_blank">Photo album</a>.</div>
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<b><u>Thu 08/05. Buxworth 5 road race.</u></b><br />
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Five miles on steeply undulating country lanes from the Navigation Inn at the Bugsworth canal basin. Heavy rain storms abated just in time for race start. This was my first time at this race but I seemed to do surprisingly well compared to other familiar faces around me. Perhaps the back-to-back fell races were already doing some good. It enjoyed a big turnout considering the poor weather beforehand. No photos this time due to the poor light.<br />
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Woodbank parkrun kept me out of mischief on the 10th before a brief trip to London intervened.<br />
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<b><u>Fri 16/05. Hayfield 3-day race 1: May Queen fell race.</u></b><br />
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The weather was back to warmth and dryness for this intense 3-miler from Hayfield up Lantern Pike and back. This one's quite rare in that the children run with the adults. Many of the children beat the adults quite comprehensively. I was pleased to get another PB with 27:53. Serious speedster Andi Jones won in 19:36. <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26082075@N05/sets/72157644702020941/" target="_blank">Photos</a>.</div>
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<b><u>Sat 17/05. Hayfield 3-day race 2: Mount Famine fell race.</u></b></div>
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We descend to climb and climb to descend.</div>
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This is another one based from Hayfield. It is a serious undertaking. It's only 5 miles but it starts off as it means to go on - with a hands-and-feet scramble up Elle Bank. Every possible hill is climbed and descended, sometimes more than once. The day was hot, the sun was intense and clouds of large insects hovering in the breeze along the ridge made you scared to breathe properly because you'd ingest them. An insect down your wind pipe is not welcome when you're already gasping for air. Those are my excuses for being 3:15 slower than I was last year (final time 1:05:19). <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26082075@N05/sets/72157644704267782/" target="_blank">Photos</a>.</div>
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Pennine team cool-down.</div>
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<b><u>Sun 18/05. Hayfield 3-day race 2: Lantern Pike Dash fell race.</u></b><br />
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Winner Daniel Chan on his way back down.</div>
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1.2 miles intense burn straight up and down Lantern Pike's steep side from Little Hayfield. The sun shone gloriously once again but thankfully there was a bit more breeze to cool us down a bit. The out-and-back route provided ideal photo opportunities. Even though this is short and intense I took my camera and snapped away as I slogged my way to the top. A cropped version of the photo above of Daniel Chan in mid flight got printed in the Fellrunner magazine. I surprised myself how well it turned out considering my main aim was to race, not take photos. <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26082075@N05/sets/72157644317730979/" target="_blank">Photo album</a>.</div>
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<b><u>Sat 24 - Sun 25/05. The Valleys 100.</u></b></div>
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The weather had taken a turn for the worse down south (there was nothing wrong with it up here in the north west). A storm system had rotated lazily for several days dumping its rain on South Wales and other parts, and it would continue to do so during this premier event in the LDWA calendar. What had become uncommonly dry ground for that part of the country had been transformed into a swilling bog-fest that was even wetter than usual. Add to that no visibility of the valleys that had been expected for so long, race organiser David Morgan and his massive band of helpers felt understandably thwarted.<br />
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I drove down to Pontypool on the day for the 2pm runners' start, hitting the rain just south of Birmingham. We'd been given to understand in no uncertain terms that anything faster than a saunter would be forbidden on the normal 10am start under pain of being made to sit on the naughty step at the checkpoints until they opened. I was mildly thankful for this as I arrived in torrential rain. Surely it would ease by the time we would start?<br />
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We registered in the school hall at the bottom of the hill where we would be sleeping after the event. The place was a dump. We had a choice of toilets in different locations and not one of them was serviceable. Most had no lock on the door, some had no toilet seat, some had no working lights, most had no toilet paper or soap, one was blocked and overflowing. Get the picture? I dreaded to think how hundreds of us would manage after the event. I needn't have worried because we would finish and get fed in the new building at the top of the hill, whose facilities were luxurious and faultless in comparison.</div>
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The rain had eased to a light fall by the time we started but full waterproofs were still the order of the day for warmth and comfort. Water flowed everywhere. An already tough route would be made even tougher. The rain would continue to a greater or lesser degree for a further 24 hours before sunny interludes would be punctuated by further showers. There would be no escape.<br />
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From Pontypool our route took us via checkpoints at Cwmcarn Forest Drive (8.3mi.), Maesycwmmer Village Hall (18mi.), Trallwn Community Centre (25.9mi.), Brynffynon Hotel, Llanwonno (32.4mi.), Moriah Hall (37.3mi.), Gelligaer Community Centre (42.8mi.), Deri Community Hall (46.6mi.), St. Aiden's Church, Butetown (52.3mi.), Bedwellty House, Tredegar (baggage stop, 55.7mi.), Georgetown Community Centre (breakfast stop, 56.4mi), Pen Y Fan Pond (62.9mi.), Senior Citizens' Hall, Nantyglo (70.9mi.), Cwmavon Village Hall (79.7mi.), Keepers Pond (84.0mi.), Llanellen Village Hall (89.5mi.), Goytre Scout Hut (95.0mi.), Folly Tower car park (98.1mi.), Finish (100.2mi.).<br />
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Because of the dire conditions I could quite happily have retired at the first and second checkpoints. Everyone I spoke to expressed the same feelings that I had; they weren't enjoying it one bit. Revelations just learned back home swirled around my head and increased the urge to give up. My heart just wasn't in it. However after the third checkpoint at marathon distance I resigned myself to just getting on with it and finishing what I'd started.<br />
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Sunday morning - deliver us from what we endure ;-)</div>
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We as participants just got on with the job of sloshing one foot in front of the other until it was all over, if we didn't succumb to trench foot first. Well into the second day on Sunday a steep rocky footpath descent that sometimes doubles as a stream had become a raging torrent. A hastily arranged reroute was put in place before nightfall to avoid the risk of walkers carrying on over the precipice.<br />
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The precipitous torrent - heading down to the watery abyss.</div>
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On Sunday evening the 4 hour later start, combined with the hostile conditions, meant that I was just pushed into the second night for the first time on an LDWA 100; I rocked back into the school just after nightfall after 32 hours and 32 minutes of wet. I would have been OK going on the 10am start after all. Many who opted for the early start were hours faster than I was. I should have ignored the dire warnings. There are runners and there are runners. Some "runners" are slower than some "walkers" over 100 miles. Attempting to separate the two categories will always be futile.</div>
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Hardly surprisingly, the drop-out rate was one of the highest for an LDWA 100. I could so easily have been one of them were it not for the Magnus Magnusson mantra I apply in such situations: "I've started so I'll finish".</div>
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Here's the <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26082075@N05/sets/72157644827346326/" target="_blank">photo album</a>.</div>
Nickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07454804247569172043noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1630370531945018065.post-2611767084935601522015-06-27T03:14:00.000+01:002015-06-27T03:14:12.993+01:00Western States 100 week Thu 25th<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhejancaviypEgN2bjkuI9M1dWDkjze2wwhyoFBB36E4Iz0Lau1ukAScvHEKeHYC1Wt2PFkRJFwO3JJMR-RMGFgHF4oi3-kuzzr3pGeImq-u6zuOpwM6PK4wq1Aj_8eJMulHtSytyzlVno/s1600/02_Getting+ready+to+help+%2527UltrAlena%2527+carry+the+flag+to+the+top.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhejancaviypEgN2bjkuI9M1dWDkjze2wwhyoFBB36E4Iz0Lau1ukAScvHEKeHYC1Wt2PFkRJFwO3JJMR-RMGFgHF4oi3-kuzzr3pGeImq-u6zuOpwM6PK4wq1Aj_8eJMulHtSytyzlVno/s400/02_Getting+ready+to+help+%2527UltrAlena%2527+carry+the+flag+to+the+top.JPG" width="266" /></a>This was the first day of official activities, which began with the Western States welcome by Race Director Craig Thornley and WSER Foundation President John Trent. The RD has changed since I was last here. The previous RD was Greg Soderlund. The only familiar face for me was Mo Livermore, who has been a part of the race since its inception. You would never believe it to look at her; she never seems to age. Our greeting was a reunion of old friends. She remembers me for completing the very hot 2006 event with no heat training and without a single salt tablet, when most other runners were popping S-caps like there was no tomorrow. (There nearly was no tomorrow for those who overdid it. Vomiting and DNFs were common.) Latest medical research recommends doing exactly what I did instinctively back then - drink to feel as thirst dictates and take an electrolyte drink or soup at aid stations if salt in food is not enough.<br />
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After the welcome we hiked to Emigrant Pass for the brief ceremony at noon. I joined WS volunteer 'UltrAlena' Hansen to share the flag carrying. Alena will be volunteering at Rucky-Chucky nearside this year. On the way up we breathed the dust of heavy construction vehicles as they climbed to chair lift construction works.<br />
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A big crane that reminds me of Jez.</div>
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A cement mixer kicks up the dust.</div>
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The ceremony at the top with Mo Livermore and Tony Rossmann was moving. Tony's description and pointing out of the route to beyond Robinson Flat was particularly interesting. I recall while running the race in previous years that, as we leave Robinson Flat and run around Little Bald Mountain, the trail briefly turns back and we can see all the way back to Emigrant Pass. This is with more than 30 miles behind us. After that we begin to lose altitude as the route descends towards the canyons (even though we've already been through the first canyon before the climb to Robinson Flat).</div>
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Tony Rossmann and Mo Livermore conduct the ceremony.</div>
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At the top I met up with three other UK runners James Poole, Chris Howe and Henry Church. James had been feeling so energetic he went mountain climbing as soon as he arrived.</div>
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James descends his mountain.</div>
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After the ceremony we descended back to High Camp where we met the oldest entrant Gary Knipling, who does pretty well for a 71yo.</div>
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With 71yo Gary Knipling, oldest competitor at WS this year.</div>
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The 4th cable car ride of the week to the bottom saw us proceed by way of the newly erected starting arch to lunch at Fireside Pizza. It took my mind back to the pizza eating competition I had with Jez Bragg and Paul Charteris back in 2008 (I think). There was none of that shenanigans this time.</div>
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Henry, James, Chris, me - time to race start.</div>
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Here are the day's <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26082075@N05/sets/72157652753811453" target="_blank">photos</a>.</div>
Nickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07454804247569172043noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1630370531945018065.post-4055363681204025852015-06-25T16:18:00.000+01:002015-06-27T02:01:46.350+01:00Western States 100 week Wed 24thI had an easier, 6-mile day today with a jog down to the village and a trek up to Emigrant pass on the official Western States route, followed by a third descent by cable car (free if descending only). As I approached the village I noticed the floodlights blazing up the ski slope. No doubt they were testing them for race day because we use their light for the initial climb before dawn finally breaks.<br />
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Testing the ski slope lights.</div>
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The slog up to the top was not easy in the blazing sunshine. I'm thankful for the much cooler conditions we get at 5am race start. A water bowser climbed the trail spraying water to keep the dust down before returning to the bottom and repeating.</div>
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Track is dampened temporarily behind the bowser down below.</div>
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I arrived at Emigrant pass with another runner hot on my heels. He was Sam Fiandaca. As we chatted, another runner joined us, who turned out to be none other than Ian Sharman. Ian has 5 consecutive top ten finishes at Western States. Although a Brit (obvious when he speaks, but I think I hide mine well ;-)), he lives here in the US. We spent a while admiring the views out to the horizon along the Western States route and chatting about all things ultra-running before Sam set off down into the Granite Chief Wilderness for a run and Ian and I descended in far more leisurely fashion back towards High Camp. (We elites know how to save it all until race day. ;-))</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvWnkISrUeiLLXquthE1R_-5Q4s8IZJYcNfmfNSNqweWilUK7skuZTXstctV4shtUGQPgUrmeuWRM02_pEaxnp7wfN1-2D1_6m85-jOD52GUIsin4zEvfaw6RTpOZ3fDMFxdEuAlvYlBA/s1600/26_Then+Ian+Sharman+joined+us.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvWnkISrUeiLLXquthE1R_-5Q4s8IZJYcNfmfNSNqweWilUK7skuZTXstctV4shtUGQPgUrmeuWRM02_pEaxnp7wfN1-2D1_6m85-jOD52GUIsin4zEvfaw6RTpOZ3fDMFxdEuAlvYlBA/s640/26_Then+Ian+Sharman+joined+us.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Ian Sharman and Sam Fiandaca joined me at Emigrant Pass.</div>
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The day's pictures are <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26082075@N05/sets/72157654646640488" target="_blank">here</a>.</div>
Nickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07454804247569172043noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1630370531945018065.post-89778861342338398132015-06-24T17:18:00.002+01:002015-06-25T16:20:38.888+01:00Western States 100 week Tue 23rdThat's more like it. I could keep up a more respectable uphill hiking pace today despite the temperature ratcheting up and the sweat flowing freely, and I even managed some running! After yesterday's struggle amidst much puffing and panting and pauses to admire the view (actually to recover and catch my breath), and zero inclination to run, today I felt a bit more energetic. The acclimatisation must be working. It's following the same pattern as the four previous times I've been here.<br />
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I entered Squaw Valley village via the front door today for the first time instead of from above via the back door. I joined the Shirley Canyon trail from the top end of the village to the right of the cable car. The footpath climbed variously through pine and fir trees, alongside a tumbling stream and across wide expanses of steeply sloping granite. The cable car to the left was soon out of sight on the other side of the mountain as the path took me on a now familiar wilderness journey.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf9u-sm3uofeJCnSzB7Tiu0BKWlVpTZ_dAlfTYkulhh2jHaFs4yOgVHxfnDQBBGGpGyYmHV5bKLNXS3wYA5kB7-kHyA1_ZmBFLubDwJ7j5VOZI0iQbm-eBPFGuuQrjUPHSzExPCpxbds8/s1600/02_First+approach+to+Squaw+Valley+village+from+the+normal+direction.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf9u-sm3uofeJCnSzB7Tiu0BKWlVpTZ_dAlfTYkulhh2jHaFs4yOgVHxfnDQBBGGpGyYmHV5bKLNXS3wYA5kB7-kHyA1_ZmBFLubDwJ7j5VOZI0iQbm-eBPFGuuQrjUPHSzExPCpxbds8/s640/02_First+approach+to+Squaw+Valley+village+from+the+normal+direction.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Entering the village via the front door.</div>
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Guess where the trail goes.</div>
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The trail was marked in parts by markers of blue spray paint, known locally as blazes (blazing the trail with blistering blue blazes), which were fading and easily missed. Across the open granite slabs and boulders they disappeared completely. Scanning left to right revealed nothing blue with nothing to follow apart from my nose uphill. Inevitably I lost the trail and the nose-following continued up terrain that required hands, feet and a dash of daring. I was thankful for the extreme grip provided by the rough granite. Seemingly any gradient could be climbed without a single slip.</div>
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I knew I was aiming for Shirley Lake. I aimed right towards a clump of trees that seemed to surround a depression and it wasn't far from the stream, so I guessed the lake might be there. The ground foliage beneath the trees was impenetrable but a steep granite slope appeared ahead which I climbed, mountain goat style, to get a better view from above. There was no lake. I contoured back along the precipice with increasing sense of urgency because I had to catch the last cable car from High Camp at 5pm and I hadn't even reached the lake yet!<br />
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Climbing now to the left brought me back to the trail with a massive sense of relief. The markers were newer and more frequent for now and led me to Shirley Lake. Across the other side of the lake was a cable car terminus. I guess the lake forms a winter playground for the skiers from the High Camp area high above.<br />
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Shirley Lake.</div>
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The path climbed around the lake to join the steep access track left up to the wide plateau above High Camp. After power walking to the top I ran (note, "ran") down to High Camp in time for a sandwich and taking in the views before taking the penultimate cable car down at 4:40pm. The 1.5 mile climb back up to the guesthouse completed a reassuring afternoon's exercise and another 7 miles under the belt.</div>
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High Camp down below. Fire smoke still lingers on the horizon.</div>
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Here's the <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26082075@N05/sets/72157655017600985" target="_blank">photo album</a>.</div>
Nickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07454804247569172043noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1630370531945018065.post-28456040593084074942015-06-23T19:02:00.002+01:002015-06-24T17:18:54.304+01:00Western States 100 week Mon 22ndI arrived Saturday evening in Reno before moving up to Squaw Valley on Sunday. The weather was uncharacteristically cool and windy but characteristically dry and wall-to-wall 'sunshiney'. It was great to meet Herman and Ann at the guesthouse again. It's been 6 years since I was here.<br />
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Squaw Valley from the deck.</div>
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Yesterday (Monday) was a hike to High Camp (top of cable car) the long way round (probably 10 miles). After a lot of floundering and asking for directions I found the secret, un-signposted entrance to the footpath between dwellings perched on the valley side. The path wound back and forth and climbed to meet the Pacific Crest Trail way up top. The cable car and High Camp station grew further away to my left as I climbed until it was out of sight behind the hills. I was completely alone on that little-used single-track trail. With thoughts of mountain lions and bears, my senses were heightened. I heard that distant deep groaning sound again which I recall hearing when I was last alone on the trails around these parts. The hairs on the back of my neck rose. I have no idea what makes the sound but I always imagine mountain lion (cougar).</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIaBWEKPm97-O_6f9gyffzcUYGLAtEgr6u7SwrveOXdEGeUZty2gIlVp8GPk0TGD5ZMenLu5DLjLnJqHQ2jihfnCQNuxN90CbbaSEG1eKILfzH78VPkHrAtNh6_Wjl0fUIxNRWlVlLhZg/s1600/01_Leaving+Squaw+Valley+for+Pacific+Crest+Trail.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiIaBWEKPm97-O_6f9gyffzcUYGLAtEgr6u7SwrveOXdEGeUZty2gIlVp8GPk0TGD5ZMenLu5DLjLnJqHQ2jihfnCQNuxN90CbbaSEG1eKILfzH78VPkHrAtNh6_Wjl0fUIxNRWlVlLhZg/s640/01_Leaving+Squaw+Valley+for+Pacific+Crest+Trail.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Leaving Squaw Valley.</div>
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Last glimpse of High Camp (top left).</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhko0hBVzr5xNuYGrRZQ_5y_6Bani4u6BF0Ms3AEP73I3YTBnI_OTjEJmZ044qHjMjo834aS9HhGGE1v2qYKfEv-a00F3899PVlmKOpNgfugfN_HQ7XAtTcjP56d6OE2VSXTP3k_PN7Rdo/s1600/12_Looking+back+towards+Squaw+Valley+and+fire+smoke.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhko0hBVzr5xNuYGrRZQ_5y_6Bani4u6BF0Ms3AEP73I3YTBnI_OTjEJmZ044qHjMjo834aS9HhGGE1v2qYKfEv-a00F3899PVlmKOpNgfugfN_HQ7XAtTcjP56d6OE2VSXTP3k_PN7Rdo/s640/12_Looking+back+towards+Squaw+Valley+and+fire+smoke.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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Squaw Valley down below. The 'cloud' on the horizon is forest fire smoke.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7lMNN_qtKap7fnn096R4hheh-SJrVBL5s0sBqCDtmOEDVZhr-aPV_zMp_wxU9PmslWt7A4WRCUNy21-vTuOpgVLO8a8csqATptChpqmAxwg9X1Sa09ew-9WAt79bv1Mxecx8Xf6_qyr4/s1600/15_%2527Marathon+John%2527+Patterson+is+hiking+PCT+from+Mexico+to+Canada.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7lMNN_qtKap7fnn096R4hheh-SJrVBL5s0sBqCDtmOEDVZhr-aPV_zMp_wxU9PmslWt7A4WRCUNy21-vTuOpgVLO8a8csqATptChpqmAxwg9X1Sa09ew-9WAt79bv1Mxecx8Xf6_qyr4/s640/15_%2527Marathon+John%2527+Patterson+is+hiking+PCT+from+Mexico+to+Canada.JPG" width="426" /></a>I met the first hiker at the junction with the Pacific Crest Trail. He had come from Tinker Knob to the right. I was reassured that he was puffing and panting with the altitude as well. After a brief conversation he sat down for a refreshment stop while I turned left towards Granite Chief. My refreshment stop would wait until Emigrant Pass.</div>
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Now on the PCT I met several hikers, all striding purposefully with walking poles, wearing big rucksacks and coming in the opposite direction. One of them ('Marathon John' Patterson, pictured right) stopped for a long chat. It was then that I learned all these hikers to be thru-hikers doing the PCT end-to-end from Mexico to Canada. I'm blown away by the very thought of something so big, something I would never consider taking on. We must have chatted for a good 20 minutes, he telling me about thru-hiking and how much weight he'd lost already, and me telling him about Western States (he'd noticed my buckle and T-shirt). Now suitably informed I was able to interact appropriately with the next hikers who passed. One of them said: "Only ten days to halfway". Wow!</div>
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At the cross-paths with Tevis Trail with Granite Chief mountain rising to the right, I turned left back up the Western States 100 route to Emigrant Pass. At the top were panoramic views of High Camp down below with Lake Tahoe in the distance and fire smoke billowing up from behind the mountains beyond. (There always seems to be a forest fire somewhere when I'm here.)</div>
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Fire beyond Lake Tahoe.</div>
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After lunch at the top and a slippery, dusty descent to High Camp I was happy to take the cable car down to the valley bottom before walking back up to the guesthouse. That little jaunt took more out of me than is decent. I hope I'm more acclimatised to the altitude come race day.</div>
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Cable car down to Squaw Valley.</div>
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All the pictures I took are <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26082075@N05/sets/72157654964606691" target="_blank">here</a>.</div>
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Nickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07454804247569172043noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1630370531945018065.post-5795258509809921792015-05-03T21:18:00.002+01:002015-05-04T20:40:41.622+01:00After the hypothermic hiccup let the PBs continue....This early May bank holiday weekend sees a welcome return of Des Gibbons' 3-day Glossop running festival. It's my 4th consecutive year on the triple challenge.<br />
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<b>Sat 02/05/2015. Chunal fell race 3.25mi.</b><br />
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Coolest conditions I've experienced so far but the ground was still dry. The closure of The Grouse Inn meant registration in a mini tent city on the sloping starting field. Some of us were thankful for the tents' shelter from the cold breeze before and after the race.<br />
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This is one tough, steep fell race that gets the heart and lungs bursting out of your chest and gives you tunnel vision through brain starvation (I'm not joking). It's short enough to push beyond the limit from beginning to end. I did and continued my string of PBs since 2012. The 2 minute improvement was an even bigger surprise.<br />
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First stage of first climb. Start is top left of picture (labelled).</div>
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Jack Ross beat his own course record by 52 seconds.</div>
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Full photo album is <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26082075@N05/sets/72157652273318476/" target="_blank">here</a>.</div>
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<b>Sun 03/05/2015. Moorfield 5+k road race.</b></div>
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Overnight rain stopped in time but its passing introduced much warmer, humid conditions. The sun came out to add to the discomfort as we powered our way on the anticlockwise hilly route. The sting in the tail before the finish doesn't get any easier. I have to walk it before the gradient eases off to allow the pace to be picked up to the finish line and another PB. Don't know how many more of these I can muster.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuPpwyItaoXyqh2bInGsC-fOFysl_qUMQlLy2a19OI4kbzPu9xXP9CaqUmUODYqr-vynLZtApPd15ZGzVyC-e3_Uz-0jM4zWrPBscA7hohyByaxBqoZHJjAs32Dgf1OzexLEafUCxY4FE/s1600/05_.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="360" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhuPpwyItaoXyqh2bInGsC-fOFysl_qUMQlLy2a19OI4kbzPu9xXP9CaqUmUODYqr-vynLZtApPd15ZGzVyC-e3_Uz-0jM4zWrPBscA7hohyByaxBqoZHJjAs32Dgf1OzexLEafUCxY4FE/s1600/05_.JPG" width="640" /></a></div>
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On the starting line.</div>
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Team Glossopdale.</div>
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Winner 3rd year on the trot: 15 y.o. Alex Jackson of Stockport Harriers. He really had to work hard for the win this year.</div>
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High intensity with only one walking break mean only one in-race photo, but there are plenty of before and after. Full album is <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26082075@N05/sets/72157652334385181/" target="_blank">here</a>.</div>
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Tomorrow's James' Thorn fell race promises to be spectacular as far as the weather is concerned. Another PB would be very nice.<br />
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<b>Mon 04/05/2015. James' Thorn fell race 5mi.</b><br />
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I exceeded my wildest dreams. It was the usual intense suffering from beginning to end but it yielded a PB by 3 mins 22 secs! I don't know where this speed is coming from but I like it a lot and I want it to continue. Beginning with Herod Farm hill race on Wed 15 April (first evening race of the season), every race I've completed has given me a PB (Fellsman DNF excepted of course). That's an 8-race unbroken record, and counting. Next races are Rainow 5 fell race on Wed eve, Buxworth 5 road race on Thu eve then Marlborough Downs Challenge 33 mile trail race on Sunday.<br />
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Back to today. The weather rewarded us with its usual sunny warmth. Conditions could not have been better for the slog up to the top of James' Thorn hill and back down with the small loop at the top to avoid the worst of the clashes between the leaders returning and the rest of us still climbing. Race winner Simon Harding of Macclesfield Harriers was too fast for me to get the camera ready. I think the first three passed me on the way down before I began the anticlockwise loop to the top.<br />
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On the downhill I was a bit spent from the climb, but with the runners I overtook on the climb I only lost 2 places on average. Final time was 43:02, placing 46th out of 111 finishers. Not so long ago I struggled to finish in the top half of a fell race. Now it's happening every time.<br />
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A rare backward-looking photo on the climb.</div>
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Number 2 Ian Mills powers back down.</div>
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Approaching the summit from round the back.</div>
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Downhill (almost) all the way to the finish.</div>
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Winner Simon Harding.</div>
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I took a ton of photos and uploaded 105. Here's the <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26082075@N05/sets/72157650027941174/" target="_blank">album</a>.</div>
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Nickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07454804247569172043noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1630370531945018065.post-68049456756785817372015-04-29T22:33:00.000+01:002015-04-29T22:33:13.574+01:00I gambled and paid the price.....<h2>
<span style="font-size: large;">The 53rd Fellsman. Sat 25 – Sun 26/04/2015.</span><o:p></o:p></h2>
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I had been studying the forecast avidly
in the 2 weeks leading up to The Fellsman. I knew the early summer we'd been
enjoying would come to an end right on cue just to 'keep it real' Fellsman
stylie, but the last forecast I saw before heading up to Threshfield on Friday
afternoon suggested a big improvement with much less rain than originally predicted.
It all seemed to be coming true by Saturday morning. The temperature was milder
than in previous years and what little rain there had been on Friday night was
little more than dampness in the air now. The dry ground would only be
dampened.<o:p></o:p></div>
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With a string of recent PBs under my belt
(5 in 9 days, the latest being on the Thursday evening) I harboured thoughts of
making this the 6th in 11 days. I was so confident of my fitness I’d
not kept my ambitious thoughts to myself (first mistake). In the interests of
athletic performance (not wanting to burn up) I elected to leave my waterproof
jacket and trousers in my rucksack (2nd mistake) and set off with
lightweight windproof top whose only waterproofness was that offered by the
waterproofing wash I’d given it. It would shrug off the wind and some light
rain, which was all I was expecting. I wore no waterproof trousers and only
wore leggings to avoid having to faff around putting them on at grouping time.<o:p></o:p></div>
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We were sent on our way at 08:30 from the
sports field in Ingleton to begin the first climb up Ingleborough. We were soon
in the cloud. The light rain or drizzle blew across in fits and starts but it
wasn't too cold. When we finally summited on Ingleborough, the cloud was so
thick we couldn't see the checkpoint. I followed my nose based on memory of the
previous eight times. A checkpoint marshal materialised out of the murk waving
his arms wildly to draw us in.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The wind blew and it was decidedly inhospitable
as I stumbled onwards, making sure to keep the drop-off to my left. I was
struggling to see where I was going and taking it very carefully over the
rock-strewn terrain. I was reminded that the old back-up glasses I was wearing
(the latest ones had broken a couple of weeks earlier) hold onto the water
droplets far too well. The cloud, as well as obscuring our view in the
atmosphere also deposited itself with wind assistance onto my lenses to obscure
my view even further. As I stumbled clumsily like an old 'un with dodgy knees
(well, I am and I have, but I was half blind now as well), fellow fell-runner, 'barefoot'
Aleks Kashefi caught up. He had special dispensation from the authorities (Fellsman
committee) to run without footwear.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ4OOce0c_1x49B1SYrPqC_HhA7agB9FfuH7S1D8o9TeMbaJfANNKZohfpoePPPDLkbIodSxZesx0eI9AiNOV0qGJY13rh0fY9DsasLBcrQVLATB5Yg2LhKXM1rOnXRU1tAtYEmNGdT-c/s1600/037_Aleks+Kashefi+desending+Ingleborough.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ4OOce0c_1x49B1SYrPqC_HhA7agB9FfuH7S1D8o9TeMbaJfANNKZohfpoePPPDLkbIodSxZesx0eI9AiNOV0qGJY13rh0fY9DsasLBcrQVLATB5Yg2LhKXM1rOnXRU1tAtYEmNGdT-c/s1600/037_Aleks+Kashefi+desending+Ingleborough.JPG" height="640" width="411" /></a>Pardon?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Yes, without shoes.</div>
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Or socks.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Aleks was running The Fellsman barefoot
(or minimally shod in the skimpy sandals he was wearing at that moment) as part
of his training for his <a href="https://www.justgiving.com/barefootlejog/" target="_blank">sponsored LEJOG</a> in August, but he had to take proper
shoes with him as well, just in case, like. ;-) He'd signed a special waiver
and everything. That was a real privilege considering the strict kit rules that
apply to this event (rightly so). I commend the organisers for their
flexibility and understanding. I know Aleks really appreciates this unique
privilege. He left me standing as he skipped down the other side of
Ingleborough, full of the joys of running barefoot. I could tell by the
involuntary whoops of joy he couldn't hold in. It was something special to
witness.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Aleks descends Ingleborough.</div>
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CP2 at Hill Inn was passed through (cue
the first electronic scan whizz-sound, which tickles my childish sense of
humour every time). We were informed that the grouping time at Fleet Moss had
been brought forward an hour to 18:30. Wonderful. There go my plans for getting
through before grouping. Perhaps the forecast really is bad for later. Jonathan
had warned us at race briefing about the forecast plummeting temperatures. I
was ready for it: I had my best waterproof rolled up in my rucksack for when it
does get bad.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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The first heavier, thankfully fleeting,
bursts of rain hit as we climbed Whernside. The second SportSunday photographer
had to uncover her camera from protection to grab quick shots before sheltering
it again.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Looking back while waiting to get clipped at Whernside summit.</div>
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Gaining the ridge on Whernside brought
more cloud-enshrouded windblown drizzle misery. I trudged up to CP3 as faster
runners came back down on their way to Kingsdale. It wasn't that mild now. I
was half blinded again by my obscured glasses, which became a problem for the
second technical descent. The old doddering recommenced while other runners without
compromised vision sailed past me. We queued to climb the temporary ladder
stile (now aluminium and no doubt much lighter to drag up there) before winding
our way down the green pastures, descending out of the cloud as we did so. I
could see where I was going again and put a bit of a spurt on down the soft,
easy-going terrain. It became less chilly out of the wind. It was brightening a
little and I envisaged an end to the intermittent rain that had been blowing
in.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Crossing the dried-up riverbed to Kingsdale.</div>
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We crossed the dried-up rocky riverbed
(first time I've ever seen it like that) on our way to CP4 at Kingsdale. The
rain had stopped and I was comfortably warm (if not dry), so I didn't mind the
fact that the latest influx had temporarily caused them to run out of tea. I
just grabbed a magic home-made flapjack and continued up the third climb, making
do with my water to wash it down. As I climbed I heard a "Hiya Nick"
as someone caught up with me. Charlie Johnson! What are you doing here? You
should be miles ahead. In the cloud he'd descended with others in the wrong
direction off Ingleborough so had a lot of ground to make up.<o:p></o:p></div>
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The brightening on the descent to Kingsdale
became a darkening as we climbed back into the cloud. Worse than that, the rain
was starting again, the wind was rising and the temperature was dropping as we
climbed the precipitous slopes of Gragareth. CP5 at the summit had been
relocated to within the shelter of the walls. Not having to do the out-and-back
to the trig point saved a few minutes. Once queued for tally punching by the
tented torso it was over the stile and right to begin the long, undulating run
to Great Coum. This is where the wheels began to fall off.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Climbing Gragareth as the rain returned.</div>
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Getting clipped by the 'tented torso' at the relocated Gragareth checkpoint.</div>
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The weather came in with a vengeance with
wind and driving rain. The temperature was plummeting and the omnipresent cloud
prevented any view, save for the bogs at our feet. The ground, which had been
bone dry little more than 12 hours earlier, already had its bogs and mud
rejuvenated to normal Fellsman standards. We stumbled and sank along the wall
line. I was struggling to run/walk and my mind was becoming dulled, with one
overriding priority: keep moving, keep warm.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I'd been chasing another runner with
green jacket all the way to Great Coum without quite being able to catch up. He
ran past the point where we climb over the wall to the checkpoint. I called him
back as I climbed over.<o:p></o:p></div>
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CP6, Great Coum, clipped and off. Set
compass to N and run blind to survive. I was getting clumsier and slower as I
got colder. Check compass: N. Need to keep to the right of Shivery Hole but
can't see a thing in the cloud. Climb down the rocky bit. Keep shuffling, need
to get to sanctuary. Suddenly the ground dropped off into a gully just to my
left. Spot on! Keep going to hit the wall. I was alone in a world of mental and
physical haze. Others just behind me had gone too far to the left and were out
of sight somewhere in the murk, but I knew where I was going even though my
brain and body were shutting down. My knee was complaining bitterly, further
hampering downward progress. It’s made worse by a cold body that’s suffering.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I followed the wall downwards through the
bogs, emerging once more from the cloud to eventually reach the dilapidated
footbridge that’s on the point of total collapse now. The other runners caught
up with me at CP7, Flinter Gill. As they disappeared ahead I continued the
survival shuffle down the tracks towards Dent. The rockier tracks could only be
walked, such was my depleted, bumbling clumsiness.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I entered CP8 via the back entrance once
again and descended the field, almost certain that a retirement was imminent. I
was utterly debilitated physically and mentally through cold and wet. I was
directed to the campground toilet where I could change out of my wet clothing.
Off came the windproof top, sodden long-sleeved base-layer and sodden leggings.
On went long-sleeved T-shirt, waterproof trousers and the proper waterproof jacket
I should have been wearing from the outset. I was shivering and bordering on
hypothermic. The forecast as I understood it had not come to pass. The rain was
still pouring. Who knew how much longer it would last? I knew it was forecast
to get even colder. I was already frozen and with only one spare dry top and no
dry leggings, I decided in the interests of personal safety and not
inconveniencing the organisers with an emergency to call it a day.<o:p></o:p></div>
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I grabbed a sausage roll and cup of tea
and went to the communications tent to beg for a dry spot to wait for the bus
of shame. I was welcomed with open arms by a caring matronly sort who chopped
off my tally without ceremony to use as evidence against me and sat me down behind
the operations desk next to another victim of the elements in the corner who
was already swathed in blankets. I got swathed as well – they even broke out
the space blankets – and got fed fairy cakes and tea. That became necessary after
I splashed it all over with the involuntary shaking. As I languished, more victims
piled in, including another fellow fell-runner Barny Crawshaw. Like Charlie he’d also
descended off Ingleborough in the wrong direction and lost a lot of time. We
were at the depths of the climactic misery in Dent. At that point, barely 24
hours after summer-like temperatures and bone-dry conditions, it was snowing a
little higher up on the hills. My memories of The Fellsman are that the sun
always shines in Dent and the climb to Blea Moor is the hottest part of the day.
That image has been tarnished a little.<o:p></o:p></div>
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As I sat and observed the slick
operations of the Fellsman machine from a third angle (1st and 2nd being ‘doing
it’ and volunteering), I pondered on my 9th Fellsman and first DNF, all because
of an error of judgement on starting attire. I’d fancied myself for a PB and
wanted to run efficiently without burning up. Instead I froze, slowed and
bailed. I gambled and paid the price, but I lived to see another race. I began
to think of the upside and looked forward to witnessing the winning
performances before nightfall.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Dent CP from the bus of shame.</div>
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The bus journey from Dent back to
Threshfield was very long (the longest of all of them). We passed the Stone
House checkpoint on the way. With nowhere to straighten my leg my right knee groaned
with dull pain, forcing me to a quad-tensed standing position for long periods
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Back at Threshfield I wandered up to
Grassington with Barny and Duncan (another retiree at Dent) in time for the first
arrivals. Adam Perry ran home for a third consecutive win in 10:23, Jez Bragg
came a close second in 10:44, Konrad Rawlik came an even closer third in 10:57 and
Jasmin Paris smashed the women’s record in fourth with 11:09. It was
magnificent to witness, and I could not have done so had I still been on my way
from Fleet Moss to Yockenthwaite Moor.</div>
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Winner Adam Perry descends through Grassington.</div>
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2nd Jez Bragg descends through Grassington.</div>
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3rd Konrad Rawlik has finished.</div>
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4th Jasmin Paris approaches the school (just look at that running form after 61 tough miles!).</div>
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My complete Flickr album is <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26082075@N05/sets/72157651761688567/" target="_blank">here</a>.</div>
Nickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07454804247569172043noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1630370531945018065.post-34742750864793197032014-08-19T19:36:00.000+01:002014-08-20T20:59:32.204+01:00April 2014 - main event The Fellsman<span style="font-family: inherit;">I returned from China at the end of March just in time to squeeze in the Woodbank parkrun on the 29th and Lad's Leap fell race on the 30th. It was my first Lad's Leap or any other race from Crowden for that matter. Anything from there is going to be steep and tough. This one certainly was, and as proof it is rated 'AS' in the FRA ascent and distance categories. At 6 miles it still took me 1hr 11mins to complete. I may have been slowed further by something I brought back from China (I always manage to 'pick up' something there no matter how careful I am). We were blessed with sunny weather, which was ideal for the photographs. </span><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26082075@N05/sets/72157643231519833/" style="font-family: inherit;" target="_blank">Photo album</a><span style="font-family: inherit;">.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Nearing top of first climb at Lad's Leap.</span></div>
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<b><u><span style="font-family: inherit;">Sat 05/04. Lyme Park parkrun followed by Chicken Run fell race.</span></u></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Lyme parkrun is more like a fell run than a parkrun. It's only recently started and this was my first time on it. It's steep and intense so great fun. Time is around 2 minutes slower than for Woodbank.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Later that morning was the first running of the Chicken Run fell race from Hayfield Junior School. It's 6 miles via Little Hayfield, the shooting cabin and past the top end of the reservoir to turn around and rejoin our outward route back to the finish. Nice organisation, nice route and nice home-made cakes at the finish. A time of 0:57:58 suggests it's a little easier than last week's Lad's Leap. </span><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26082075@N05/sets/72157643476331645/" style="font-family: inherit;" target="_blank">Photo album</a><span style="font-family: inherit;">.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">A damp day at Chicken Run.</span></div>
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<b><u><span style="font-family: inherit;">Sat 12/04. 36th Calderdale Hike 37mi.</span></u></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">This was Race 3 of 12 in the <a href="http://runfurther.com/" target="_blank">Runfurther</a> series but the first one I was able to do due to my absence in March. It was the third and final year of this route before a change for next year. Conditions were cool and ideal for running without overheating. The rain held off until around the same point as last year (between Grain Water Bridge and New Bridge for me). I had my usual slowdown after the moor crossing from Hoof Stones Height, when everyone began to overtake me. I didn't get going properly again until after Top Withins. Every year it's been the same. In the end I was pleased to get a PB by 36 minutes with a final time of 7hrs 58mins. </span><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26082075@N05/sets/72157643918408474/" style="font-family: inherit;" target="_blank">Photo album</a><span style="font-family: inherit;">.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Walshaw Dean Middle Reservoir.</span></div>
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<b><u><span style="font-family: inherit;">Wed 16/04. Herod Farm Hill Race 3mi.</span></u></b><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">I always look forward to this because it's the first of the local evening races and it signifies the lengthening of the days and the beginning of summer racing. Organised <span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.933333);">by Glossopdale Harriers it was a very friendly affair once again. It is an an intense burn for half an hour (give or take) with two climbs that give you no choice but to walk. Then you get to run downhill on jelly legs back to the finish. </span><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.933333);">The ground was dry (apart from a couple of stubborn bogs) and the air was balmy. </span><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.933333);">We enjoyed al fresco tea and cakes afterwards in the forecourt of the Reliance Garage while we waited for the results and awards ceremony. </span><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.933333);">I cannot think of a better way to spend an evening. My time was 0:33:36, which was 23 seconds off PB. </span></span><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26082075@N05/sets/72157644071718975/" style="font-family: inherit;" target="_blank">Photo album</a><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.933333); font-family: inherit;">.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.933333); font-family: inherit;">The first climb.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.933333); font-family: inherit;"><b><u>Thu 24/04. Mobberley 'Round The Runway' 5.3mi.</u></b></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.933333); font-family: inherit;">I kept myself on the boil between Herod Farm and this with a Woodbank Parkrun on Saturday.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.933333); font-family: inherit;">This was the 4th race in the inaugural Stockport Harriers race series. It was the only reason I did it. It was in the race series of a few other running clubs as well, so it was rather busy.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.933333);">It </span><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.933333);">was also my first visit to Mobberley, which I discovered is trapped in the middle of a maze of country lanes. I had trouble finding it and trouble getting out afterwards.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.933333); font-family: inherit;">The race was novel in that it went on country lanes, tracks and paths, alongside Manchester Airport runway and underneath the runway beside the river. The easy runnability of the route (compared to that of fell races) is reflected in my time of 0:38:39. The conditions were mild and dry and could not have been better. </span><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26082075@N05/sets/72157644353699066/" style="font-family: inherit;" target="_blank">Photo album</a><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.933333); font-family: inherit;">.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.933333); font-family: inherit;">Don't worry, we're not trespassing.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.933333); font-family: inherit;"><b><u>Sat 26 - Sun 27/04. 52nd Fellsman 61mi.</u></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;"><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.933333);">This is a tough fell race from Ingleton to Threshfield that takes in every available peak on the way. Distance is 61 miles with total ascent of nearly 12,000 feet. Much of the route is off path and requires good navigation, good kit and good survival skills. </span><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.933333);">It demands respect.</span><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.933333);"> (N</span><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.933333);">owadays however, a 'Fellsman trod' seems to have evolved, which has become boggy in places due to the foot traffic.) This would be my 8th start and hopefully 8th completion.</span></span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.933333); font-family: inherit;">We set off at a new half-hour earlier start time of 08:30 to avoid the Three Peaks Fell Race runners coming in the opposite direction off Whernside. (They would also set off half an hour later.) The air was damp and we were soon into the cloud and windblown drizzle as we climbed Ingleborough. I played cat and mouse with Brian 'Stolly' Stallwood as far as the summit, after which he was gone never to be seen again. I would struggle again with the speed. In retrospect I can never understand why this event feels so tough, but at the time it always does. Others say the same thing.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.933333);">The familiar wet micro climate continued on Whernside, after which the sun made its usual appearance as we descended towards Kingsdale. </span>On the climb from Kingsdale to Gragareth I drifted further right than ever before on the quad bike track before forking left again uphill. This took me to the top right of the rough pasture, where I discovered a gateway we could go through which I'd never seen before. I was glad I didn't have to climb the wall this time. I always felt terribly guilty about that. Around this point I noticed I seemed to be going at around the same speed as Amanda Heading as we kept re-overtaking each other.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Grough photographer waits to photograph Amanda Heading on the climb of Gragareth.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">On the approach to Dent (where the sun always shines) I knew there was a footpath around the back but had never been able to find it. This time I did and took the timekeepers by surprise by arriving from the top of the field. It saves all of 30 seconds compared to going via the road.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Receiving care and attention at Dent.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">On the approach from Blea Moor towards Stone House I was sad to see that 'Blue' the turkey and his guardian were no longer there. That oasis we pass through felt lonely without them. Once out onto the lane I was running quite well down towards the checkpoint, until a tractor with hay bales got in the way. I managed to overtake it eventually.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">My passage was blocked by Varrmer Joiles' hay bales.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.933333); font-family: inherit;">Stone House is at marathon distance. After that comes the slog up Great Knoutberry. Amanda Heading and Barnaby Crawshaw were descending as I climbed to the summit on the out-and-back. By the next checkpoint at Redshaw I was an hour down on my PB pace but a shorter stop meant I was only three quarters of an hour down at the next checkpoint (Snaizeholme fell). Barny and I had teamed up after Redshaw; this was his first Fellsman. We made haste towards Dodd Fell then Fleet Moss. A shower over Ingleborough and Whernside threatened to our right (there's that micro climate again) but it passed by with hardly a drop deposited on us.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.933333); font-family: inherit;">Barny gets clipped on Dodd Fell.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.933333); font-family: inherit;">On the approach to Fleet Moss I had wondered about the left-hand approach, which I did once in the early years. Runners ahead were going that way so I followed them. Mistake! The logical route on the map does not work out on the ground due to rough, unrunnable terrain and a wall that has to be climbed at its corner. It is very much the worse for wear as a result. As I waited in line for my turn I felt terribly guilty at the damage over the years. Back to the right-hand approach for me next year.</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.933333);">I checked my watch on the approach to Fleet Moss and realised that we were ahead of the 19:30 grouping time as stated in the 'hiker' instructions. Imagine my surprise when the marshals announced that we would be grouped. Their instructions stated 19:00 and their explanation of this fact was getting increasingly heated. They showed me the piece of paper to prove it. I wish the organisers would get this right to avoid misunderstanding and unnecessary friction. Last year it was the opposite: hiker instructions gave 19:00 and marshal instructions gave 19:30 as the grouping time. Perhaps in 2015 they'll compromise and go for 19:15 instructed to both. ;-)</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.933333);">I was grouped with Barny, Amanda and Mark Aldridge. This was Mark's first ultra marathon. What an event to pick for a first Ultra! We turned out to be a fantastic group and we made good progress through Yockenthwaite Moor and on to Grey Horse on Gilbert Lane, having to switch on our head torches along the way.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.933333); font-family: inherit;">Heading for Yockenthwaite Moor - Mark, Barny, Amanda.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.933333); font-family: inherit;">Barny and Amanda with marshal checking our grouping card at Yockenthwaite Moor.</span></div>
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.933333); font-family: inherit;">After a rest and refuel at Cray I was unsure once again of the wall-hugging route up Buckden Pike, so we floundered and wasted time. I wished I'd taken Amanda up on her suggestion that we take the more direct route to the right of the cleft (which we had done successfully in 2009 with daylight to spare).</span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.933333);">After the minor hiccup climbing Buckden Pike our navigation went perfectly, but speed was moderated by nausea with me and Amanda and Mark's trashed quads forcing him to walk in utter pain after Capplestone Gate. I was pleased that most of the trendy new beacons were working this year to guide our way across the fields to Yarnbury. Last year most of them had failed (defective batteries?).</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.933333);">At the degrouping checkpoint at Yarnbury, Mark had to stop to recover while Amanda had to stop to be horribly ill in the middle of the road. She told Barny and me to carry on but I felt guilty about leaving her in that predicament and kept stopping and looking back. A little while later as I shuffled my way down as fast as I could go, she came breezing past, much better for having emptied her stomach contents. I still worried about Mark. </span><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.933333);">As we ran down to the lights of Grassington an ambulance raced up the road in the opposite direction with blue lights flashing. I immediately worried about Mark being taken ill at the last checkpoint and the marshals having to call out the emergency services.</span></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.933333);">I chased Barny and Amanda to finish 1 minute behind them at the school in Threshield. My time of 19:39 was within 3 minutes of the previous two years. How's that for consistency on an event where so many variables influence the outcome. As I gathered my senses with some restorative tea I was mightily relieved to see Mark arrive 22 minutes later, seemingly none the worse for wear. WELL DONE MARK for completing such a tough event as The Fellsman for your first Ultra. </span></span><a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26082075@N05/sets/72157644421825981/" style="font-family: inherit;" target="_blank">Photo album</a><span style="background-color: rgba(255, 255, 255, 0.933333); font-family: inherit;">.</span></div>
Nickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07454804247569172043noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1630370531945018065.post-12735872584898308312014-08-16T12:42:00.001+01:002014-08-20T21:01:49.011+01:00March 2014 - New Zealand, main event Tarawera Ultra MarathonI squeezed in another Woodbank parkrun just before going away for a month of business travel in Asia with a break sandwiched in the middle to visit New Zealand North Island once again. (In case you were wondering, it was more expensive for me to fly return from Asia than it would have been to fly return from Manchester.) The main dish would be to run the <a href="http://www.taraweraultra.co.nz/" target="_blank">Tarawera Ultra Marathon</a> (TUM) again but there were plenty of side dishes to keep me admirably nourished before and after. I spent most of my time in Rotorua. Ex work colleague Wayne Richards acted as excellent guide around his home town and a little further afield for things to see and do. Thank you, Wayne, for acting as such a wonderful host. You live in a beautiful part of the world.<br />
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<b><u>Mon 10/03.</u></b> First day was spent on an 8-mile run in the redwood forest of Rotorua before paying Paul Charteris, TUM Race Organiser a visit to help out with anything that needed doing. He needed any help he could get with the enormity of the task at hand. <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26082075@N05/sets/72157642137734405/" target="_blank">Photo album</a>.<br />
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Looking out over Rotorua.</div>
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<b><u>Tue 11/03.</u></b> Run along part of brand new Tarawera Trail and a quick nose around the base of Rainbow Mountain (~10 miles total). <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26082075@N05/sets/72157642237432823/" target="_blank">Photo album</a>.<br />
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Crater Lake at the foot of Rainbow Mountain (4-photo stitch).</div>
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<b><u>Wed 12/03.</u></b> <a href="http://canopytours.co.nz/" target="_blank">Rotorua Canopy Tours</a>, followed by a wander along the volcanically fragrant shores of Lake Rotorua to Government Gardens of Rotorua. The Canopy Tour provided my first opportunity for some zip line action (it was brilliant), to see native flora and fauna and to assist the return of the fauna to where it belongs through our entry fees. Human-introduced predators - e.g. stoats, rats and possums - wipe out the indigenous wildlife and must be trapped and removed from the ecosystem. That's what Canopy Tours do with our money. Positive results have included the gradual return of birdsong to the forest, though it's still nowhere near what it would have been.<br />
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I hired a GoPro helmet camera to capture some of our journey through the treetops but haven't had a chance yet to edit something together. In the meantime, here's the <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26082075@N05/sets/72157642239337515/" target="_blank">photo album</a> to be going on with.<br />
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Zip lines through the treetops - Rotorua Canopy Tours.</div>
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Government Gardens with museum.</div>
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<b><u>Thu 13/03.</u></b> A leisurely day spent visiting Hamurana Springs and Okere Falls with Wayne before the first official TUM event in the evening - the 8km 'Fun Run'. <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26082075@N05/sets/72157642417872194/" target="_blank">Photo album</a>.<br />
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The end of the TUM 'Fun Run' at the Te Puia geyser field.</div>
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<b><u>Fri 14/03.</u></b> Official Maori welcome to the Tarawera Ultra Marathon runners at Te Puia followed by race expo and registration. Warnings all week of tropical cyclone Lusi moving southwards to hit us for race day had become a certainty. However we could never have guessed now on the day before, the warm, calm, sunny weather giving no hint of what was to come.<br />
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Race Director Paul Charteris announced at the race briefing that the race had to be shortened. With high winds and driving rain forecast, later parts of the course where aid station access was by boat could not be supported reliably or safely. Paul's emotions ran high as he made the announcement that the event would be disrupted for a second year. Last year was high fire risk. This year was headed for the same until Lusi turned it into high wind and water risk instead. <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26082075@N05/sets/72157642421794924/" target="_blank">Photo album</a>.<br />
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Last year's winner Sage Canaday (in green) represents the 'TUM tribe' at the Maori welcome ceremony.</div>
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<b><u>Sat 15/03. <a href="http://www.taraweraultra.co.nz/index.html" target="_blank">Tarawera Ultra Marathon</a> - 100km shortened to ~73km by Lusi.</u></b><br />
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Waiting to start.</div>
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The first spots of rain could be felt as we gathered in the dark at the Redwoods Visitor Centre for the 06:30 start. An emotional Paul Charteris announced that we would run a 12km loop past the water tank before turning right back to the start to begin all over again. Second time past the water tank we would turn left through Okareka to Okataina then 2km beyond to the turnaround point before returning to Okareka to finish where we did last year. For a second year running we would not make it all the way to Kawerau.<br />
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Marshal Tim Day guides us back to the start on the 12km loop.</div>
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Storm clouds gather.</div>
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Plenty of support and very busy at the aid station back at the start.</div>
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The rain just about held off for the first loop but the wind was up and the rain was driving in across the lake by the time I arrived at Okareka on the outward leg. I was thankful that we were running in the shelter of the forest for most of the time. I felt sorry for the marshals and supporters who were stuck there in that exposed location. I was slowing down by this point and Wayne and Paulo Osorio caught up with me. I ran much of last year's TUM with Paulo, where we kept each other's spirits up through our low points with stories and anecdotes. He was much faster this year and went on ahead after the next aid station at Millar Road.<br />
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Paulo, Wayne, Nick at Okareka on the outward leg.</div>
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Paulo makes a quick exit from Millar Road aid station.</div>
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A modified out-and-back course has one major advantage - we get to see the faster runners on the return leg. It makes the event more inclusive and involving and gives us a glimpse of what it's like up there near the front. My longest low point meant plenty of walking and plenty of opportunity to take photographs, until the approach to Okataina when I began to let rip on the descents.</div>
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Leader Sage Canaday heading for his second win.</div>
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Yun Yanqiao second.</div>
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Vajin Armstrong third.</div>
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Elastic band collection at the turnaround.</div>
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A very wet Okataina on the return leg.</div>
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Ross Steele on the way back to Millar Road.</div>
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Final Coke fill at Millar Road.</div>
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Like last year we were running over the toughest part of the TUM course. Apparently there is more ascent over this 73km course than there is over the normal linear 100km course, which I have yet to experience. No wonder I always seem to slow down and suffer, especially on the outward leg to Okataina. With effective fuelling I did fall into the groove by the return leg, though. It felt just like home as I ran down those narrow muddy technical trails as if on a fell race, overtaking all before me. The only unrealistic part was the warmth of the rain. With the temperature at 18 deg C I felt quite comfortable in vest and shorts while others were wrapped up in their waterproofs to protect them from this alien environment. Time splits showed my time was 3:00:55 from Okareka to Okataina and 2:49:55 from Okataina back to Okareka.</div>
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Paul Charteris presents the iconic carved wooden TUM medal.</div>
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The closing ceremony and awards presentation were held on Sunday. It was still raining.<br />
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Male winners.</div>
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Female winners.</div>
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The Tarawera Ultra Marathon isn't a one day flash-in-the-pan. It's four days of activities and a coming together of the worldwide ultra-running family in a most beautiful part of the world.<br />
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My photo album is <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26082075@N05/sets/72157642582423653/" target="_blank">here</a>, and here's the official documentary by Ninmo Productions:<br />
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<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="510" src="//www.youtube.com/embed/VCAaDa3srTo" width="854"></iframe><br />
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My final six days in New Zealand were spent sightseeing with Wayne around the Rotorua area and running the <a href="http://www.parkrun.co.nz/cornwall/" target="_blank">Cornwall parkrun</a> in Auckland.Nickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07454804247569172043noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1630370531945018065.post-8879818487327753202014-05-05T16:32:00.000+01:002014-08-20T21:02:43.778+01:00February 2014Another Woodbank parkrun mid month was flanked by the following events:<br />
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<b><u>Sat 01/02. Rombald's Stride 23mi.</u></b><br />
I love this race from Guiseley up onto the moors above Ilkey, Otley Chevin providing the sting in the tail. This was my 15th consecutive year. We have seen a great variety of weather and we have seen some flagstone paths replace bottomless bogs in recent years. That's all well and good but the combination of rough flagstones and a thin sheet of ice is a lethal one. There were injuries and at least one retirement with a badly cut knee. The wind on the tops was icy and relentless but at least it didn't rain, or sleet, or hail.<br />
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For pictures, <a href="http://www.sportsunday.co.uk/" target="_blank">SportSunday</a> were out in force again but the album seems to have disappeared from their website. Lucky I bought mine when I did.<br />
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Dave and Eileen Woodhead of the Woodentops were also there taking their pictures, shown in <a href="https://plus.google.com/photos/110439573756197443848/albums/5975543436970336481?banner=pwa" target="_blank">set 1</a> and <a href="https://plus.google.com/photos/110439573756197443848/albums/5975557615943548689?banner=pwa" target="_blank">set 2</a>. The picture below is taken from their prolific output. It was a nice sunny day but that wind wasn't 'alf keen.<br />
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My pictures are <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26082075@N05/sets/72157640423875676/" target="_blank">here</a>.</div>
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<b><u>Sat 08/02. Anglezarke Amble 24mi.</u></b><br />
Another long-term favourite and my 14th time, this is an LDWA event geared towards walkers but runners are always welcomed. This has also enjoyed a great variety of weather. Remember the <a href="http://ultraploddernick.blogspot.co.uk/2012/02/anglezarke-amble-25mi-11022012.html" target="_blank">big ice year</a>? It's the time of year - so unpredictable. The route from Rivington takes in Rivington Pike, Winter Hill, Darwen Tower and Great Hill. Great Hill has degenerated into a shocking state over the years with the foot traffic. This year, a wind increasing to strong gale force made the summit of Great Hill an abnormally dangerous place to be. It was impossible to stand up in the onslaught from our left and we had to present our minimum profile to it to avoid getting blown over. It all added to the fun and sense of adventure. Relative calm and warmth returned by White Coppice and the lower level, sheltered final few miles back to Rivington.<br />
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My pictures are <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26082075@N05/sets/72157640740918743/" target="_blank">here</a>.<br />
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<b><u>Sat 22/02. Flower Scar 6.5mi fell race.</u></b><br />
Based at Todmorden cricket club, this was my first time on this and I loved it. Weather was perfect - dry and sunny as predicted in the forecast. Conditions underfoot were steep, wet and slippery, making me wish I'd worn the new fell shoes I'd just bought at the stall at the start. Still, at least we had the bonus of a bit of new access road instead of bog and tussock to run along on Flower Scar Hill. It provided access to the new wind farm still under construction.<br />
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There were marshals galore and the organisation was extremely attentive under the pressure of the new FRA safety diktat. Hoops were jumped through to comply, including kit checks and herding us into a starting pen - twice - to count us out. All numbers were correctly displayed on chests for counting back in. Fortunately the weather was so good we didn't have to cover up our numbers with jackets (they were carried in bum bags along with matching full waterproof leg cover and the other bits demanded by the rules for this little jaunt never far away from civilisation). Thanks and well done to Todmorden Harriers for such exemplary organisation and implementation.<br />
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Keith Parkinson was up on the hill taking pictures, including this one:<br />
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The picture below (taken by me at the end of the access road before the return to bog and tussock) gives an idea of the size and shape of the turbine aerofoils:</div>
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The rest of my photos are <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26082075@N05/sets/72157641421708863/" target="_blank">here</a>.</div>
<br />Nickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07454804247569172043noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1630370531945018065.post-1443249091729241972014-05-05T09:24:00.000+01:002014-08-20T21:03:27.901+01:00January 2014Sorry for the long absence. Life's too busy these days and blogging has taken a back seat as you no doubt noticed. I shall attempt to catch up taking a month at a time.<br />
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2014 continued busier than ever with a Woodbank Parkrun on Sat 4th and:<br />
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<b><u>Sun 05/01. Belle Vue Racers Hit The Trail 5mi.</u></b><br />
This has become a firm favourite of mine as a post-festivity lurch back to reality. A trail race with mud and a few short sharp climbs thrown in for added entertainment, it winds its way around Reddish Vale Country Park and finishes with an uphill kick to the finish. 'snogardnet' was at the finish to capture the uphill pain. I just about held off my pursuers.<br />
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<b><u>Sat 18/01. The Hebden 22mi.</u></b><br />
Another massive turnout of competitive runners for what was originally conceived as a walking event, but they don't mind. In fact they welcome us because we are polite and courteous and we don't eat much checkpoint food. :-) Yours truly put in a PW performance of 4:44, but the course was slightly lengthened by a couple of reroutes and it was, of course, an utter mud-fest. It was good to see Steve Foster out there with his pooches to cheer us on.<br />
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Steve gives encouragement on the reroute to the finish.</div>
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My pictures are <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26082075@N05/sets/72157639938567783/" target="_blank">here</a>.<br />
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SportSunday were out in force as usual taking some amazing <a href="http://www.sportsunday.co.uk/the-hebden-2014" target="_blank">pictures</a> considering the poor light conditions.<br />
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Following the event we had our Runfurther relaunch meeting across the road in the Dusty Miller. The phoenix rose from the ashes. Long Live Runfurther!<br />
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Runfurther lives with a more certain future. </div>
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<b><u>Sun 19/01. Lamb's Longer Leg 5k fell race.</u></b></div>
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Race 1 in the Hayfield Championships and my first race as a Glossopdale Harrier as second claim club for fell racing. The weather gods finally smiled on us for our steep slog in the hills above The Lamb Inn. With yesterday's Hebden in the legs there would be no PB today.</div>
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My new family.</div>
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My <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26082075@N05/sets/72157639945416895/" target="_blank">pictures</a>.</div>
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<b><u>Sat 25/01. Kinder Trial fell race.</u></b></div>
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Race 2 in the Hayfield Championships, this is an orienteering race from Hayfield in the foothills of Kinder Scout. It was long and tough this year with 16 controls and over 13 miles. For a change there was no snow, just water and mud. In contrast to previous year's 'headless chicken' running around, I backed off and gave myself time to navigate before starting to run. Result? Big PB and highest ever placing for this event - a top half finish no less, which is always hard to come by in fell races. Picture below was captured by competitor Stephen Burt. Nice one Steve.</div>
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My <a href="https://www.flickr.com/photos/26082075@N05/sets/72157640185891845/" target="_blank">pictures</a>.</div>
Nickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07454804247569172043noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1630370531945018065.post-28376727883188313042014-02-17T21:41:00.002+00:002014-02-18T23:41:24.902+00:002013 - what a year<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJCUyI5wvHHi8lETKXbSCdmXvexpFuLtiswKhTFWELogJoiSfb_AUHv639GWBdNo3vRHxDPXb3hJcBAtPdrfVVnLVnpijEOv4DCWScikpBi_E4m5s39nI1-5RRznqwYfpOQeC5a24cTUQ/s1600/P1010577.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJCUyI5wvHHi8lETKXbSCdmXvexpFuLtiswKhTFWELogJoiSfb_AUHv639GWBdNo3vRHxDPXb3hJcBAtPdrfVVnLVnpijEOv4DCWScikpBi_E4m5s39nI1-5RRznqwYfpOQeC5a24cTUQ/s1600/P1010577.JPG" height="180" width="320" /></a>This was the year of highs and new experiences, the year when I finally cracked UTMB, the year when I became a serial compulsive fell racer, got some speed and decided I wanted to join Glossopdale Harriers on the fells. Here are some stats:<br />
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Number of races: 88;<br />
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Number of Ultras: 12 (total since 1996: 170);<br />
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Number of 'Hundreds': 2 (total since 2000: 18);<br />
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Total distance: 1,577 miles;<br />
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Total ascent: no idea, not never I ain't;<br />
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PBs: 17 (only when there was a previous completion with which to compare);<br />
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Number of continents raced on: 5.<br />
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<b>The highs</b><br />
- Paying my first ever visit to New Zealand and meeting up with ex-pat Jan Danilo and family, completing the <a href="http://ultraploddernick.blogspot.co.uk/2013/05/tarawera-ultra-marathon-102k-16032013.html" target="_blank">Tarawera 100k</a> and a week later completing the <a href="http://ultraploddernick.blogspot.co.uk/2013/05/te-houtaewa-challenge-63k-23032013.html" target="_blank">Te Houtaewa Challenge</a> down 90 Mile Beach.<br />
- Storming past L50 and L100 runners in that storm to pull off my most storming <a href="http://ultraploddernick.blogspot.co.uk/2013/08/montane-lakeland-100-26-28072013.html" target="_blank">Lakeland 100</a> finish to date.<br />
- Completing the <a href="http://ultraploddernick.blogspot.co.uk/2013/10/ultra-trail-du-mont-blanc-168km-fri.html" target="_blank">Ultra Trail du Mont Blanc</a> in all its awesomeness in the most perfect conditions imaginable.<br />
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<b>The lows</b><br />
- Suffering so much survival death-march in achieving that UTMB high. The highs overcame the lows.<br />
- Nearly, so very nearly dropping out of the Lakeland 100 with digestion on strike, until total body reset that turned me into a bit of an animal and ultra machine. The low became a high.<br />
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So, no lows then, only highs.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf6Jux6KIPTjCASRF87paXuKXrfrlvUJWaf70f1hcN_tGn2bYmZ1XlAM8VdlfC2Og7OTeBJnLQ5LD8V0h824cAJJ1u_V7BWx8fLOIR_Gff8JimXP2YM6XnwkwvTBJDXTMIyP0fD60NsiI/s1600/173_Winner+Sage+Canaday+with+back-of-packer.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjf6Jux6KIPTjCASRF87paXuKXrfrlvUJWaf70f1hcN_tGn2bYmZ1XlAM8VdlfC2Og7OTeBJnLQ5LD8V0h824cAJJ1u_V7BWx8fLOIR_Gff8JimXP2YM6XnwkwvTBJDXTMIyP0fD60NsiI/s1600/173_Winner+Sage+Canaday+with+back-of-packer.jpg" height="320" width="219" /></a><b>The surreal moment</b><br />
Mingling with the fresh-legged fell runners at the start of the Lantern Pike fell race already mud-spattered and feeling somewhat used; I was 26 miles into the High Peak 40 in the "<a href="http://ultraploddernick.blogspot.co.uk/2013/10/race-within-race-high-peak-40-lantern.html" target="_blank">Race within a race</a>". My HP40 time with fell race and travelling time in between wasn't a Personal Worst either. I'd call that another high.<br />
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<b>Two Grand slams</b><br />
Hayfield fell race championships (10 races) and the Goyt Valley fell race series (4 races) and earning some rare bling as a result.<br />
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I can't finish this final post for 2013 without mentioning the camaraderie. Runners are a great bunch wherever you go, from the humble Parkrun (yes, I did plenty of those) all the way up to the world class athletes at Tarawera. It's all one big happy family. (Opposite - with Tarawera 100k winner Sage Canaday.)<br />
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Here's to 2014.Nickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07454804247569172043noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1630370531945018065.post-18432860619887434162014-02-17T20:33:00.000+00:002014-02-17T20:33:49.669+00:00Adlington Winter Warmer 10k. 29/12/2013.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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(Photo Alan Burton.)</div>
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This was the second year for this 'fun run' in aid of charity. As it's mid-festivities it has become very popular very quickly. It's based from The Miner's Arms in Adlington and takes in lanes, tracks, Middlewood Way and canal towpath - and the weather's always sunny. :-) The chosen charity this time was '<a href="http://www.justgiving.com/BarrysProject150?utm_source=facebook&utm_medium=socspondesktop&utm_content=BarrysProject150&utm_campaign=post-sponsorship-donation-desktop" target="_blank">Barry's Project 150</a>' and I quote from the man himself:<br />
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" <span style="background-color: white; color: #4d4840; font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 13px; line-height: 16.899999618530273px;">This year we have launched 'Barry's Project 150' and with your help we are aiming to raise £150,000 to fund a specialist room at The Christie's new teenage cancer unit.</span>"<br />
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This is a 10k with a twist. Timepieces are banned and prizes are awarded according to how close you are to your predicted finishing time. Unlike last year when I was 14 seconds out and just in the prize bracket, this time I was 58 seconds out. Although I knew I'd be slower than last year I thought I'd be even slower than I was, so a good result then. :-)<br />
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During the run and not far from the finish, as I emerged through the stone squeeze stile back onto the canal towpath and turned right, I was confronted by the sight of a runner stretched out across the towpath with foil blanket over him and people fussing round. As I stepped carefully between his head to the right and canal a couple of feet to the left, he looked as if he were sleeping peacefully. I feared the worst and felt quite morose, with thoughts of heart attack and such like filling my mind. We were told at the presentation that he was in hospital and well taken care of. Thankfully, later reports on Facebook from the man himself confirmed that all was well - no heart attack, just a fit of some sort. I felt so relieved. Glowing reports of support from marshals and bystanders were brought forth by the incident. Well done all, and thanks to organiser Tony Ward once again for putting on such a fine, well-supported race.<br />
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When everything had been totted up, £1,165 had been raised, which is fantastic. Many people (including me) owe their lives to The Christie. That charity can never get too many donations in my opinion.<br />
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<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/26082075@N05/sets/72157639228664324/" target="_blank">Pictures</a> were a bit limited this time, not to mention more blurred than they had any right to be.Nickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07454804247569172043noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1630370531945018065.post-35547626206235646072014-02-04T22:08:00.002+00:002014-02-05T00:42:31.612+00:00Tour de Helvellyn 38mi. 21/12/2013.<div class="western" style="margin-bottom: 0.18cm; margin-top: 0.18cm;">
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<span style="line-height: 16px;">This was the 4th running of the <a href="http://www.nav4.co.uk/events/tour-de-helvellyn/" target="_blank">Tour de Helvellyn</a> (a nice little pre-Christmas workout to assuage the guilt of imminent decadence and debauchery). Each one has been milder than the previous one. This year for the first time there was no sign of snow or ice anywhere. We just had gales, water and more rain to contend with. Deluges leading up to race start had left the ground swilling with water and springs in the most improbable places, while lakes expanded their boundaries across fields and roads. I had never seen the Lake District so awash (see top photo).</span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 16px;">After the kit check I emerged a little later than intended to join the trickle of runners on the climb towards Askham Moor and into the teeth of the head-on gale. At least it wasn't raining. Blood flowed freely from my right index finger after its first of four stabbings. I had offered my body for the medical research that was being conducted by the University of Central Lancashire, in which blood glucose and lactate levels had to be recorded. We were spared the temperature-recording telemetry pills that had previously been threatened.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Stu checks kit.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 16px;">I soon found myself running with Martin Thomerson. It was good to have someone to chat with to take our minds off our battle with the elements, since forward progress was proving difficult. The dark blue gloaming slowly gave way to daylight as we chatted our way towards Martindale.</span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 16px;">I had checked the forecast and I was bracing myself for the next brief belt of rain. It had looked ‘interesting’ on the weather map because it had green and yellow in it. I guessed it would hit us around Patterdale or shortly afterwards. Sure enough as I left the Patterdale checkpoint (relocated to a much better place than the broom cupboard of last year) with blood flowing freely once more, the first spots of rain could be felt borne on the head wind from the lowering, darkening cloud ahead. We waded along the icy access track (see top photo) that was now an extension of the lake that would normally be out of sight.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Martin descends to flooded Patterdale.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 16px;">As we ascended Greenside Road towards the youth hostel, all hell suddenly broke loose with lightning, violent swirling gusts descending from the hills and torrential RAIN. I was thankful for having planned ahead and set off from the start wearing waterproof top and bottoms. I didn't have to stop and faff with kit in doorways like others did; I just zipped-up and carried on in my own comfortably warm cocoon. I felt strangely secure in such a hostile environment, and a little smug if I'm brutally honest. I was quite pleased that the blood that encrusted my hand and drink bottle was now getting washed away.</span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 16px;">Thankfully the squall line passed within 15 minutes or so and by the time the climb to Swart Beck began in earnest, the rain had stopped and the cloud had lifted. A later-starting, minimally-attired and far-too-fit-for-our-own-good runner overtook on the steep rocky climb of the quarry, running as if we were doing a 5k fell race. “How on earth can he do that?” I remarked to a fellow human (as opposed to the superhuman who had just disappeared over the crest).</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 16px;">Stuart Smith formed part of the familiar NAV4 welcoming committee at the Swart Beck checkpoint (he must have raced there after doing the kit checks). He's the one with his head on upside down but always a pleasure to meet every year nevertheless. ;-) He was putting his camera to good use.</span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 16px;">From Swart Beck the landscape opened up like never before. We could actually see where the path went. We climbed to Sticks Pass as the wind took our breath away. The descent towards Stanah was treacherous as the icy gale from Helvellyn on the left did its best to blow us over.</span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 16px;">As in every other year I was depleted by the time I reached the self-dib at Stanah so I made sure I refuelled as I trudged and stumbled clumsily along the rocky path to Swirls car-park. Another competitor overtook me on the run, hopping and skipping over the rocky trip hazards (how do they do that so far into a race?). As he disappeared into the distance I realised it was Ant ‘Forest’ Bethell but my glucose-starved brain had not worked fast enough to call out a timely greeting.</span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 16px;">More good fuelling (ham sandwich, pork pie, you name it) at the Swirls checkpoint had me jogging more energetically than ever before along the forest track. It was warm and calm in the shelter of the forest and the sun was even trying to shine. Hoofin’ ‘Little Dave’ Cumins had caught me up in time for the second SportSunday photographer, which was nice. I shall treasure those photos that tell a little white lie; I'm not really as fast as Little Dave, you see, but who's to know apart from me? ;-)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Another SportSunday masterpiece.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 16px;">I had decided before the start that I would continue along the forest track that every other member of the public would use rather than deviate left onto the permissive path that they would not. However as we approached it, everyone else seemed to be taking the path. I asked Dave what he was going to do. “The path.” That’s my plans scuppered then. Not wanting to be the odd one out taking the easy but logical option, I dutifully followed like a sheep. NEVER AGAIN! It was a joke, abandoned, neglected, unmaintained and impassable due to multiple fallen trees. We detoured and stumbled off path around the obstructions, trying to regain the path again. I glanced down the hillside to the right and glimpsed through the trees that were still standing another runner who had taken the sensible option along the track, but we were now committed to our obstacle course. I gently seethed. Dave bounded on ahead with indecent perkiness under the circumstances and rapidly disappeared through the trees. By the time I’d reached the next self-dib at Birkside Gill with Dave long out of sight, I reckon the detour (because that’s what it is) had cost me 6 minutes. Next time it’s the track, regardless of what others do.</span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 16px;">My fuelling was still going well as I overtook others on the climb up Raise Beck, leaving Martin behind (sorry Martin, it was nothing personal). I was feeling fresh as if starting the race. We were mostly sheltered from the wind, now from our right. I topped out and looked down onto Grisedale Tarn on the right. It looks a lot bigger when it’s not frozen over and snow-covered.</span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 16px;">The descent of Grisedale Beck was treacherous with its steep, technical rockiness and wind from behind that came in waves of gale-force gusts. You had to brace yourself while each gust passed by. I was doing alright until I had to cross a swollen stream. I made the mistake of stepping on the rock under the water. The algal surface was the equivalent of ice. Within a second I was lying in the water, my left forearm and elbow having taken the full force of my fall. I cringed as the wave of pain joined the water in washing over me. A passing runner asked if I was alright. His pace didn't slow to catch my answer, let alone check if I actually was alright. If the tables were turned I know I would have stopped and checked properly.</span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 16px;">The bone still pains me to this day if I catch it wrongly.</span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 16px;">We waded along the flooded track a second time on the approach to the Patterdale checkpoint (see top photo). The water level seemed to have dropped an inch or two. A caravan rested on its roof in the field.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Windy day.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 16px;">Because of the medical research and because I was taking more care of fuelling, I was spending much longer than ever before at the checkpoints. With that and the farce of the permissive path, I should have been haemorrhaging time. I had noted down my PB times from 2012 and had been comparing this year’s as I went along. So far it was looking like this:</span><br />
<span style="line-height: 16px;">CP1 (Martindale) -3mins;</span><br />
<span style="line-height: 16px;">CP2 (Patterdale) -5mins;</span><br />
<span style="line-height: 16px;">CP3 (Swart Beck) +2mins;</span><br />
<span style="line-height: 16px;">CP4 (Stanah) +4mins;</span><br />
<span style="line-height: 16px;">CP5 (Swirls) +4mins;</span><br />
<span style="line-height: 16px;">CP6 (Birkside Gill) +6mins;</span><br />
<span style="line-height: 16px;">CP7 (Patterdale) 0mins.</span><br />
<span style="line-height: 16px;">I was now level with last year but more time would be lost for the third blood-letting and for a nice cup of coffee.</span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 16px;">The latest refuelling put lead in my pencil for an energetic climb back up to Boredale Hause. The next forecast rain was beginning to make itself felt as spray began to blow on the wind once again. It started to come down properly as I descended the other side down Boredale in splendid isolation. No-one else had been in sight since leaving Patterdale. I like it that way because I feel like the hunter and hunted and it makes me push harder. I pushed the pace back to CP8 (Martindale) -5mins. The wind was rising again and the rain intensity was increasing in fits and starts but I didn't care. I was warm and comfortable and I was fuelling to keep the engine going and the mind sharp.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">The last flooded view after Martindale before nightfall.</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 16px;">I hit the trail back towards Askham Moor. I was running as best I could and putting off the moment when I would switch my head torch on. I hadn't removed it all day because it was serving such a useful purpose keeping my cap from blowing off in the gale. Could I manage without the light as far as the Cockpit? No; perhaps on a clear night but not this time. A couple of female competitors overtook me around this point running very strongly. They were the only other runners I would see from Patterdale to the finish.</span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 16px;">The gale drove the rain like mini bullets from the right as I climbed back on to Askham Moor. I glimpsed dark shapes to my right which I assumed to be a group of fell ponies. I shone my torch at them and saw the stone circle. THE COCKPIT! I thought I would have passed that by now! I continued on the same ENE heading like I know we have to, on the less obvious path. I pulled my jacket hood around and ran half sideways and hunched over to present more of my back and less of my face to the driving rain. I was on the cool side of comfortable despite being wrapped up to the eyeballs. I ran to keep warm and I was able to run efficiently because I wasn't overheating.</span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 16px;">I climbed towards the dark mass of the trees on the horizon while scanning the ground to the right to pick up the path I knew should be there. Amazingly I found it – a barely discernible smooth grass strip that cuts the corner and avoids a few feet of unnecessary climb. It was downhill from here to the finish. I glanced behind to see if there were any chasing lights. There were not. I headed for the next dark mass of trees on the horizon which brought me to the gate with wall and the trees on the left (always keep the trees on the left). Continuing the descent brought me to the lane, the welcoming PIR security light on the first dwelling, the dazzling wall of green and white Christmas lights a little further down. As I ran back into Askham still wrapped up to the eyeballs, I was amazed at how much colder gale and rain at +5°C feels compared with calm conditions at -10°C. [In 2010 when it was minus 10 and we ran across virgin snowfields by the light of the moon, I was having to strip off on the final descent to Askham.]</span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 16px;">I ran into the hall via the tradesman's entrance (it's quicker that way) at 9:35:49 elapsed, -17mins compared to last year so new surprise PB. I felt elated. However, before refuelling on nourishing home-made soup, cakes and lashings of tea (thanks Pauline!), a final finger-stabbing was required. The long run to the finish without food intake had resulted in the lowest blood glucose reading of all, and I felt it. I couldn't have kept that pace up for many more minutes without a slowdown for yet more refuelling.</span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 16px;">My post-race weight of 63.9kg revealed 2kg of weight loss. Although that will be from water loss I was not dehydrated as such because I felt fine. Electrolytes were perfectly balanced and everything was still working as nature intended as far as I could tell.</span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 16px;">Later, during an interesting chat with Charlie Sharpe, James Harris, Dave Cumins et al over a cuppa and hearty wedge (of cake) at the ‘elites’ table’, I learned that Charlie got blown off the trail and down the hillside on the descent of Grisedale Beck. Multiple parallel gouges up the side of his leg and hip were evidence of the ground slide he had enjoyed. I also heard that someone else had to retire after getting blown off-piste. Charlie used this event as an easy training run in preparation for The Spine race in January. He had an easy bimble round in 7:34:37. Makes ya sick, dannit. ;-)</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Charlie heads the elites' table. ;-)</span></div>
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<span style="line-height: 16px;">There were a few cases of hypothermia in that later wind + rain onslaught. Jon Steele staggered into the hall 2 hours overdue and on the point of collapse after going off course before the Cockpit. People sprang into action to get him sitting down, warming up and refuelled with warm soup. It worked wonders because he was back to his usual self later on that evening in the Queen's Head.</span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 16px;">Many thanks once again to Joe Faulkner, the NAV4 crew and the providers of THAT FOOD for a 4th bout of pre-Christmas racing pleasure with added spice. See you same place, same time in 2014.</span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 16px;">SportSunday professional photographs are <a href="http://www.sportsunday.co.uk/tour-de-helvellyn" target="_blank">here</a>.</span><br />
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<span style="line-height: 16px;">My blurred snaps are <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/26082075@N05/sets/72157639222870726/" target="_blank">here</a> (but I was trying to run and my equipment is considerably smaller).</span></div>
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Nickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07454804247569172043noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1630370531945018065.post-69001961239842761332014-01-16T22:00:00.002+00:002014-01-16T22:15:04.031+00:00Puma Stockport 10. 08/12/2013.It's not really a 10 mile road race because there's some track and trail, even more so this year with the modified route on the other side of the valley that took out a bit more road. We could hear 'Tom Potson's' commentary echoing across from the stadium PA as we descended the new route back down to the valley floor. The "Pooma Shtockport Chen" is so much better for it. Tom's a good egg. His commentary is exemplary, he sports a good head of hair for his age and his choice of sheepskin coat cannot be faulted for this midwinter race (except it wasn't that cold this year).<br />
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The lead-up to this year's race was dynamic with underlying drama, as shown by the following two videos.<br />
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Post-race analysis can be found below. Try to curb your goody-bag lust.<br />
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My race performance was a bit off the mark. Compared to last year I'd gone off the boil somewhat. 1:17:46 was 2 mins 46 secs slower than last year's PB. That's by the by, though. I love this race. It's friendly, well-supported with electronic chip timing and very entertaining. I'll be back in 2014 for my 9th.<br />
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A minor drama occurred just after I'd passed under the finishing arch. A gust of wind wrenched it from its moorings and lifted it to the other side of the track, knocking over the race clock in the process. Amazingly it didn't touch any of the finishing runners on its journey, so clinical was the launch and repositioning operation. Ditch the tin tacks in favour of proper stakes next year?Nickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07454804247569172043noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1630370531945018065.post-84405743939357618282014-01-08T23:56:00.002+00:002014-01-08T23:56:30.685+00:00Gravy Pud fell race 5mi. 01/12/2013.Third year on the trot for me; I had to come back to Tintwistle.<br />
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Tintwistle - an old stone-built village bisected by the Woodhead Pass on the edge of civilisation at the foot of the Pennines.<br />
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The Bull's Head - a low-ceilinged country pub with open fires that forms race base.<br />
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Home-made cakes - post-race food.<br />
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Ancient cobbled track - the route we all run up together at Andi's sanction and run down in our own time, in a state of near collapse.<br />
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Blue and orange stripy snake - Glossopdale Harriers' new mascot making its weekly outing.<br />
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2013 provided the biggest turnout yet with well over 200 runners standing at the foot of that cobbled track awaiting Andi Jones' send-off instructions. The challenge of Lees Hill awaited, and it wasn't raining.<br />
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There then followed another personal beasting, pushing to the limit with tunnel vision. Let no extraneous or irrelevant stimulus detract from the job at hand - getting to that finish line as fast as humanly possible.<br />
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That's how to run a fell race and the best (retrospective) enjoyment to be had anywhere. If you do it three or four times a week you might see some improvement in race times. I was back down to one a week, so virtually back to last year's time as well. Couldn't complain at 0:48:51 though. Top half finishes are hard to come by.<br />
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Quick getaway afterwards sans cake to get one of the runners to hospital after a nasty fall and head injury. Although badly shaken up, he suffered no serious damage, thankfully.<br />
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Under starter's orders.</div>
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Lees Hill.</div>
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Caity wears the mascot.</div>
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Here are all the <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/26082075@N05/sets/72157638849308215/" target="_blank">pictures</a> I took.</div>
Nickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07454804247569172043noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1630370531945018065.post-74453708191090208392014-01-02T22:22:00.003+00:002014-01-02T22:29:33.483+00:00Famous Grouse fell race 5.2mi. 24/11/2013.Race 10 of 10 in the 2013 Hayfield Championship series.<br />
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Grand Slam or no Grand Slam, I would have been here anyway. It's one of my local favourite lung-burners and knee-trashers. It has a long steep uphill start that has me nearly blacking out with the effort, tunnel vision an' all. Ooh the sadistic pleasure of pushing the body to its limits in the safe knowledge that it's moving slowly enough not to do itself serious damage should the lights really go out.<br />
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The familiar ups and downs ensued once again on part of the Bullock Smithy Hike route up to Big Stone and down to Peep O' Day before the slanting contour that delivered us eventually to that surprising final climb that shouldn't really be there if they got their route properly optimised. ;-)<br />
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I enjoyed a tussle with Tim Ruck on his comeback from an extended lay-off. He caught me on that final climb. His sudden indecent burst of speed pulled him ahead as we began our long, leg-trashing descent back to the finish. I reeled him in again but not quite enough to catch him before the line. Well done Tim.<br />
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That final climb as Tim does his overtaking manoeuvre.</div>
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I managed 0:49:42, which was 23 seconds slower than my PB in 2010, when we enjoyed perfect deep-frozen conditions (this year was back to normal with soft sogginess).<br />
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Food, drink and presentations were had back in The Grouse Inn. Jack Ross, the style icon with the proper hat ('thumbup'), won in 0:34:53. Second was Christopher Leigh in 0:35:54. Third was Tom Bush in 0:36:39. First woman and 7th overall was Olivia Walwyn in 0:38:40.<br />
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A few of us won the Grand Slam award for completing all 10 Hayfield races. Mine required a successful "<a href="http://ultraploddernick.blogspot.co.uk/2013/10/race-within-race-high-peak-40-lantern.html" target="_blank">Race within a race</a>", which was one of the highlights of my racing year.<br />
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Here are the <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/26082075@N05/sets/72157638832336064/" target="_blank">pictures</a> I managed to take.Nickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07454804247569172043noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1630370531945018065.post-35151724748352952392014-01-01T11:12:00.001+00:002014-01-01T11:17:33.490+00:00November 2013 - a couple of races in AmericaI was in America for two and a half weeks in November on business. I would be there over two weekends. Naturally the web was scoured for every possible race opportunity. The outcome was:<br />
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<b><u>Sat 09/11 - <a href="http://events.lungevity.org/site/TR?fr_id=3980&pg=entry" target="_blank">LUNGEVITY Breathe Deep Busse Woods 10k</a>, Chicago.</u></b><br />
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This was run in aid of the Lungevity lung cancer charity. It was well organised with electronic timing, small and friendly and consisted of an out-and-back on an undulating and winding paved biking/walking trail, so it was fast compared to what I'm used to. My time of 46:38 was 20 seconds outside my PB at Offerton 10k earlier this year (on a much hillier course). Business travel takes the edge off.<br />
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Post race I enjoyed a conversation with a Scot living in Chicago who ran a race in my home town earlier in the year. The running world really is a small one. Then I enjoyed another 4 miles of exercise retrieving course markers, which earned me a free lift back to the hotel.<br />
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Next day an icy blast blew down from the north and dumped over a foot of snow on us on Sunday night and into Monday.<br />
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Lake effect snow beside Lake Michigan in early November.</div>
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<b><u>Sun 17/11 - <a href="http://www.kozevents.com/Running_Events/Silver_Strand_Half_Marathon___5K.htm" target="_blank">Silver Strand Half Marathon</a>, San Diego.</u></b></div>
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Vintage Chevy and surf board at the start.</div>
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This race was also electronically timed, but with a turnout of thousands rather than tens like last week. It followed a flat, linear route along the coast from Coronado to Imperial Beach. There were also 10 mile and 5k options, a wheelchair category and a roller skater category. Talking of whom, the winning skater completed the 13.1 miles within half an hour. That's averaging 26mph!<br />
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The skaters, poised for the off.</div>
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We started next to a military base and followed freeways that had been closed just for us before running a big out-and-back through another military base just before the finish. I set off ambitiously with the 1:40 group. I had to let them go by 3 miles. The 1:45 group caught me just after 7 miles. I thought I'd tag along with them instead. No chance! I couldn't hold onto them either. The 1:50 group crept up on me on the return leg in the military base with just over a mile left. I sped up and did my best to hold on, but couldn't even manage that. I just about held them in sight as we entered the long straight to the finish.<br />
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As I crossed the line a finisher's medal was draped around my neck. It's a quality piece as these things go, depicting as it does the vintage 1950s Chevrolet with vintage surf board on top that was there in real life.<br />
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Nice bling.</div>
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I can't remember when I last ran a half marathon; it's been many years, but I know I've run faster than 1:51. Did I ever say that business travel wrecks running speed?<br />
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The pleasant temperatures had resulted in much perspiration and a salt encrusted face by the finish. We recovered in the sunshine at Imperial Beach with food nibbles, beer and live music, after which it was time for me to return to the hotel. It was still only 11am. They start races early in the US.<br />
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I was able to take <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/26082075@N05/sets/72157638827543865/" target="_blank">pictures</a> this time.Nickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07454804247569172043noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1630370531945018065.post-1138941474911963502013-12-31T18:14:00.002+00:002013-12-31T18:18:45.107+00:00Snowdonia Marathon. 26/10/2013.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's the only one I do. This was my 8th consecutive running. This is another race that's improved markedly over the years. Nice route, challenging, lovely views, friendliness, support, some off-road trail (road runners don't read that bit), rave reviews and max ratings on Runners World, and <a href="https://www.facebook.com/PantriLlanberis" target="_blank">Y Pantri</a>. What's not to like? I'll be back. Accommodation's already booked (thanks Stu!).<br />
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Entries for 2014 open in a few hours' time at midnight New Year's Day. Just saying.</div>
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Here are all the <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/26082075@N05/sets/72157638744095393/" target="_blank">pictures</a> I took.Nickhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07454804247569172043noreply@blogger.com0