I came back from America (photo above from Letchworth State Park) in August having failed to complete Twisted Brand Ultra, a tough but not extraordinary hilly 100K challenge across the Finger Lakes of New York State. The event conspired against me. Shaken by some unlucky falls, I had dropped to the back of the pack. Once at the back, with few runners to follow, I realised the little orangey-red route marker flags were too leaf coloured from my colour blind eyes. I went wrong time and again and ended up timed out.
It was deeply frustrating. Cut 10 miles from the end I had missed out on a great finish by the lake in Hammondsport and a medal and a Western States Endurance Race (WSER) Qualifier. And I had to be in a good mood about it, because waiting for me in Hammondsport was my daughter, 3 A Levels to the good, looking forwards to the next leg of our American road trip (picture below New Jersey/Pensylvania). Her company soon had me putting this setback behind me. Or did it? Perhaps to an extent I buried some underlying concerns about declining ability.
Notwithstanding, I have a strong ambition to make the WSER start line before I am too old to have a chance of completing it. With double the tickets every time you make the draw that means qualifying 6 or 7 years for the Lottery to stand a good chance of getting drawn. It is a long journey, but the qualifiers are all good races, so it’s an intriguing way of picking a new event to do.
Qualifier season starts and finishes 1st November. Twisted Branch was my banker, so now, in my post-DNF annoyance I decided to look for one in the remaining 2 months… and found one – 7 Valleys Ultra 110K in the Lake District, a few places left. There was a 25 hour qualifier time to beat – a clear indictor that it would be extreme for elevation. The event date set for 27th September – so with no further consideration I entered, and the event duly declared itself sold out the next day. I may have had another ultra the weekend before, 50 miles of Chiltern Wonderland but so what- I would get the better of the bad luck at Twisted Branch and just do both…
Of course, I then returned home and, training in the Cotswolds, injured my right foot, bruising the metatarsals.
A check over and a needle or two stabbed into the sole from Phil Hale, my sports therapist, and I had a crap but ‘workable’ plan. I would aim to go gently around Chiltern as a fitness builder and then pace the 7 Valleys for a 20-22 hour bid.
At Chiltern (photo from the route above) the foot held up, actually getting worse to 20 miles and then the metatarsals released and improved, in line with Phil’s expectation. That was the good news. But I was tired at the end of the 50, really tired. I also had sciatic pain in my left leg and kept tripping on tree roots. Had tripping become my new thing? I completed in 11hrs 30, an hour down on my relaxed run plan, and I felt very out of sorts. In spite of Centurion Running’s best attempts to provide a winning experience I finished disheartened, age was suddenly catching up with me, and I felt my love of running long trails had taken a real hit. I was down. The only phrase that runners use that seems to fit came up – I had lost my mojo. Or some of it at least. And I had a week to get ‘up’ for 7 Valleys, an event including five big 600m+ fells to summit. It was an event that wouldn’t let me off if I went in half-hearted.
Of course, the drive up to Keswick was painfully slow, navigating roadworks, breakdowns and incidents my planned event registration of 4.30pm became 7.30pm. At 7 Valley’s check in they asked me how excited I was, how prepared I had been, how my training had gone? I just apologized for not being in the spirit of the event, explaining I had been stressed and work-focused and hoped to get into the swing of it once I was at the start line in Ambleside the next morning at 6am.
I stayed over at Brathay Hall in Ambleside, home of The Brathay Trust, whose charity I support. A kind runner called Gill Smith saw me walking from there in the morning to the start (most participants arriving from the finish line bus service from Keswick). Mild weather after sun up allowed for a pleasing morning with the hike over the first big climb through the Langdale and Borrowdale Fells into Rosthwaite where I met the first of several old friends I would encounter. Bristol’s Andy Dunn was doing the 13 Valleys event and then Lucy Noble popped in her role as the aid station medic.
Echoes from my Tour of England followed as I hiked over the peak back to Grasmere, a route I had hiked the other way on my tour with Lucy for company as well as Simon Eaton, Dave Mackie, Louise Cantlay and Hayley Leece – and as I exited the water’s edge trail at Grasmere who should be waiting but Simon Eaton, who had found me on the Tracker.
I caught up with Andy Dunn again at the next aid station and saw his parents, who had sponsored my Tour of England, so the event was already triggering unexpected positive vibes. It was also still mild and near enough dry. I feasted at the Feed Station at Troutbeck, knowing a very hard climb up Thornthwaite Crag and High Steet Mountain would come in the next section. It was starting to rain, but that felt like no great bother.
The sun was dipping on the way up that climb and I do get hot climbing. I had put on my base layer as a precaution against nightfall and a temperature drop, but was regretting for making me too warm. Then a lady I was climbing alongside stopped to put on waterproof trousers. I pressed on thinking it might rain harder but by then I would be on my way down the mountain.
I was comfortable, happy and on schedule for a 20-22 hour finish. I was relaxed. Then bam, the last of the light was gone and I put my headtorch on and in that moment everything changed. The temperature dropped like a stone, the wind howled in with rain fog, and it poured down and sideways. I could no longer see where I was going, the headtorch light bouncing uselessly off the fog, my watch screen was too wet to read the map, my phone was bag-wrapped and away and I could not risk checking it .
There were two guys just ahead, dressed for heavy weather, Ryan and Kallum and they shouted at me to pair with them and move as a group. Most fortunately for me they stood and sheltered me whilst I got my waterproof jacket and gloves on. I was already drenched and frozen and my gloves were completely soused before I could get my hands into them.
We hit survival mode and were joined by another runner Dom, who staggered out of the fog looking like a deep sea diver.
Ascent completed there was then a long ridge to cross and the steadiest of descents and each necessarily slow step brought me closer to hypothermia. I stayed with the group as long as I could to preserve the camaraderie, but the steady pace was my enemy as I grew colder. Nearing the valley, I had to abandon the group that had been my saving as more-sure footed than they were, I came down to the aid station a minute or two ahead of them. That got a bit of heat into my core. Whilst it held I rapidly redressed in the shelter, failing to notice a local runner friend Lydia Thomson who was, like many I would later discover, too cold to continue from there.
I just about got the layers on, and coffee downed in time and with a much faster road and hard impacted trail section ahead knew I would generate enough heat if I got back out there and got jogging. I left the shelter of the station and its murmur of DNF arrangements. It worked and I reached the next aid station and then next climb – over Sticks Pass to one side of Raise Mountain in the Helvellyn group of fells. I was in much better condition. There, the very slippery descent troubled everyone, but it wasn’t a spirit breaker.
In the next section I passed fellow Tunnel 200 completionist Bredan Turner who was feeling unwell, and then caught up with Andy Dunn again who had been drifting mentally on his 13 Valley’s extreme epic. Andy would revive and pass me again just before the finish.
I kept an OK pace going from here to the finish in Keswick, finishing in 23.36, well inside the 25 hour WSER qualification, barely celebrating as I had the 6am bus to catch back to Ambleside! Without the incredibly slow survival march in the storm, I would have been about 1 – 2 hrs quicker.
I felt pretty good about it all. The old friends, the time, the unexpected support and above all else the kindness of strangers. Ryan and Kallum had stood there helping whilst I faffed about with wet gloves on a mountain named in honour of some incredibly belligerent Romans. High Street Mountain, evoking the wonderful absurdity of Roman road building that had refused to detour the 828m summit. Well, neither had I.
And so, to the question many asked me following this event – did I get my mojo back? Well, this was a success against the odds and a survival story that could have gone from bad to worse. It makes a good tale and was definitely not just another ultra to add to my list. I did beat the anti-WSER qualification gods in the end, unless I somehow forget to enter the ballot. And, in spite of the many stones and rocks on the route I only tripped a couple of times so my faith in my judgment was restored. So, I definitely got a chunk of ego back, and I suspect the wavering mojo will be strong enough to gear me up for Lon Las Cymru, 260 miles from Holyhead to Cardiff on 16th October.
