Many of us have a sports plan at the start of every new year of what we would like to achieve. Needless to say this can be disrupted by illness, injury, work and life in general but sometimes the desire to execute the plan is so great you just have to push through these obstacles and mental doubts and just have a stab at it. The Pennine Way in winter, solo and unsupported was such a plan and this is an honest account of the challenges faced.

The physical impediments I had, were twofold: firstly, to make it happen despite having training that was interrupted by illness and a supressed immune system (Double viral hit contracted from air travel during two earlier trips to Spain) and second, to overcome a chronic knee injury which had emerged during an otherwise enjoyable Cheviot Goat Race earlier in December. The injury and illness also meant that my ability to recce the route was somewhat curtailed and limited to three northern sections.

The Start in Edale

The other drawback I faced was the logistics of a fast(ish) paced attempt. Apart from the mandatory safety kit and medical pack, I didn’t want to carry anything I couldn’t eat, drink or wear and this meant finding suitable accommodation up the route which proved to be an unexpected challenge. Logistics are exacerbated in winter as much of the bunkhouse, B&B and campsite accommodation is shut.

It ultimately dictated the length of my adventure as I struggled to make a sub 6 day trip work given that a lot of the accommodation options are unevenly spaced and/or annoyingly off route and resulted in an unbalanced plan with short days followed by massive expedition days which meant success would be more exposed to impediments of the weather and my current physical capabilities. This helped me decide a sub 7 day expedition would be the way to go (better for the knee recovery) and I have to be sensible once in my life. So that was set and the sub 7 day plan locked in. What it lacked in flexibility it made up for in practicality providing hot and cold food supplies and a chance to dry kit and recover.

A solo journey is by its very nature a lonely experience and that prickled a bit. Sharing an experience, especially one as ambitious as this, enhances any achievement for me. I’m not a team player but I embrace partnerships and soulmates in sports I love (Rock Climbing, Diving, Mountaineering, Hill Running) and I hatched a plan that would partly satisfy this need. I had managed to recce three of the northern sections of the route with some 2024 SPINE competitors, Scott Brown, Mike Gregory, Orran Smith, Nikki Arthur and a noncombatant, Max Saleh. They were all much faster than I and I elected to overlap my Pennine Way journey with the SPINE race timetable in the expectation that they would catch me up before I finished. Excellent plan.

Pen-Y-Ghent at sunrise

After the usual kit faff, I packed my 25 litre sac which weighed in at 16lbs (7.2Kg) including hill food and some liquids (but not packed lunch) and headed north to Kirk Yetholm on the 10^th Jan for an overnight stay and to leave my van at the finish line. I discovered while en-route that I had left my Suunto 9 watch charging back in Warwickshire so I hastily arranged for a work colleague who lived nearby to meet me with it when I arrived by train to Edale from Berwick on the 11^th Jan. I stepped off the train with Tim Laney and walked into Edale. Tim had arrived prior to the race start to assist in the hill support team setup for the SPINE and we discussed possible route diversions before going our separate ways.

The Journey

Day 1, 5am start – Edale to Hebden Bridge (45 miles, 5860ft ) 14hrs 31min

Up at 4am and 7 weetabix, 2 pints of milk, 2 pots of tea, 1 banana and a strawberry yoghurt later saw me stood in front of the Pennine Way gate with the faded pictorial map of the Pennine Way route embossed in white. The usual feelings of dread, excitement and an overwhelming desire to get going saw me crunch up the rising path towards the black mud of the Kinder Plateau and ‘Dark Peak’ which was very dark at the time and unhelpfully cloaked in Clag. A slow start and the steady climb helped bed in the legs, something that was to become a daily ritual allowing me to warm up the limbs to find my ‘dog jog’ pace on the flat of the upper paved moorland areas and I covered the ground easily.

I descended to Torside Reservoir and met a fellow traveller and Bob Graham completer Jonny Shaw (Bob No561), he was my age and sporting a large sac and told me after his heart attack he decided to do a winter Pennine Way Solo trip camping, which put my effort into perspective somewhat. Fingers crossed he managed to finish? I maintained a relaxed pace over Marsden Moor and Black Moss to Hebden Bridge and my overnight accommodation at Packhorse Stables 3 miles out of Hebden, where the owner Vicky had made me an evening meal and left it in the fridge. A long but enjoyable first day.

Day 2, 7am start – Hebden Bridge to Kirby Malham (34 miles, 3963ft) 11hrs 8min

This was one of the shorter days planned, and provided plenty of runnable, but generally deserted, high moors. The descent into the valley towards Kirby Malham crossed gated farmland and cow churned grass/mud fields that were now frozen solid and resembled a field of ankle turning half bricks. That’s when I started to realise that unfortunately this farmland terrain would be a recurring feature of this trip.

I left the Pennine Way to travel the mile or so off route to my accommodation for the night and a fantastic evening meal with beer! I also decided after experiencing a couple of internal ‘pinches’ from my left knee that it was probably a good idea to tape it up with KT tape, something I discussed with a Physio friend and along with an ice pack provided by the pub it proved to be a very effective maintenance solution. The Victoria Pub staff very helpfully provided me with a loaded breakfast tray for the morning because the next day would be my longest on route.

Pen-Y-Ghent Summit at dawn

Day 3, 4.15am start – Kirby Malham to Tan Hill Inn (48 miles, 6762ft) 16hrs 15min

My longest distance on paper and travelling through some spectacular scenery (Malham Cove and the tarn) neither of which I saw as it was dark, probably a good idea as the last time I was there in 1986 Malham Cove was the scene of a nasty climbing accident that was the root cause of the chronic state of my left knee. For the first time I met and chatted to a SPINE checkpoint Marshall out guiding runners  with a torch but explained that I was not in the race (something of a recurring theme of the journey). At the 10 mile mark I was treated to a spectacular sunrise as I ascended Pen-Y-Ghent. It was to be the best feature of this trip as early starts and late finishes were guaranteed to deliver the most amazing colourful winter scenes.

I descended into Horton and stopped for a 15 min food break to cram in the calories for the next long runnable section to Hawes and a quick catch up with Debs White who was running the SPINE checkpoint there. As sunset arrived on Great Shunner Fell I made the best of that fading light and ran the frozen pavement into Thwaite, onwards past Keld and up the squelchy, partially frozen Stonesdale Moor.

A fully illuminated Tan Hill Inn came into view about a mile ahead and I hoped they had saved me some food as it was getting late. As I checked in at the bar I met SPINE Hill Safety team member and previous podium finisher Lizzie Faithful-Davies and compared notes on the route and brilliant weather. Soup, beer and chips consumed I retired to my room to find a greeting card from the Tan Hill staff on my bed wishing me well in my solo journey which was gratefully received. Thank you.

Going over Great Shunner Fell

Day 4, 6am start – Tan Hill to Dufton (38 miles, 2497ft) 12hrs 30 min

A -6C start was just perfect for the permanently wet Sleightholme Moor section. I dog jogged to Middleton–in–Teesdale and along the picturesque trail next to the River Tees passing Low and High Force waterfalls and heading West on to Cauldron Snout which was spectacularly in full spate. The weather was just fantastic and I crammed food in to give me an ‘hour of power’ uphill to High Cup Nick.

I (again!)  missed sunset but got a great shot of the dying sun with the moon above. I descended the steep rocky trail to the Potting Shed in Dufton, picking up a niggle by over reliance on my right leg to control speed on the decent to an awaiting log fire and a fridge full of food prepared for me by Simon and Carole the owners. Once settled, I also checked the Open Tracker Spine link for my friends on route now and hopefully catching me up.

Day 5, 3.55am start – Dufton to Twice Brewed (46 miles, 5945ft) 17hrs 10 mins

With hindsight, this was my worst day on the hill. It started off with an enjoyable night hike up and over Great Dun Fell and Cross Fell which at the time had variable conditions, pretty good viz and -15C windchill and I met several other Spine parties on this section. It was icy as hell and somehow I managed to deck it hard and whack myself round the back of the head with my walking pole, at the same time puzzling and painful. I stopped off in Greg’s Hut for a few minutes warm up and get some warm water to unfreeze my drink bottle before dog jogging on down the iced up track passing Debbie Martin-Consani on her way up from Garrigill.

Ice Packs on the left knee from day 2; as if it wasn’t cold enough during the day!

At the Alston checkpoint (‘I’m still not in the race…’) I ran onto the petrol garage 200m up the road from the route for a couple of pints of energy boosting milk. I also met my friend Paul Nelson 15 minutes later heading away from Alston. He was going well in the Northern MRT Challenger event and I didn’t have the pace to keep up and talk at the same time. (I later found out he won the event, well done Paul!). The snow started about now and covered the tracks across the frozen, churned up fields and obscured the view of the route so picking out the Pennine way stiles and gates was challenging all the way to Hadrian’s Wall. The route didn’t ease off when darkness fell and the last 6 miles along the wall to the Twice Brewed Pub took me 3 hours.

I hadn’t recced this section and was frustrated by the lack of wall, the undulating terrain, and the myriad of confusing sheep trods. It was a great relief to see the light from the Pub a mile or so in the distance. They had saved me a large amount of hot food and gave me a massive breakfast tray for the morning. The staff were brilliant and I quickly ate and did my kit admin before hitting the sack.

Day 6, 6.20am Start – Twice Brewed to Byrness (38 miles, 4426ft) 12hrs 35min

The weather on this section was amazing, bitterly cold -6C and prompted my decision to finish the nice bit of the wall following the SPINE GPX rather than taking the shorter route along the official Pennine Way.  The main part is across common land into Bellingham and when I was jogging along the road past the lane leading to the Bellingham Checkpoint I heard shouting. I couldn’t see who it was at first but heard a familiar voice from Orran Smith a SPINE recce partner and we joined up for the mile or so into Bellingham swapping stories about the trail and his partner Nikki Arthur who had already won the Northern Challenger Female race by a 10 hour margin and came in 3^rd overall. She was waiting for Orran at the finish so he didn’t want to hang around.

Cauldron Snout

I headed for the Co-Op shop to buy a couple of pints of milk and he headed up the hill. 15 mins later I rejoined the route and was treated to a superb run across Troughend Common, a section we had both recced during storm Gerrit a few weeks earlier. The conditions couldn’t have been more different and I caught up with Orran again as night fall arrived, on the fire road trail through Redesdale Forest. I had to call ahead at this point to confirm a 7pm meeting time for my taxi as there was no accommodation in Byrness so I had to travel out of town.

At the trail junction where the SPINE route heads towards the Checkpoint I said goodbye to Orran on his final leg to Kirk Yeltholm and took my 20 min taxi ride to the Redesdale Arms, where I was well looked after, fed and watered by the landlords’ Jill and Carl. An epic day on the hill. PS: Orran never mentioned it but he proposed to Nikki on arrival at the finish line. He was carrying the diamond ring in his rucksac. PPS: Nikki said YES!

Going over Cross Fell, -15C wind chill

Day 7, 9.30am start – Byrness to Kirk Yeltholm (28 miles, 4111ft) 8hrs 40min

A spectacular day and due to my taxi’s school run commitments I had to suffer my first full cooked breakfast of 6 poached eggs on toast, cereal, yoghurt and fruit with a gallon of tea at my B&B. This was my shortest day and I was running into a bit of form. It appears that on these multi day events I tend to get stronger as the week goes on and this trip was no exception. I was dropped off at 9.35am and headed up towards Hut 1 where I stopped to chat to marshals’ Drew, Chris and Cathy and have a drink and eat some food. It turns out that there were SPINE runners just ahead and I met them as I got to Mozie Law along with Northumberland MRT member Damien.

I jogged ahead to Windy Gyle and met some other MRT Marshal’s near Kings Seat who said the 2^nd and 3^rd placed SPINE ladies were just ahead and that one was suffering from sleep deprivation. I said I would check on them if I caught them up. A mile further on I passed Hannah Rickman and she said she was taking it steady but was fine before shortly after coming across Lucy Gossage who informed me she was basically falling asleep on her feet having not really slept for the whole race. The night before I had met her dad in the Redesdale Arms and he mentioned Lucy’s sleep deprivation. I stayed and chatted to her till the path headed down west to Hut 2 as I wanted to nip up ‘The Cheviot’ to finish my Pennine journey.

End of Hadrian’s Wall at Dawn

I told Lucy I would try to catch her up on the run in. Although not on the official SPINE route The Cheviot top was amazing, breezy, cold and crystal clear so, a quick photo and a video for the Dragon’s Back pals back home and a run down to Hut 2 where I found Lucy had been safely buddied up and had already departed for the run in. I descended fast from the top of the Schil in fading light and heard a yell from the trail ahead.

I found Michael Kelly on the floor 40m in front of me. Lucy had run on ahead several minutes prior. Michael had taken a heavy fall on sheet ice. The main concern was his leg got awkwardly twisted up his back as he fell, but as we talked and he sat upright, time worn on a bit and it started to feel a bit better. It was getting pretty dark so I helped him sort out his head torch and checked he could walk down ok, we cautiously paced out a couple of hundred meters downhill and  he said he was now able to move ok so I said goodbye and ran on to see if I could catch up with Lucy.

I saw her headtorch light just as we hit the tarmac road and we walked/ran in the last 3 miles or so chatting to pass the time and in anticipation of her grand stand finish. The cheering was audible 300m from the line and I peeled off right to touch the wall while Lucy enjoyed the SPINE family reception. I informed the SPINE hill support team of Michael’s tumble so they could check he was ok and dumped my kit in the van and headed to the Pub for a large drink and an even bigger Border Hotel dinner. Total journey time taken 6 days 13 hours.

The Cheviot summit.

OBSERVATIONS

Oh, I was lucky! Yep, for once the weather sprites were looking the other way when I made this plan. The weather window I had was perfect for me. On reflection, three main differences emerged between my solo journey and that of my friends in the SPINE race, so in no particular order. First, mine wasn’t a race and I could relax into a pace and thoughts without the anxiety of thinking about the end, placing or results.

The challenge was the route itself not the order or time of finish. It was a holiday on the hill and I treated it that way. Second, sleep deprivation. Its clear this has a massive impact on performance and my 3 – 5 hours of admittedly fitful sleep a night was a luxury the SPINE contenders couldn’t achieve, even if you chose to bivi away from the checkpoints. The extra sleep gifted me the ability and cognition to appreciate the journey north. Third, food, every night I had a choice of food from a menu and time to eat my fill. My nutrition plan at the end of each day and on the hill was basic but it worked and I now have a new found plan to carry me through other winter projects to come. A great learning experience. Great accommodation, food and weather, what an adventure! Do it.

Bill Whitfield

Final few Miles descent into Kirk Yetholm

Back to Penrith and 2 pizzas to finish!! Hurrah! XXX

SUPPLEMENTARY INFORMATION

The post The BACKBONE appeared first on Run Ultra.

Bit of a dramatic title I know! But in the lead up to the Winter Spine 2024 I had been very open about my ‘why’ to complete this legendary race. I’d even said to friends that the only thing that would stop me getting to the Border Hotel in Kirk Yetholm, would be an injury bad enough to physically stop me running. 

As it happens, this was very nearly the case, but we’ll get to that bit later………..

A stressful build up 

Here’s a snapshot into my crazy family home life…..

On the day before the race, which is obviously kit check and registration day at Edale, I had some jobs to get done that I hadn’t managed to complete in the week leading up to the race.

I had to move (by hand) a metric ton of logs for our log burner for while I was away.

I had to rod our drains leading to the septic tank that had decided to block up that week. 

I also (and this one is possibly the most ridiculous) had to cut a hole in our front door to fit a cat flap. All because our 2 cats were going to be left over night without a cat sitter when the family drove north to meet me at the finish. (Great idea, but it would have been an even better idea if the wife had thought of it 2 weeks before the race, not 2 days before).

To top all of this off, my good friend Dan had decided a few months previously to get married that day! So not only did I have a list of jobs as long as my arm to complete the day before the race. I also had to drive to Chesterfield to see my mate get married. Then, and only then, could I disappear to kit check and registration and finally get settled in at Edale ahead of the biggest race of my life! 

But, after a stressful week leading up to the race I was glad to be healthy and on the start line. I had survived the taper!

Image credit: Adam Jacobs at Wild Aperture Photography

And so, we begin

The race started at a blistering pace and I found myself getting swept along by the excitement of the day. 

What I love about ultra trail running, is the fact that you get to line up with the best in the world and it’s no big deal. It’s the equivalent of signing up to do the 100 metres and standing next to Usain Bolt! I was stood next to this year’s champion Jack Scott, last year’s winner Damian Hall and various podium runners from the races past. 

Once I’d settled into a comfortable pace on Kinder, the realisation of what was ahead of me sunk in. It didn’t faze me particularly but it filled me with a sense of purpose to move forward efficiently. 

Despite a tumble on the descent to Torside which left me laying on my back in the bog with cramp in my hamstring, everything seemed to be going well. I even managed to keep up with the legendary Nicky Spinks for a few miles as we headed up the other side of the valley. We chatted about her living in Scotland and the wind turbines giving her grief. We didn’t talk about the fact that I asked her for a podcast interview multiple times in the lead up to the race and how she had ghosted me every time (she’s subsequently replied and explained she was busy and I’ve booked her in for next week so all’s good)

Heading up to Wessenden I fell in pace with Jonathan Sangster and we chatted as we ticked off the miles to Hebden Hay.

After a quick turnaround at CP1 we made the conscious decision to walk all the night section in the hopes of saving ourselves for daylight and the chance to run in clear but cold conditions. The night was super cold but clear and we made decent progress to Gargrave. 

After visiting the famous Gargrave Co-op for coffee and croissants I felt good enough to push on and run the next section. We tested our running legs and I felt good, but Jonny seemed to be in some discomfort so we decided to part ways in the hopes of seeing each other again later. 

Malham Cove and Pen Y Ghent 

I reached and climbed Malham Cove before hitting Malham Tarn feeling good, only stopping for a coffee and a biscuit. I knew that Pen y Ghent lay ahead so I wanted to hit it in daylight if possible. 

I made good progress up to and over the big climb and was happy to keep my pace moving as I knew the long Cam High Road lay ahead. 

The Cam Road was an absolute drag that never seemed to end as darkness drew in. By the time I reached CP2 at Hawes I was cold (especially my hands) and ready for some sleep!

After a 2 hour sleep and lots of my usual faffing I was off in the early hours ready for the big climb up Great Shunner Fell. Snow was now starting to fall and there was lots of sheet ice covering the flagstones. Microspikes were deployed and I made it down the other side. The next section to Tan Hill seemed to pass by quickly and a warm bowl of soup and a bread roll went down perfectly. 

Image credit: Gilly Photography

The next section heading towards Langdon Beck CP3 was snowy and seemed to be endless. I managed to team up with 2 other runners at this point which helped with the monotony of this section which is made more mentally challenging now that the checkpoint has moved from Middleton to Langdon Beck. A difference of only 8 miles, but by this point at the end of a 60 mile section, it feels so much further than Middleton would have. 

The weather on this final section was disgusting! It was rain and sleet and windy. It then turned extremely cold again. 

The race is held back due to the weather 

When we got into checkpoint we were informed that the race was being held due to the harsh weather conditions. As it happened, this didn’t really affect us as the race was restarted an hour after we arrived. 

We arranged to have a 2 hour sleep and continue together, but my faffing meant that I overslept slightly and missed my 2 friends leaving! Easy come, easy go I figured. 

The next section to Alston usually starts with the infamous scramble over boulders by the river leading to the scramble up Cauldron snout. A formidable obstacle even when I did this section in the summer. This time however, the safety team had deemed it too dangerous to tackle in the sub-zero conditions as the temperature now plummeted further to close to -20 with the wind chill. 

Heading for hallucinations 

The super cold temperatures were felt as soon as I left the checkpoint. With the Cauldron Snout section now diverted, the route went straight into a climb on an icy snow covered road leading to the trail to High Cup Nick. 

This section was eerily quiet and you could feel the cold trying to penetrate every layer of kit that you had on. It felt so cold that if anything had gone wrong and I had to stay still for more than a few minutes, the cold would envelop you and eat you up whole! 

Thankfully it didn’t and I stomped onwards to get a sunrise view of High Cup Nick which was spectacular to say the least. 

On this section I had a nice hallucination. In the distance I could see a very cute looking husky dog. Very similar to my very much loved and missed own dog, Inka who died some years ago.

I could see the dog sat at the side of the trail with its ears pointing up and eagerly waiting for me to reach it to give it a well deserved stroke. 

As I got to within a couple of metres of it, I realised that it was actually just a stone mile marker and not a dog after all! I’ve had scarier hallucinations before. 

After an icy descent to Horton, I stopped at the local cafe for a feed. A bacon and sausage sandwich with ketchup, followed by a strong sweet coffee went down a treat as I mentally prepared to tackle great Dun Fell and Cross Fell. 

After a long climb to the top, I was met with what can only be described as a moonscape. Deep white snow as far as the eye could see. I got stuck into a steady pace as I dreamt about the chilli noodles that awaited me at Greg’s Hut! John Bamber never disappoints and the noodles hit the spot needed. 

Image credit: Gilly Photography

I then found renewed zeal to get down the valley and head to the next checkpoint at Alston. 

I reached CP 4 after sundown and it seemed fitting to try for another short sleep before heading off. But obviously not before trying to eat my own body weight in the famous Alston lasagne! 

With a couple of hours sleep and a belly full of pasta, it was time to head off into the section that is described by most as the ‘boring bit before Hadrian’s Wall’. Boring this section may be, but it was about to get interesting for yours truly! 

The fall!

After settling into a decent fast hike/jog pace I came across Asok, a Gurkha who was doing the race with 2 other people. We chatted about our mutual friend, his coach Jack Scott and my podcast. I felt good so I pushed on ahead of him. 

At around 5am a stone wall crossing came into view. I pulled myself up and over to move quickly as I had been doing. But to my surprise, both of my feet slipped and I fell forwards from almost the full height of the wall. I put out my poles to brace myself but the left one snapped clean in two! I plummeted to the ground lading on my hip and hitting my head on the frozen concrete-like ground. 

Everything went black 

All I remember is hitting my head then seeing my headtorch shining on the frosty grass in front of my face. The next thing I know, Asok is above me trying to pull me to my feet. Every time he manages to get me up, my left leg gives way and I fall back into a heap on the ground. This continues for a minute or so until I can stand by myself and come to terms with what had just happened. 

I was very aware of the cold at this point. In the 30-60 seconds that I’d been knocked out and lay on the cold ground I could feel the cold and the shock setting in. I made the smart decision to put an extra layer on to keep warm. I knew this would take up more time and increase the chances of me getting cold. But I also knew that the extra-long sleeve layer I had in my pack would get me warm again fairly quickly as long as I could get moving. 

Asok kindly gave me one of his poles and he agreed to guide me for a while. We headed onwards into the night and ticked off the miles as the sun started to come up. By now it was a good few hours since the fall and I was starting to feel much better. 

My head had stopped bleeding and wasn’t giving me much pain. 

We made good progress and before we knew it, the SST point at Greenhead near Hadrian’s wall came into view. I knew that runners who had overtaken us as we walked had said they would inform the safety team of what had happened. 

Image credit: Greenhead SST

Forced retirement 

Once at Greenhead I made myself known to the safety team, expecting to let them know I was ok and then push on for Bellingham. But I was informed by the team that I just needed to pop onto the visitors centre and wait for the all clear from the medics who were in contact over the phone. 

I sat in the warm and had a welcomed cup of tea while I relayed my experience to the team. Then one of team came back in from being outside on the phone. He said ‘it’s not good news, the medics have decided to retire you from the race’ 

I just laughed and said ‘ok you can stop kidding around’ but he was deadly serious. He informed me that because I’d lost consciousness, even momentarily, their guidelines stated that I automatically needed to retire from the race straight away! 

This was shocking news, but me being me I felt that I needed to question the decision a bit further. 

While I understood the guidelines, I went on to explain that the fall had happened over 5 hours before this point. I had in fact walked for 3 hours and then jogged the last 2 hours to get to the SST point. I could have breezed past the safety team and carried on, but I’d voluntarily come to the team to let them know I was ok.

I sat and thought about it for a few minutes. I could sense that the SST team weren’t quite comfortable with the decision themselves, especially as they could clearly see I was in good shape, despite my bruised hip and bleeding head. 

So, I asked to speak to the medic himself. Once on the phone, I explained everything again and I pointed out that I didn’t agree that I could be retired from the race without one of the medics accessing me in person. 

He agreed but cautioned that I might be waiting a while for one to get to me for the assessment. 

I waited at Greenhead for a total of 5 hours. In that time I got warm and dried off my kit. All the while wondering if my race was over, or if I was going to be able to sweet talk my way back into the race. 

The medical 

The medic arrived and to my surprise didn’t come with the preconceived idea that I was out of the race. In fact, she seemed to want to get me running again. After a battery of tests she pointed out that it had now been over 8 hours since the fall. I hadn’t suffered any issues and in the time that had passed. I was rested and ready to go. So, in her opinion, I was ok to continue, but it came with a caveat. At every SST point and checkpoint, I needed to present myself to the medics so they could keep any eye on me as I continued. 

This was the best news I could have! 

I quickly got my gear together, thanked the medic and the SST team and set off with renewed enthusiasm. By now there was only a couple of hours of daylight left so I made good progress moving along Hadrian’s wall with Bellingham as my goal. 

Obviously I had to call in at Horneystead Farm for a cup of soup and a chat. After a long drag, that farm is like an oasis in a parched desert! 

Once again feeling full of life I pushed on for Bellingham which was now only 6 miles away.

Bellingham 

I have mixed feelings about this checkpoint. As it’s the last official stop before the big push to the finish it should be a haven for the runners. But to me it feels like a very cold and slightly unwelcoming place. The sleep area is literally a wooden building that’s as cold feeling as being outside still. There are no beds so you must deploy your complete sleep system if you want to get any shuteye. 

I checked in with the medics and Hatty was an old friend from previous Spine races that I’d volunteered on. Hatty gave me the once over and told me that after the race I’d need to get my hip looked at as it still might need an X-ray. She loaded me up with painkillers and I settled in for a few hours’ sleep. 

The final push 

Although this final section is over 41 miles long. It never seems that long. Not in terms of mileage at least. 

Mentally this section is doable because you know that the first bit is a bit boring and boggy, but it leads to Kielder Forest where I seem to always seem to have my best hallucinations! 

In the summer race I had seen numerous black bears stood on their hind legs. I’d seen the grim reaper complete with scythe watching over me as I passed through the forest. This year the bears were in full attendance as usual but I encountered some new imagery friends. In the distance, stood firmly to attention at the side of the trail were 4 very regal looking knights in shining armour. Complete with shields and broadswords!

As I got closer to the knights I realised that they were in fact just tall trunks of trees that had died and gone very grey and were shining in the morning sun. The light reflected off then perfectly giving the illusion of being like shining armour. As I passed them I could see in the distance some children on a school trip. Must be a geography class I thought to myself as I trundled on. Although I did start to wonder how a field trip of kids and a teacher had made it all the way up into the forest that early on a Friday morning. 

Clearly I was tired and the hallucinations were strong! I decided that once I got to Byrness, I’d have a much needed sleep in the old church. 

Image credit: Jamie Rutherford

Byrness naps

As I got onto the valley road into Byrness, I felt overwhelmingly tired and I was starting to weave across the trail. I sat on a fallen tree to gather my thoughts. I knew that the church and the SST point were less than a mile away now, but it seemed like a million miles. 

I turned the corner on the trail and saw a familiar face. Ryan from the media team was positioned outside the church and was chatting to runners about their race. We chatted on camera about my journey and that now infamous fall that everyone on the Spine staff now knew about. I told him I was going to try to get a nap in at the church and he quietly slipped away. I later saw that he included my conversation in the official YouTube episode 7 which I watched in bed the day after the race. I couldn’t believe how tired I looked! 

In the church I expected it to be quiet as runners slept. In fact, it was quite the opposite! At least one runner was snoring so loud you could almost hear it outside. Other runners were up making hot drinks or faffing with their kit. I decided rather than have to get all my sleeping kit out of my bag, I’d just take off my pack and lay on the cold wooden floor. That way I wouldn’t sleep too long as I was itching to get onto the Cheviots.

I dropped to the floor and passed out. It may have only been 20 mins until I could feel the cold start to dig into me. I sat up and felt marginally better. Now time for some food! 

SST Byrness

The mini safety checkpoint is a short walk down a track to a house that’s used every year as the final safety check. They are very welcoming. So much so that they keep a keen eye on the clock as you enter, making a note of when you must leave with precision. While this can feel a bit annoying at the time, they know as well as you do that time can slip away in a checkpoint and before you know it you could be still faffing with kit an hour later. So, it’s a good thing they keep giving you time updates. 

After filling up on some hot food that’s kindly provided I got my stuff together and set off back to the church. I wanted to give my feet one last look at before the final push. 

The final final push

After generously applying the last of my K-tape to my toes and heels it was go time. 

This section is now only 25 miles and seems like it’s a formality to get done. But having done this section in the summer race, I knew that it could at times drag with every step! I did however feel pretty good at this point so I pushed on as fast as I could. 

The climb up and onto the top of the Cheviots is technical in places but I seemed to relish it this time. Perhaps because I knew what was ahead and was feeling strong and determined. 

Once on the tops, the full force of the weather could be felt. Almost instantly on queue a gust of wind almost blew me off my feet. Reports said that the winds that morning were going to be around 50mph and increase to gusts of 70mph as the day progressed. At times it took all of your strength to stay upright, skilfully using your poles to keep your balance. 

I trundled on, jogging once on the flagstones that in places had now become exposed due to the winds clearing them. I passed a couple of runners and briefly chatted. I was now more determined than ever to get to that finish line before the day was out. 

I put in my headphones and drifted off into an audiobook. This distraction worked really well and before I knew it Hut 1 came into view. My heart skipped a beat at this point. I knew that from here it was another 9 miles to Hut 2 then a measly 7 miles to the finish! 

I stopped and had a warm coffee in the hut and noticed there were 3 or 4 other runners in there all taking they’re allowed time of 30 mins. I didn’t want to stay any longer than I needed to. So, I quickly necked my coffee, had some food, and pushed on. I had a mild dread for this next section to Hut 2. In the summer I’d become extremely tired on this bit and I wandered off course and ended up needing to sit by the trail and have a nap to recover. In my head this section was really long. As it happened though, I was feeling ok this time so the miles passed as quickly as I could have hoped. 

The night had drawn in by now and head torches were deployed for the final time. I’d now managed to catch up with a small group of runners and was happily chatting about being so close to the end. We made it down the icy descent to Hut 2 and again found a few people huddled inside for warmth. The wind had now increased to the predicted 70mph gusts and the SST guys had to literally guide us into the hut to make sure we weren’t blown across to the ravine that lies 20-30 feet to our right as we moved closer to them. 

Again, I didn’t want to waste time here so I had another coffee and said my goodbyes. One of the safety team ran with me as I exited the hut. He ran me all the way along the ridge to the start of the Shill. The final insult!

When you leave Hut 2 you assume that it’s 7 miles down to KY. Which it technically is, but not before you must make one final climb over the Shill to then drop down all the way to the finish. 

At this point I didn’t mind. In the summer I was annoyed by this final task, but today I didn’t care. I knew my journey was coming to an end. 

The last bit

In my excitement at finding that I had phone signal at Hut 2, I’d sent a text to Kate and the girls saying that I’d only got 7 miles to go and I’d be down in 1.5 hours! I must have been a bit delusional as this section took me at least 3 hours! 

Although I’d done really well managing my blisters to this point, the final decent put so much pressure on my toes and heels. You don’t notice blisters when you’re climbing so much. But descending really puts pressure on any that you have and mine were now excruciating!

I winced my way down through the ice and snow and onto the tarmac road at the bottom of the valley. This road in the summer was smooth and walkable. But this time it was a death trap of ice, snow and water.

I picked my way around the ice and down towards the lights of Kirk Yetholm. As I rounded the corner to drop down the final half mile I could see the lights from the Border Hotel. I could see the inflatable Montane finishing banner and lots of headlamps milling around. 

This was it! I was done! 

As I managed to pick up speed into a jog to cross the line. I could see my wife Kate waiting with tears in her eyes. This race takes up so much time for a family man like me. Hours of training, reccy days away from the family. Being good for nothing at times because of the training load. 

I could see her relief that it was over. The same relief that I now felt. 

As I saw my girls all wrapped up in big coats and holding their handmade GO DADDY! signs I didn’t feel the emotions I thought I would. I’d imagined this moment so many times before. I envisioned me crossing the line in floods of tears as I hugged my family then kissed the famous wall of the Border Hotel. 

But I didn’t feel any of this. In fact, I was devoid of all emotion. All I felt was a sense of completion and finality. The job was done. No need to make a big deal of it. I’d had super highs and super lows over the week. All of the emotions had been dragged out of me as the week went on. All I felt now was joy that it was finally over! 

Image credit: Adam Jacobs at Wild Aperture Photography

I sat in the lounge of the hotel with a warm cup of tea. Wearing my trusty warm dryrobe. Kate pointed a phone in my face to video me and asked me if I was going to do the race again? 

I confidently said ‘No, it’s done now. No need to do it again’.

She reminded me that she had it on video and that it would be brought out again should she ever need it. 

I laughed and said ‘never again!……well not for a few years anyway’.

Read more:

The post THE WINTER SPINE 2024 – THE RACE THAT ALMOST KILLED ME appeared first on Run Ultra.

The inaugural Bowland Ultra, a 43-mile circular route with 1,700m of ascent showcasing the some of the best parts of the beautiful Forest of Bowland. The route had it all from sublime fell tracks, dainty trails, fell tops and quaint country roads. 

I came across the event on social media, it certainly caught my eye and captured my imagination. Having trapsed around parts of the Forest of Bowland over the years, I felt like I had to be involved, so why not? My entry was submitted a smidge over two weeks before race day. 

The route started at the small village of Slaidburn nestled within the Ribble Valley district of Lancashire. The picturesque surrounding villages of Abbeystead, Bleasdale and Dunsop Bridge played a pivotal part of the event before returning to Slaidburn.

Race day was here! Less than an hour’s drive to Slaidburn from the other end of Lancashire. A very handy car park in the village was a huge plus point, only a stones throw away from HQ, Slaidburn village hall was a hub of activity, serving as the race headquarters.  The kit check was thorough and rather efficient. Any per-race nerves had settled after a catch up with some familiar ultra running faces. Seth, the race director briefed the 70 or so runners before guiding everyone to the start line.

On the start line of the Bowland Ultra © Andy Milton Photography

Three, two, one, GO! Out of Slaidburn and onto the meandering country roads following Seth on his bike. A nice warm up on the roads led to the Hornby Road, running heaven for most. The track continued past Croasdale Fell and Salter Fell. The first of four checkpoints came about 12k into the race, situated on the Horny Road at Salter Fell. I grabbed a handful of jelly babies before continuing of my way.

The next section of the route was 15k of undulating fell track towards checkpoint two at Abbeystead. So far, conditions had been rather settled, although running through thick pea-soup mist. On route there was a break in the cloud below Wards Stone, revealing the beauty of Bowland. Bowland is such a vast, untouched open space. On arriving at checkpoint two, a few jam butties and banana was consumed, I left CP2 in good spirts. 

A big thumbs up © Andy Milton Photography

The terrain started to get mixed over the next 16k to checkpoint three. Country roads, muddy forest tracks and a lovely fell-side trail below Harrisend Fell. Off the fellside and onto the tarmac for about 8k. This section felt like a bit of a trudge, suffering a few niggling cramps on the relentless road section. It was heads down towards the next checkpoint at Bleasdale. On reaching Bleasdale, we underwent a quick mid-race kit check before having some delightful pasta and another banana.

On leaving Bleasdale, the weather started to dip. Light drizzle had arrived, and the wind started to pick up too. I decided to put my full waterproof jacket, replacing a windproof shell. The next section of the route was by far the best, the ascent and descent over Fiendsdale Nab was delightful. The route continued along the Langden valley, following Langden Brook all the way towards checkpoint four at Dunsop Bridge.

At checkpoint four, a much-needed cup of vegetable soup was devoured along with some other savoury snacks. All the checkpoints had been perfectly positioned, well stocked and had the most wonderful volunteers who couldn’t have done anymore for all the runners. Having previously walked around the Dunsop Bridge area, I knew exactly what the next section had to offer. A long valley road heading north, following the River Dunsop. 

Heading out of the Langden Valley © Andy Milton Photography

Along the valley road it was nice to chat to various people enjoying the great outdoors. Most folk was curious to find out what event I was taking part in. Flabbergasted by the distance that us mere mortals was undertaking on a cold January day.

Out of the valley bottom and back onto the trails, a small diversion around a local shoot! I certainly didn’t want to be mistaken for a pheasant! A lovely single-track trail led to the final big climb of the day. A zig-zagged track led to a section of peat-bog mess, wonderful! Over the top of Dunsop Head, here the headtorch came out for the final section as the light began to fade. The final decent off Dunsop Fell was a joy with a mere 5k or so back to the finish line.

The final few miles flew by with a nice gradual drop into Slaidburn where I was greeted at the finish line with a round of applause and a lovely race memento, a Bowland Ultra finisher mug. I’ll certainly enjoy a brew or two in it. 

There was a lovely post-race hot meal back at the village hall, with hot/cold drinks and ample tasty treats on offer. The whole event was amazingly organised, with every bit of detail planned out well. Runners even got entries into a raffle for car-sharing and litter picking along the route. 

If I could change one thing it would be my choice of shoe. I opted for grip, expecting more bogs and squelchy ground. The week leading up to the race saw a prolonged period of dry weather, meaning the trails was unseasonably dry. A trail shoe with added cushioning would have been the better option on this occasion. 

My race goal was to get around in one piece, having not taken part in an ultra since August 2023. The plan of keeping the heart rate low worked a treat, never really going out of my comfort zone. Fuelling was great in between checkpoints. I finished the race in 9.03hrs, 13^th male and 17^thoverall. I thoroughly enjoyed the event and will certainly return for another taste of Bowland in the future.

Find out more about the Bowland Ultra

The post The Bowland Ultra Race Report appeared first on Run Ultra.

I first came across Allie a few years ago when Susie Chan interviewed her for RunUltra. Allie was a “test pilot” for Rat Race Events and I remember thinking that must possibly be one of the best jobs in the world.

Since then, having followed her on Instagram, I’ve been aware of her struggle with depression, and the subsequent positive changes in her life. I was really interested to be asked to interview Allie and I was sent an advance copy of “There is No Wall” to read ahead of the interview.

Allie writes about her alcoholism and depression in and around her amazing running adventures. She shares deeply personal stories and viewpoints that must have been very difficult to face, let alone write about and share publicly.

The book starts with Allie’s work in the music industry, and then goes on to describe how she started running. I won’t write any spoilers here, do not fear! But my fascination with Allie is how she was able to run all the extreme events she describes, whilst being physically limited by alcohol and mentally ravaged by depression.

So, my first question was how she ran those events in the condition she did when many people struggle to complete in the best of physical and mental health?

Photo courtesy Allie Bailey

I wasn’t thinking clearly at all. I had no emotions, and no sense of feeling. I didn’t feel pain the way normal people feel it, I didn’t feel anything. I was in an anhedonic state and lived in a grey fog. I lived it in forever, like 20-odd years. Nowadays it’s a lot harder because I’m very aware of what I feel.

When you are in touch with yourself and your emotions, you know you have a choice. When you are an addict, you don’t have a choice. 

Similar question when it comes to personal admin on extreme ultras – you say you didn’t manage it well, but clearly it was well enough to complete successfully, and as a fully participating member of your team. How do you think you managed?

I didn’t really care. Personal admin didn’t come into it. As long as I had water, I was alright. Because I didn’t feel anything, I wasn’t really bothered. When you’re an addict, you stop looking after yourself. You look after everyone else, but not yourself. I wanted to die so looking after myself didn’t matter. 

Even if you’re not a runner, when you get to that stage of addiction or depression, you stop looking after your personal admin. Now, when I go and do these events, or when I’m teaching, I want to make them as easy as humanly possible. I know they’re going to be hard, I know it’s going to hurt, so I’m like, make this as easy as possible for yourself, because I can’t take codeine or drink alcohol to make the pain go away.

I’m on the Spine Safety Team next week, and there’s no way I’d be able to do that if my personal admin isn’t on spec. If we’re told ‘get your bag, you’re going up the hill now’, you need to be ready to leave now. 10 years ago I’d have lost my first aid kit, or couldn’t find my water. I wouldn’t even mention I wasn’t ready and I would go without it.

Photo courtesy Allie Bailey

The title of the book, There is No Wall, came from Allie being asked at the Running Show a few years ago how to avoid the Wall by someone running a half marathon. Allie had a lightbulb moment and told her there is no Wall. It’s a possible outcome made probable by scary marketing to ensure you buy their products, but an outcome that is avoidable. Allie realised she could apply the same mindset to her own circumstances; her situation wasn’t written in stone and she could change it.

What I like about this book is rawness of it. This is someone telling us frankly how shit the shit bits are, but also offers an insight into how to dig yourself out of it.

I went on to ask her how differently she thought her running is now to 10 years ago.

If you attach your worth to one thing, when that thing’s gone, you have a problem. So now I ask ‘am I getting enjoyment out of this’ and ‘why am I doing it’. I’m going back to the Arc of Attrition this year because I love it, I want to draw as much attention to their races as possible, it’s hard, my crew love it and we have the best time. There’s so many good reasons for me to do it. 

I have dreams of stuff I want to do. I want to win a Centurion 100 race. One day I will win a Centurion 100 and have that big trophy. I will train, train really hard to do it, and hopefully no one faster than me will turn up on the day, but they might and so it will be on to the next year. 

The other thing for me is, showing other people you don’t have to be super quick, super thin, super fit, super this, super that to run. You can do this just for the enjoyment of it. Being a “good runner” isn’t about being a “fast runner” or about winning stuff or being in the top ten of your age group. It’s about encouraging people, it’s about being an inspiration to your peer group, it’s about taking people out. It’s showing people you don’t have to have these pressures, you don’t have to do what these fucking magazines tell you to do, or buy the stuff that even the companies that sponsor me are telling you to buy.

Photo courtesy David Miller

I asked Allie what she would do if she couldn’t run again; how much self worth does she place on it? 

It’s not my whole life. No one thing is my whole life. I spent so long feeling like I don’t deserve to be here, that I’ve done a lot of work to step away from those things and stepped away from hanging my hat on a hook saying that’s where my worth lies. I don’t know how I’d feel if I was told I couldn’t run again; as humans we have this habit of predicting the future and saying ‘this is how I will feel’. I don’t do that anymore.

Her attitude is admirable and many would benefit from this mindset (including myself!).

Allie has shared much of her life on social media. I wanted to know what her relationship was with social media and what part has it played in her recovery? 

Allie with her dog Pickle. Photo courtesy Allie Bailey

I use it. I use it and it doesn’t use me. I don’t go and look at other people’s feeds. I only use Instagram. I talk to Renee McGregor about this a lot, because we both hate it, but we’re of the opinion that you have to be in the playground, if you’re going to have an opinion on bullies. I use it almost like a diary for myself. When I hit rock bottom and skidded face down into the concrete and wanted to die, I created the set of values that I wanted to live by, and I decided I was going to display these at all times. So I want to show people what is going on all of the time. 

Mental health and addiction breed in the dark. When you put it in the light, when you’re honest, no one can get you. I’ve been quite scared about publishing this book. There’s a lot of stuff in there which is pretty fucking close to the bone. My behaviour in the past has been abhorrent but the shame of that can only breed if it’s kept a secret. 

Another interesting facet to There is No Wall is the fact running didn’t actually save Allie. She says it enabled her; by doing the challenges and races she did, whilst being an alcoholic, actually allowed her to hide the fact she was an alcoholic. 

It’s well known in the community that many ultra runners have or have had some mental problems (Allie would say all of us!).

Addicts are focused on their addiction. Ultra runners are focused on what they want to achieve. 

People say “you’ve just swapped one addition for another”. I really push back against that. Running is not an addiction. When you’ve fought yourself in your head, fighting those voices saying you can’t do this, you become very aware those are just thoughts. You become better at handling them. And that’s what makes people who have gone through mental health issues good at this stuff. 

Photo courtesy Allie Bailey

My final question to Allie was for anyone realising their relationship with alcohol, or anything else, was unhealthy. Is there a way to cut off arriving at the rock bottom?

If you are asking yourself if you have a troubled relationship with alcohol, you have a troubled relationship with alcohol. There’s no shame in it; you’re addicted to something that’s highly addictive. It’s been pushed at you and it’s the only substance that you are questioned why you don’t do it. It’s a societal issue. There is nothing wrong with being addicted to alcohol. What there is something wrong with, is not doing something about it. 

What I ask people who question themselves on this is, the next time you go to have a drink, ask yourself how is this going to serve me? How is it going to make your life better? Usually people respond with “it relaxes me” or “it makes me more funny”, “everyone’s doing it”. But those reasons are not good reasons to put a liquid into your body. Going to the pub and having a pint of orange juice is the same as going to the pub and having a pint of alcohol except you’re just not poisoning yourself.

It’s about being honest with yourself. People don’t accept where they are, they accept where they want to be. 

“While I was writing this book, people would obviously ask me what it was about. ‘Well,’ I’d say, ‘it’s about a depressed alcoholic who realises her dream job is killing her, gets super into running and then stumbles through life a miserable fucking wreck doing ridiculous things, running ridiculous races until her whole life falls apart”

Excerpt from There is No Wall

Pre-order from Vertebrate Publishing here. RunUltra members get 25% off all Vertebrate Publishing books – get the code here!

The post THERE IS NO WALL – INTERVIEW WITH ALLIE BAILEY appeared first on Run Ultra.

2023 has been an incredible running year! Having completed Badwater 135 for the second time in July, the North Downs Way 100 in August and Spartathlon 153 miles in Greece in September, I was really keen to finish my year off with the Daytona 100. It is run by the legendary Race Director and inspirational runner Bob Becker who also hosts the Keys 100 (which I ran in 2022 and will be again in 2024) so it was looking like the perfect race to finish the 2023 season – and hopefully escape the pre Christmas madness in the UK and get some winter sun too! 

The Daytona 100 is known to be a fast and flat (and very straight) 100 mile ultra marathon and it’s a fact that this is the race to do if anyone who wants to get a 100 mile PB.  So, I decided to use it to see just how long I could sustain an increased pace and see what I was capable of if I pushed myself a bit harder. This was my Daytona 100 race strategy.

Registration in Jacksonville

The race starts outside the Lifeguard HQ, Jacksonville Beach on the NE Florida coast and hugs the Florida coastline due south with the Atlantic Ocean on your left and the meandering Intracoastal Waterway on your right for 100 miles through St Augustine and Daytona Beach until the finish line which is the lighthouse at Ponce Inlet. Back in the days before Bob took over the race, this event used to run 80% on pavements and sidewalks and 20% on the beach, including the iconic North Turn where the Daytona Motor Racing used to take place on the beach until 1958. The East Florida coastline along the race route has suffered some major coastal erosion from recent storms and the beach is much narrower currently.

Temperatures in northern Florida in November can be hot so I did the smart thing and put in some heat acclimatisation in the days before our flight out to Orlando just in case it was toasty. For the first few days in Florida before the race, it was really chilly. Bizarrely colder than UK weather I had left behind! Beautiful blue skies but really cold! We had been tracking the weather closely and were confident the cold front would pass through by race day. The forecast for the race was highs of 25ºC/ 77ºF and having run Badwater 135 and Spartathlon earlier in the year I was welcoming some warm weather running! 

Start line

Start to Marathon distance

I was on the 2nd wave 6am start (there was also a 5:30am start) and after a race briefing from Bob and a rendition of the Star Spangled Banner we had a countdown and we were off! It was 30 mins before sunrise and dark and I wasn’t using my head torch, instead relying on the streetlights of the residential roads of Jax. The first 3.5 miles of the race are actually running north in the opposite direction to the finish line so it was good to get this out and back section done. It was now daylight and just starting to warm up. Temperatures were a mild 16ºC/ 61ºF and conditions were perfect. I started the race wearing my speedy bright Nike Alphafly’s which I hoped would propel me forward faster in my quest to run a 100 miles PB. I also had my signature Neon yellow race kit on and was feeling good.

Running back along First Street I passed the very festive ‘Lights of the World’ and ‘Deck the Chairs’ Christmas illuminations by Jacksonville Beach that looked beautiful as the sun was rising behind them. At mile 7 it was the first Aid Station and timing check point and I ran straight through. My husband Matthew, who was my sole crew member, was waiting for me at mile 8 where several other support crews were waiting for their runners. 

Our Crew Support Vehicle

Along with my ‘run faster’ strategy, we had also decided that crew stops were going to be super swift, short and efficient as a lot of time can be wasted at crew stops. Less than minute later I was off again for an 8 mile section along Ponte Vedra Blvd which was a residential road lined with exclusive mansions all with immaculate grounds. Crew weren’t allowed in this section and no wonder! Matthew was waiting for me at Mile 16, Mickler’s Beach Park which was buzzing with support crews. I was feeling great and running at a good pace. The temperature was still rising with beautiful blue skies to enjoy the coastal scenery. 

My nutrition strategy for the race was to have a Gu Liquid Energy Gel with caffeine every 10 miles until I couldn’t tolerate them anymore along with whatever solid / real food I fancied or Matthew managed to force down me! Now I was running on the A1A Scenic and Historic Coastal Byway which would be my running route for the next 84 miles! Sections of this highway were so long and straight, you could just see the road going on and on in front of you with no end in sight.

Usually, this race has a tailwind but this year was different, there was a headwind which was there for the whole race!

26 mile beach aid station

26.2 Miles to St Augustine (Mile 37)

Aid Station 3 was the GTM Reserve (Guana Tolomato Matanzas National Estuarine Research Reserve) and it was one of my most iconic and favourite aid stations of any race I have done, a small gazebo between the beach and the road on the sand at the marathon mark. I went through the marathon distance in 4 hours 13 minutes and met Matthew here who had parked across the road at the gas station and had a water bottle change, some pineapple, salt and lip balm and I was gone! 50k was 5 hours 6 minutes and an average pace of sub 10 minute miles.

It was now properly ‘hotting up’ and Matthew deployed our pressurised Hoselock water spray filled with icy water which was a great relief from the rising temperatures. The race is so flat with the only elevation being at the one mile long Intracoastal Bridge over the Tolomato River just after Vilano Beach. I ran strongly up the bridge and was treated to some incredible views at the top before I let my legs enjoy the downhill into the city limits of St Augustine. 

It had now hit a midday high of 25ºC/ 77ºF and I was now starting to feel quite hot so requested the ice bandana from Matthew who was waiting for me outside Dunkin’ Donuts (after the official Aid Station at the Church of the Nazarene) with some donuts for me. I didn’t really fancy one but forced it down. Yummy. St Augustine was founded in 1565 by Spanish explorers, it is the oldest continuously inhabited European-established settlement in what is now the contiguous United States. Running through the city at 36 miles, I passed the Castillo De San Marcos National Monument and ran over the beautiful Bridge of Lions which is a scenic drawbridge adorned with marble lions. I was praying it didn’t go up for a boat to pass under and hold me up! The architecture in St Augustine was like being in Europe, not the USA! It was very busy too so I had to weave my way around all the people out on the sidewalks and crossings. I met Matthew on the South side of the city. He was running across 6 lanes of traffic to bring me things from the support car!

St Augustine (Mile 37) to Matanzas Beach, Southeast Intracoastal Waterway Park (Mile 50)

I was still feeling pretty good, the race field had really spread out by now and I was running on my own for most of the time. I had overtaken a lot of people in the early stages of the race with my pace. The mile 43 aid station and timing check point was on the sidewalk outside Publix Supermarket. There was a complex road crossing here and I was escorted across the road by one of the brilliant volunteers waving a red flag to stop traffic and was impressed that the aid station had a barbecue on the go! The Americans know how to do Aid stations!! Matthew made me a Hawaiian roll with cheese and I had a Diet Coke and it was back across the road, nearly at the half way mark. My pace was still just over 10 minute miles.

Mile 40 St Augustine

Mile 50 and halfway, the Southeast Intracoastal Waterway Park. I received a warm welcome from the volunteers including a sweaty hug with Mario, whom I met at Badwater 135 and is the Brazil 135 ultra marathon Race Director. I was delighted that I had run the first 50 miles in 8 hours 45 minutes, however I was starting to pay for it as my feet were hurting and I started feeling sick. I decided to take a walking break and try to reset. Matthew got my comfy Hoka Bondis out and ready and put a chair on the side of the road for me to change but I said I would try and do another 10 miles in the Nike Alphaflys and do a complete change at 60 miles. It was at this point in the race where I was constantly seeing the same support crew’s of runners who were running in my vicinity and it was nice having some camaraderie with them. We had decorated our support car, a huge Ford Explorer with Union Jack Flags, Team Laura Watts decals and new for the race, ‘MegaWatts’ stickers too. It was so distinctive to see it driving around and I loved it.

60 miles, preparing for night

Mile 60 (Hammock Beach) – Mile 69 (Flagler Beach)

Race rules stated you needed to start wearing your reflective vest and flashing lights by 5pm so we used the Mile 60 Aid Station and Timing check point 7 in the car park of the Publix Supermarket at Hammock Beach for a wash, a complete clothes change, shoe change and it was time to don the night gear. I was still moving well but feeling really really sick. 

This is the point where my race changed. I was unable to eat. I tried to nibble the corner of a piece of gingerbread but I couldn’t swallow it. It was now time to grit my teeth and ride out this low. I was now adopting a run walk strategy but wasn’t stopping. Then, I fell over! I stacked it on a flat piece of pavement and cut my hand and my knee, bruised my hip and was embarrassed! Luckily only one person saw me! 

Mile 69 was Flagler Beach, which was also the start of the alternate Daytona races. The 50 Mile and 50KM.  I was flagging at Flagler Beach, it’s not called Flagler Beach for nothing!  It was a warm Saturday night and this place was buzzing with lots of bars illuminated with neon lights, live music and seafood restaurants. It seemed a really cool place. We loved the vibe so much that we went back there for a post run dinner the day after. 

The ocean was literally on my left side and you could hear the waves constantly throughout the race. In the darkness I lost a visual sense of where I was but my audible senses were heightened with the sounds of the ocean. It was still really warm, 21ºC/ 70ºF. Nausea was winning and I knew what was coming. I told Matthew and he recommended get it over with and upchuck to reset! I was in fact sick 13 times – I kept count! It was a relief to be sick and it usually it resets me but every time I tried to sip some ginger ale or water, it just came back up with a vengeance! It didn’t slow me down. I would just vomit and go! Poor Matthew was worried about me as the eating and drinking game was over and he went on a mission to find me an ice lolly as that was what I requested! He came back victorious with a fruit popsicle which was delicious, mission accomplished! The glamour of Ultrarunning. 

Mile 74 (Gamble Rogers) – Mile 83 (Ormond Beach)

With less than a marathon to go. I got to Ormond Beach, mile 80 at 2220, 16 hours 20 minutes after I set off from Jax. Throughout the race I had been doing mental calculations of what my finish time could be. My dream goal had been to finish sub 20 hours and at this point I knew that wasn’t going to happen today. My realistic goal now was 22 hours so I was hopeful that I could still achieve this but feeling so wretched I just didn’t know if it would happen. I had a section now of power walking as I felt I couldn’t run anymore but I didn’t want to finish this race death marching. Time for a chat with myself.

This section was spent literally just moving forward and being annoyed I was still feeling so sick but I was still loving the race. In a slightly abnormal way, I love the pain cave, I love pushing my limits and this makes me feel alive. 

Even though we were Brits abroad, we kept seeing people that I knew at either Aid Stations, on support crews or other runners as the ultra running community is relatively small even in a huge country such as America and the common denominator was either Badwater 135 or the Keys 100! 

Mile 84 – Mile 97 (Daytona Beach)

After the Aid station in the car park of Ormond Beach shopping centre, I teamed up with fellow Badwater 135 finisher Remo as we left the Aid station together to run the Daytona Beach section of the race. It’s always a good idea at night in a town to pair up with someone. I was desperate for some ginger ale as we had run out and Matthew yet again spent his time going to dodgy 7-11s trying to find me some but nowhere had any. He came back with a sprite which was sugary and fizzy and a great second choice to ginger ale! 

Remo’s wife Sarah and Matthew were around us constantly during this Daytona Beach section which was great knowing they were our guardian angels looking out for our safety! There were a few revellers coming out of bars and some homeless people outside 7-11s but it was very quiet with hardly anyone around and barely any cars on the road.

We ran past the famous ‘Daytona Beach World’s Most Famous Beach’ sign which looked beautiful at night and a brightly illuminated fairground and having run in such a quiet residential route for the past 80 miles, it was so nice seeing something different. It was very Christmassy, it was beautiful.

Remo went off ahead of me and I re-found a large amount of my mental strength and rhythm. With ultras, there are so many highs and lows and I was able to start running again for short bursts. The pavement was undulating so I elected to run on the road rather than the sidewalks especially as I had already stacked earlier. I didn’t want a second face plant on the sidewalk in my fatigued condition! 

The last 15 miles are a bit of a blur but with every step forward I was one step closer to the finish line.

Mile 97 (Wilbur-by-the-Sea) – the Finish Line at Ponce Inlet Lighthouse 

As I entered the tranquillity of Wilbur-by-the-Sea, I could see the beams of light rotating high up from the Ponce Inlet Lighthouse illuminating the sky and I was re-energised to get this race done. I was so happy as it was still dark and I have never finished an ultra marathon in the middle of the night! I was on course for sub 22 hours and that’s all I focused on for the last few miles. At mile 99.5 Matthew passed me my large Union Jack and went ahead to mile 100. I was trying to imagine what the finish line would look like in the middle of the night. As I ran into Ponce Inlet Park I held up my flag and ran towards the finish line with Matthew filming me. It was quite a low key finish line but the wonderful staff and volunteers cheered me in and told me I had won an age group award. 100 miles. 21 hours 47 minutes. An official 100 mile PB. I ran more of this event in the dark (11 hours 47 mins) than the daylight (10 hours) which was a shame to miss a lot of the beauty of the beaches and the ocean.

Finish line with Matthew

Summary

Sunday afternoon we attended the Awards Ceremony at the Hidden Treasure Rum Bar and Grill and I was presented with an award for 1st Place Female 45-49 which was a book by Jimmy Buffett called ‘A Salty Piece of Land’.

I underestimated this race. A straight flat and warm 100 miler was much tougher than I expected. 

I am still working on my nutrition and feel this was the cause of the sickness. (It could have been a dodgy donut or Hawaiian roll!)  When I get that right, I will definitely get faster but that’s for the future. For now I am delighted with my time and finishing another 100 mile race. I absolutely loved the Daytona 100 race. I got a 100 mile Buckle, a lovely medal and a PB. I loved the fact it’s a December ultra marathon to escape the chilly pre Christmas madness at home.  Great organisation from Bob and his team of fantastic volunteers. If you want some winter sun and a fast and flat ultra in December then this is for you. I’ll be back. Until then it’s the Keys 100 in May 2024.

Finishers buckle and medal at Ponce Inlet Lighthouse

Find out more about Daytona 100 Ultra

The post Daytona Delivered – Daytona 100 Race Report appeared first on Run Ultra.

EMILY’S STORY

It may sound strange but my five day, 123-mile race through the foothills of Nepal started 28 years ago.

And no, I wasn’t that slow completing the Capital to Country Multi-Day Ultra Marathon, an event one of my fellow runners epically described as a cross between the Marathon des Sables and the Ultra-Trail du Mont Blanc.

In reality, it was because I was rediscovering an Emily who I had left in those same foothills almost 30 years previously.

I was only 18 when I first when to the Himalayas, an incredible trip which saw me make memories and friends that will last a lifetime. I’ve always wanted to go back, but life did its thing and always got in the way.

Then, two years ago, I got divorced. It was one of the hardest periods of my life and with two young children to look after, and a busy job as a teacher, there wasn’t much time for me.

When the chance came up to join Go Beyond and a group of just six other runners to run from Kathmandu City to the fabulously remote Lamaland village, it wasn’t one I was going to miss out on. It was time to rediscover Emily.

Before we even started running the experiences jumped at us – initially in the form of a gang of rather cheeky monkeys who we met during a visit to Kathmandu’s otherwise peaceful Monkey Temple. One of the presumptuous primates even grabbed themselves a Sprite bottle as a souvenir of our trip.

We were then privileged to receive a blessing from the local monks, wishing us luck before our incredible run got underway.

You’ll have noticed that so far I have referred to ‘run’ and that is indeed the correct description for what most of my companions did. But for me, this was a chance to try out a different tactic: power-walking. My decision to walk the whole 120-plus miles was born out of two things. Firstly, I had run flat out at what turned out to be a gruelling Glasgow to Edinburgh Ultra last October. Towards the end of that race, which my friend and I finished in something of a mess, we were being overtaken by walkers. Secondly, I am hoping to take on the Marathon des Sables in the near future, and with the heat of the Sahara I don’t think I’ll be able to run too much of that race. And so, walking seemed like a good idea all round.

Day one of the race saw us up and about bright and early, departing Kathmandu for the ancient district of Sankhu, where the event was to start. Along the way, we received another monk-assisted blessing. I guess you can’t take too many chances.

After heading off through the beautiful Sankhu gate, it didn’t take long until our first climb was upon us as we left Kathmandu in the valley below. The route snaked through jeep tracks cut in the mountain sides, taking in tree covered hills and breathtaking drops. As we meandered through a diverse mix of towns and villages, the full scale of the remoteness and mesmeric beauty of Nepal became clear to me.

In all, the constantly changing terrain of day one took us over 27 miles before we reached our camp for night at Kasibanjayang. 

Day two brought more sensational scenery as I pulled myself along jeep trails, through ancient villages and bustling towns, and into jungle and woodland. Waking early, and as bright as possible, I enjoyed a stunning mountain top sunrise and a quick breakfast before hitting the road 7am.

We were straight into another all too familiar climb as the route stretched from our Kasibanjayang base to Bhakundebesi. Along the way it was eye-opening to see the reaction of the friendly locals who were mesmerised by these crazy English runners winding way through their homeland. Despite their confusion, they didn’t hold back from cheering us along the way.

The first climb ended at the spectacular Dukhiel viewpoint, where I was transfixed by some mind-blowing scenery, before finally reaching our camp in the grounds of the Kutumba resort.

Day three arrived with a slightly rude awakening as we were roused from our slumbers by the chanting of a monk, and the somewhat less melodic barking of local dogs. Heading out from Bhakundebesi, I quickly found myself partaking in yet another epic climb. If this was a practice for MDS it may very well not have had the heat of the desert, but it certainly kicked its behind in terms of energy-sapping ascents and quad busting downhill sections.

The 30-mile day three route passed through the historic home of the Temange Empire, complete with cobbled roads, plentiful temples and religious sites. The numerous hard climbs I had to drag myself up were rewarded with some stunning vistas, while green hills, a glacial river and – eventually – a well-earned beach side camp helped get my tired limbs through a gruelling but rewarding day’s running.

The fourth day of my ultra experience may have been a shorter, 16-mile leg but it still came with plenty of climbing. We left the tranquillity of our overnight riverside camp to haul ourselves up to the top of a path which supplied gorgeous views of the river valley below. Another lengthy climb followed, revealing more mind-blowing scenery, before I started the long descent back down to the river and a fun, if slippery, leap across some stepping stones to the opposite bank.

I picked my way along a particularly winding path alongside the main road, up another long climb and – gratefully – to the welcoming surrounds of Lamaland village, where we would stay on both days four and five. The finish line proved a real treat, as our hosts greeted me with garlands of flowers and an array of prayer flags and flower bowls.

With day five upon us, we set out on the final trek, a mere marathon-length 26-mile effort which finished with music from a Nepalese band that came complete with the world’s longest horn. A delightful evening followed with a delicious Nepalese meal and the opportunity to indulge in a few well-earned beers safe in the knowledge we wouldn’t be having to run the following day.

How did the power-walking go? Really well. I managed to finish each day with the sun still in the sky, and only a mere hour-and-a-half or so behind those running the course.

More importantly, I had a very different event from the other runners. Along the way I went to a Nepalese wedding, and visited temples. I made good friends with the event’s tail-walker, a lovely local guy who was very proud of his country. He showed me lots of important buildings, and on the last day we went past his school. It’s a charity school and his brother is the headmaster. All of the children were staring at us out of a window, and then they rushed out and gave me a blessing. I’m not sure what they threw on me but I smelt like Turkish Delight afterwards, which really was a blessing given I’d been smelling like a dog for days.

The event, the views, the people and even the pain of ultramarathoning all combined to make this the trip of a lifetime. I feel privileged to have been to Nepal, to have seen the country and to have taken part in this fabulously unique, friendly race. And most of all I feel privileged to have met some amazing people who will remain friends forever.

Oh, and up in those beautiful hills I did one other thing: I found Emily.

All images courtesy of Go Beyond International

Find out more about this multi day event here

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It was 5:15am, pitch black, and my dad had just dropped me off opposite the Ingram Cafe. The temperature read -8. Conditions were arctic like, but it was time to see how far I’d come.  

Go back 11 months – the New Year celebrations. I made a resolution: Transfer my skills as a mountain leader/long distance hiker into ultra-running and push the limits of my body’s capabilities. I enlisted the trust of coach (Jacob Snochowski – TeamJSC) and I began training. After completing the Cumbria Way unsupported I needed a challenge that would test everything I had worked for over the last 11 months, and Jacob mentioned The Cheviot Goat. Fast forward, and there I am, standing on the start line of the UK’s loneliest winter ultra, feeling like a small fish amongst some big names. 

Image: David Town

The breath of 202 hopeful runners plumed in the freezing air. The countdown began. 3 – 2 – 1, the cowbell rang, and we were off. I climbed towards the first top (Cochrane Pike), and was wary of pushing too hard so early, but I soon seemed to be leaving a trail of torches behind. Perhaps I was ready… or perhaps the early rush would come back to bite me.  

On the way up the first track I passed three runners I’d watched on YouTube during preparations. I didn’t recce any of the route but watched The Trail Running Couple and Northern Fell Runners, who provided good information and detail on the route through their videos.  

I reached Cochrane Pike feeling strong.  It was a tad slippery underfoot due to the ice, but the ground was good and allowed a decent pace, which continued until joining Salters Road.  The air was ice-cold with every breath, but the rising sun offered light – a welcome comfort after freezing darkness. My pace kept me warm while dawn softened the gloom. What was all the fuss about?  Yep – I’d been lured into a false sense of, “You can beast this, Dave!” 

Image: Eric Murphy

Soon, I turned off the track and headed over moorland, saying fond farewells to most of the easy stuff. Now, it was over grass tussocks heading down Dow Cleugh and back up Bier Clough to Wether Cairn. The views from Wether Cairn were spectacular, and the beauty of the sunrise over the snow was a truly special moment. Unfortunately, I couldn’t stop to enjoy it – still a long way to go. 

On the way up to Wether Cairn I passed a group of around six.  We spent some time talking, and I ran behind the legend that is Nicki Spinks who has completed BG 5 times and had other numerous big achievements under her belt. I knew I mustn’t be doing too bad, so I pushed on and overtook. Looking back, I should have stayed behind Nicki as her plan beat mine in the end. Experience pays off! 

Leaving Wether Cairn behind we headed on quite a nice trail towards the descent of The Dodd. It was steep but lead to a decent track that lasted for around 500m before an incline back up to the Border County Ridge and along to Wholehope Knowe. After that, it dropped down again before climbing over Shillhope Law to the 1^st aid station of the day at Barrowburn. 

Image: David Town

What a welcome sight! By this point, my feet were wet through, with ice crusting around the laces, and I was more than happy to swap into the spare trainers and socks I’d packed in my bag.  A quick coffee and protein bar, followed by a Mountain Fuel gel, and within ten minutes, I was on my way again. Nicki was just behind me now and we spent the section following Barrowburn switching places. A text from my family informed me I was about 18^th. My goal before beginning was to finish in the top 20, so I was pleased with my progress at this point. 

Heading out of Barrowburn, my newly warmed and dried feet gave me the push I needed to press on, passing a few more runners along the way, following the Border County Ridge towards Windy Gyle. There was a fair gap when I glanced back, and I was happy knowing I was doing well in the company of accomplished runners. Even though I’d dedicated everything to my training, I’d lacked the self-confidence that I would achieve what I’d dreamt of. Now, I was starting to believe. 

Image David Town

After meeting the border at Windy Gyle, I headed along the ridge and we crossed the border into Scotland, heading down Cock Law to Cocklawfoot. Next, I would tackle the most challenging part of the whole run. From Cocklawfoot, we started to climb up to Auchope Rigg and the Mountain Refuge Hut. My strength is in climbing hills, and I managed to gain on the runners ahead of me, passing 2^nd place female, Scotland’s Fiona Horsfield. We’d already passed each other a few times and traded places before. Just in front of us were Nicki and Giles Palmer (who I would spend a good 4/5 hrs with soon). 

I kept climbing through bleak whiteness. Deep snow and thick cloud now engulfed me and hills, with temperatures plummeting. The conditions definitely added a whole new level of difficulty to what was already an incredibly challenging run. I was alone. Nicky and Giles had made a small gap in front, and Fiona was out of site behind. Just me and the hill.  Eventually the contours on the map eased and Red MR jackets came into view. I was at the turn point to head down after completing the out and back to the Cheviot summit. 

Image: Eric Murphy

I continued and hit Cairn Hill and continued onto the Cheviot. A few runners past me on their return from The Cheviot followed by Nicki but no Giles. As I got to the Summit, I noticed Giles having a minute, I gave the trig a touch and I was on my way. I had no intention of hanging about up there. 

I left the Cheviot headed back past Cairn Hill, taking a left at the red jackets, down towards Bloodybush Edge and over the renowned boggy sections. I wasn’t sure how this would go. It would either be frozen over or it would be knee-deep icy bogs. In the end, it was an unforgiving mixture of both. Each step was a gamble – would the ice break or would it stay strong? It was about 50/50, and my shins took a few hits on the ones that gave way. This section seemed to drag on forever. I could see Giles behind all the way, and it wasn’t long until we joined forces. 

I finally hit the boundary at Bloodybush Edge, had a quick look at the map, and realised I had another 3km to Cushat Law and then another 2km back to Salters Road (basically the spot I was in hrs ago). When I finally hit Salters Road with Giles, the elation was a much-needed boost. Giles and I were joined by Fiona again, and all 3 of us continued along to High Bleakhope – the 2^nd aid station. Another quick coffee, packet of crisps and more gels. The combination of gels, blistering cold, and hours of running took its toll on my insides. A quick hop over the wall was inevitable as nature took its call.  

Image: Eric Murphy

I had a quick chat with two lads who told me they were dropping out due to the cold. This can play havoc with your mental strength, making you question whether you should follow suit, but in the end, it only made me more determined to finish. I followed Giles out onto the track for the last section. We left Fiona behind at the station and began to climb off track to Shielcleugh Edge and High Cantle. Another big section of around 10/11km through freezing, boggy moorland around to Coldlaw Cairn and back up to Hedgehope Hill. From High Bleakhope to Hedgehop Hill was the longest between checkpoints – 3hr 55mins and on tired legs, in the dark, and bitterly cold.  It was a tough, mentally challenging section. Running alongside Giles through this section helped massively, as we took turns in navigating and keeping each other in good spirits. 

All we had to do now was stay awake, not get injured, survive, and continue over Dunmoor Hill, down over Cunyan Crags then make the last climb around Brough Law and over Ewe Hill. The route to Dunmoor felt painfully familiar by now – wet, cold, dark, and tough. Cunyan Crags offered a slightly tricker underfoot descent, but not that bad. 

The sting in tale, however, was Brough Law. We had to hug the bottom – rocky with sharp, slippery rocks. It was icy and complex, especially when exhausted and 16.5 hrs into a run. As a mountain leader, I wouldn’t guide groups around that section, so all considered, we navigated it well. We finally managed to get to the forest boundary and began the steep climb up over Ewe Hill. The moment I’d waited for – The end was in sight. 

Image David Town

I saw a headtorch disappear over the hill, so I knew we weren’t far from descending back towards Ingram. I hoped for a boost when I saw the lights of Ingram Village Hall from the top, but it never came. I had to dig deep and push myself to run back down the hill. Within 20 minutes, me and Giles hit the completely iced-over road. We followed it and ran through a wooded section. And then, like a beacon of success, we see the inflatable Montane arch finish line. I had made it!

14^th Male, 59 miles, 16hrs 55min. 

After 11 months of training and completing my first running Ultra in May I am marking this down as a success and look forward to seeing how far I can go in 2024 under TeamJSC.

2024 will see me take on:

• The Haworth Hobble 31mi
• The Fellsman 60^th Anniversary 60mi
• GB Snowdon 100mi

The post Running the UK’s loneliest Ultra – The Montane Cheviot Goat appeared first on Run Ultra.

The Rounds link a number of Derbyshire Wildlife Trust nature reserves in the Peak District to create a year-round challenge for walkers and runners. 

Wild Peak Round 120km Ultra Report

I heard an odd, low grunting sound coming from behind me, the ground was a little technical so I slowed down and looked back. It was a sheep. I was being chased by an angry sheep, not just followed, actually chased. Not what I needed 63 miles in! But before we get to that let me take you back a few weeks to the opening of the new inov8 shop in Bakewell, in the heart of the Peak District. The shop opened in October and I am the assistant manager. We have been working with the excellent guys at SUMMAT (a brilliant café and gym in Bakewell – who also serve the incredible coffee in our in-store café) and the Derbyshire Wildlife Trust in the creation of some new walking and running rounds in the Peak District – the Wild Peak Rounds. 

There is the 15km mini, the 50km half, and the 120km full – all of which visit important nature reserves around Derbyshire, with the aim to raise awareness of these special places. The rounds were launched on the weekend of the 28th October. On the Saturday there was a social run group doing the 15km lead by SUMMAT, with inov8 athletes Jack Scott and Anna Hoogkamer coming along too. 

On Sunday Jack Scott returned to do the Wild Peak Round 50k, as well as Sam and Nick (from the Derbyshire Wildlife Trust and creators of the routes)… but no one had volunteered to do the biggie, the 120km – and probably with good reason, it’s a bloody long way! However, me not being a stranger to long old runs and challenges thought ‘why not, it’ll be a good day out’. It was only after I had agreed to do it that I realised two things… I hadn’t actually trained for it and at this time of year the weather will be at best, less than ideal and at worst, wet, boggy, very muddy, and miserable. A good day out, hey!

With a few days to go I got to planning this thing, call me nothing if not last minute. Helpfully my fellow inov8 Bakewell staff member, Lauren Wilson, kindly offered to follow me around in her van all day and help crew it for me – which if you’ve ever crewed a big race/challenge before, you know is almost as difficult as running the thing. I had a look at the route, I knew bits and bobs of it but not the whole thing. There were in fact quite a lot of sections I had never visited at all before, so I made sure to load the GPX file onto my watch (the files are available here). 

The route has plenty of road crossings and visits lots of lovely little villages and towns along the way, so I knew there were lots of opportunity to meet Lauren and restock my snacks. I planned to meet her every few hours so I was never running for too long without seeing someone. The longest leg was going to be the one over Bleaklow, from Ladybower Bridge to Crowden, which I knew was going to live up to it’s name, bleak, but we’ll get to that shortly. With my meeting points sorted I popped to the shops to get my mountain of snacks, and I threw in some gels too for good measure. Now, what time to start? 

My initial plan was to get a good night’s sleep and start at 5am on Sunday morning and aim to finish sometime Sunday evening. This would mean I had a few hours of darkness at the beginning and a few hours at the end but would run the majority of the round during day light hours, lovely. However, after a little thought this felt very lonely and lacklustre – setting off in the dark when no one is around, running the majority of the round by myself (I did mange to rope a few people in to run a few bits with me) and then finishing in the dark when no one is around didn’t conjure up too much excitement. 

Celebrating being the first person to complete the round after a long day (and night) on the trails with actual people felt a lot nicer, so I changed my plans a bit. The new plan was to get a few hours sleep in a friend’s spare room in Bakewell, set off at midnight, and aim to finish before the INOV8 store closed on Sunday afternoon. This would mean the entire first half is in darkness but once the sun rose I wouldn’t need to don my head torch again (if all went well) and I could celebrate with friends afterwards.   

Onto the exciting bit, the actual running of the round. On Saturday afternoon I finished work, went over to my friend Zac’s house (who handily lives just across the road form the store) and bedded down for a few hours sleep listening to the rain falling on the roof – perfect(!). My alarm went off at 11:15pm, a time no one should have an alarm set for! This gave me 45 minutes to get dressed, get some food in my belly, perform the necessary ablutions, pop my pack on, get outside, and take a few minutes to mentally prepare. The weather was actually ok by this time, a little drizzly but thankfully a far cry from the heavy rain of a few hours ago. 

Midnight came, I gave myself a little countdown….3, 2, 1.. and away! Myself and Matt Nichols (a Bakewell local who agreed to run the first 12 miles with me) set off out of Bakewell and over some fields in the general direction of Eyam. As predicted the ground was wet and sloppy, which made for slow going from the get go. We chatted about races, our families and a whole manner of different things and it was a very pleasant start even though my feet were wet within the first 15 minutes! Before I knew it and after some lovely trails it was time to say goodbye to Matt and run by myself for a bit. 

This next section of the route, heading out of Bradwell, takes you right past Breedon Hope Cement Works and it was wonderfully eerie running past these huge industrial machines and under walkways in the middle of the night. I could hear the faint chatter of workers on the night shift. Then comes the first little out and back to visit Hadfields Quarry nature reserve, my 2nd of 16 that I would be visiting throughout the course of the round. 

On the approach into Hope I had a truly wonderful experience – I was able to turn my head torch off and run for about 10 minutes under the light of the full moon. The moon was so bright I was casting a shadow and I have never seen that happen before, it was incredible. 

Running through Hope a few drunken revellers gave me a round of applause on their way home from the pub to bring me back into the moment and before long I was leaving civilisation again and hitting the trails. The route skirts around the side of Win Hill so avoids that big climb and then joins the Thornhill Trail for a little bit of flat running. After a surprisingly peaceful hour and a half of running by myself I caught up with Lauren again by Ladybower Bridge and snaffled down a few jam sandwiches. 

Lauren’s partner Andy had kindly agreed to get up in the middle of the night and run the next section with me – across Bleaklow. I knew this section was going to be tough going, it’s very exposed and is notoriously boggy and wet, even without the mega rainfall we’d had in the last week, so having someone with me was a blessing. The first little bit, across a few fields, leads you into false sense of security as it’s pretty nice running but soon the fences, hedges, trees, and cows disappear and it feels a little like running into the abyss – well it did for us anyway, under the light of two head torches. 

We settled into single file for a while as we followed the flagstones gently up hill before they, too, disappeared. It very quickly became a question of how to best avoid the plethora of bogs and swampy ground that surrounded us and, needless to say, we both fell several times. Despite this I was still having fun. After falling a few more times and wiggling our way across tricky ground we eventually found the trail that drops down to Woodhead Reservoir and met up with Lauren and the van again. Lauren had prepared a pot noodle for me which I graciously accepted. By this point I was just over 30 miles in and feeling generally alright. 

After refilling my bottles I headed off again. I knew the next section (after visiting Brockholes Wood nature reserve near Crowden campsite) was a lot of flat running with not too much going on so I put my headphones in, something I don’t usually do. In between listening to some top tunes (mainly 00’s pop punk) I called my partner and spoke to her as she was having breakfast with our son, which was really lovely. On the run into and through Glossop I saw a few people out walking dogs and on their way to work and before long I was heading back uphill on excellent trails with a wonderful view of the town behind me and an earful of nature once again, having taken my headphones back out. 

The route climbed up to a lovely edge path with excellent views, some of the trails were pretty thick with mud so, again, slow going. I met Lauren in the car park of a lovely little pub called the Pack Horse Inn and restocked and re-snacked. At just under 50 miles in my legs were feeling the effort of 9 hours running but all things considered I was still having a lovely time. 

The next section ran through New Mills, Furness Vale, and Whaley Bridge and was a lovely change of scenery. Running along the Goyt Way as it followed the Peak Forest canal for a few kilometres was a particular highlight. Seeing smoke billowing out of all the house boats moored along the canal and waving to people having their morning coffee on the decks helped take my mind off the 20+ miles I still had left. 

As the trail ran alongside the Fernilee Reservoir I sat on a bench for a few minutes to have a slice of pizza and some flapjack before setting sail again, oddly thankful for a few more hills after quite a bit of flat running. Soon I could see Buxton and started heading down hill into the town. By this point the sun was starting to peep out from behind the clouds and I saw people having a spot of brunch in the beer garden of the Wye Bridge Inn and I was very close to popping in for a swift pint, but I thought better and carried on. I was now starting to get back onto trails I knew and allowed myself to think I was nearly finished. 

The route drops steeply down into a valley and then climbs back up again running along a precarious looking edge overlooking Topley Pike Quarry. It was here that the aforementioned angry sheep reared it’s head. 63 miles in, minding my own business, I suddenly found myself being chased by a furious ball of wool. I don’t know why it was so angry but I didn’t stop to find out, I just tried to speed up and keep moving. Unsurprisingly, it turned out a sheep who (presumably) hadn’t already ran over 100k was quicker over the relatively technical terrain than I was so I had to jump over a wall and wait for the animal to calm down and move on, which it eventually did. 

Then came the last van stop as I entered the Wye Valley. Lauren had agreed to run the last 10 miles with me, which was amazing – running with someone else again was a welcome treat. Even with tired legs it’s hard not to appreciate the beauty of this area. After a little run along the Monsal Trail we dropped down and wiggled our way along the valley bottom following the river Wye through woodland, past the picturesque Litton Mill and across gorgeous stepping stones before eventually joining the trail into Bakewell that I was first on over 15 hours ago. I managed to pull little sprint finish from somewhere, although I am using the word sprint very liberally here, and ran back to the inov8 store to applause from a group of friends. I sat on the floor feeling tired but elated after a wonderful adventure. There is a quicker time out there but it sure feels nice being the first person to complete it.

Find out more about the Wild Peak Rounds here

RunUltra have teamed up with inov8 Bakewell to offer you a fabulous Christmas prize draw. The winner will get to choose a free pair of shoes from the brand new store in Bakewell, Derbyshire. All you have to do is share your opinion or comment on any review or article on RunUltra by 24th December. A winner will be picked at random and emailed by 31st December.

Chris on his finish and Chris with Nick and Sam who did the 55km route

The post Wild Peak Round 120km Ultra Report appeared first on Run Ultra.

As race prep goes, not running for two months before an ultra marathon was substantially less than optimal.

At least I had a plan – stash a £20 note inside my phone case so that I could jump a taxi if the proverbial wheels came off.

I knew the uphills would be fine; push until the tap-tap becomes a grind. And then just continue moving. Movement beats standing still and I was confident stamina would get me through a long day, even if lack of training meant didn’t have ‘speed’ in my legs.

But as I stood on the start line of the Pen Llyn Winter Ultra a week into November, it was the downhills that were causing most fear.

Start of the Pen Llyn Ultra: photo Garry Doolan

At the start of September, during consecutive ‘easy days’ after a holiday in Crete, I crashed to the tarmac without any apparent warning. On both occasions, I was approximately four miles in to my run, cruising downhill on simple footpath. 

There here had been no one, clear warning for this obvious disaster. But there had been subtle signs. I had just been too pig-headed to heed them.

In July, I had made the gut-wrenching decision to pull out of the Dragons Back Race. I knew that I wasn’t in the right shape to go hard for six consecutive days. 

I was just so bloody tired. Motivation had slumped and my knees still hurt after doing quite well – for a 50-year-old – in the mountainous GB Ultras Wales 50 in June. My left Achilles was angry and somewhere inside my right hip there was a miserable, dull ache.

In hindsight, I don’t think I had truly, fully recovered from completing the Arc of Attrition in January. 

Within days of getting back from Cornwall, and focused on the Dragons Back as my big race for the year, I had thrown myself straight back into training.

GB Ultras Ultra Wales 50: photo credit GB Ultras

I didn’t feel over-trained as I ticked off high-mileage days in Snowdonia and the Peak District throughout the rest of winter and early spring. Obviously, I was tired and sore as miles ramped up, but kidded myself the aches and pains would sort themselves out if I stacked even more training on top.

Of course, that was folly. And there had to be a reckoning.  

It came four miles into that inconspicuous late summer jog down an urban footpath.

The day before, my leg had given way without warning. I picked myself up, plucked dirt and gravel out of cuts on both knees and skipped back home. I was probably lucky to be alive; I had tumbled into the road – but the traffic was stationary because of roadworks. It was no drama. I assumed I had simply tripped on loose stones or a stick. 

I was okay. Until the next day.

Same thing. Four miles into a comfortable loop around the neighbourhood, running downhill. Bang. This time there had been a pre-emptive twinge in the right glute. I had taken a couple of strides. then smashed to the floor.

Within a couple of hours, I was sat in front of my GP trying desperately to avoid being frog-marched to A&E.

Pen Llyn Ultra: photo Garry Doolan

Actually, I was lying prone with my trousers around my ankles while the doctor satisfied herself that I still had feelings and function in ALL the areas around my hips. I wasn’t numb and peeing myself which, apparently, would have made it really problematic!

After tickling bits that only a wife or loving partner should tickle, she was happy with the outcome of her cotton wool test, but didn’t have an answer to the main issue in hand. She didn’t think it ideal for anyone to be running 50 to 60 miles a week, but accepted my counter-argument that humans had been covering long distances on foot for millions of years to catch food. 

She referred me to an NHS physio, but could not offer other significant help if I wasn’t prepared to drag myself immediately to A&E.

I was not keen to inflict that on myself after my experience at hospital a few months earlier when an infected blister from a flat 50-mile race left me unable to walk. I had festered for hours in the waiting room as my precious weekend evaporated away.

So I headed home from the GP, spent a couple of days taking stock, then booked in to see my own physio.

Incredibly, he had the answer – well, a possible answer – within minutes.

Arc of Attrition: photo Garry Doolan

My glutes weren’t working properly, he thought, various muscles on the right side weren’t doing their job and the sciatic nerve was firing more than the hamstring. My Garmin had previously highlighted a five per cent inequality between ground contact from left to right. But I hard largely ignored it, until now, when shit had hit the fan.

The physio sent me on my way with a dose of sympathy for ‘important’ races about to be missed and a couple of simple exercises to teach the lazy hamstring the error of its ways.

But there was a nagging doubt in my mind about possible nerve damage. I simply didn’t believe the solution to losing the function in my legs could be easily fixed with a couple of rehab exercises. 

I could fill the next few hundred words with tales of MRI scans on lumbar spine, strained discussions with an NHS physio who ‘had never seen the likes before’ and a visit to a BUPA GP in an attempt to circumvent the grinding misery of the NHS for an active person who just wanted to get back out.

I put on more than a stone and a half in weight as the usual weekly mileage fell away to zero over a period of just six weeks.

And the wife stopped humouring my new-found fetish for cotton wool balls in sensitive places as I became increasingly difficult to live with. That’s a figment of my imagination; but the family certainly suffered as my mood increasingly darkened as much as the days as we drifted into autumn and races fell away one after the other. I dropped first from Centurion’s new Winter 200 then pulled out of Mark Cockbain’s Track 100 at the end of October.

I managed a couple of tentative, slow jogs on a beach, just in case I fell to the floor again. 

Pen Llyn Ultra: photo Garry Doolan

And I rescued my old mountain bike from the back of the garage for a bit of ‘cross training’. But the reality was that I was just cross.

More than that. I think I had started to grieve. For running. For the horrible pleasure it brings. For the social cohesion. For the smugness that comes from being able to run eight or ten hours on a few flasks of Tailwind and a couple of chunks of melon. For the warm afterglow after running a huge distance across inhospitable, trackless terrain. ‘Normal’ people are in awe of what we do – and I love that.

I stopped watching running videos on YouTube and certainly stopped fixating on ultra running. I had only just begun a 24-week training plan for The Tunnel when my legs gave out; my spirit got shittier as the weeks for building good, steady miles drifted past one by one.

I consulted gurus and gobshites in equal measure in the hunt for an explanation I could truly believe in; there is no shortage of charlatans willing to take a buck or two in exchange for useless info that has little, if any, basis in medical fact. 

I flew to Belfast for an in-person strength and mobility coaching course with a chap called Tom Morrison; most definitely ‘guru’ and worth every penny.

I also hovered over booking flights to Helsinki to see a Twitter-witterer with apparent expertise in running rehab.

There was, quite frankly, no length to which I would not go. And no expense was spared. 

If there’s anything more expensive than ultra running (kit, nutrition, entries, travel, hotels) it’s not running ultras (physio, scans, compression boots, turmeric capsules, luxury testicle cream made from the freshly-squeezed tit-juice of a lactating, grass-fed wild rhino). 

There is no end to the shite you believe when desperately seeking a route back. Some of it helps a little bit some of the time. And something is better than nothing.

But the futility of the vicious circle I was stuck in was thrown starkly into focus by a simple social media post from the aforementioned Tom Morrison.

Image courtesy Tom Morrison

It was a tongue-in-cheek graphic that neatly captured the desperate progression that myself and other injured runners go on. It included a list if things like sports therapist, turmeric, stretching, foam rolling, back to physio, run a few miles to ‘test’ the injury, have a couple of weeks off, chiropractor, back to physio, testicle tickling by a GP (not quite, but almost).

Laid out like that, it looked ridiculous. And I pretty much had the ‘full house’. I laughed. And could have cried. I printed it off, pinned it to my office wall and vowed never to be so gullible again.

With Tom’s post in the back of my mind as the weeks rolled on, I started to really examine where it had all gone wrong. In a moment of clarity, that shone light on where it had actually gone right.

And I had to go back to the Arc.

The final 30 miles of that race had forced me to accept that I wasn’t actually very strong in critical areas. Sure, I was cardio fit; I toed the line with a realistic target to go sub-24 hours. But that optimism had been smashed somewhere between Lands’ End and St Ives.

The poles had come out and I was a mess for the final 20 miles.

While I nursed the tingling in my feet and the loss of some toe-nails for a few weeks, I resolved to get strong and spent the next couple of months adding gym work to my running. I hadn’t really bothered before, kidding myself that time on feet was enough to build strength. 

Photo Garry Doolan

When I look back now, that sustained period of gym work was chipping away at the aches and niggles. For the first time in a long time, I was running almost pain free. Even running twice a day sometimes.

Then, because I wasn’t hurting so much, I stopped the strength work. I stopped taking the medicine. 

And that’s it, right there. The reason I was on my arse in a gutter five months later. 

I always knew the logic: Strength, conditioning and mobility bullet-proofs a runner’s body; targeted strength training reduces injury rates by as much as 85 per cent etc etc.

But I hadn’t whole-heartedly bought into it. Until now. Until presented with the real and present danger that my ultra running could be gone for ever.

That was the critical difference this time; I wasn’t nursing just another calf injury or a bit of knee pain. I really feared it could all be over. Which put me in a very dark place.

I created a mini-gym in my garage, mashed together a couple of strength routines and added specific exercises recommended by the excellent Irish marathon runner Stephen Scullion.

I experimented, but that experimentation was consistent. Critically, it exposed weaknesses which I worked on minus the distraction of running.

Which brings me right up to date with the ‘Beautifully Brutal’ Pen Llyn Winter Ultra on a glorious Saturday in November. 

I hadn’t officially entered, but took a chance on a few no-shows and got the nod to compete just half-an-hour before the 7am start. 

It was shit or bust. But it felt right to have a go.

Photo Garry Doolan

As the miles ticked by, the fears melted. Running in heavy mud, wet sand, uphill on concrete, downhill on rocky trails, downhill on grass. The hip. The nerves. The spine. Whatever. They all checked correct.

This fantastic race finishes with a six-ish mile descent into Pwllheli. And I knew that was where it could really unravel. This road back to the coast best approximated the terrain of my double-collapse at the start of September. And the proceeding 30 miles would ruthlessly expose any weakness.

Three miles from the finish, I was still upright, clipping along hours ahead of my predicted finish and singing loudly in step with a song called ‘Waterfall’, by the band James. To do almost 40 miles without my legs giving way lifted the anxiety and banished the demons.

And my post-race behaviour suggested that I may have actually learned my lesson. 

I ate fish and chips the next day, with bread, followed by a cake chaser. Carbs were most definitely on the menu for a couple of weeks. No ruthless calorie-counting. I can compete without keto.

I didn’t feel the pressing need to immediately get back running. But I did hit the gym for stretching and mobility and enjoyed a couple of lengthy saunas.

Grudginly, I also accepted that the doctor may have been a bit right when she held my running balls in her hand, so to speak.

Ultras can be unhealthy, they’re not natural and possibly – probably – not great for the body. But running long distances is amazing for the soul. 

Critically, then, there must be balance. 

Balance in training, balance in nutrition, balance in recovery and balance in home life. I can afford to relax a bit. I’ve noticed in the last couple of months that without the massive miles, my VO2 max has gone down but my HRV has gone up.

By kicking back, I can actually kick on.

Garry Doolan lives with his family on The Wirral – close enough to Snowdonia and the Lake District to think he should run in both more often. Having completed the Arc Of Attrition earlier this year, he was forced to pull out the Dragon’s Back Race with injury. Now his sight’s set on The Tunnel in March.

Header image: courtesy GB Ultras

The post Running into Trouble and out of Injury appeared first on Run Ultra.

On 12^th November a mysterious reel was released in tandem across the platforms of various races around the world suggesting something new was happening in the trail running world. On 13^th November, these same races announced they were launching The World Trail Majors. “A diverse, respectful, sustainable and independent group of trail and ultra races”.

This group comprises:

• Hong Kong 100 Ultramarathon: 18-21 January 2024
• Black Canyon Ultra: 10-11 February 2024
• The North Face Transgrancanaria: 21-25 February 2024
• Mt. Fuji 100: 26-27 April 2024
• MIUT Madeira Island Ultra Trail: 27-28 April 2024
• Swiss Canyon Trail: 7-9 June 2024
• South Downs Way 100: 8-9 June 2024
• Quebec Mega Trail: 5-7 July 2024
• RMB Ultra Trail Cape Town: 22-24 November 2024

Hong Kong 100 – image credit World Trail Majors

The news was received with mostly positive feelings across social media; many people were excited at the thought of a more grounded, less commercial option to UTMB. The question of sustainability was risen for a global race series; how can a series of races around the world encouraging runners to complete them be sustainable?

The first thing RunUltra wanted to do was to talk to the race directors themselves. We wanted to know how it came about and how it started. I reached out to UK race director James Elson who kindly agreed to meet me. Every other director who I emailed requesting more information responded almost immediately, each of them happy to help where they could.

Black Canyon Ultra – image credit World Trail Majors

What’s in it for the runner?

My first question to James was how are the World Trail Majors going to benefit the ordinary runner? 

“We felt as a group that we needed to get this launched for 2024, and ultimately we could have gone on forever trying to get everything in line, and at some point you’ve just got to go for it. So the actual information about the scoring system, what the Series means, what you get by being a participant in it, hasn’t really been shared yet.”

It would indeed have been difficult to share all that information at once – both the concept, the ideas, the rules, is a lot of information to put out in one go.

The North Face Transgrancanaria – image credit World Trail Majors

The initial benefits to the runners won’t necessarily been felt immediately, James said. But there will be information passed between a group of Race Directors that share the same passion and more importantly, the same values. They are already sharing resources and knowledge about what the WTM means to them. “The flow of information will improve everything for runners, just not so much in a tangible sense in the short term.”

Going forward there will be an award system for runners taking part in the series and ranking, which is important at the elite end. Encouraging elite runners is something James feels strongly about. He feels the UK doesn’t attract enough elite runners and he really wants to offer an event that is exciting and allows all runners to observe how the elites run first hand.

Sustainability

For the vast majority there will be an award system that recognises a runners participation. James makes it very clear however, that the World Trails Majors is not a Series they expect you to complete, certainly not in one year. The idea is that you run the WTM which is local to you, then you pick one other “bucket list” race to travel to and make that your destination for the year. You cannot score in more than two races (or rather, your best score from two races is used). As James points out, it’s also impossible to attend all 9 events because two of them, Black Canyon Trail and South Downs Way 100 are on the same weekend.

Mt Fuji 100 – image credit World Trail Majors

In time, the list of events will expand. It may be tiered, and there will definitely be more events which aren’t so far to travel to. I wonder if perhaps each “Major” race will grow a series of satellite events that runners can participate in before culminating in the “Major” race in the Series?

Runners will get an improved race experience; as far as James is concerned that means a much more substantial offering at the start and the finish. 

“It will be more engaging for family and crew; there’ll be an event village, event partners, event media including live streaming of the event.” James’s aim is to keep the local, ‘you’re a name not a number’ feel, which is why he’s always capped events at a certain number. “But you will also feel you are part of something bigger with international level runners at the front and a global feel for the whole race, lifting it up.”

MIUT Madeira Island Ultra Trail – image credit World Trail Majors

Sharing Resources

The Series will become more consistent. A great example of this, and the flow of information and resources between the Race Directors, is SheRACES. Centurion are a member of SheRACES which was set up by Sophie Power to ensure female equality on the start line of any running race. These values will be shared by James to the rest of the Race Directors, so that all the events in the Series can follow the same SheRACES guidelines that the South Downs Way 100 does.

Going forward, there will be no leak into commercialism. They are all independent races and they want to stay that way. They value their independence and this will guide which races join the Series further down the line. 

Swiss Canyon Ultra – image credit World Trail Majors

However, they do hope that in time they will find a sponsor or sponsors that align with their values who can help them financially. That Series sponsor will be democratically selected by the Race Directors and must fit with the sport in a way they all agree on. 

Interestingly, despite recent events at WAM, 13^th November was set a long time ago as the date to announce the formation of the World Trail Majors. But it’s clearly been a fortuitous time to announce the concept and gradually, as they are doing now, The World Trail Majors are releasing more information across digital media. James stresses, however, they do not want to be seen as WTM versus UTMB. He has competed in both Ironman and UTMB and they were both great experiences for him; he does not want to take that away from the thousands of runners who wish to experience the same. But it is not the direction he personally wants to take for his events. 

South Downs Way 100 – image credit World Trail Majors

History

5 of the founding members of the WTM were in the old Ultra-Trail World Tour, which was taken over by UTMB management in 2019. 

Back in December 2019 Trail Runner, the magazine put together by the American Trail Running Association shared this article and this is a paragraph suggesting the reasons why the UTWT fell apart;

“This aggressive business expansion plan from UTMB into Ultra Trail World Tour SA has inevitably created problems with its original partners, given that many of them were independent races such as Western States 100 Mile Endurance Run, Lavaredo Ultra Trail, Transgrancanaria or Mozart 100 to name a few. This explosive growth may be entirely logical in the corporate world when aiming to drive the value of a company, but when applied to the world of ultrarunning, it does raise relevant issues for those who see in ultrarunning a way of life, rather than a corporate enterprise.”

TrailRunner Magazine

Quebec Mega Trail – image credit World Trail Majors

It is fascinating to read this paragraph in light of the recent events at Whistler Alpine Meadows. The core beliefs that brought the Ultra-Trail World Tour together are still there. I think this shows that there are many races and people out there who believe in a different direction for our sport of ultra running. Every Director in the World Trail Series wants to be part of something bigger yet remain independent, as the original Ultra-Trail World Tour was before UTMB took control.

“We chose to be part of the association because we had previously been part of the UTWT (Ultra-trail World Tour) and seen or felt the benefit of sharing resources, creating a platform to showcase our events and most importantly steer the sport in a direction which we felt resonates with the community. All the races on the World Tour Majors are independent, community driven, local events who are working collectively to ensure the trail landscape has an independent voice.”

Stuart McConnachie, Ultra Tour Cape Town

Ultra Trail Cape Town – image credit World Trail Majors

“As to why Hong Kong 100 chose to be part of the World Trail majors – A number of the race directors involved have been talking about forming an alliance of independent races focussed on the best interests of the sport for years now. Once the pandemic was behind us, we decided to go for it.  We want it to be non-hierarchical – every race in the World Trail Majors has an equal say. And we want the focus to be on races that provide the best runner experience and that prioritise sustainability and inclusiveness.  We are really excited to be building something together with the teams from the 8 other fantastic events.”

Steve Brammar, HK100

Graphic courtesy World Trail Majors

“We feel Black Canyon will gain additional international exposure through our association with the series. Although the event is quite well known in the United States and we have seen a rise in attendance overall, it is still fairly unknown on an international level and our overall global attendance is lower than some of the more premiere global races. We hope this ultimately also brings more eyeballs to the athletes runner and elevates the event for all attendees.”

Jamil Coury, Aravaipa Running

It gives both of us at RunUltra a sense of pride that we have a UK race in this global series. Robin and I are excited to see how the World Trail Majors develops and grows and we wish them the very best of luck.

The post The World Trail Majors – what’s it really all about? appeared first on Run Ultra.