What was I thinking?

Travelled up to Horton with M in perfect weather for racing: mild, lightly overcast, with gentle winds. Only a little hold up in the village so we had the car parked with a full hour to get registered and ready for action. As we walked the few hundred yards to the registration tent I began to feel it was just as well that we had that time. Virtually everyone we met on the way was somebody that one of us knew and who wanted to stop for a quick chat. I think this is one of the most appealing aspects of fell running - and it is becoming the same with the sportive scene - that there is this wonderful sense of community and shared experience. You feel a great sense of belonging, and, deep down, we all need that feeling. Perhaps without admitting it, this is why we train to take part in these kind of events, not so much for reasons of personal performance, but to feel that sense of being part of something bigger than ourselves.

The organisation was very slick and the race started dead on the scheduled 10 o'clock. It was some spectacle to be running through the little Dales village of Horton-in-Ribblesdale amidst so many hundreds of runners (754 as it turned out). I was happy that I was in the right place in the field, feeling that I wanted to go just a little faster, but also knowing that I probably shouldn't.

Climbing on the track up to Penyghent

The climb up to the summit of Penyghent passed very quickly, but recognising a lot of the runners around me suggested that I was more or less in the right place. I suppose I should have worked out some appropriate splits, but I've never been that scientific about racing. I prefer to go by instinct. There are quite a few ups and downs along the route to Ribblehead and I settled into 'conservation of energy' mode, trying to run at a pace that was comfortable, happy to let people overtake me. Hitting the short road section, a mile and a bit before the viaduct, I began to realise that my legs were already quite fatigued, much more so than I had expected at this stage. I hoped it was just the road, for I always struggle running on tarmac these days. The hard surface seems to sap all the energy from my legs. The roads are definitely for cycling on, not running!

Lots of support at Ribblehead, with the inimitable Roger Ingham providing commentary for the many spectators, and it is always fun to be recognised and get a special mention! My numbered drink bottle was put in my hand, I waved to a few friends, and I went through the checkpoint so quickly, relieved to be back on the fell, that it wasn't until the top of Whernside that I realised that I had forgotten to dib. The thought that I might get disqualified didn't really worry me. Although I had a reasonably good climb of the second peak, a few twinges of cramp had been felt and it was dawning on me that this might now be more a battle of survival than a race. And that's how it proved. What was I thinking? Did I really believe I could race this event off so little training?

On the steep section of the descent off Whernside I began to experience a weird feeling of disconnection from my legs. It felt like I was no longer in full control of them. Through the Hill Inn checkpoint, remembering to dib this time, a look at the watch revealed that sub 4 hours was no longer on. With that objective now gone, the main thing was to try and enjoy as much as possible the rest of the day, and soak up the amazing atmosphere. I felt much happier climbing than descending. I was reasonably strong on the final approach to the summit of Ingleborough, but as soon as I started to descend I lost control of the legs again. All the people I had just overtaken came streaming back past and the cramp set in with a vengeance. From there it was a fight all the way back to the finish. Every time I raised the pace above a jog, the cramp crept back into the muscles. On the rougher sections of limestone pavement I had to stop completely a few times, as both calves went into spasm. I last ran this race 21 years ago, on a very warm day, and I had flashbacks to the same experience then. Perhaps that is why it has taken me so long to run again. The results tell me that I dropped from 284th to 350th position on the run down into Horton, 66 people overtaking me in those last 4 miles or so, including many clubmates. I knew EB was ahead of me and running well, and DW too, but I think I must have started too quickly for I had been ahead of everybody else in the club before halfway down Whernside.

Feeling the Pain

It was great to see the sight of the tented village from the hillside above Horton, and, most of all, Penyghent as a backdrop in the distance. It meant that I could take great satisfaction from having got around in one piece, realising just how big a challenge this truly is. What had I been thinking indeed to believe I could race this without putting in the hard miles in preparation. I finished in 4.18.21, just behind quite a few of my fellow Ilkley Harriers. M finished not too far back in 4.33.18. She ran a typically much more sensible race and was a good 10 minutes quicker than me off the summit of Ingleborough. In retrospect I think I got the pacing more or less right. I wanted to give myself a chance of breaking 4 hours - which I did - but it wasn't to be. I have to go fairly hard on the hills because my descending is so poor these days. I think I would have struggled on those last few miles even if I'd run more conservatively on Penyghent. In the end, it was simply a great day out, and a fantastic event to have been a part of. Finally, I can report that my legs have not been as wrecked as this in many, many a year. Cramp is still not very far away, and I'm moving very slowly indeed tonight.

Photographs by Tony Fickes