Caldbeck to Cartmel 50 miles (52.6 Strava miles)
435 signed up
378 starters
240 finishers
Finished; 19 hours 17 minutes
The 'dry weather' schedule; sub 20 hours
Weather forecast; yellow weather warning issued, heavy rain and high winds.
Actual weather; Storm Callum, heavy rain and high winds (70mph on summits)
I started running in 2016 by walking to the top of the moor round the back of my house and running down. The running bit got longer and I gradually extended the distance to make other local loops. I didn't consider myself a proper runner but I enjoyed getting out away from a busy house. I had run a couple of fell and trail races and did my first road marathon in 2017 to raise money for the library in my sons' school. I met Claire and Nicola during a Due North trail running weekend and they mentioned Lakes in a Day. I watched the sunny promotional video and it immediately piqued my interest. I spoke to Mel (Due North) who's enthusiasm spurred me on and I signed up.
My husband, John had done a lot of long distance running and we talked about him writing my training plans but the dynamics felt wrong (I would have made too many excuses to him). I asked Nicky to coach me, I had to have someone I admired and was a little bit scared of. One of the first runs I did she messaged me something along the lines of 'great to see you ran 10 miles on the canal... next time find a hill'. I knew I had made the right decision. From that point I stuck to the hills and to the plan, gradually increasing to 50 miles per week. In the summer I ran two 17 mile races and John and I did Saunders Mountain Marathon. The training kept me focused and made me put on the trainers even when I didn't want to. However the week before Lakes in a Day, it all came crashing down.
I felt anxious and couldn't sleep. I was obsessing about the race and tearful. One of the main reasons I run is to manage my own mental health and to slow fast thinking. It frustrated me that I was experiencing the very symptoms I used running to deal with. I expected to feel low during parts of the race but not the week before. This wasn't expected. The weather forecast was bad and a yellow weather warning was issued; Storm Callum was on its way. I talked to John about not racing and messaged Nicky. I had told so many people about the race I was beginning to feel embarrassed at the prospect of not even making it to the start. I had a slow and challenging leg in the Hodgson Brothers' Relay the week before and felt out of my depth at the prospect of running 50 miles. Nicky and John reassured me that it was normal to have those feelings before a race and told me just to get to the start. I spent that week doing yoga and relaxations. I stuck post-it note affirmations around the house (the kids added their own 'do it do it do it'). I tried to busy myself but these feelings of anxiety didn't totally go away until the race started.
I laid my race kit out the weeks before the race and as the weather forecast worsened I added more items and replaced others. I wore a long sleeved top and tights, double layer socks, waterproof trousers and (a heavier than planned) waterproof jacket, Terraclaws for the first half and then Roclites and a clean pair of socks in the drop bag for the second half. I had an insulated layer and spare t-shirt in my bag as well as two spare sets of gloves and the other compulsory kit/headtorch. With hindsight I would have packed another layer of dry clothes to change into at Ambleside, I would have also worn another layer and tried a second waterproof jacket. It is only by doing races and talking to others you have an idea of combinations that might work. A merino base layer would have been a good call and a few runners just wore shorts, this may have been easier than wearing two layers of wet trousers which felt like the life saving swim in pyjamas we were forced to do at school.
Caldbeck to Blencathra 2 hrs 45
arrived 10.34 (schedule 11.00)
Blencathra to Threlkheld 58 mins
arrived 11.44 (schedule 12.00)
We arrived at Cartmel at 9pm on Friday night and I registered, I saw one marshal 'I'll see you at Ambleside!' she said 'I'll be there! you can do it!' This lifted my spirits, I was determined to see her. That night I couldn't sleep, I just lay still in the van. At 4am I got up and John grabbed me a coffee and bacon sandwich but I struggled to eat it. I sat with Carol Morgan (and her husband) on the coach, we chatted for a bit and then they snoozed. I was wired on coffee. That drive to Caldbeck felt long, too long. At the start I saw Nicola and Claire and they beckoned me towards the front, they were up beat and joked about just following everyone else (at least I hoped they were joking). I was nervous. The race started and everyone ran away from me. I was gradually slipping towards the back. I spoke to a few people and found myself running with those who were running their first ultras.
At the River Caldew a rope had been put across and race marshals guided us 'take it steady and face up stream'. All I heard was 'if you let go scream!' The river was fast and was pretty much the same as my reccy in the summer, although then of course there wasn't a rope. At this point, perhaps 6 miles into the race, I was completely wet but I knew the lines I had taken were far better than the reccy and I felt good. At the top of Blencathra I was 15 minutes up on schedule. I looked down Halls Fell, turned to the runner next to me, said 'fuck that' and ran down Blease Fell. I had been up and down Halls Fell, once with John and once with the kids and at no point had I enjoyed it. I knew I would be in a far better shape physically and mentally taking the longer but easier descent of Blease Fell. Mel was waiting for me in Threlkheld and it boosted my confidence seeing a friendly face.
In CP1 there were about 100 people sat down eating and drinking. I knew if I sat down it would be harder to start. I also knew I would gain a few places by not hanging around. I decided that the only sitting down I would do would be on the loo and that I would be spending as little time as possible in the checkpoints. I changed my contact lenses/added eye drops, ate two pieces of melon, refilled my water and headed back out. With hindsight I should have grabbed a mug of something warm, I felt good but knew the next section would be tough.
Threlkheld to Hellvellyn 3hrs 29
arrived 15.13 (schedule 15.30)
Hellvellyn to Ambleside 3hrs 35
arrived 18.49 (schedule 18.30)
The climb up Clough Head was always going to be hard. There was a little chatting with other runners, a black horse turned up - 'awesome!' someone said 'horse-ome!' I shouted. Its not that funny now but at the time it was hilarious. The weather on top was bleak but visibility ok. I'd reccyd this in January with Kate for her Bob Graham round and I'm so glad I did because I spent a lot of my time between Clough Head and the Dodds thinking 'this isn't as cold as before... this isn't as cold as before...' The route to Hellvellyn and then to Fairfield was nothing short of hideous for me. I've had some experience of cold and wet conditions with limited visibility but not all together and certainly not as part of a long run.
Reccy in January 2018, somewhere near The Dodds
There were no tourists on Hellvellyn, that's how bloody awful the weather was. No-one was up there at all, except those in the race. Everything I was wearing was soaking wet, everything, however on the tops with a wind speed of 70mph it felt so much colder. I was walking head first into the wind and my contact lenses were shifting in my eyes. I didn't even know if it was possible for the wind to blow out contact lenses but it felt like a very real possibility. Many times a gust of wind would knock me over. Coming around the side of Dollywagon to Grisedale Tarn we were met with heavy wind and rain. The path was a stream, a torrent of water and at the bottom the stepping stones across Grisedale Tarn were completely covered over. We waded across, knee deep once again in fast flowing water.
Walking up Fairfield was brutal. This ascent really tested me. I tried not to fall on the woman next to me but a few strong winds blew me into her (I'm sorry!). At times I stopped or bobbed down, waiting for a break in the wind but there wasn't any respite. The only way to get out was to summit Fairfield, on to Hart Crag and Dove Crag and to get down into Ambleside. What helped was to immediately dismiss any thoughts of not being ok. I shifted my attention to other things... the next checkpoint, counting (counting repeatedly to 100), telling myself that any pains or niggles or coldness were good and all a sign I was alive. It was these mental games that got me up the climb and would get me through the last sections. I wouldn't cry and I wouldn't allow myself to admit that this was too much or that it was much harder than I had thought it would be. I wouldn't allow myself to consider packing it in at Ambleside yet I secretly hoped that Storm Callum would mean that the race would be aborted.
I got into a habit of taking gels at the bottom of a climb or when things were a bit tough, but I suspected that I had taken too many as I started to feel sick at the top of Fairfield. I also had toothache from the start which was exacerbated by the amount of sugar I was eating. Waves of nausea would pass over me and I had to slow down, drink water and eat something savoury. I picked the chunks of cheese out of the savoury bags I had made and wished I had packed marmite sandwiches instead. The top of Fairfield was cold, with high winds and heavy rain. There were a few people standing on the top looking around at maps, they tuck in behind as the group I was with passed. On my reccy I knew this decent was longer than it should be.
I battled with my sickness and took it steady but some of the rocks were slippy and I found my feet never really landed where I wanted them to because of the strong wind. It was frustrating and I swore, a lot. At some points I just stopped and crouched down. We passed a man in a bivvy bag with some other runners looking after him, as we descended we passed the mountain rescue on their way up. There were groups of runners behind me and I kept stepping to one side to let them pass but they stayed behind me. At one point we all stopped as a group, deliberating over which path to take. I felt cold and had to keep moving, any path down suited me. Most of the time I was looking at my feet and trying not to slip on wet rock. At one point I looked up to see the lights of Ambleside. In the wind and rain that sight was one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen. I knew it meant we were nearly at CP2.
Photo: Jeppe Sikker
I started thinking about being warm and my friend's bath, random but anything to take my mind off that hill. There were a number of styles over walls which were a pain to climb but broke things up a bit. At one point there was a scramble down some rocks. I wasn't looking forward to that especially in the rain and wet but managed to shuffle down ok. As we neared the bottom some walkers were coming up, the woman in a t'shirt 'well done, you're doing amazing!!' All I could think was 'you're wearing a t-shirt, that bodes well for the temperatures below...'
The run through Ambleside was surreal, the smell of garlic and takeaways, of Saturday night pubs and people laughing in the warmth, me trudging past, wet through having been out for 30 miles. When I arrived at CP2 I immediately headed for the toilet. There were a few other women in there, the marshal was phenomenal, she got our drop bags 'number 71!' she called, it was like being in a cheap cafe, but better. I stripped off, putting a dry t-shirt on and vaseline. 'It was so cold on the tops I was tempted to wee myself to keep warm' one woman said. I had had the exact same thought at the top of Fairfield. Can you imagine being so cold you contemplate pissing yourself just to stay warm? It was such a real consideration for me at one point. I didn't and after chafing I am so glad I held on. I shared my vaseline and we talked of the races, the weather (obviously) and I enthused about the mindfulness techniques I had been using in the high wind and rain, this was met with some blank looks. I'll admit, I got a bit overenthusiastic.
The women were unsure whether they were carrying on but despite being tired I was determined to finish and was ready to get back out. I put back on my wet clothes and changed into dry socks and trainers from my drop bag. A mug of coffee in one hand and pizza in the other, I turned to face the door just as torrential rain poured down. I turned to the marshal next to me and she said 'put your waterproof trousers on'. It was the marshal I had seen at registration 'you said you'd see me at Ambleside!! and you have!!!' I beamed at her excitedly. I put my trousers on without sitting down and headed out. Rain poured in my coffee making it weak and tepid, I drank it whilst I walked and ate the pizza which was now soggy. Walking through the park I turned onto the main road and immediately found myself walking in the middle of a flooded road, traffic slowing as water reached the top of the wheel arches. This would pretty much set the tone for the next 9 hours.
Ambleside to Finsthwaite 5hrs 15
arrived 12.04am (schedule 11.30pm)
There had been heavy flooding. The route from Ambleside to Finsthewaite led us through woodland paths and roads. It weaved down the side of Windermere and we waded through water as heavy rainfall had caused the banks of the lake to break. I had hoped this stretch would be easier now we were down off the fells. It wasn't any harder but it certainly wasn't any easier. I chatted to other runners as they passed and we walked up the hills and jogged the downs. At one point a couple of men passed twice, although this part of the route was way marked it was easy to take a wrong turn. Walking knee deep in cold water I could hear the faint beat of dance music. 'James (the race director) must have put on some music at the next CP to cheer us up knowing how shit the weather is' I thought. Probably one of the most surreal moments wading through Lake Windermere listening to Bizarre Inc 'playing with knives'. As the music faded I realised it was a local house party.
More runners would pass. I continued to walk the hills and any water more than knee deep. I slowly jogged the rest. This helped to break up the monotony. I was tired and the dark was disorientating, sometimes it was hard to gauge the hills from the flats. We walked miles through the water. At some points crossing bridges over fast flowing water only to be thigh deep in water at the other side. I knew the miles would be hard, the time spent on my feet and the mental stamina to keep moving, but the difficulty of this run was compounded by the weather. I hadn't truly appreciated just how hard it would be.
My mind started to get confused, I was struggling to remember parts of the route from the reccy and at one point, around 10pm got excited thinking the next checkpoint was only a couple of miles away. Quick calculations and I realised that it was more like two hours. The thought of two more hours of moving in the dark just made me feel a bit numb. I switched onto autopilot, one step at a time. If I had realised just how hard it was after Ambleside would I have continued? Probably not, but having got so far there was no chance of me stopping now.
I knew I had to keep it together and with everyone that passed me I kept upbeat, proclaiming that we were 'smashing it!' I thought I was funny. Even though all I could think about were the bits that were chafing and the state of my feet. As we jogged down to Finsthwaite I had in my mind that I would approach the check point like all the others; quick toilet stop, mug of coffee and out again. Although the thought of the checkpoint had kept me going for the past few hours, the reality was I would not be spending much time there. As soon as I walked in a marshal asked me to sit down so she could get out plastic covers for my shoes - no, but I lifted my leg up stood up, so she could put them on. I went to the toilet, changed my gloves and grabbed another mug of coffee before heading straight out again. The next leg would be the shortest but feel the longest.
Finsthwaite to Cartmel 3hrs 13
arrived 3.17am (schedule 4am)
Again as I headed out another couple runners quickly caught up. We cut across a field and into the woods. I had only reccy'd a mile or two of this part, although even the parts I had reccy'd now looked different in the dark. This section was a mixture of woods, roads and open fields. I continued walking up the ups and running the downs, at one point running past a group 'hey there's no need to run!' they shouted. Don't get me wrong it was running in the loosest sense of the word but it just helped to break things up a bit. At the end of such a long day all I could focus on was putting one foot in front of the other.
Somewhere in a field between Finsthwaite and Cartmel I reached a point which I never thought possible - I didn't really want to eat anything. I had massively over estimated how much I would eat and at this point had over three big packets of food left, which included nuts, savoury snacks, gels, cliff bars (I later weighed this - 650g), but none of this appealed to me. My intention was to eat at the check points and take some sweets but again this didn't really happen. My friend Emily had made me flapjack and this had kept me going for most of the race, in between gels and marzipan/date balls but my digestion was fast slowing down. At one point we passed a tub of sweets on a chair outside a house, that was a welcome surprise, I took a handful and plodded on. John's words of warning about fuelling were ringing in my ears - you can do the last couple of miles on empty but not the last couple of hours.
For the last stretch I turned on my watch, at least I would know how many miles I had covered and have a vague idea of how far to go. We walked some bits with other runners although talk was limited. At one point we were in a field of angry cows. I don't like fields with cows in. I don't like cows I can't see. I don't like cows in the dark and I don't like cows who seem pissed off. They must have been at their wits end and to be fair I wasn't far off. After 49.5 miles I had lost my sense of humour. As we hit the road into Cartmel another group jogged past. I think I stopped running the flats at this point. The town was quiet but wonderfully familiar. 22 hours before I had walked those streets with everyone else making the way to the coaches and the start. It was surreal walking through the town again on my own to the finish. I wanted to savour it but simultaneously just wanted it over.
There is nothing that compares to that feeling of crossing the finish line of such a race. For hours, weeks and months I had been thinking of that moment. My schedule had me finishing in 20 hours (assuming good weather), I crossed the line at 19 hours 17 minutes. This was a massive achievement for me, I was so proud of myself. I made James aware of just how impossible it was whilst simultaneously thanking him for not stopping the race. I don't think we truly know what we are capable of until we push beyond the impossible.
My admin at the end of the race was pretty rubbish and resulted in me being lot colder for a lot longer than I needed to be (next time there will be a jumper, warm socks and shoes at finish). My friend Jen had liked or commented on a post, unfortunately for her I knew she was awake so phoned her. The phone call kept me warm and distracted whilst I waited for John to arrive with my coat and shoes.
As an antenatal teacher and doula it would be remiss of me to finish without making some reference to the analogy of birth as a marathon, especially after I talk about this so much to the parents I work with. When I ran a marathon I knew I could stop at anytime, during this race I knew I could stop but neither carrying on or stopping was the easy option. Even if I chose to stop when I most wanted to (somewhere around Fairfield) it was still a long and difficult journey back to Cartmel. For me it was this aspect of the race that made it much more like birth than the marathon. The continual juxtaposition of not wanting to continue but not being able to stop. Assuming that physically you are fit enough and well enough, the only thing carrying you through is the mental games you play. I ran so much of this race in my head and maybe there will be another blog talking about mindfulness, birth, ultra running one day.
The high after finishing a race like Lakes in a Day is a wonderfully alluring, although I spent a lot of the time telling myself during the race 'you never have to do this again, you never have to go on the fells again...' as soon as I finished all I was thinking about the next one. On the drive back home, in between lots of crying (lots and lots of tears), I was talking about entering again in 2019. I'm not fast, I don't even consider myself a proper runner, but there is something about endurance events that draws out the human spirit which is strangely addictive. I messaged James afterwards and he said 'I honestly believe this stuff makes us better people' and I couldn't agree more. It's hard, of course it's hard, but that is also where the magic lies.
Finally thanks...
Thank you to John who may have initially planted the ultra running seed but was wise enough to leave it long enough to let me think it was all my idea. Thank you to Carol and Simon, who knew that oranges and feminist chat was exactly what I needed at 5am on that long coach ride to the start. Thank you to Mel from Due North for putting on awesome and inspiring events, you have always encouraged me and it meant so much to see you at CP1 (sorry I couldn't hang around). Thank you to Nicky for the plans, and knowing just the right things to say at the right time. Your words and messages of support during the race made me kick on just that little bit more. Thank you to the other runners who humoured me at the checkpoints and whilst out running. Huge thanks to the marshals, event organisers, NAV4 and James for all their hard work and support during the race. James you have an absolute gem of a race there. Thank you to my family and friends who believed in me, it gave me such a boost knowing that you all had my back and I wasn't alone out there. I have the most amazing friends.
