Day two has one of those moments in it that transforms everything. Last year this was the first stage I won and I dedicated the win to my dad who had passed away suddenly a month before the race. It was the first time I decided to throw off the shackles and think about just going for the win. This year is different, but we'll get to that.
The campsite we set off from in the morning is a different one to last year, and it will be different again in 2020, so the route down to Haltwhistle is different but straightforward. There's a bit of road, under a bridge, across a main road and then you're on a cycle route and it's steady away. It's tempting to look at the profile and think that it's flat all the way to Garrigil and then lumpy over Cross Fell and down to Dufton for the end of the stage. This would at first glance seem to be true however it's slightly uphill all the way, only slightly but still. The cycle route is lovely and is flanked by trees with a checkpoint part way along after you run across Lambley Viaduct. This has a path along the top and a massive gate at the end of it - last year I spent a good few minutes wondering how to get through the gate (or over it) before noticing the steps down to the right which lead you round, down, underneath and then back up the other side to continue on your way.
Andy, Paul and I run together for this first section and it glides by. We aren't chattering away but there's a friendly ebb and flow of chat which helps to pass the time. Before Alston the trail joins a railway line and as we are running along here Andy slows to a stop. I ask if he's ok but he says he's just stopping to put his coat on - it's been a funny mix of not quite cold and wet enough for full coat but nearly for a while. I glance back as Paul and I run on and see Andy struggling with his waterproof and we don't see him again. Paul takes the lead and competitive John is trying to work out if he's pushing the pace or if I'm just feeling a bit sorry for myself. We're on the Pennine Way now and this is Paul's turf after a cracking Spine Race result in typically terrible Spine conditions a couple of years ago. At Garrigil we top up with water, Jonny the medic is there from last year and says hi before I dash off after Paul who has already left.
We start the climb to Cross Fell together, Paul holds a gate to wait for me on the diagonal off path climb up then stops to sort his bag but send me on. By the time we reach the path we are back together again. The Pennine Way here is a path but it's a path that's been covered with quite large stones - not big enough to be rocks and not small enough to be gravel. It;s probably quite nice to walk on, reassuring even, but to run on it's hard going. I'm ever so slightly dropping away from Paul now and we round a corner on the approach to Greg's Hut and he's got a gap. I look down and see my shoelace has come undone and when I look up Paul has disappeared off into the mist.
I take stock. I'm cold. I'm hungry. My shoelace is undone. I'm miserable. I can do something about the shoelace immediately so I stop and tie it properly. As I've stopped I can do something about being hungry and rearrange my food to see me through to the end of the stage. I also decide to have a handful of haribos to give me a boost and decide to do this every fifteen minutes from now on. I'm cold - this could be a problem as I've now got on all the clothes I've allocated for running and all I've got left is my evening wear and my sleeping bag as options. I'll come back to that problem in a minute. I'm miserable - this is potentially the killer problem. I don't want to be here. I'm not enjoying this and I could quite happily sit down and cry for a little and then wait in Greg's Hut for a while and never run again. What am I doing here? What made me think this was a good idea? I can't catch Paul now so that's my lead gone and the race as well so I might as well give up now. This was a silly idea, I'm under trained and over ambitious. What an idiot.
I come back to being cold again which is something I need to address. I've been walking since tying my shoelace and now I've passed Greg's Hut and just about to reach the summit of Cross Fell when I see Lucy appear out of the mist on her way down to to Greg's Hut to offer support to runners if they need it. I must look a sorry sight but wave and say hi. Then I lose the path - it should be flagstones but it's a mix of tricky rocks and mud. I check my trace and map and I'm parallel to where the path is but maybe over a bit to the left. Or a lot. I can't see more than a few feet in front of me because of the clag and now I'm lost as well. Brilliant.
I'm still cold so I have a sharp word with myself - there's really only one option. I need to move faster to generate more heat. I will my legs to turn over more quickly. I force myself to smile to trick my mind in to thinking I'm enjoying this. It seems to be working and my legs start to warm up. Then the path appears and I smile a genuine smile. It's quite up and down on the path over the tops and I start to pick up speed on the downhill, so much so that I start to run the uphills as well. I can see a walker up ahead in the mist and think about saying a cheery hello as I run past. As I get closer I realise it's Paul and he's walking slowly. Now what do I do? I check he's ok and he waves me on so I leg it. I do put a burst of speed on here as we hit the road for a short section before the final climb and I look behind me. Paul is some way back and not making any sign of following me so I crack on to the summit and then fly down the final descent. Which nearly ends with me wiping out near the bottom but thankfully I catch the slip in time. I laugh out loud and breeze in to Dufton with another five minutes gained on Paul and a big smile on my face.
What actually happened up there in the rain, mist and wind I'm not sure. One minute the world was over, I was never running again, the race had gone, the day had gone. After a bit of food and a hard word with myself everything transformed. Unbelievable. Maybe I do like running after all!
My post stage routine remains the same and I take the short walk to the showers before returning to get the kettle on. I speak to the medical team about my foot/leg which is aching a little in an unusual way and they advise me that pain is temporary and glory is forever. Apparently that's the bespoke medical support package. Which I take to mean there's nothing wrong with you, stop complaining we've got real injuries to deal with. Fiona retires here and I feel like I should be able to say something to help her but feel literally helpless. I don't know what to say at all when she tells me and mumble something incoherent. She's gutted and I'm gutted for her.
In camp people arrive and gather in different tents for the night. There's a drier been set up in a barn for people who want to get their clothes dry before the morning. It's effective but does make the clothes smell of diesel somewhat and as I'm crouched by the makeshift washing lines breathing in the fumes there's talk that camp opinion is split between who is going to win - Paul or me. I laugh and say there's a long way to go yet and there's only 15 minutes between us but it gets me thinking. This is a proper race now. We're definitely racing each other.
I share a tent with new people and in the morning Scott, who I lent my jacket to, pulls out and says he's booked holiday to Majorca for a week instead. Greg and Tim are telling funny stories and one of them revolves around the lightest bit of kit Tim has with him. It's perfect in almost every way for this race. It's lightweight and packs small but upon using it Tim has realised why it was in the back of his loft after not being used for a number of years. It's basically a pertex towel. Which Tim reports as being as useful as it sounds for drying yourself. There's a lesson here I'm sure about trying your kit before setting off but to be honest we all include things that aren't field tested to some extent and that's often where the fun lies! I have some lightweight beach flip flops for camp life which I wouldn't swap for anything but they were a bit of a gamble the first year. Other people had brought hotel flip flops made of soft fabric which were wonderfully soft. For one night. Before the great British summertime reduced them to a soggy, muddy mess and they ended up in a bin!
Thoughts about the day ahead were in my mind before I fell asleep - there's a big chunk of this stage that is new to me over Wild Boar Fell which we missed out last year. It's definitely a race now and it seems to be between Paul and me, although with a 60 mile stage still to come the day after where big time gaps could open up I am mindful not to go too hard too soon. How exciting. Except that Paul is fiercely competitive and relentlessly metronomic as a runner. I am in no doubt at all that not only will I have to run my best race to win but one slip and Paul will take full advantage. How exciting!
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