Deadwater 2018 Day 4 - The Long Day

On the morning of The Long Day Karl has to pull out, he says his goodbyes to us all explaining that he'd plugged into his 'real' life (or is it the other way around?) and something has come up at work that he needs to deal with. He looks genuinely gutted as we mill around in the morning and I had been looking forward to getting to know him a bit better over the next few days having only just started to talk to him. We are reducing in numbers on a daily basis and slowly but surely by the end of the week there will be only ten competitive finishers. If you do have to retire Richard will let you carry on for the week, fitness and medical checks permitting, in order to finish but not as part of the race times.

This day, more than any other in my opinion, will help decide the final standings. Last year I was three hours ahead of the next finisher which meant I could take it easier for days five and six and get to know some of the other runners a bit more. I expect no such luxury this year and given Paul's obvious quality over long distances I have a hearty breakfast of vegetable hotpot to see me right for the first couple of hours. It was this day last year that I started with chilli for breakfast after I'd swapped a dried meal with Ivan at the drop bag evening feast the night before. I just couldn't handle another day of porridge, despite having porridge every morning usually. I'd planned for this to happen this year and reduced my breakfast meals accordingly so I had more variety to choose from. Effectively having two evening meals a day - one for breakfast and one for tea.

At the start I am concentrating a bit more than usual. I've checked my bag a couple of times and moved my food for the day to accessible pockets. I've got water and sachets of sports drink on hand for later when food may be too much. I know the terrain but know that Paul does too - we are still on The Pennine Way for most of the day so there's not much advantage there. I decide my race strategy for the day is to go out hard and hold on. Those who know me know that's not really much of a plan and that I normally set off too fast in races and then hang on to the finish. I've never mastered the art of negative splits or even pacing and like (maybe that's too strong a word) running with a bit of fear to keep me moving. (Those of you reading this and running in 2020 please note I will have mastered all racing tactics including these and many, many more by then!)

I bolt off the start line at the sounding of the starter and grab a gap on the first climb up the side of Penygent. It's risky but it's also controlled. I do glance behind frequently and see my gap growing. I hold it at a comfortably uncomfortable pace and crack on. This stage is really a wonderful variety of terrain and a real showcase for where I live. Arriving at Malham Tarn I adjust my clothing and bag a cracking photograph shot on my way past before checking in and out of the checkpoint. Really I do have an advantage here because I can break up the stage in to chunks that work for me. Push on to Malham, take it easy down the limestone staircase and then plod along the river to Gargrave.

https://www.facebook.com/BeyondMarathon/videos/2328528167164255/?t=1

Approaching Gargrave I see someone running towards me and it's Tom come out to say hello. He knows me and also Paul, both of them having a Spine Race pedigree. He runs with me for a bit and knows he can't offer any help or assistance so stands by admirably silent while I nearly get lost a few times. There's an especially tricky bit around the canal where the trace seems to be on the other side, there doesn't seem to be a path and I'm trying to manage my rising mini-panic when I remember to look at the map and then where to go and calm down. After a bit of a chat he turns around and runs back to spend a little time running with Paul as well. This is a lovely, and unexpected, boost and before I know it I'm approaching my home ground. I can hear my family cheering and ringing cowbells as I approach the gate and they zoom round to wave at me from the road as I cross in several places up and down through Lothersdale and Cowling before I head off on my own. Again this is a lovely boost and in a turn of tables Kate is Facebook live videoing me instead of the other way around which makes me smile.

https://www.facebook.com/sally.golightly1978/videos/10155607281767256/?t=7


I'm up and over Ickornshaw moor, which is a slog at the best of times, and coming down to the next checkpoint at a reservoir when another friend, Gary, comes into view around a corner. 'Blimy,' he says, 'you're moving fast and I know it's not for the camera because you didn't know I was here.' He's hurt his leg and jogs to keep up as we descend having a chat before getting to the checkpoint where I sit for about 3 seconds, fill up my water and then get off.

Andy from last years race is on this checkpoint and he's encouraging and I know he understands that I just need to crack on so I get rid of my race food rubbish, say my goodbyes and head up towards Top Withins.

This next section is another lovely stretch which is undulating and with a real variety of terrain; sometimes open moor with what seems a wide choice of direction options and sometimes narrow, walled paths rollercoasting over the land, slowly grinding uphill and then shooting over the top and down the other side with views worthy of being more than just background to a race narrative. There's often a checkpoint on The Long Day that offers officially sanctioned additional race snacks as a boost. It's not guaranteed, of course, and it could be anywhere. This year it's just before Stoodly Pike. Last year I refused to take any because I wanted to finish the race on what I'd planned to carry. Well I may be daft but I'm not stupid so this year I grab something and head off.

Walking up the path to Stoodly Pike with a steak slice in one hand and a can of coke in another I feel like a king. I'm not much for fine dining but I can't remember any meal tasting or feeling so good. The section from Stoodly Pike itself to the next checkpoint, at The Whitehouse Pub, is another that always feels to me to be longer than it should. There's often a headwind, which is a pain, and it's flat enough that there's no real excuse for not running it. Which is also a pain, and potentially painful on sore feet. For what seems like forever there has been a diversion around one of the reservoirs and sure enough there it is on my trace so I jump over to start it. Then I glance over and realise the thing that's nagging my brain is the absence of fences and workmen and machinery on the main route. I stop and get out my map, which means adjusting my pack but I think it's worth it. Sure enough the line on the map doesn't use the diversion and keeps to the path. That was a good decision to take a little time over and I jump back over to the main path and find my cruise gear to take me along the path.

https://www.facebook.com/BeyondMarathon/videos/2329325383751200/?t=16

The end is fiddly, there's no two ways about it. It's well signposted this year but I did go back and forwards a few times last year wondering if I was right or not as there are plenty of times when you think the end is near and then the path seems to throw you a curve ball. But eventually I drop down to the road that's along from the campsite and run through the finish line. Nailed it. Last year I finished in 13 hours 46  and I was made up with that. This year it's 12 hours 56 minutes and I let out a shout. Happy with that, really happy. I collapse into the checkpoint and am looked after immediately by a wonderful volunteer who asks all the right questions. Hot water? Not yet. Sit down? Lovely. Shall I show you where the showers are? I'm ok, are they the same as last year? Yes. Right then let's get this routine done and look after myself before I think about anything else. One aspect of multi-day, self sufficient racing that I've found (with a grand total of 12 days experience so far) is it's the little things that make the most difference. I've got some dehydrated single use flannels and some soap leaves that take up no room at all but provide enough to wash and clean me every day after each stage in the mostly warm showers and an Alpkit travel towel that really is small but dries wonderfully well and then dries out quickly afterwards. I get clean and dry and head back for the hot water on offer to make a drink and my meal just in time to see Paul arrive, somewhat less than amused about the fiddly end to the stage. A while later Andy and then Greg arrive but it will be longer still before anyone else comes in to camp.

Paul finishes in 14:13, Andy a bit further back in 15:03 and then Greg in 16:48 before others come in into the morning. So another chunk of time added to my lead however unless you've met Paul I don't think you have a good understanding of what the word competitive means. If I slow for a moment he will make up time hand over fist and with a long flat day, 31 miles of canals, to come tomorrow it's less a case of fitness and more a case of mental strength to keep moving at speed when there's no reason to slow down except those you find for yourself.  As I ponder how to tackle the challenge of the next day I'm mindful of the fact that there are still some people out on the course who won't get in until breakfast time and then go straight out on to the next day's stage. That's a cumulative total of 91 miles non-stop, with a full pack and no sleep. Suddenly the thought of getting a nights sleep and then waking up and running a shorter stage doesn't seem quite the task it was before. As there is a later start in the morning there's no sense going to bed too early as I'll only wake up early and when I finally do decide to go to sleep I decide to let tomorrow just happen and roll with it, it could be an interesting day on the flat.

Deadwater 2018 Day 3 - The Wild Boar

I start the day with a short walk to the barn where all the electricals are plugged in and the clothes have been drying over night. My gear is dry and warm but smells heavily of fumes. Lovely.

Mornings on Deadwater are a time I enjoy. There's a real simplicity of breakfast, coffee, changed, packed, feet up then go. It takes a bit to pack things away in the right place, roll things up, put bags around the right things to keep them dry, get some order to your pack and then try it on standing up so you don't get a shock when you set off. There's a nice rhythm to the morning, relaxed, chatty, full of optimism for what lies ahead.

What lies ahead today is Wild Boar Fell and this includes a sizeable chunk of the 44 miles that I've neither run nor reccied before. In fact the start of the stage is the same but quite quickly becomes new territory for me as last year we had a massive diversion due to the weather and that's even before we were ferried around the fell. So plenty of opportunities for errors, lots of time on our feet and some pretty decent climbs in and amongst the trails, fields, tracks and roads.

I've made a decision to try and win every stage mentally in my head now, I think it's possible and it's quite a motivating thought. A little jog together through the early gates and I know it gets twisty from there on in so I can be around a corner and off out of sight before you know it. And so it proves. A couple of minor Nav errors here and there that I have to correct but nothing to worry about. I do keep glancing behind me every now and then to see if there's company approaching but I can't see anything so crack on. Early on there's a mixture of road, trail and fields. One track in particular looks like it's never been run on before with nettles and brambles towering over me. This leads to a field full of cows. Full. I don't like cows. The field is slightly up hill and there's a small plank bridge in the middle over a little stream ditch. I walk slowly through the field and all the cows turn to look at me as I do. Later on Andy will tell me they knew which way the path went because all the cows were all still looking in that direction.

I get a little confused at one point and nearly head off from the side of a river over a bridge and up a road into the distance but after a bit of consulting with the map and trace I go back and find a gate at the side of a house that I'd missed. The feeling of rising panic and subsequent relief gives me a bit of a jolt. Butterflies about what decision to make and then the realisation I've made made the right one makes me smile. It would have been easy to carry on regardless and hope for the best, especially trying to build a lead, but making the right decision is always more important than making a quick one, a lesson I've learned before,

There's a decent section of road then before Wild Boar Fell which is not unpleasant to run on and it's on a stretch that was the same as last year so I can comfortably jog along at a decent pace. After checkpoint 9, which is at the Fat Lamb Inn, it's onto tracks up and over Wild Boar Fell. I've cycled past this before and it looked impressive. It is a pretty straightforward climb, paths obvious and well marked and matching both the map and the trace. There's a short descent and then a climb up a secondary fell before a long descent to Garsdale which seems to take forever. The skies have been clear today, none of the rain and clag of yesterday although there was a little loss of visibility on the very top.

I'm blowing a bit as I start the climb up  The Coal Road so take on more food and drink and get a cheery smile from Richard while topping up my water at the checkpoint in the station car park. I knew I recognised this bit of road - I've cycled up it before on the Etape Du Dales, zig-zagging from side to side due to it's steep and unrelenting nature. I look up and laugh, at least I'm not having to carry my bike up as well. There's a track off to the left after what feels like a lifetime which leads around Great Knoutberry. I'm on familiar ground now as this is Fellsman territory which has become one of my annual races. At checkpoint 11 on the road before the final descent I take on more water and decide to run down to the finish with a spring in my step. I was on part of this section earlier in the year supporting a friend running The Dalesway. Its actually quite a long way from here to the finish although on the map it seems a lot shorter, funny that!

I breathe in and swear I can smell Pot Noodle on the breeze again, just like last year. This is the evening when we get our drop bag of food and I've got two Bombay Bad Boy Pot Noodles to feast on and a can of gin and tonic. It was so nice last year that I've doubled the portion - why change it? I've judged my food for the first three days about right. I've got very little left and I had enough choice to keep me eating while I was running. Andy less so as we chat later in the evening. He has run the whole 44 mile stage on half a packet of wine gums. My mouth hangs open while I digest this news as we chat. I say to him that he should have said something. But then would I have known how much I had to share? Half a packet of wine gums. 44 miles. Don't try this at home kids!

I can see what looks like my car parked on the road and make the bird call that's something of a family call sign when out walking. It's returned by Sally and I know she's there waiting to see me. That's also a real boost as she can't do anything apart from wave and cheer but it's lovely to see her and I bound in to camp. Well it feels like bounding anyway!

As we gather for the evening Paul has his drop bag which has dried food in it for the remainder of the race rather than the heavier wet packs he's been carrying which in theory means his pack is now lighter than it has been so far. There's a lot of chat about pack weight and people have various strategies both for saving weight and for dealing with the thought of the weight which is just as important. For some it's important to have the lightest and for others it's to pack what you need and it weighs what it weighs. I'm somewhere in between I think - I'll find the lightest of each item I think I need, decide if I can afford it (usually not) then make a decision and move on. By chipping away at everything I manage to reduce the weight - I even cut the corners off the dried food packs, although this also stops them catching on the fabric in the bag - and then make peace with whatever I have to carry. Then train for it by running with a pack on as the race draws closer.

Another stage win, another 30 minutes added to the lead over Paul which is increasing slowly, Andy has now dropped back a little in third place. The wind has already dried my clothes on the makeshift washing line that's been erected, I'm showered and fed and I get an early night after my gin and tonic. The long day tomorrow.

This camp is at the base of Penygent and the views are lovely, the showers are warm and the food bag is a source of great joy for everyone. For some, however, the thought of the long day - at 61 miles and 9,000 feet of climb - is a sobering one but this is the stage that has got me out of bed every day training. It goes within a mile of my house (as the crow flies) and is a glorious celebration of the best of my home trails. I love it. We all have an earlier start because the stage is longer so it gives everyone a fair chance of finishing before the start of the next stage on day five - which will have a later start time as well. I can't remember who says it to me but apparently everyone thinks Paul will win tomorrow's stage because he's better at the long stuff. That's my motivational self talk sorted then.

Deadwater 2018 Day 2 - The Pennine Way

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!