(A bit more than a ‘Morning Run’)
by Jen Parsons
[originally posted at https://parsonsontour.travellerspoint.com/70/]
It was July 2023 and I was umming and ahhing over whether to enter one of the Spine races. The Sprint caught my eye, but it was “only” 46 miles up the Pennine Way from Edale, and I wanted to try something I genuinely wasn’t sure I could finish. It didn’t take much of a nudge from my lovely (mischievous?) Goyt Valley Striders running friends to go for it – if they thought I could do it then why not? What’s “it” I hear you say? The small matter of a 109 mile race to the unassuming hamlet of Hardraw from Edale – the southern “half” of the Pennine Way. The Spine Challenger South. This would be my first official ultra and I wasn’t sure they’d let me in…but sure enough, a confirmation email came through that afternoon and the butterflies assembled in the pit of my stomach. Too late to back out now. In hindsight there are probably less extreme ways to get some time out from the madness of work and family life!
Roll on a little under 12 months and I’ve dug my husband Chris and our two children Arlo (6) and Georgina (3) out of bed at 5:30 to drive the short hop to Edale for the start of the race. I thought I was a bit less nervous having already received the Lindley stamp of approval at kit check and handed over my drop bag the afternoon before. Two pre-race wees said otherwise. I marvelled at the range of rucksacks and race vests on display, some so light I mistakenly thought some runners had already arrived for the Sprint race starting later in the day. I was happy with my 5.5 kilos, although hoping that my choice of leggings and long sleeves would eventually be vindicated as we enjoyed some fabulous morning sunshine.
The Lindley stamp of approval
At the race start in Edale on the 15 June
Arlo and Georgina waiting to see me off
I wouldn’t say my training for this race had been straightforward. I’d never had any running injuries to this point but the volume of miles took their toll, and a recce of Pen Y Ghent at Easter gave me my first taste of IT Band Syndrome. So much for bombing down the hills. I’d also had sinus infections through the winter and surgery on my nose in April to try and fix the problem once and for all. My body had had enough and the week before the race all I could think of was how nice it would be to have a glorious lie in on the Saturday morning. There had been some highs, such as the sparkly snow day I ran from Marsden to Hebden, and the weekend I nearly broke my running buddies over Bronte country to Gargrave, but when the countdown finally ended and we were off I couldn’t have been more relieved. My main goal was to finish the race in time for tea and bed on Sunday evening. But my initial goal was to get through Torside and Laddow rocks with my legs unscathed and then see what was possible. Given how the last two months of training had gone I had no idea if this was even achievable.
A very sparkly Standedge, 17 January 2024
The first 10 Miles of the Pennine Way were very familiar to me, so I said hello to all my favourite rocks up on Kinder and tried to preserve my glutes having locked them up on the same stretch only a month before. I was firmly enjoying myself until we got to Torside when the rain started to fall, and my IT Band decided to say hello. It was a shame not to be able to let loose down the descents but it also wasn’t a problem yet. Laddow Rocks was a long old haul, and two slices of pizza later I began to get my rhythm back approaching Black Hill. My race very nearly ended right here though when my left leg disappeared up to my knee between two flagstones. Some four letter words may have been audible as the curlews scattered. My leg was still functional and an inspection of the damage would need to wait until Hebden Hey. Approaching the A635 I briefly contemplated a stop at the drinks van but a queue was forming and there was now so much water pouring off the hill that I decided it was a waste of both time and money. I did have to pick up some peaty run-off at Wessenden to top up my water supplies (I carried 800ml water with a filter and Aquatabs), but the lovely MRT guys at Standedge swapped it for drinking water before I needed a swig. Next stop: Nicky’s food bar where I had preordered veggie pasta.
Leg preservation on Jacob’s Ladder..
A fellow running friend who was also preparing to start the big race (full Spine) the following day had described the Challenger South as 5 meals out with a bit of running in between! Well this was meal #1, and what a surprise awaited me when I got there. My two wonderful friends Jenny (aka The Wren) Hutton and Claire Elsworth were dancing up and down waiting for me at the road junction. Best. Surprise. Ever. After a quick check with the Spine official I went in for full hugs. Happiness in spades. I sat down in the little oasis that is Nicky’s (a shipping container humming with food and grateful runners) and enjoyed some conversation with my fellow race “competitors” for the first time. The ice was well and truly broken as we dried off and refuelled. After a second helping of hugs I was on my way again buoyed all the way to Hebden by that wonderful surprise!
I was 8 or so hours in and my legs felt good as I caught up with Helen Williams at Blackstone Reservoirs. We had been crossing paths since Torside and so we enjoyed some sociable miles in the early evening sunshine. I left Helen as we caught our first glimpse of Stoodley Pike peering over the horizon. Hebden Bridge was not far off. But I had been warned by Chris Tetley (a fellow Spine Challenger finisher) of the 4 miles to Hebden Hey. I enjoyed a fast descent down the track to the main road giving my watch it’s first charge on the go. Matched on the other side by an equally slow crawl up slimy cobbles on the narrowist of “paths”. Little did I know that the Pennine Way would stretch that definition to the max before Check Point 1. Think slimy stones embedded in slick mud squeezed between walls overgrown with vegetation and you’re getting somewhere close. Throw in a couple of poles, a bulky race vest and legs that have already seen 40 odd miles and it was just as well I didn’t have a swear box. Fortunately the Pennine Way cannot be blamed for the descent into Hebden Hey (dubbed “Hebden Hole”). I’m pretty sure this section has swallowed a few runners! 12 and a half hours done and Leg 1 was in the bag. Time for a shower and a change.
Stil looking fresh at Snake Pass, Leg 1
I’d planned a 2-hour stop at Hebden to take a proper rest not knowing how tired I would be. There’s still 64 miles to go at this stage, way further than I had ever run. There were only about 3 other runners there when I arrived to a warm welcome and a roaring fire. I attempted to eat but had an altitude moment. Stomach wasn’t having any of it. In the end I managed some miso soup, yoghurt, crisps, cola and a choc pot. Having washed all the mud and sweat off in a gloriously hot shower and treated myself to a full change of clothes and shoes, I was ready to get stuck in again.
It was just getting dark as I left, a beautiful clear dry and cool night ahead. Helen Williams left the checkpoint with me and I caught Kate Simpson up as she made a call home on the road back to the Pennine Way. Kate and I grouped up as we approached the moors above Gorples Reservoir and headed up through Bronte country. I had decided to walk through the night to give my stomach a rest but we both felt good and really got a move on past Top Withens and the half-way point. I stopped to preempt a blister, and then left Helen and Kate behind as I headed towards Ponden. I thought of them both as I nipped over a wall and dropped into a field before the steep climb up over to Ickornshaw. When I looked up I was greeted by the largest horns I’ve ever seen on a set of cattle. “Just coming through” I half whispered as I tiptoed past the snoring beasts!
Ickornshaw Moor was wonderful until the last section of descent where it can only really be described as “bog-slide”. I still felt great and chuckled at the cheeky signs that had been attached to the gates to get us through this middle part of the race: “Remember, you paid for this” and “Jasmin was probably in Hawes by now”. I was happy, I was approaching Cowling where the tri club had set up an unofficial checkpoint when I was greeted by friendly torchlight and escorted to a very cosy seat in a large tent and discovered I was actually hungry! The walk had done the trick and a very happy stomach said hello to a mushroom roll, some delicious melon and soup. It was only a quick pit stop and as I left Cowling the first inkling of dawn could be seen to the East. I’m coming to terms with the fact that ultra running is definitely a pasttime of deep contrasts. I’ll never forget the beautiful rays of dawn sunshine and curlews over Elsack Moor that morning, nor unfortunately the reaction of my gut to an early breakfast. The race was on: to the next bush! As the wonderful medic explained at CP1.5, with all your oxygen going to your legs, there’s nothing left for digestion, and the body sees to the rest no matter how inconvenient…
The next few miles were uneventful. I made a quick stop at the tuck shop at Thornton-in-Craven for some chocolate milk, and donated some of my race food (which I judged I wouldn’t be able to eat) to save carrying the extra weight. I then headed for Gargrave. The mudfest that I’d dragged my running friends through earlier in the year was mercifully dry but had now become a cowfest. Thankfully, while it felt like midday to me, it was still early morning and the cattle were getting some shut-eye. By this point I was running behind my schedule (although, it’s almost impossible to judge what a 109-mile race schedule should be when the furthest you’ve been is 30 miles). So Gargrave Co-op was on! Hot greasy food beckoned. I had no idea where I was in the race at this point, but it was clear I was far enough down the pecking order for pizza to be off the menu. Cheese and onion lattice it was, and It. Was. Heaven. My water had started tasting bitter on the approach in, and my pain au chocolate had been firmly dispatched to the bin. Freshly cooked crispy fat it turns out, was the answer. Some form of cheese pastry will always have a place in my race vest in future ultras…
Just a 10k to Malham but another race to the loo beckoned. I was in the guts (literally) of the race now. 60-70 miles in and it was beginning to get hard. I needed some water, my feet had swelled and I needed to change socks to reduce the pressure in my shoes. My hands needed a wash, I was hot and sweaty in the sunshine, and well, a “proper” toilet was the order of the day. It wasn’t in my plan to stop in Malham, so I’d keep my friends and family guessing as I took a break and set myself up in the covered picnic area by the public toilets to sort myself out. As I smugly pulled my dry socks on it duly started to rain. Now everyone knows that a rain slicked well-worn limestone pavement is just what you need at 80 miles in! Fortunately for me Rob Hornshaw had caught me up while I was stopped and we walked together over Malham Cove discussing ultras and marvelling at those who take on the 160 mile Challenger North race and the full Spine. It wasn’t long before we were striding out to the medical checkpoint (CP1.5) on the far side of Malham Tarn. I arrived as Allie Bailey was leaving (her book was awaiting me at home) and I was surprised to be in such experienced ultra running company. This was my first inkling that my race wasn’t going too badly. David Keane came flying through the checkpoint as though he was in a different race altogether. My only thought was to wonder where he’d been up to that point! I’ll be forever grateful for the lovely medic with the broken ankle asking me how I was and if I had any problems. I didn’t think much of it at the time but mentioned in passing my gut issues and she suggested some immodium which sorted me out for the rest of the race. I very nearly didn’t take up her offer but as much as I love a scenic loo, I needed to eat and retain the energy for my legs. Also, the organic apple porridge I had just I inhailed was starting to take effect. Very. Good. Decision! I was only in CP1.5 for 12 minutes and left in good spirits. Comin’ attacha’ Fountains Fell!
Now no ultra experience is complete (so I’m told) without the odd hallucination, and not having slept at all, my mind was beginning to play tricks. Did you not know there is a naked man and a snogging couple on the way out of the checkpoint at Malham Tarn? The naked gentleman turned out to be a sculpture of a hare. The couple in an embrace I genuinely have no idea about, only a vague and puzzling recollection that they were there on the previous occasion I had passed through at Easter, having had ample sleep! Random rocks looked like bears and the odd runner but then turned back to rocks upon closer inspection. This continued on until the finish.
Fountains Fell was lovely in training and I had skipped over it in quick time. But after 80 or so miles, the war of attrition between my IT Band and my stash of paracetamol was finally coming to a conclusion. The angle of ascent and descent on Fountains Fell was nothing short of incremental torture and so with some alliteration “F*^%#=* Fountains Fell” was forever renamed! In my mind there was no doubt I was finishing this but I did have to give myself a good talking to as I turned my left ankle over in another bogslide descent. Only two more biggies to go: Pen Y Ghent (also renamed) and the Cam High Road which I was actually looking forward to as it offered the chance to straighten my left leg and stride out the last 15 miles.
The view from Fountains Fell across to Pen Y Ghent at Easter. Neither required renaming at this point!
Rob caught up with me again as I refilled my water at the Ladies Toilets in Horton. We were met by the lovely Spine team there who helped bring the super-soaker tap under sufficient control to avoid donning full waterproofs. Unfortunately this distraction meant I left my new Montane gloves sitting on the window ledge. It was 5 miles up the Cam High Road before I realised. Funnily enough I did not turn back.
15 miles doesn’t sound like much but at the end of a 109 mile race that’s 5 hours of hard graft still to go. It felt unimaginable at this point. So I stopped imagining and just put one foot in front of the other. About an hour up the track the Great British Weather rejoined the party. I added layers and waterproofs, struggling to generate enough speed and heat to remain comfortable. The rain became heavier and the wind picked up so I decided it was time to get the hell out. Rob had dropped behind and I started to get a proper shift on, into a rhythm with my poles. It must have been hours but I disappeared into the howling wind, fog and sideways rain of a Cam High Road timewarp. It didn’t feel like long before the last giant sponge of Ten End loomed and I was finally headed down into Hawes; but not without some comedy moves to remain upright I should add. Bog? What bog…?
I was racing the dusk at this stage and was very happy to spy a lone umbrella waving at me from the road – my husband Chris who had decided against surprising me on the Cam High Road (good decision) had managed an intercept. We chatted as I marched on, and I was forced to take the only detour of the entire race as a field of very boisterous bullocks (try saying that after a few) blocked the route to the houses on the edge of Hawes. No way was my race ending in a trample 2 miles from the end! Having recce’d this section it was easy enough to skirt round the houses and rejoin the Pennine Way from the road. Chris left me to scoot off to the finish line while I knocked out the last two miles – the only section I hadn’t recce’d. At this point my watch had run out of battery, my charger was dead, and my phone decided this was the moment to run out of juice. No GPS track. I thought of asking at the campsite for directions, then realised no one would have a clue about 150 mad runners incoming to Hardraw in the half light. If you were wondering why I meandered off-route so close to the end, this is why. However, I was lucky that I’d traced the route on the map and talked it through several times with Chris Tetley only a few weeks before, so in the darkness, from memory I found my way; Chris’s words echoing in my brain at each path junction.
Now, I was pretty convinced my body was no longer capable of running having tested this on several occasions at around the 70-mile mark. But it’s amazing what it can do knowing the end is in sight. I’m sure this is adrenaline, but the last mile felt like the first, running freely to the lights of the campground in Hardraw. I was ecstatic to see the official arrows pointing me in the right direction. Without the security of the GPS track on my wrist it felt like I’d found a needle in the proverbial haystack. One last “sprint” and I did a finishing twirl across the line. At points in the race I’d thought I’d just cry at the finish, but I simply felt happy, strong and unbroken as I received my medal. I was unprepared for the finish line interview however, and struggled to marshal any thoughts on what the “good bits” of the weekend were after just sliding off Ten End after 5 hours in the godforsaken “British Weather”. My only thought was to get some dry clothes on…and then my stomach rumbled!
Over the finish line! I’m clearly relieved!
Two final surprises remained, the Check Point 2 team presented me with a printout of all the amazing messages friends and family had sent me along the route via the tracking system. It stretched from my shoulder all the way to the floor. I was gobsmacked. This was the most wonderful thing and something I’ll treasure forever. The second surprise was that only 25 people had finished ahead of me, and only 6 of them women. Unbeknownst to me as I racked up the miles I’d managed to produce a Top 10 finish in my first ultra in a time of 38 hours and 36 minutes… A marvellous bowl of chill, followed by cake and custard was duly dispatched: I had made it in time for “tea” and a very comfortable hotel bed in Hawes.
My medal, certificate and finishing position
