Author: kieran

  • Becoming part of the Spine Family

    (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
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    At the race start in Edale on the 15 June
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    Arlo and Georgina waiting to see me off
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    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
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    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..
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    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
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    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!
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    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!
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    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
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  • UTS 100K

    UTS 100K

    Robin Leathley writes:

    3 a.m. The alarm goes off on my phone. Finally, the day has arrived: Ultra Trail Snowdonia 100K. I had trained for six months and somehow stayed injury-free, an absolute miracle! Previously, I’d struggled with Achilles tendonitis and various hip twinges. During the taper, both had flashed warning signs, but I’d experienced phantom pains before and cursed my mind for being so cruel.


    Before I knew it, the countdown had finished, and we were off at 4:45 a.m. Heading up the Llanberis path, it was warm but clear. Most people walk the majority of the path up to the Bwlch Glas. I chose to do the same, determined not to start too fast in my first-ever 100K race. Perhaps more challenging than other 100K races, this one has 6,400 metres of climbing. To most people’s astonishment, I was doing it without poles. Many expressed genuine concern at my decision. I was asked a few times, “What races have you done in the build-up?” The only race I could recall that came close was The Bullock Smithy. “It was 93K with 2,500 metres of climb, no, near enough 3,000!” I said nervously. Little did they know, I did this four years ago now but I didn’t want them to worry. I knew I’d had a really strong training block and just needed to believe in myself.


    I made it up to Bwlch Glas (988 metres) in 1 hour and 15 minutes, a bit slower than anticipated (this would become a theme). You’re then directed onto the Pyg track, and as usual with Snowdonia, it was filled with tourists, even at 6 a.m. Navigating down the rocky steps and stones of this path is a pain, and you descend 600 metres in a short amount of time. I was very wary of how my quads would handle this race, so I walked a good bit of the steps and tried my best to ignore the people bounding down around me. Play it safe, Robin, play it safe; there’s a long way to go.


    At Pen-Y-Pass was one of many amazing aid stations throughout the route. I filled my water again, another 1.5 litres, and carried on up Glyder Fawr (980 metres). There is a little scrambling on this section but nothing too tricky, though not something you can practise outside of the mountains. The descent down Glyder Fawr takes you through the “Devil’s Kitchen,” where you pick your way down rocks and steps again, but even slower this time. Average pace for this race gets completely thrown out the window. There’s then a lovely path alongside a lake, and you ascend a path around the side of Tryfan (Bwlch Tryfan, 726 metres). It looked glorious that day, but I didn’t want to waste time staring; the next aid station was just down the hill!


    There was a huge roar of applause at the next aid station at Glan Dena, the first checkpoint that allowed your support crew. I didn’t bring one, but the extra bodies welcoming you in made a difference, and you really needed the lift before the next, arguably hardest, climb. The heat was starting to get through now. It had only been 24 km, but I’d been out for nearly five hours already. I knew I was on course for 20-22 hours; I just needed to keep moving forward! This climb tops out on a ridge with Carnedd Dafydd (1,044 metres) and further on Carnedd Llewelyn (1,064 metres), only 22 metres shy of the summit of Snowdon, so it’s no joke getting up there! The sharp rocks scattered across the trail mean you have to keep your focus. I met a guy up there who looked like he was having a hard time. Questioning why he’d signed up for this race, I tried to encourage him, telling him he’d done the hardest climbs already, but he was on a real low. I learned he’d done no elevation training for the race whatsoever—absolutely crazy! I told him he’d done bloody well to reach this point and that the next bits were easier. I wish I’d taken his number to see if he finished, but I didn’t. Mystery man, I hope you finished.


    The next sections off the ridge were much easier, onto the first bit of flat ground to a nice lakeside trail. Two guys with a freezer bag full of ice had freeze pops earlier, but I wasn’t quick enough. I waved past them, not really listening to what they said, only to find out later it was Gary House and Robbie Britton (24-hour distance British record holder). I was gutted to learn later I’d ran past one of my personal heroes. Goodbye Gary. The next sections weren’t so hilly, and I made it down to the 50K halfway checkpoint at Capel Curig with the help of a bit of pizza.


    Upon descending into the checkpoint, a kid on a wall shouted my race number down the trail, “1299!” A further “1299” echoed down the zigzag path. When I reached the bottom, a cluster of kids in “Trail Fam” t-shirts shouted, “Give me an R, Give me an O, Give me a B, I, N! ITS ROBIN!!” and then erupted into applause. It was such a beautiful moment; I was completely taken aback and nearly cried. I’ve since looked up Trail Fam, and they do such lovely charitable work in getting people outdoors. I’ll be trying to raise money for them in the future after this unforgettable memory. It really is the small things in these long races that stick with you.


    At halfway, I changed my socks and t-shirt, restocked food and drink, and left after about 20 minutes. It should have been shorter, but I really needed to gather myself after that seriously tough first 50K. I left reminding myself to just keep going. Time wasn’t a factor anymore; I could pretty much walk the rest of the race and make it through the cutoffs if I needed to.

    Up Moel Siabod (872 metres), I met a couple of guys who were a great laugh. I wish I could have stuck with them for the entire race, but I was moving a little better now and wanted to capitalise on it while I could. The climb up Siabod is tough but straightforward. You can see the top of the hill early; you just have to keep striding. I had nailed down my walking-with-hands-on-thighs technique by this point and was so proud to have reached over 4,000 metres of elevation—more than I’d ever done! At the top of this mountain, I began saying to myself, “You can do this, you can actually do it!” Still, I restrained myself on the long grassy descent to the next checkpoint. I wanted to stay in complete control. I’d listened to dozens of podcasts on ultras, about how things can go wrong at any minute, whether it be cramps, stomach issues, injuries, etc. Control the controllables, I thought.


    After the next checkpoint at 63 km, I teamed up with another runner, Alex Holt. This is where the race turned on its head. I’d been plodding along the first two-thirds of the race, tentatively picking through the terrain, with the target of completion and nothing else. I wanted the stones; I wanted to enter UTMB, the ultimate trail race. For the last third of the race, however, I felt bold, strong, fresh even! Running and chatting with Alex had completely distracted me from the 40 miles I’d already covered. We charged through the course, passing people left and right, marching up the back of Snowdon to the summit faster than I could have ever imagined. I kept looking down at my legs thinking, “Are you sure?? Can you honestly keep this up??” I couldn’t believe my training had been this good. Had I underestimated my ability on this course completely?


    It didn’t stop there. We flew down the Ranger path off the top of Snowdon (1086 metres) to the 50-mile/80Km checkpoint. With a quick changeover of food and drinks, we didn’t waste much time. Earlier in the race, I’d been crushing ready salted crisps and pouring them into my mouth to hold off cramps, but I hadn’t felt a twinge in ages. I truly think the distraction and competition with Alex had pushed me to new heights, to the point that my body believed in me more than I did!

    There were only two more mountains left to conquer before the final descent into Llanberis: Mynydd Mawr (698 metres) and Moel Eilio (726 metres). Wrapped up in deep conversation, we chatted through the next 10K into the darkness and finally turned on headtorches. Alex began to pull away on this next descent, which was pretty tricky with rocks, tight trails, and the beginnings of bogs. I had to let him go. “Run your own race,” “Don’t do anything foolish now,” so many sayings from the countless hours of lessons I’d listened to, ringing in my ears.


    Upon reaching the final checkpoint at 90K (on my watch anyway), I told Alex to go on ahead. “I can’t keep up with that pace; you go on ahead.” His reply was, “Do you wanna give it a try?” I looked up and with very little hesitation said, “No.” He, myself and the volunteers all laughed.

    I pretty much pushed him out the door while I tried to find anything that my stomach could hack, but all I could face were chocolate digestives. Spoiler alert: they did the trick. Navigating the forest and boggy trails of the next section wasn’t easy, but I was struck with such a free feeling. I’d reached the final section! I was going to do it! I was going to finish my first 100K race—and not just any race, a bloody hard one at that! No poles. Hours of hard training, regardless of the weather. I’d been ruthless in making sure I put the work in. I actually shouted out upon reaching the final hill, “I’m going to do it! I’m going to do it!!” I held back tears and was determined not to break. I wanted to finish this strong. I wanted to do myself proud. I charged up Moel Eilio and even faster down it, all the way back to Llanberis. I passed 15 people in this last 10K; I was just so excited to finish.


    One kilometre from the end, I passed someone else and felt them surge behind me. Did I really want to fight even harder for one more position? He came up alongside me, and before I tried to muster another gear, I realised it was Alex. It was such a surprise to see him; I’d assumed he’d finish 15 minutes before me, but I must have crushed the downhill to have caught him. It was a real joy to finish the race with him, and we ran it in together. It felt like the perfect finish to the race. I crossed the line and stood in disbelief for a moment as they put the medal on me. I’d done it—I’d completed the Ultra Trail Snowdonia 100K. I gave my brother a huge hug and pretty much collapsed on a bench.


    I would say that I can’t believe I did it, but I always knew I could. My belief in myself never wavered in this race, and when facing a course as tough as this, you need that kind of mentality. What surprised me was how well my legs handled the climbs and descents—who knew they had it in them! They say you learn more from your failures, but I learned so much about my body in this race, and I won’t forget it. For my next ultramarathon, I’m going to hit it a bit harder. Let’s see how much it can take. The Bullock Smithy, let’s be ‘avin you.

  • GVS Do’s and Don’ts

    Roy Whittle (Club Secretary) writes:

    If you are new to running or have just joined the club this may be of interest to you. 

    Running is one of the purest & simplest forms of exercise there is, however because humans are often complex and diverse creatures the social aspects can be a little harder understand or to follow. 

    Here are my top tips: 

    • Most runners (that I have met) are a friendly bunch and usually only too happy to chat about the last parkrun they did, the next race in the club calendar or how good the cake was at the race feed stations. If you are stuck for conversation, start here!
    • The club often runs in up to four groups of differing abilities and will wait for the last runner in each pack at a convenient point such as a stile or road crossing etc to regroup and will match the pace as best they can to the last runner.
    • If you are ahead of the pack and feel able to, please consider doubling back to meet the last runner. If you feel the group you are in are going too fast- tell the leader. They will happily adjust the pace to suit- it’s supposed to be fun after all.
    • If you are leading a run, or are the first runner in the pack, please stop at junctions to make sure that everyone knows what direction you will be heading in. 50 metres after the junction may be out of sight for slower runners in the group and not everyone in the group will know the full details of the route.
    •  If you start to feel unwell part way into a run or feel you can’t run at the pace of the group- don’t worry, tell the run leader, they will shorten the route, adjust the pace or divert. Don’t feel embarrassed to ask, everybody would rather cut a route short knowing you got home safe and enjoyed the run.
    • If you are running as part of a group and you are about to divert for a wild wee or take a shortcut home please tell someone so you don’t get left behind or we have to start a search for that missing runner! (I learned this the hard way)
    • Kit- Dress appropriately for the weather conditions. Most of the Tuesday & social runs are primarily trail and off-road oriented so expect mud or bog in the winter months and mud or bog in the summer months, it is the Peak District after all!

    The FRA (Fell Runners Association) stipulate a minimum level of kit each runner must carry during their races, it isn’t much but is just enough to delay the onset of Hypothermia should you become injured.

    For some short fell races you need nothing more than a pair of suitable shoes (usually “fell shoes”, with an aggressive rubber stud pattern), basic running clothing and a couple of quid for the entry fee.For longer races you will be required to carry mandatory kit. This will mean full waterproofs (with taped seams), hat and gloves, a map of the course, a compass, a whistle and some food. For some races, especially in winter, the Race Organiser may stipulate additional requirements such as an emergency “bivvy bag” or extra thermal top. This equipment is for your safety: the weather in the hills can change rapidly, and it is vital that you are properly prepared for a situation in which you become lost, heavily fatigued or incapacitated owing to illness or injury. The mandatory kit is the bare minimum, and runners are encouraged to carry additional kit depending upon the conditions and their experience.

    https://www.fellrunner.org.uk/faq/frequently-asked-questions#kit

    Carrying just these basics (or your own selection of kit) on a club run, while not mandatory is a good idea, especially during the colder months. I always carry a waterproof top, bivvy bag & small first aid kit for most Tuesday club runs and then add/remove items depending on the weather conditions. Kit is a personal choice so carry what you think you might need.

     If the worst does happen and someone gets injured enough to need emergency treatment or rescue it is useful to know what to do to call help.

    Make a note of all relevant details:

    • Location (with a grid reference if possible)
    • Name, gender and age of casualty
    • Nature of injuries or emergency
    • Number of people in the party
    • Your mobile phone number

    Dial 999 or 112, then ask for ‘Police’ then ‘Mountain Rescue’. Give all your prepared details of the incident and stay where you are until contacted by the rescue team.

    If you have to make a further 999 call, follow this procedure in full again.If you have hearing or speech difficulties, you can contact the 999 emergency services by text. You will only be able to use this service if you are registered with emergencySMS first, so register now — don’t wait for an emergency! Text ‘register’ to 999 then follow the instructions sent.

    In an emergency, contact the emergencySMS service by texting 999. Your message should include ‘Police’ + details of incident + location.

    Mountain Rescue England & Wales

    Above all, have fun and be safe.

  • Winter Half Tour of Bradwell

    Photos

    Results

    Robert Nock2:41:57
    Johnathan Cooper-Knock2:45:48
    James McGill3:35:11
    Paul Hunt3:50:37
    Ivan Whigham3:50:52
    Roy Whittle3:50:56
    Wayne Grant3:57:07
    Eddy Webb3:57:22
    Bec Day4:10:51
    Julia Carter4:26:35
    Chris Tetley4:27:51
    Stuart Keen4:34:54
    Claire Elsworth4:44:09
  • Hit The Trail

    Hit The Trail

    Chris Tetley writes:

    So it begins, the 2024 championship season, well apart from parkruns. Hit The Trail was the first full race of the 2024 season of championship races. Twelve of us turned out for this five-mile trail race on a chilly Sunday morning.

    The race runs along trails through the Reddish Vale country park just outside Stockport. They warned us it might be muddy in places, and it didn’t disappoint. They also mentioned the odd “puddle” or two and yes there were a couple of sections that had been flooded. Can I say the second one was particularly cold. Still, it washed the mud off our shoes, and we soon warmed up on the uphill finish.

    Results

    John Moore35:041st V60
    Wayne Grant36:16
    Brian Holland37:461st V65
    Roy Whittle40:06
    Mary Jones42:33
    Paul Hunt43:21
    Ita Kelly43:041st V60
    Christine Bowen46:30
    Claire Elsworth47:52
    Stuart Keen47:47
    Chris Tetley48:46
    Jane Keen57:24
    Emma Martin59:09

    Thanks to Jon-Paul Kearns for the pictures

  • Hypothermia

    Hypothermia

    Roy Whittle

    As we are now in the middle of winter, just past the shortest day (21st December) and with the coldest weather probably yet to arrive it is probably a good time to refresh our knowledge on how to avoid the effects of the cold when out on a run and what to do if you or someone else is suspected of showing signs.

    The official term is Hypothermia. This is when the body loses more heat than it can generate, usually when body temperature drops below 35 degrees (normal temperature is 37 degrees) and it can be lethal if not acted upon quickly.

    Symptoms of hypothermia include:

    • shivering
    • pale, cold and dry skin – skin and lips may turn blue or grey (on black or brown skin this may be easier to see on the palms of the hands or the soles of the feet)
    • slurred speech
    • slow breathing
    • tiredness or confusion

    Now is the time to act: Get help from anyone you can in the vicinity or call 999 or 112. Put on extra layers. Eat or drink something sweet. Move to a sheltered position if possible. If you are helping a casualty, make sure you protect yourself from the cold by putting your own layers on.

    Making sure you wear or take the correct amount of clothing with you is important and the type of run you are doing has an impact on this choice.

    If your route choice is a short local run around the housing estates on roads & footpaths then you may decide that just the clothing you are wearing will be adequate as you are only a short hobble from home in the event of a twisted ankle etc.

    If for example your run is up into the hills, several miles from home then it would be sensible to consider taking extra kit (see FRA kit advice below) as well as letting someone know your route and expected arrival home time as a twisted ankle out in the hills might cause you to cool down rapidly thus increasing the risk of hypothermia.

    Some good advice produced by the FRA and Mountain Rescue is linked below:

    The FRA (Fell runners association) have produced a simple guide aimed at runners, the link is here.

    Often Hypothermia is linked to not wearing or carrying the correct kit for the conditions which is why the FRA insist on minimum kit requirements for entry into their sponsored races, the minimum kit link is here.

    What to do in the event of an emergency (general guidance) here.

    Buxton Mountain Rescue hill safety advice here.

  • Dambuster 10½

    Results

    Rob Nock1:13:14
    Kieran Smallbone1:22:12
    Shaun Hall1:31:10
    Christine Bowen1:46:42
    Chris Tetley1:50:07
    Shaun, Rob, Kieran, Chris, Chris
    Rob flying to another top ten finish
  • Meerbrook 15k

    Results

    Rob Nock1:02:57
    John Moore1:12:03
    Matt Biglin1:14:52
    Ita Kelly1:29:40
    Sean Adams1:30:51
    Christine Bowen1:34:10
    Julia Carter1:37:39
    Chris Tetley1:38:39
    Chris, Sean, Julia, Ita, Chris, Matt, Rob, John

  • Groovy Kinder Love

    Results

    Rob Nock2:56:11
    John Moore3:57:00
    Wayne Grant3:57:02
  • Peter’s Stroll

    Results

    1Roy Whittle10:49.00[course record]
    2Julia Carter10:50:00[women’s course record]