Spine Challenger South - "Being Bothered"

Edale to Hebden

Under blue skies and with the ground in Edale pretty clear (a bit of local ice and maybe an inch of snow) we were given a pre-start briefing by one of the organisers to "Be Bothered". The mantra stuck in my head and was probably the most important thing I had heard. It cut through all of the advice which had been thrown my way as a newbie. Be bothered to look after your feet, be bothered to stay warm, be bothered to eat.

So chirpy at the start

I started in a controlled manner – a slight jog out of Edale towards Kinder Scout. There was little snow underfoot so started without microspikes. As soon as I got to the base of Jacobs Ladder I was sliding around like Bambi so the microspikes (Kahtoola Ghost) went on and that’s where they stayed for the next 40 odd miles. As we ascended the snow gradually got deeper and ended up roughly at knee depth. Although the front runners had cut a path, it wasn’t always clear what I was stepping on or how the snow would react so I’d often lose my footing and my legs took a pasting trying to stay upright.

The endless stability work starts to really take its toll

By Torside (16 miles) my legs felt shot. My inner quads were cramping up and I thought my race was done. Although feeling good leaving Torside, the first few steps out of the reservoir left me cramping up badly. Time to reassess my goals.

I didn't want to crash out 16 miles into a 108 mile race. Before starting I'd decided the 60 hour cut off gave enough scope to finish even if I limped home but this was a bit early (and mentally was a big hit). My 'Bronze' target was finishing somewhere in the top half (of finishers) and I hadn't thought much beyond that. I knew around 40 hours would place me somewhere respectable given conditions and terrain and so my planned timings were largely set on that.

I slowed down, stretched out and reset. I ate more. Kendal Mint Cake (the energy bar version - I was also using their gels) stepped in to give me enough to kick on. I've found it's an absolute beast of a race snack. I decided then to ration the rest of that (I had about 5 packs overall) for when cramp hit. It’s £ per gram value skyrocketed similar to printer ink at that point.

Into the dark

I made Wessenden shortly after dark but was pleased to find the burger van (Snoopy's) was still open – Most of the stuff in my bag was sweeter and I craved something with substance so took a bacon butty on board (and also picked up a coconut pastry cake for later). I didn’t wait around as I knew the next section was largely downhill and jogged along taking bites every now and again.

This change to my fueling plan meant I had a decent meal a bit earlier than intended and gave me a substantial boost – I felt I had enough calories to go straight past Nicky’s Café (a place where a lot of runners take 30-40 mins out) and ploughed on alone towards Hebden Hey – the mid-point check point that is well short of mid-point. Although I’d been ok with food I was struggling with hydration - I’d been drinking mainly Tailwind and not enough water (some of this was convenience because I had a more accessible straw with that bottle!) and I got towards Stoodley Pike and just started feeling nauseous. I felt rubbish, still a bit crampy and just had to plod on.

It annoyed me to be overtaken by several people who I knew I’d gained a lot of time on earlier and I started having a moan to myself and about how we had to drop down into the CP at Hebden Hey just to have to climb out of it later. My neck ached from the bag and I couldn’t really turn my head. I was somewhere between 40th and 50th at this point and I was slipping backwards. Hebden felt make or break.

After being ushered into the Check Point I sat feeling a bit overawed by everything with a cup of tea trying to work out what to do as people looking more organised did 'stuff'. I fumbled my watch and torch on charge, checked my feet (in surprisingly good nick - although now very cold) and then got some hot food - a jacket potato with a chickpea based curry. Possibly a bit risky given the lack of toilet facilities en route but I craved the bulk.

I slumped down in the kitchen and was horrified to listen to people almost chirpy with the fact they had decided to DNF explaining the reasons why they couldn't face another 60 miles especially with the weather turning. It was the last thing I wanted to hear when feeling emotionally low and tired – Why couldn't they just keep it to themselves? Instead of getting angry at one of them (and realising I wasn't in a happy place) I finished my food quickly, grabbed my sleeping bag asked for a bunk to briefly kip in.

I was directed to a room in which I was being given the last bed of 6. It was a top bunk with no ladder access. I scanned around thinking I missed something but there was no ladder - I couldn’t believe it - did they not think the race alone was enough of a challenge?!

I climbed up the side using the rails and humped myself over the top and stifled a yelp as I cramped up again and writhed around grabbing my quads. Once that had settled the snoring chap below and the cold guaranteed I didn’t get much sleep. I reckon maybe an hour for the two I was laying there shuffling about. But a rest is a rest. I woke before my set alarm with a little energy and feeling very cold - I had to move now or I never would.

Hebden to Malham

I put sudden urgency into everything I did - new socks on, warmer tights, changed my shoes (mistake), restocked food and water and scoffed down a couple of cakes. I dropped a flask I’d been carrying which ended up just being unnecessary weight and made a beeline for the exit before 330am. Although the climb out of the Hebden Hey CP was steep I made good time with it. I felt strong again.

The first shoe issue

For the first time in the race I was very much alone (no torch ahead or behind) and was more than happy to be so. Then came the first of two shoe issues. Because I changed my shoes, I took off my microspikes. I then left them off (because the ground wasn’t that icy in the valley) knowing I could put them on a bit later. As I got towards the local plateau I hit a track section and noticed a few slide marks in the fresh snow. I quickly realised the whole road was sheet ice with snow overlying it and stopped immediately to put on my spikes. It was in this haste to swing my bag off that I became unbalanced and went over with very little dignity. I cracked a very impressive dent in the ice with my hip and swore at myself for the stupidity. Sorting myself out I just moved on hoping I hadn’t done anything serious. I maintained the spikes on (for better or worse) for most of the rest of the race.

Avoiding bears

The next few hours were a bit of a joy – I found a sense of contentment - I was on my own, the snow turned to sleet and it felt like a proper adventure moving through the dark around murky moors. I’m not sure if it was pure tiredness but I did manage to convince myself I was being stalked by a bear briefly – your brain does funny things with dark shadows and howling wind. It's also quite possible although unlikely I was being stalked by a bear. With a bit of a sing along to myself I managed to escape over the icy slabs and moved pretty well making good time. I briefly called Kate when under the shelter of a dry stone wall and I think I surprised her with how awake/chirpy I was, she updated me that there was a group of 3 maybe half a mile ahead and I was catching up a bit.

On getting into Cowling I came to a bus stop and there were the people Kate referred to taking some brief respite out of the rain and wind. A lovely local man was trying to hand out chocolate bars and was just so full of energy for the Spine it was infectious – he clapped myself and the 3 others away and although it felt a bit odd getting a one man round of applause it was great – there’s a lot of respect for the races around the villages it passes through.

With the positive attitude and a small bar of chocolate I found the next hills easy and started not to notice the bag as much - I opened up a gap and read messages of support as people had woken up and realised I was still moving. It was nice to be ‘the dot’ that was being watched knowing I’d watched and supported others doing similar before. Progress felt easy and a good time was on the cards even though the weather had turned a bit 'horizontal'.

Shoe mistake number 2 - genuinely stupid

I like my 'La Sportiva Mutant II' shoes (very cushioned) but I have found they rubbed on one of my ankle bones a bit during training.

I had carefully ‘adjusted’ the shoes (hacked off a part with scissors) but when I changed my shoes over at Hebden I didn’t move my orthotics/foot bedding across. It meant my foot sat slightly lower in my shoe and was knocking every step in the same place. Not a problem for a short trail run but a right annoyance after hours and hours. I tried to cut a bit more off when I came past a safety team but it just kept rubbing. Very niggly and annoying because my other shoes (although wet) didn’t have that problem and there was really no need to change them. This cost me a lot - it altered my gait and put a lot of load onto my slightly more unstable left leg.

Drastic times call for drastic measures

At Gargrave, I had a lovely slice of Pizza from the Co-op and picked up a boxed sandwich for later. I put in a fast section towards Malham – it was comparatively flat and I had just eaten – feeling good again although it was a bit of a limpy jog.

Grabbing a quick bite and some temporary shelter in Gargrave

Then came the climb out of Malham. It was the first time in hours I had to do anything steep and my knee just started screaming at me – every single time I bent it to step up.

My ‘fix’ was to keep my left leg almost straight and swinging it around and up to avoid the pain – it worked but I must have looked extremely odd. Frustratingly, the slow progress and a slightly messed up diversion meant a few people caught up with me - then followed a period where we started shuffling back and forth taking the lead for short sections at a time whilst saying very little to each other.

The top at Malham was just covered in icy slush water a couple of inches deep as the snow thawed. You couldn’t avoid it. The cloud was low, the wind building and the light dropping giving a feel like something in a horror film. It was dark by the time we got to the safety checkpoint at Malham Tarn.

Malham to Hawes

At this point I decided I wanted to try to finish in the top 30. There were 6 of us in Malham Tarn and Kate had messaged me a while back suggesting I was in about 35^th place. My scrambled brain just about worked out that if I beat these 5 I would therefore be top 30 (there’s that Maths A level doing it’s work!).

As everyone took a cup of tea and started to settle in for 15 minutes I pretty much downed mine, had half a sandwich and 'skipped' out the door as quick as possible. Although it’s a very ‘I’m just glad to finish’ type race and everyone is very supportive of each other, I do have a competitive side which always wants to push.

My strategy was to get enough distance between me and those behind that they had to work for the navigation and open gates etc rather than being able to benefit from just following. I pushed on but very quickly noticed a few lights behind. As I started up Fountains Fell, two of the lights caught me – racers from the MRT race (Iain and Dan). I had been moving along with them a bit earlier and although I was disappointed they caught me so fast, they were both good company. They were clearly also good in the dark and on hills so moved along together over what felt the toughest part of the route so far. The weather was horrible, it was tough to stay on your feet among the snow drifts but Iain's drive got us up and down Fountains Fell in rapid time – it was quite exhilarating and I made sure I thanked Iain for the progress!

For the remainder of the race we moved together as a bit of a unit. Pen-Y-Ghent had a diversion in place because of the wind so we descended short of Horton and then had a swift can of coke at the Crown Inn. In my head it was then effectively a 20km straight line along the Cam Road to Hawes. How wrong I was.

The Cam Road (or "where joy goes to die")

The Cam Road was as close to misery as I’ve ever been on a race. The climb just seemed to go on for ever with my GPS playing tricks on me adjusting the elevation as we moved up. It seemed unlikely someone planned to create a largely inaccessible road consisting of ice and pools of ice water but that's what we were left with. Every now and again you came across a snow drift that covered the path so you were playing a lottery between calf deep ice water or fresh deep snow (that might be overlying calf deep ice water anyway). No-one was a winner here.

By the time we’d arrived at the top my knee had given up and my left ankle was also suffering. Several toes were numb and because we’d slowed down so much Dan’s body temperature was dropping. We stopped for a few minutes whilst Iain forced to Dan to get an extra layer on and take on some food – in my head I started panicking that I was going to be in trouble soon as I was getting cold also. It was amazing how time worked differently – The earlier hours in the day passed so quickly but these last few seemed to take forever.

We finally started the descent and I was in a lot of pain working down the boggy, icy trail. Caught between going slowly and feeling awful or going quicker and still feeling awful (but getting there faster) I chose the second option – as soon as we were within a couple of km although I didn't think I could jog, I started trying. Iain and Dan dropped off a little and I continued across the fields on the outskirts of Hawes. I knew there was an outside chance of a sub-40 hour but a couple of wrong turns and my torch running out of battery put pay to that. I collapsed onto the step inside the checkpoint just after 2am. Somehow I ended up in 24^th position overall.

Final few steps

Not the grandest of finishes, but welcome all the same

The end

A few minutes passed and I was sat in a largely empty hall filled with tables and bags with only a few other competitors. One of the race team brought me my stuff and offered me some food. They gave me a printout of messages that had been sent through the tracking site throughout. My body instantly seized up and I struggled to even stand. I held my head up off the table to stop it falling into my beans on toast - it was a tired type of woozy which I just wasn't expecting. The lady who bought my stuff offered to help carry my stuff to my hostel and I felt embarrassed to accept but then was so thankful she did. It took me less than a minute to fall asleep once I arrived.

I think back to the Cam Road and I said to myself – “What are you doing here you moron?”.  

A day later and I had strapped my knee up, got an ice pack on my ankle and the underside of my feet felt like they'd been beaten with sticks - there I was comparing the elevation and distance with that found on the Challenger North. It seems a lot of others in my Whatsapp group (both those that finished and DNF’d) were doing similar. We’re a strange species.

One argument is by doing another one it would halve the relative cost of all the equipment I’ve bought – it’s just good economics.  

Homeward bound