A week and a half ago or so, I took part in my first attempt at the Lakeland 100 ultramarathon aka the UTLD100 (Ultra Tour of the Lake District). Quite an experience it turned out to be too.

Lakeland 100 is actually a misnomer as the course itself is about 105 miles in total (or 104, depending on who you ask), starting and finishing in Coniston and covers a mind-bogglingly large amount of ground in between. After the relative success of my attempt at the 85 miles of the Ridgeway Challenge last year, I decided to enter this on a whim – and because it was on my list of things to do before I’m 40. And also because I don’t do things by halves and figured that, hey, why shouldn’t my second ever ultra race be what’s probably the hardest ultramarathon in the UK?

You already know how this is going to turn out don’t you?

I travelled up to the Lake District on the Thursday before the event and spent the night at a charming little B&B called The Wilson Arms in Torver, a couple of miles south of Coniston. It’s very charming and friendly and I’d definitely stay there again. Thursday night saw me repacking my race bag, sorting out what needed to go in my drop bag and generally fretting over stuff. I remembered to set my alarm for 8:30 am (something that two early rising kids don’t normally let me do) and had a relatively early night.

6:15am on the morning of the race and I was wide awake, adrenaline pumping and unable to get back to sleep. Suddenly, the realisation hit me like a sledgehammer – it was very likely to be 48 hours until I’d be able to go to sleep again. This was followed with the swift upper cut by the question “Just what the fuck do you think you’re doing? I mean… seriously, have you really, truly and properly thought this through?” I figured a (very decent) Full English breakfast would make for a proper last meal for the condemned man.

A few hours later and I was at the John Ruskin school in Coniston, tent erected (small green tent, big Welsh flag) and on my way to registration and kit check. This was the first race where I’ve ever had to be weighed for and I half expected them to tell me I was too heavy to take part – especially when I saw the weight they scribbled on my wrist band. That was a shocker I can tell you and I’m not sure I can blame it all on the Full English.

I spent the rest of the day trying to grab a few more z’s in my tent, dozing briefly and then waking with a shock wondering if I’d missed the briefing or, worse still, the start. I chatted with some of the people near me (including my campsite neighbour, Mick Wren, who lives in the same part of the world as I do. Read his blog here) Shortly after, I bumped into another runner, Mark, who lived in the same village as me and is even in the same running club I am (but haven’t seen him for months so had no idea he was doing this – not that you need to know that). Eventually, the briefing and a little talk by the legendary fellrunner, “Iron” Joss Naylor, a man who ran the three peaks challenge (Ben Nevis, Scafell Pike and Snowdon) in a mere 4.5 hours and it was back to my tent to get ready.

5:30 soon rolled around. The weather that morning had been cool and overcast – perfect running weather for me – but as time creeped on, the clouds dissapated and the sun put his hat on. It was inarguably a glorious day but I’m not a fan of running in heat. But as the weather is out of our control, it’s put up and shut up.

The 100 mile competitors gathered together, dibbed our dibbers and waited for the start signal. Then we were off.

The first stage of the race would take us up past the Coniston Old Man, over Walna Scar Road and down into Seathwaite. I was suprised by one guy sprinting up the first section past Coppermines Hostel, going at a fast 10k pace – I wish I’d noted his number to see how he eventually got on.The climb up was challenging but a mere warm up compared to what was coming. I managed to settle into a good solid trek and chatted with a couple of people on the way up. I was a little taken aback by the steep and rocky descent down to the checkpoint and didn’t know whether to take it fast or slow. Figuring either way would kill my quads, I opted for fast. My quads didn’t thank me.

I didn’t loiter at the first Checkpoint but grabbed a banana and headed straight out into the woods, heading towards Boot. It was nice to be under shade for a bit and once again, the climb wasn’t too bad. It got boggy at the top and I found myself hesistating, not wanting to get my feet wet this early for fear of blisters later on. After berating myself for being a wuss and a disgrace to the lovers of rain and perpetually sodden feet back in Wales, I pushed on, keeping up a decent pace where I could. At CP2, I realised I’d left my map at the first checkpoint and had to ask for another one. It wasn’t a calamity as I had my own back up in a series of 1:25000 OS maps and the road book but that wasn’t the point. Luckily another runner had a spare. Then it was on to CP3 at Wasdale Head.