Lakeland 100 – July 27th 2012

Constant Forward Motion

Sign leaving Kentmere, courtesy of Kevin Doherty


I enjoyed the descent to Ambleside and, having pocketed my MP3 player earlier, was merrily humming away to Death in Vegas to myself. I had to stop myself though and check that I hadn’t been singing out loud while there were people around – the lyrics “We’ve only just met and I think you ought to know, I’m a murderer” might not have gone down too well if I’d been overhead. The throbbing in my hip and knee were distinct but manageable and I continued to make good progress down past Troutbeck.

Running through Skelghyll Woods, I was struck by quite how red the leaves on the ground were. They were so bright, so vivid that the rest of the world seemed to be in black and white. Sure it might have been over-saturation caused by sleep deprivation but wow! I was still surprised at what a good mood I was in, buoyed further still by a 50 miler commenting how all the 100 milers he’d passed had been walking but he was having trouble keeping up with me.

I picked up the pace coming into Ambleside, determined to look good in front of the evening drinkers and couldn’t help but smile at hearing the applause and cheers from onlookers. Such a great feeling – I almost sprinted to the checkpoint. A quick change into a long sleeved top and it was in, out and pushing onwards. I was a little disheartened by realising there was a climb up to Loughrigg Fell but reminded myself that a) I had so much time in hand and b) it just couldn’t be as bad as anything that had gone before and sure enough it wasn’t. Finding myself without any other runners around, for the first time in the race I got my map out of my bag – I hadn’t needed it up until this point – just to confirm I was on the right path.

I knew that the path around Elterwater would be reasonably flat and thought I could make up time there if I ran but my feet were grumbling. It felt like I had grit in my shoes and that it was rubbing up blisters. Running was now painful because of my feet, not my knee, hip or quads so I resolved to change socks at the next checkpoint. Jan-Frederick came past at one point and I wondered how I’d got ahead of him. I wanted to keep pace with him but my feet were having none of it. (He’d go on to finish at about 1am in a respectable time of 31:24)

The downside of a sock-change was that it took time to clean up my feet and inspect for grit and my I started to chill again. My feet were sodden and I didn’t want to look too closely but the change of socks felt good. I got back on me legs and left the CP, catching up with another 100 miler, Gordon. It was 10pm so dark already and we had 10 miles to go. Two hours until midnight – under normal circumstances that would be easily achieveable but in the Lakes, in the dark, with 95 miles already in my legs, it wasn’t going to happen. Not a worry – that was merely a bonus quest.

Houston, We Have A Problem

Gordon had, luckily, reccied the route. Unfortunately he’d forgotten it and it looked totally different in the dark. I was having trouble reading the road book and tying it in to where we were as none of it seemed to make sense so we trundled after the headtorches of the 50 milers ahead of us for as long as we could, joining some more 100 milers and some 50 milers going around Blea Tarn. It was unfeasibly dark and everytime I looked up, we seemed to have a different set of people with us and I have to admit to having no idea who was coming or going.

Eventually we got to a large area of bracken where we knew we’d have to find the second compulsory dibber. But we couldn’t find it. A voice in the darkness suggested that we’d taken the wrong path and we couldn’t see the dibber light or any other runners. Finally, someone admitted that they’d been leading and had no idea where we were. Shit.

I could feel a sense of humour failure on the way.

I was more irritated at the fact that I hadn’t through the fact that I’d be on this section in the dark and didn’t pay more attention to the map or to John’s videos. There also seemed to be no agreement as to what we were going to do and the people ahead suddenly disappeared from sight. Where were they going? More to the point, why weren’t they making sure that the whole group knew what was happening? Yup, that sense of humour failure was definitely imminent, should be here any minute now…

Okay… calm down. Worst case scenario, we’re lost. So we wait until dawn when it starts to get light and go from there. That’s ages away, what else can we do? Backtrack – can’t be far to a point we know. Wait – look, more people behind us taking a path above us. Right, that’s where we need to be so a 10 metre climb through the bracken. Sorted. Dibber done and on to the road. The rest of the group stared running down the road but the cold and the tiredness meant my knee and hip were really aching and tarmac wasn’t helping. Luckily, on the flat, my walking was as quick as their jogging.

The rest of the leg was quiet – mine wasn’t the only sense of humour failure by the seems of things – and this started causing an issue as the Sleepmonsters were back and flitting in and out on the edge of my vision. All I really wanted that moment in time was to be in my tent and sleeping.

Then, in the darkness ahead, the lights of the final checkpoint at Tilberthwaite. We’d made it. It had taken 3 hours but this was it, the final push. I just needed to rest my eyes for 5 minutes and get warm, stop shivering but when I asked a lady at the checkpoint, the only place to doze that I was offered was a portaloo. Not a chance. Come on Tom, one more push and then you can sleep. A cup of coffee to warm me up, don’t need water as still got a bottle, let’s do this!

There And Back Again

You know what, those steps up Tilberthwaite weren’t as bad as everyone said. I was expecting much, much worse. Gordon, myself and another 100 miler called Nick made steady progress up the final climb. Nick knew the way quite well and, although I felt I could have moved quicker than he was going, I was willing to sacrifice speed for not having to navigate by myself and I didn’t feel it would be right to leave him as he was doing a great job leading us. Slowly, steadily and surely we made our way over and I have to admit that I’m glad I couldn’t see the drop off to the right of us. I really don’t have a head for heights.

Then the descent and the lights of – actually, I have no idea what they were of – some building or other but damn were they a welcome sight for sore and oh so very tired eyes. The tricky descent gave way to descent path and were back to familiar ground, a mere half mile or so from the finish. I looked at my watch and did some calculations. “Reckon we’re closing in on 34 hours lads,” I told the others. “Going to be close though.” I was a little disappointed – I’d made Dalemain in 16 hours and was hoping to get closer to 32 but 34 was fine – another bonus goal.

We were so desperately close to the finish now though. “Let’s run it!” We cried. “Fuck off!” said our legs. “Okay, let’s just run the last bit!” we pleaded. “We’ll see!” came the hallucinatory reply. We had a grin on our faces and a spring in our step, if that spring was an overstretched and knotted Slinky that no longer worked. Coniston was quiet and still but that didn’t quell our feeling of triumph and of victory. It had taken tears over Wether Hill last year, blood on the rocks by Haweswater this year and a whole lot of sweat inbetween but we were so close to the finish I could taste it. Nothing could stop us now.

We heard the applause and cheers coming from the school when we got to the top of Lake Road. I turned to the others and told them I was running it and took off down towards the finish. This wasn’t an ultra-shuffle, this was a full on run, 105 miles or not, ITB and knee be damned. Once a sprinter, always a sprinter and I was going to sprint finish the last few hundred yards if it killed me. Through the gates, dib in one last time and given our time. 32 hours and 45 minutes. My calculations had been thankfully wrong and this was the icing on the cake. I was done, done, done and done.

The marshall escorted us into the hall which was still full of people and I was overwhelmed by the cheers. I saw Mick sitting there and guessed that he must have dropped out because I hadn’t seen him pass me – I’d get the full story later. Through to the gym where two ladies were giving the medals, the prize. “50 miles, well done!” said one, raising my reward. “Nope, fraid not. We’ve done the 100.” She raised an eyebrow “100? How come you look so fresh? Congratulations. Here’s the right medal and well deserved.” I had no words so just thanked her and smiled.

Looking fresh after 105 miles? I’ll take that as a sign of a job well done.

5 thoughts on “Lakeland 100 – July 27th 2012

  1. Pingback: Lakeland 50 Ultra Marathon 2012 | wiganharriersendurance

  2. Steve Mee

    Just fantastic, Tom. Great report and a superb result after last year’s disappointment. Thanks for all your anslysis of last year’s race, I found it all really usefull and when I made Mardale in 3:30 I smiled and thought ‘yes, I’ve cracked it! :-)

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