Laying in the soft warm sheet of the hotel bed, my alarm sounds and day one started around 6am with a watch of a trusted motivational video. This is a YouTube video of determination and combatting the negative gremlins in your head to achieve your athletic goal, or perhaps just get out of bed, it has two messages, I think. I have my breakfast of porridge, banana and a Weetabix shake and head off to check in and get trackered.
The start line was dryer that usual (my forth time standing here), still soft with muddy patches but if I was a race horse I would say this was good going turf and not the usual quagmire.
The weather forecast had recently been relayed to the crowd of anticipated, nervous faces – Windy especially on the tops, temp of 4 degree in the valley, poor visibility expected on Kinder and Bleaklow, wind-chill to feel sub-zero. This amused me a little as a noticeable wave of quick changes of kit developed across the field, most people now choosing waterproofs. I remained in Lycra running pants and various thin layers (2 windproof). I know poor vis means damp but climbing Kinder will generate excess heat and fingers crossed, it would be OK until I reach the summit area.
The race started with a countdown and the normal crowd cheering jollities “Well done”, “you are nearly there” and various other just started an ‘ultra’ style humours.The start is a curious place with many reasons why people choose to be here, in the midst of winter to tackle this course which is evil in places and not beautiful countryside.
This year reminds me of Gladiators of old – don’t get me wrong, the spirit of the race is great, if not epic, but these gladiators have chosen their defensively aggressive weapons of choice.Let me explain, I know the race doesn’t even start really for another mile or two, so I started at the back having tried purposely not to faff with my kit, at the last minute I did find myself on the start line doing last minute checks with a haste of panic – OK faffing but leading up to the race I have been confident, almost complacent but balanced.Confident in my ability, my tested kit and preparations so haven’t panicked or constantly checked things daily this year.My partner noticed this and thought it was a lack of interest, but no, quite the opposite, just at a confident level that I can complete the course and do so quicker than ever before (injury risks aside – after all this is a 50% success rate race). Leading up to the race in the previous year I have actually won two races (Canni-Cross) and one was a PB along with a PB parkrun in December – somethings I haven’t done since I was a teenager.I considered this a mental self-check.
Anyway, back to Gladiators, I started near the rear with a decision to use my walking poles more this year – I understand the benefits but purchased these while working through rehab after breaking my leg severely in 2009 so they have always felt more like crutches to me but this year I will use them as a proper trekking tool – to force march quicker, assist when jumping across rivers and for support when needed. This race requires them as standard, not mandatory but if you are competing, they are great for reducing foot fatigue improving balance, avoiding injury and of course pointing.But here, at the start they also help you defend your position.Nobody behind you has any chance of passing you and your two arm extensions spreading over your now larger footprint.You need almost 6ft of space with the arms extended sideways.Then there are those who realise the path is narrow and so carry the spears in hand until the path widens for use but in carrying wave their tungsten tip, concrete sharpened spears waving behind them like heat seeking missiles looking for eyes to pierce on anyone daring to pass.The rest of the field have smaller back packs and carry their poles facing forwards so they can see where they are pointing for safety – these must be the experts.Well, that was the first 100 metres, what about the remaining 108 miles (108? Even though it’s now 1 ½ further to the finish – another mystery to be solved later – must be the magical Cam High Road curse). There are a lot of Spine blogs written, heck, even I have done two so won't bore you with details of kit but am just looking at lessons learned or experiences from this race.
Saturday and Sunday this year were dry and warm, well about 2 degrees minus the wind chill I guess, so my starting dress remained unchanged with minor alterations to regulate heat – gloves, buff and hats as required.The paths were normal – not icy, no extreme rivers and plenty of mud but not Spine level muddy.This made Saturday fast going.Various competitors found it good going and this made them quicker but this has a knock-on effect.Running had impacted on their bruised feeling feet later in the race.Don’t underestimate it though – the day will still be long and enduring with some competitors finding injuries, mental demons and many other reasons to pull out and retiring.Day one is notorious or looking for that tiny chink in the armour of any lack of preparation – if you missed it day one will find it and bite hard. But this is as good as it gets. On Kinder Plateau it was icy cold, poor visibility, muddy and slippery with little rocks wanting to break your ankle but today, in January these are good conditions:
A lot of the rest of the course was dry and clearer later in the day. Previously and often written is the first golden rule or this race as a fellow competitor reminded me – Keep your feet dry. This was about ten miles, which was good advice, but at ten miles in, on the Spine race, this was a miracle. Were my feet dry? Well almost at least. I wore trail shoes with running socks as a liner and Sealskinz over them. I am not a sealskin advocate but today in these normal conditions they were ok, my feet were warm and dryish, however wearing Speedcross shoes, notorious for their tight fitting made this a snug fit but their aggressive sole is still my 'go to' choice even working well on Pennine slabs today that can be treacherous at times. I think the tight fit may become worse to bear but for now I’ll stick with them as the pain caused by trench foot has been significant in previous years.
That was it really for learning on day one, food was high tech, general snacks, Greg’s chicken mayo sub and a Burger at the M62 roadside van which I arrived at in daylight but while eating the tarmacadam highway turned into a visual of fluttering mirroring Christmas Tree lights as cars cruised the highest motorway unaware of what is going on above. Also, I need to remember names of the people that owe me a pint for keeping them on the right track, I am sure there was more than one promise made today. The rest of the evening is uneventful, meeting others lubricating their bottoms by headlight and other ‘normal’ activities.
At CP1 I had realised I had made a huge but minor error. I forgot my ear plugs. Once I had washed, re-stocked and eaten I chose a bedroom (room 3 only had four beds – that’s only three other chances of disturbance). Here I slept. Now I could write the next bit in a positive or a negative spine, so let’s look at both:
Volunteers and staff. Fabulously encouraging, you are greeted by a host, a porter and have a building tour including 5 start assistance in carrying your kit. You get table service dining; the atmosphere is positive and alive with all efforts towards motivation. As new arrivals come in you here cheers and applause of their tremendous day one achievements.
Volunteers and staff. You have just completed 48 miles of gruelling terrain with another 60 ahead of you, you have limited time and so try to catch 40 winks. As soon as your head hits the pillow (I bought one with me, an inflatable Christmas gift) you are tired, you will sleep. As you close your eyes contemplating your developing achievements and negotiating thoughts of the challenge that you still face, your eyes drift and CHEERS of the next arrival, more doors banging and more noise comparable to regulars leaving a pub lock in. OK regroup – try again – No, this doesn’t work. I hadn’t noticed this in previous years but today did forget my ear plugs and eye mask (although my buff worked well for this). Don’t get me wrong – The volunteers do a great job – don’t change. But you can see the issue building up..
Day 2 – Not a lot of sleeping took place so left at 2am, estimating about an hour of actual, eyes closed, out of consciousness, sleep but did lay there for about 200 mins trying. Hopefully this will be sufficient, and it is only the first night. Day two is long and to describe it all will bore the most attentive, but just today alone feels like a multi-day event.
2am to 8am: Dark early morning, 8am to 6pm: Daytime and evening 6pm to 9pm: Bedtime 9pm to 12 am: Morning that is night – the one that makes you think its morning and confuses your body clock further.
Two considerations today – foot pain and sleep deprived hallucinations (I thought these were reserved for the full Spine Racers). Foot pain was expected but constant pounding up and down hills in tight fitting shoes, as any ultra-runner will tell you, will lead to black toes. This I can tolerate for so long but soon need to remove my outer socks, risking the damp issues so I Vaseline my feet and move on. This did feel a lot better and alleviated the pain in my toes quite well but removing one pair of socks and remembering how thin trail shoes can be, does reduce the cushioning. The pain in my toes is now tolerable but my forefoot and heal are feeling bruised. This hurts more and more throughout the day. You just don’t won’t your foot to touch the ground. You see a lot of people purposely walking in the mud and lieu of the rockhard boulders and slabs. I ponder if new insoles would help but on inspection it appears the damp is amplifying the condition so just resort to reapplying Vasaline occasionally (both to my feet and bottom of course) and taking paracetamol – this does seem to work; I need a reliable sock/shoe/waterproof/grip combo in future.
My second consideration for today is a new one for me, usually I have slept well and took each day as a separate day but this race, today I am pushing to reduce my time so sleep has been reduced and I know my body doesn’t like this at all. The lack of sleep today makes progress with focus somewhat distracted. Trekking along, concentrating on foot positioning, bogs and navigation while only seeing a small pool of light illuminating from your head torch at night is mesmerising. I found concentration dropped significantly. I spent most of the morning eagerly awaiting dusk and luckily for me as daytime arrived my alertness returned but tonight the darkness will return with a vengeance.
In the evening I had left checkpoint 1.5 and was heading up and over fountains fell around midnight having stolen another 60 minutes of sleep in another three-hour attempt. The weather was dismal to say the least, poor visibility with darkness and fog, ice on the high areas, raining – rain that lasted the rest of the race (a deluge of wet for over 12 hours since leaving cp1.5) and blustery if not gale force winds that were keen to push you off tracks and into neighbouring sink holes or cliff edges. Conditions that surely would keep anybody alert. This led to a condition that was amazing and felt like a drug, you would mellow, relax and drop to a new level of placidness. I can picture the old eighties advert of the Mr soft mint man, fluffy white clouds or a Slumber lux advert. However, this is not the time for that kind of amazing.
Navigating along a boggy path, negotiating your step to avoid ice, being blown sideways knowing the sides are deathly drops and craggy outcrops hiding beneath the fluffy fog, the rocks then jump away from you. They run and scatter, hiding in the heathers like mice running after spotting danger. One stands up, like a meerkat and begins thumping it back legs. The thumping is loud as I stagger sideways and awaken, still walking forwards but slowly drifting into a sleep state. I shake my head and continue. The problem keeps reoccurring, like a great dream or even a film trailer eager to be watched. The feeling is almost good but, the dangers are deathly apparent. Through the night this is a constant battle. I eat, drink cola, tried taking pro plus caffeine tablets, even turned and faced the icy rain - hitting your face with the force not only of an icy bucket of water but hitting you like pressure washer but nothing could stop the condition while in the dark, fog and the truly mesmerising head torch light.
I decide my best option are to focus the mind either by forcing my pace, which I try and do manage, force forwards almost doubling my semi-conscious speed, marching for about 100 meters of eternity. Just imagine you are about to run the 100 meters in the Olympics, ready, set, bang – then all the competitors charge towards you as you realise you are facing the wrong way. I vividly remember a powerful athletic man, dressed in crisp white t shirt and shorts sprinting towards me. I focus again as I wobble to the side to immediately see a walker ahead, with reflective strips on his backpack that my mind has used to conjure up yet another fascinating image. I decide to stay with a couple of other competitors a little selfishly for my own safety but do offer them help in return to settle my conscience. Navigation support, finding crossing point in the bursting streams and occasional conversation to keep both them and I alert. Between us is a lot of experience and we are all aiming for a sub 50-hour time so it worked well.
As the rain became wetter, well as wet as it possibly could, I found that after about ten hours my OMM Kamlieka top and Berghaus trousers were no longer waterproof and began to leak. My Sealskinz gloves, well they gave up after about an hour (I am still not sure what made me leave my Goretex ones on my drop bag). So, with waterproofs failing from top to bottom, which I had prepared for as an unlikely possibility, I had many layers that would suffice in providing warmth even when wet but I knew If I slowed, I would find myself in trouble. Occasionally I would feel the sleep monsters or get a shiver and would race off from Peter and Tim, get warm or awake and wait for them to pass before doing it again. I had no issues with pushing the pace as my legs were still lively – even taking to leaping over walls instead of forcing a human and backpack through some of the world’s smallest kissing gates, my feet were bearable, but the sleep monster safety issues resonated in my mind and the team work we were developing was working well. It was a dilemma of balancing risks of hypothermia or move quicker and risk falling asleep which could have potentially far worse outcomes.
As day broke on Cam High road, a trail that is almost as long as the Great Wall of China and is obviously visible from space, I regained my awake state and the sleep monsters were put to bed, as if operated by the switch on my head torch. The three of us made the final trek to Hawdraw in 49 hours and about 50 minutes to collect of medals and well-earned cottage pies.
And now to my recovery plan: Avoiding Sand in my Trench foot as prescribed by the Exile Medics: