Sunday 30 December 2012

Tour De Helvellyn 2012

What a day.
What a long, long day.

Mapped out in front of me on arrival is the 38 mile route I took through snow last year, this year promised to be run in rain and high winds which would be a different challenge entirely.

A good drive up this year from home sees me arrive at half past six as planned, sign in, visit the toilets while there is no queue and the air is still breathable, just, and try not to set off too early.

I reckon 7:15 should be about right to hit the first checkpoint at 9:30 when it opens. I would dearly like to beat last years time and finish earlier in the day this year but there is a long day ahead.




A schoolboy error sees me take the wrong line once on to Askham moor while chatting to another runner. Trust your compass. A lesson I have learnt before and now had confirmed again. I'm frustrated at the mistake but in truth I have lost only about 5 minutes time, it feels like more but then when you lose your bearings it can seem like a long time before you re orient yourself and take stock of your surroundings. The picture above is of Ullswater in the dark with the light just lifting slightly to provide a few more clues but the early start has been wasted by taking the wrong line.

Last year I went over the hill to Martindale, this year I favour the road. The runner I have joined took the other route last year and is keen for a change so we part at the gate and I put in a quick spurt to catch another runner ahead. It turns out we have both completed Bob Graham Rounds this year and swap stories about our trials and tribulations. It's about this point that I get the first signs that I'm not as fit as I was! As we are running together it is clear he is at a comfortable pace and I am struggling to keep up, the pace isn't particularly fast and as soon as the path kicks up he is away and others also pass. I drop a glove on the way up Boardale and have to go back for it, not far but enough for me to know it's early to be losing concentration. This is looking back down Boardale from the top of the climb.


On the way down to Patterdale I get passed by 3 runners wearing matching blue and yellow tops and decide to use them to follow. They are going at quite a pace and I am pleased when I catch them and then stay with them until the checkpoint, although I am concentrating too much to speak to any of them as the decent is slippery and the rocks treacherous in places. One of them slips in front and ends up face down but just picks himself up and carries on, the others shout "wrists and ankles ok?" without breaking stride and I guess he must be because although he drops to the back of their group he hasn't slowed at all. That's them in the photo just ahead.
 
At the checkpoint I grab some peanuts, adjust my food to replace the sandwich I've eaten already, refill my water and set off. The marscapone and ginger sandwich fillings are working well, supplemented by dried apricots and mango and washed down with water and Hi5 sports drink. I arrive in Glenridding and decide for a civilised toilet break at the public conveniences before starting to climb up towards Sticks Pass. It looks grim ahead and my wet hands are starting to feel the cold already, in my head it should be warmer than last year but I've a feeling it's going to be just as hard going over the tops.
There's not much to say about over the top of Sticks pass. It was pretty awful with a strong wind chilling me, it was hard to get any rhythm going whether up or down hill and I wanted to be warmer. The ground was a mixture of puddles, snow, ice and grass and it was often hard to tell which it was going to be until you put your foot on it so I was quite tentative which meant I struggled to raise my temperature to a comfortable level. I resolved that once down I would put on my extra layer, I am usually over dressed so it was a bit of a surprise to me that I felt so cold so quickly. Especially because I was getting passed by people who seemed to be wearing what I would consider too little for a summers day!
 

On the way down towards the checkpoint I stopped to talk to a guy who had cramped up coming over the top, he put it down to reaching the 16 or so mile mark but I think it could have been the cold adding to it as well. I shared a nuun tablet with him and passed on news of his condition to his mate stood by the next checkpoint who also agreed it had been cold over the tops. I chugged along to the car park checkpoint where I refilled with water and started out towards Dunmail Raise. Once in the woods I stopped to put on an extra layer and immediately felt a little better. I was cheered by the people passing me, each one stopped or slowed to say hello and while I was changing there were checks to see if I needed any further help. Much as I do for others and it is nice to be part of such a mutually concerned and respectful community for a day out in the hills.
At this point I was cheering myself up with the fact that I wasn't in tears! Last year through the woods I had to have a serious word with myself about what I was doing and how I was going to finish but this year I seemed to be okay, slower than last year but in better shape.

The climb up to Grisedale tarn was like climbing a stream and the long descent to Patterdale was like running down streams. Slippery rocks made it hard going and again I struggled to find a rhythm, I could see a group ahead and one of them had a bright yellow hat on which I used as a marker and a carrot to stay in touch with them as long as possible. This is the start of the long descent and I also kept myself busy wondering what the event would be like if the loop was reversed and this was the way up.
I took a photo just before arriving at Patterdale at what was possibly my lowest ebb. It's the photo below and I was quite surprised at how happy I look in it when I got back home. Worryingly it seems that a hard day out in the hills is something I really do enjoy!

 
I grabbed a coffee at Patterdale checkpoint and then started the slog up to Boardale again. Last year this had flown by but this time it was definitely more of a slog. On the way down I overtook and then got caught up by Jill and her family who very kindly let me tag along with them for the last leg. It was good to have company and to listen to them talking about various events and walks they had been on and without that lift it would have been a very long way home indeed. There's a saying that eludes me but the gist of it is for long distances it's good to have company and coming up to Martindale church with the light fading I couldn't agree more. Last year I had taken a bearing from the cockpit and headed for home on my own, this year there was an actual path going the right way and the nicest surface I'd been on all day. I had long since resigned myself to walking at a fast but comfortable pace and it was good to know that this really was the home stretch.
 
On arrival back I had taken 11 hours and 2 minutes, over half an hour slower than last year. I felt in better shape having finished though and the conditions this year were less suitable for me going faster it seems. Too slippery for me to be confident going up or down and I think an extra layer on from the first checkpoint may have made a difference. I also think I'm going to investigate the spare inner glove and outer waterproof mitt combinations for future winter runs as my hands did get cold and I spent a lot of time flexing my fingers to keep them warm while running which is only a small thing to do but another thing to concentrate on.
 
All in all a great day out, in the company of some lovely like minded people and run in a friendly and respectful manner. It's a race for some but for me it's my winter meditation and this Saturday is firmly reserved every year for the event. Next year I plan to break 10 hours - a big ask but it will be fun training for it and come what may at the end of the day I will have learnt something new about myself, my capacity to endure and the majesty of the Lake District.
 
Thank you Joe Faulkner and Nav4.

Saturday 18 August 2012

The Bob Graham

Journey’s Start. The rise and fall of pain. Climb up the mountain, relax down the other side. Contractions come and go. The birth transcends all that I have felt before. And I am only looking on. If Sally’s body through will and love and instinct alone can birth a baby, what can my body do? What are my limits that I have not stretched or even contemplated? What can I do?
Triathlons Helvellyn, Wensleydale, Coniston Old Man, Alpe D’huez, The Fred Whitton, The Big Woody Ironman completed. Significant but not limit stretching.
The Bob Graham.
Let me tell you about my Bob Graham…
Mo kicks for home. I hunch inside the car for a final lap of nerve and steel. Roars ring out from cars around the centre and tears and smiles fall and rise together. The games are nearly over. I hope to provide a fitting end tomorrow to a fortnight like no other.  As good a start to an adventure as I could wish but all is not quite as it seems. My good lucks and goodbyes hold within them the promise of a dream achieved but not the steel and drive I ought to hold. I feel undone.
Start: Saturday 11th August 2012 20:00, clockwise.
Clear and calm up Skiddaw, no recce splits except from base to summit to rely on. 10 minutes up and steady pace by Jason feels good. But still I am not right.
Great Calva comes and goes through mud and bog, a minute neither here nor there.
Clag and dark descend across the river and we ascend too high, too left. We find the ridge and descend Halls Fell.
Threlkeld sees us neither up nor down except in body, mind and spirit. My foot tells the tale of hours run and blisters under heel. My dad is there to cheer me on and rummage for requests in bags unlabelled. I feel flat and prolong my stop too long before the next leg starts afresh.
Clough Head’s an age. Where are you summit? What tricks are these? Steve leads on a steady pace but still I cannot follow. To stop would be relief, frustration ended but begun again redoubled.
Great Dodd more minutes lost. My head now focussing on negatives that everywhere I look I see.
Haemorrhaging time on every climb seems to be the order. A minute here and there on little hills and five to ten on larger climbs.
This is going to be a long night.
Head down. Losing time and will. They pass me by, I come and go. Poor Steve who sees the worst of me, pity his ears to hear me moan.
Blink. Blink. Dark. Blink. Blink. Dark. Blink. Blink. Dark. Dark. Dark. Dark.
A borrowed head torch now on lowered head. My own away and impotent, my newly borrowed light illuminates my face but not much else. At least Steve can now still see my tortured face.
No more. No more. No more.
Fairfield summit gained in clag and now my mind’s a pace. Choose from wide open spaces or somewhere cairns and surely now a choice awaits.
I have long given up on finishing in 24. How do I tell these brave new folk the game is up? Do I tell them now or wait until we’re under way to let them know I’m finishing but out of time?
Trudge. Gloom. Trudge. Gloom. Clear skies. Mild. Amazing views.
 I’m told.
Mutter. Mumble. How could I have ever thought this was within my grasp? Mutter. Mumble.
Nicoll calmly listens then dismisses all that’s gone as past.
Gibbons feeds me ginger mascarpone rolls.
Inspired.
 A ray of light. A double check. The game is on again.
 I think.
Windswept friends appear bearing gifts atop Rossett Pike. Wild camping in the shelter of the cairn Kerry and Rick have sustenance to share. I know I’ve time to make but linger a while to contemplate the sacrifices of others towards my cause.
Bowfell keeps on giving. Esk Pike less so. Great End I see for the first time, but not the views. Ill Crag is bagged and on and on. My calculating mind cannot work out the numbers but by Mickledore my mind is set against Yewbarrow still to come.
A chance encounter with a stranger, strange. Contemplating life with shorts no more and musing on his next move to follow through.
Lords Rake and West Wall gain yet more time and scree slides bring a smile and lift my spirits once again.
Anne and Pete and Mick provide the healing feeding hands and words to go. Prepare for battle on the slopes. Set yourself to this beat of pacers numbered one to four. No time to slip or lose.
One final chance to get this done.
Nicoll and Gibbons carry on and we’re joined by Iain and Graeme. Head down, brim wide, 50 minutes of a 4 step march. No time lost, but none gained. How can that be? March on to Red Pike. Again still losing precious minutes despite my ever quickening efforts.
14 minutes down. I will not lose this by 14 minutes. Rather the slow death of hours.
Catastrophe. Graeme twists his ankle setting me a pace to follow. “Go on, Go on”, he implores and that I do. The pace taken up by Gibbons and renewed. Attop Pillar the deficit is three. I will not let this beat me. I will not lose my grip now I am in control, I have it in my charge and I will lead it where I want to go.
There is no other time but now. There is no other place than here. There is no other one but me.
 I will make this happen on my terms.
Kirk Fell.
Great Gable.
I have truly found what I am looking for. I have found my heart and mind. I can make myself go on when all seems lost. I can dull the sound of screaming limbs and force my will upon them to raise the pace again, again, again.
Honister no rest but on and up and on and up.
Steve and Gange apply the pressure, feed and water me but I am in a whole new place now. The last three tops and foolishly I roar my defiance too soon. I drop down to the tarmac with my trusty shoes and they speak to me of home. Expertly met by Kerry and Rick with words and thoughts to raise my spirits, to let me know my family are around the corner, cheering.
The home straight is 4 miles.
4 miles, with time a plenty any other day.
30 minutes and still 2 miles to go. What new madness lies within the torture of these seconds? Pleas of help amid my tears of hope and desperation. After all that’s gone before I have no time to give my mind or legs a break from this relentless pace. I cannot lose my focus now. I cannot lose my focus now.
I know this bridge, this path, these cobbles.
Belief. Finally belief that I have reached further than my grasp and found a way to make the difference count.
To celebrate, a sprint.
To finish on a sprint and know myself to be on equal terms, today at least.
Finish: Sunday 12th August 2012 19:49
23:49:36
The games are over.
I will be back. I did not make this journey on my own but I took my strength from it and added it to others. Running across the fells, above my limits with changing groups of friends past and future I know myself to be a better person for it.
From birth to journeys end. When babies are birthed in all their natural wonder how can any challenge hold a candle? Push on and on, what more might I aspire to now?
I think I’ll run a while to clear my head…

Cast in order of appearance: John Parkin Jason Feaney John Parkin (Snr) Steve Fry Andy Nicoll Andy Gibbons Kerry + Rick Gilchrist Mick Watson Anne + Pete Jebb Iain Taylor Graeme McTavish Andrew Gange Kerry Watson Iris Ward Sally + Maria + Louis Parkin