I’ve not run for more than 30 miles since my injury last
year in April so this year’s Fellsman at 62 miles was always going to be a test
of how well my Plantar Facia had healed.
I’d felt my training and mental preparation for the race had
gone reasonably well and although I’d not anything massive in training I had
managed to get a good few days in the hills to build my stamina.
Going into the race I was more worried about my performance
the last time I’d taken on the Fellsman. Back in 2008 I went to Ingleton with
all intentions of giving the course a sound thrashing and was right royally
dumped on my behind at the 20 mile mark and left staggering and reeling around
the remaining 40 miles. If there was one thing I wanted out of Saturday is was
to avoid a repeat of my disastrous 2008 round.
My kit was honed to perfection – all perfectly within the
rules but stripped to the absolute minimum. I’d even removed the covers from my
maps and trimmed the plastic from around my Ibuprofen tablets to lose more
weight!
Kit is a funny thing at the Fellsman as there’s a mandatory
list which must be carried by all competitors regardless if they’re aiming for
a round of 10 hours or 27 hours. Mine was all either worn or packed into my
tiny 10 litre Karrimor rucksack which has served me well through many a long
adventure. This compared to some folk who looked like they were heading out for
a week with huge 50 litre+ packs.
I wore my new Adidas Kanadia TR3 shoes, some Hilly socks, Skins
shorts (over swimming trunks – never wear them alone or they’ll shred your
jewels!) and my trusty cycling shirt (long sleeve as there was a chilly wind
blowing). Cycling shirts are brilliant for ultra running as they are close
fitting, wicking have a full length zip for venting, pockets on the back for
stashing essentials and a little collar which stops the rucksack straps rubbing
embarrassing marks onto your neck. I topped off with a Ron Hill peaked cap and
a trusty buff round my wrist for snot and sweat mopping duties and ear warming
whilst on the tops.
My day started at the unearthly hour of 4.20am and after a
bowl of porridge and a couple of coffees I picked up Steve at 5 and we made our
way to Threshfield then onto the bus at 6am for a puke inducing ride up to
Ingleton. Following a successful kit check we were given our tallies with 24
checkpoints marked on them that would be punched in sequential order as we
battled our way around the course.
After catching up with a few pals and drinking tea and
energy drink (not mixed!) we were called to the start field at 8.50am.
Following a few words from the organiser at 9am sharp a loud air raid siren
cranked up signally the start of the race.
As we set off I told myself that this year it was all about
steady pacing, not getting injured and laying a good base for my Bob Graham
attempt later in the year. This took away all the pressure and I settled into a
steady rhythm up and over Ingleborough and onto Whernside.
My other ‘note to self’ was to continuously eat and drink
right from the off and that’s exactly what I did, making sure I grabbed a drink
and a few biscuits or flapjack at each checkpoint.
After the warm up of Ingleborough and Whernside the first
real climb is a little know Dales peak called Gragareth at the North side of
Kingsdale. I topped out here feeling good which I took as a good sign and
proceeded to jog along the tops all the way to Great Coum then down to Dent via
Flinter Gill.
A ‘secret’ kit check at Dent threatened to spoil my rhythm
but I was soon on my way heading up the long climb to Blea Moor where I teamed
up with a chap from London who was obviously relieved when I said it was my 4th
Fellsman and I knew the way. This is where it all went horribly wrong last year
but this time I felt strong as an Ox as I marched up the long climb. I made an
error at the top by choosing to ignore the conventional line and trying one I’d
seen on the map – it didn’t work and we lost about 5 minutes (sorry Tom) –
shan’t be doing that line again!
Blea Moor came and went and we were soon dropping down to
the Turkey farm and then onto the road to Stone House. Here we were greeted by
a posse of marshals dressed in full Mexican regalia but despite sombreros,
ponchos and dodgy tashes, my request for Tequilla could not be met! I settled
for a sarnie, some pasta with cheese and some orange juice and marched off up
Great Knoutberry still carrying my tray of pasta. Steve stayed at the
checkpoint for 10 mins breather so the next and last time I saw him we were
descending of Knoutberry as he was climbing to the summit.
A good line down to Redshaw saw us catch the two chaps ahead
of us and four of us exited the checkpoint tent clutching hotdogs, bananas and
bottle of tea.
Snaizholme came quickly and we were off on the long steady
climb to Dodd Fell where we caught two others as we approached the summit. A good
line off Dodd took us to the Fleet Moss checkpoint where soup and sandwiches
was on the menu and despite losing half of it down my front as we ran down the
road it certainly hit the spot.
Our new group of 4 were happy to stick behind me as I led
them across Fleet Moss and onto Middle Tongue. We made a reasonable job of
finding the new checkpoint but then struggled to get a good line through the
peat hags across to Hell Gap and lost a bit of time and a place. By the time I
got here I was tired, then again we had done around 45 miles, so was glad of
the descent down to Cray and the spaghetti hoops that were on offer in the
tent! These really did the trick and by the time I was nearing the summit of
Buckden Pike I was back on form.
A quick whiz down to Top Mere and we were off along the
track to Park Rash. This is the last checkpoint at which you can get grouped
and a fellow competitor said that if we pushed on we could make the cut off
without being grouped. This was a huge incentive to me as I’d never before got
anywhere near being able to finish solo so we raised our game and upped the
pace all the way to Park Rash. We made the cut with 5 mins to spare and struck
out as individuals up the last climb of the day – Great Whernside. This is a
tough but reasonably short climb and there’s the added incentive of knowing
that once you make the top it’s just about all down hill to the finish – albeit
quite a long way.
We clipped at the summit, which was cold and windy as usual,
then set off quickly to lose some height and gain some warmth.
By the time I reached Capplestone Gate I was tired and, for
the first time in the race I had to resort to walking short sections that were
obviously runnable. I felt pretty grim at this point and as two competitors
came past and disappeared off into the distance, I reached into my emergency
bag and popped a couple of Ibuprofens. As usual, these did the trick and I was
soon trotting again towards the last checkpoint at Yarnbury.
From here it’s a mad dash (or slow hobble) down 2 miles of
steep tarmac – just what the legs need after 60 miles of fell.
We jogged it all the way holding our positions and were soon
greeted by the welcome sight of the school. The final clip of the day recorded
my time of 12 hours and 26 mins (joint 9th place) – a full 2.5 hours
off my PB, which I was VERY pleased with. What’s more, after a short rest and a
long shower, I actually felt reasonably human again and was able to polish off
a huge plate of baked spud and chilli before snuggling up on the school hall
floor for a few hours of kip.
Steve came in shortly after me and was also delighted with
his time and as we munched through our bacon and eggs on Sunday morning we were
already plotting new lines and dreaming up ways of going even quicker next
year.
All in all a great day in the hills and a huge
confidence boost to my Bob Graham plans and Steve’s Lakeland 100 race in July.
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