Lakes in a Day & Creaking Noises ...

I’m creaking …I know this since I’ve been here before. Stuff feels hard and harder than it should – even the little stuff like making a coffee or getting food in from the shops feels more difficult that it should. Think of a pint tumbler with one gulp out it and try adding another half pint in, it’ll spill over.

The individual causes are less relevant than the outcome – nothing really bad …just lots of things adding up to make life a little bit difficult.

Does that make sense …probably not but you get the idea.

So …going into the Lakes in a Day Ultra when already tired was never going to end all that well. 

Another long(ish) drive and we arrived in Cartmel in the dark but before last food orders which was good. With a pile of rain having already fallen and more forecast to fall, we opted for sticking the van in the layby opposite the school / race registration / finish line rather than risk getting it stuck in the camping field and went for dinner.

Next morning 04:27 to be exact, alarm went off …quick breakfast and onto the bus north. Pleased to fall asleep again as I suspected it was going to be a long time until we saw the van again.

At Caldbeck it was great to catch up with a few pals who were also racing or spectating, visit the toilet one last time and get under starters orders. First few km felt a little fast but okay. Onto the open fells and things slowed to a more sustainable pace. The wind going over High Peak gave an indication of things to come with the beard off at an angle. Equally, the descent was muddy, a feature that was to feature big later on. Over the temporary bridge and it was head down for the ascent of Blencathra. I could feel the cumulative month of racing in the legs (Vertical Kilometer, Ring of Steall, Two Breweries and Glasgow Half Marathon in consecutive weeks) …again the ascent was harder than it should have felt. Stopped briefly to check on another runner who was on wrong side of comfort and heading towards hypothermia – thankfully she was doing the right thing getting additional layers on (including on donated by another runner). Since there were another few runners around her, I decided the most useful thing to do was push up and let event staff know. Once staff had been altered, we started down the Halls Fell ridge. Think “Bambi on ice” and you’ll get the idea of the scene. The technical nature of the descent gave the head enough to focus on and gave a welcome diversion. Down safe and it was a short run to Threkeld, second breakfast and a much needed hug from pals Rory and Jackie who were out cheer leading. Fed and watered, I really didn’t want to leave since I knew things would tasty going over Helvellyn. Katie was in fine spirit and pushing the pace along the old railway track but my head and legs weren’t up for race pace …it was clear survival mode was going to be the style for the rest of the day. The climb up Clough Head was on the steep side of brutal but head down …get it done. Up top, the wind was ferocious and the clag down. Getting the map blown out my hand might just have broken the spirit beyond economic repair but it needed to be out. Each summit gave a tick feature and concentrating on the navigation once again diverted a tired head. Just before Great Dodd the race route breaks right (a less than obvious break at that). Katie was keen to understand why I had left a perfectly good path to follow a marginal trod …me less keen to have a teach in since I was starting to struggle and hold it together (as if there was any alternative).

Once back on the big path, a jog was adopted to try and minimise the overall time getting blow around on the high summits. From Sticks Pass over Helvellyn and on to Grisedale Tarn was all familiar ground that I’d been over a few times. The down side was knowing that the climb up Fairfield was still to come. The sense of humour was now blown out me and probably well on its Norway. Lost count of the undulating summits but we were still heading in a SE direction before swinging directly south so all good. I spent a bit of time trying to figure out a reasonable excuse to stop at Ambleside and briefly even considered some reckless descending to instigate a fall …neither of which were fair to anyone around me especially Katie.

Down in Ambleside, spirits lifted seeing Jackie and Rory as well as pal John. Sitting with pasta, pizza and coffee, I considered the situation – despite wanting to stop, I knew it wasn’t an option for a couple of reasons – letting Katie down being the main one but logistically getting to the finish where the van was appeared to be tougher than simply sticking the head torch on and heading back out on the course. Out of the feed station, I delayed our departure to pet a couple of collie dogs. Something which always cheers me up. First few miles were spent deciding how many layers were required and getting it wrong ..too hot was quickly replaced by too cold etc … Of more concern was the chaffing …the soaking had led to damp skin being rubbed raw. Instead of the more obvious lakeside path, we took the higher route over Claire Heights. By now the moon was out, winds had dropped but the wheels were loose. Pretty much anything other than a wobble was about all that I could manage. If Katie was frustrated by me, she kindly kept that to herself. We met one other runner in the darkness but it other than that …it was quiet. Hard to tell how many were ahead and how many folks were behind which didn’t matter but the odd headtorch would have been a nice confirmation that we weren’t along in the night. I asked Katie about the distance we had covered desperate to hear we were approaching the next feed station (my watch isn’t accurate on batter saving mode) and was surprised to hear that if her Garmin was to be believed we should already have been through Finsthwaite. Sadly a quick map check confirmed we were still a couple of miles away. We finally arrived, warmth, food and only seven miles left. Katie was still in good spirit and it was hard to shake the feeling that I was letting her down badly …but simply couldn’t up my game in any way.

After probably too long, we went to leave. I made it about two steps into the night before shivering violently and turning round to get back into the hall to stick another layer on. To sum up the next section …mud, fucking lots of it. Even if running had been an option, it would have been pointless given the lack of traction. A walk was probably about as efficient as anything. In the end it took another three hours before finishing the course hand in hand. Baked potato, shower and into the van to sleep.

We had been up for two minutes shy of twenty four hours. I was broken …broken badly. Few hour sleep and we headed northbound …

Despite the gloom of the above, Lakes in a Day is a spectacular event. A perfect blend of mountain and trail running, super well organised and the event crew could have been hand-picked by Lemmy Kilminster himself – the downs were all mine and mine alone. Huge thanks to Katie for sticking with me.

The pint glass is still pretty much full and still creaking but head down etc ………………………………..

Was at a gig couple of days later and saw this ...made me proper smile :-)