I’m going to start my blog 20 miles from the end of the
Hardmoors 110. This was the lowest part
of the race for me. I knew I was going to finish but I was in pain. A short run along a beach at roughly mile 40
meant my shoes filled with sand. Despite
many attempts to get the sand out, several changes of socks and washing my feet
a couple of times, there was still some sand in my shoes and I felt that I’d
been running on sandpaper for the last 30 miles. My feet were feeling raw and blistered. I’d inspected them several times and they
didn’t look as bad as they felt. Every
step was agony. On top of this I’d had
the feeling of shin splints in my left leg for about the last 10 miles. The shin splints didn’t feel too bad when
walking up hill, but running downhill was agony. Flat was just about manageable, but there
aren’t many flat miles on the Cleveland Way.
I’d resolved myself to simply walk the rest of the way to the finish and
I kept finding myself doing mental calculations of my finishing time. I’d estimated I could walk and still be
finished by about 2pm.
My support crew, Ryk Downes, was waiting for me 10 miles
down the road at Sutton Bank. He had
offered to meet me at Square Corner, which is at mile 90 and where I was having
my bad patch. If he had of been there I
might have told him I was thinking of quitting, but I was pretty sure he would
have convinced me to carry on anyway. I
think I just needed to hear someone else tell me that I could still do
this. If Ruth had been at Square Corner,
and had seen me, I know she would have done everything in her power to have
made me stop at that point. For this
reason I was very glad that Ruth had only been my support for the first half of
Saturday.
I had told Ryk when I last saw him to try and get some sleep
at Sutton Bank and wait for me there and that I would then get him to be my
support runner from that point to the finish, i.e. for the last 10 miles. However, I also said that if I was struggling
I would text him and ask him to run back from Sutton Bank and meet me earlier.
Runners were officially allowed to have a support runner run
alongside them from about mile 40.
Support runners could help with navigation but weren’t allowed to carry
any essential kit for their runner. If
your support runner was caught carrying any of the mandatory race kit then it
could result in the runner being disqualified, or at least receiving a time
penalty.
So here I was 90 miles in with 20 miles to go, my brain was
feeling foggy and was telling me I needed sleep. It had become a struggle to keep putting one
foot in front of the other. I felt like
I was weaving around the wide track I was on like a drunk. My body was in serious pain and I felt like I
wanted to have a good cry. I sent Ryk a
text that read: R U able to come and meet me. I’m struggling. I didn’t get a reply, but I really hoped the
message had got through.
I should mention that I’d never even met Ryk until about 9pm
the previous day. Under my original plan
Rachel, my friend in York, was going to be my support crew for the entire
event, but a change to her circumstances meant that this was no longer possible.
Rachel was distraught at not being able to
help throughout and felt duty bound to come up with a solution. She’d contacted several of her running
friends, who were unable to help. Not
surprising giving that she was asking them to support a complete stranger for
the night phase of the ultra-marathon. But
then Rachel remembered Ryk, who is a keen runner and also the race director for
Punk Panther running events (http://punkpanther.co.uk/). Being an all-round
nice guy and willing to help a fellow runner in need, Ryk didn’t hesitate when
it came to agreeing to help me. I should
also mention that it is mandatory for entrants to have at least one person crew
for them on this event, so there was no question of me doing it without
support.
So I was 20 miles from the finish and relying on the help
and support of a virtual stranger to get me to the end. I ploughed on and tried to use lots of
positive self-talk to override the pain I was feeling. I also visualised myself crossing the finish
line and tried to imagine how happy I’d be to finish this event. I used Franklin Method muscle sliding imagery
to try and improve the function of all of my lower leg muscles as a means to relieve
some of the pain I was feeling in my shins.
This helped to a small degree.
I passed High Paradise Farm, which is less than 15 miles
from the finish. I’d hoped I would have
met Ryk by now. I was feeling really sorry
that Rachel wasn’t going to be around to see me finish. She had been such a big part of my
preparation for this event and I was disappointed that she wouldn’t be able to
be my support runner for the final 10 miles as originally planned. Less than a mile after the farm I spotted Ryk
running towards me and there was a female with him. The female shouted my name and I had no idea
who it was. I assumed it was a friend of Ryk’s.
As we neared each other I suddenly realised it was Rachel. My spirits immediately lifted. It was so great to see her and Ryk. Rachel had managed to find a solution to her
predicament, and after very little sleep drove back from York to be with me over
the final miles of the race afterall.
Rachel and Ryk were both beaming with joy as they joined
me. Their general happiness rubbed off
on me and my pain seemed to immediately dissipate. I was even able to break out of my walk and
into a slow jog. We chatted, jogged and
walked our way towards Sutton Bank, where they had both parked. As we got nearer Rachel ran ahead to set out
food and to get two chairs ready so that she could look at my feet.
The last official check point was 1 mile further on from
Sutton Bank at the White Horse car park.
I needed to have at least one person from my support crew with me at
this point. With my feet bandaged up,
Ryk and I headed off to the White Horse whilst Rachel packed up her car. The White Horse was at the end of an out and
back 2 mile loop. We had to descend
under the chalk figure into the car park and be checked off by the
marshals. The marshals at this point
were the most enthusiastic of the entire race.
They cheered me on so much as I went past the check point that it would
have been easy to assume that I’d actually finished. But this wasn’t the case, we then had to
climb a steep flight of stairs to the top of the horse. This was the last hard climb of the run,
which was now just 9 miles away.
Ryk and I headed back towards Rachel, who was running out to meet us on the return leg from White Horse. When we met her she told me she’d just checked the race tracker. I was apparently lying in second place in the MV50 category but, according to Rachel, the first placed MV50 runner was just 5 minutes ahead of me and looking like “complete shit”. She said that if I dug deep and could do some running I should easily be able to beat him. For a micro second my brain thought it wasn’t worth the chase. A nano second later my mouth was saying, “Hell yeah, let’s do this.” Rachel had actually been a little flexible with the truth. I was actually 13 minutes behind, but she knew if she told me this I would have thought the gap was too big to chase doing over 8 miles. She also neglected to tell me that the third placed MV50 runner was only 5 minutes behind and closing fast.
Rachel knew the last 8 miles like the back of her hand and she would coach me over the final section by saying things like, “Just dig deep here and keep running another 200m, then you can rest with a gentle uphill walk”. She’d also say, “OK, we’re closing in on the other runner, we’ll see him any second”. Eventually we did see him, and once seen we closed in on him fast. We overtook him on a downhill section through the village of Cold Kirby. As we passed I gave him a cheery, “You’re doing great mate, almost there.”
Over the next couple of miles Rachel kept telling me that I
couldn’t relax, that the runner we’d just over taken wasn’t giving up and that
he still wasn’t that far behind. I never
once looked over my shoulder to confirm whether she was giving me dud information
or not. I took her at her word. Rachel also told me that she was enjoying
telling me what to do and that it made up for the years of personal training
when I would push her hard during our 1 to 1 sessions. She was getting her revenge and I was highly
thankful for it.
Ryk was also still with us, of course. He would run ahead whenever we approached a gate to have it open ready for me. Every now and again he would comment on how fast I was running considering I’d been on my feet for more than 100 miles. At one time he commented on how efficient my running was looking. I didn’t have the energy to explain how I was using all of my Franklin Method imagery skills to help practise a smooth, efficient running gait. Over those last few miles I particularly drew on the image of the ligaments of the pelvis winding up my running stride like a perpetual motion clockwork toy. This really helped with any running we did on the flat.
Before long we could see Helmsley Castle. From that point we knew the finish was
probably not much more than a mile away.
We had a nice downhill run into Helmsley and Rachel would excitedly tell
the many walkers we passed that I’d just run 110 miles. My feet were still crucifying, my shin hurt
like hell, but in that moment my emotions were running so incredibly high. I couldn’t quite believe that I was at the
end of a 110 mile journey and that I was about to win my age category.
There was a slight uphill drag to the finish and we were closing in on runners that were ahead of me. Rachel and I put in a final 500m (relatively!) fast effort, and Ryk just couldn’t keep up. It was great to see Ruth waiting at the finish. I crossed the finish line in a state of sheer ecstasy and with the biggest smile on my face. My finishing time was 28 hours and 20 minutes.
Slight uphill run to the finish with Helmsley Castle in the background.
I wasn’t immediately told that I was the MV50 winner, so I
had to ask. Shirley, one of the race
directors, checked the list of finishers and told me that it looked like I was
my age category winner, but I’d have to wait because it was possible that
someone who had started 10 minutes after me (we started in 6 waves 5 minutes
apart) could cross the line in the next few minutes to take the prize. So we waited a few minutes until it became
clear that no one was going to challenge me for the over 50 win. I was presented with my trophy and posed for
a few photos.
My two challengers for the MV50 trophy still hadn’t crossed the line 25 minutes later, by which time I was heading back to our B&B for a shower and sleep, whilst Ruth drove Ryk and Rachel back to their cars at Sutton Bank.
It would be nice to end the story there, but the impact of
those last few miles made themselves known when I tried to get out of bed after
my afternoon nap on Sunday. At first I
couldn’t even take one step without falling back down onto the bed. Ruth inspected my left leg, which was red and
swollen. We went back to see the medics
at the race finish and they advised that we went straight to A&E in York.
We followed their advice. At 10.30pm I
still hadn’t seen anyone and I was falling asleep in the chair in
reception. I decided that sleep was far
more important than a diagnosis of my leg injury. So I got Ruth to collect me from reception
and drive me the 40 minutes back to our B&B in Helmsley. When we took off my shoes and socks my ankle
was swollen like a balloon and Ruth was pretty annoyed that I hadn’t stuck it
out at A&E as it was clear that we’d have to go back again in the morning.
Fortunately, by the time we woke the next day the swelling
had reduced and it was slightly easier to walk.
However, we went back to A&E in York Monday morning. Thankfully, I only had to wait a little over
an hour until I was seen. The prognosis
was that I probably had a severe muscle sprain and not a stress fracture to my
tibia, which was our initial fear, although this couldn’t be ruled out. I was told to take it easy for a couple of
weeks and that if there had been no improvement in two weeks I could definitely
assume that I do have a stress fracture and should return to A&E. Thankfully, I can report that it’s now one
week later and it is much improved. Even
my blisters are healing nicely.
When I finished I said I’d never do this event again. However, I have found myself thinking about
ways I could improve on my time if I did do it again. I would definitely pack spare pairs of
running shoes. I would do more to look
after my feet because it was foot pain that really slowed me down over the last
40 miles or so. I honestly believe that
if it wasn’t for my blistered feet I could have gone at least an hour
quicker. It remains to be seen if I do
repeat the Hardmoors 110, or if I do another similar event. I don’t think Ruth will thank me if I do!
I have to end by saying how eternally grateful I am to
Rachel for convincing me that I could do this run and for being my support crew
for most of Saturday and coming back Sunday morning to be my support runner
over those last miles. I also feel
incredibly lucky that Ryk was willing to support a complete stranger through
the night time section of the run and stay with me to the finish. He could have disappeared early Sunday
morning once Rachel had returned unexpectedly.
I also cannot forget to thank Ruth for putting up with my
running addiction. Ruth didn’t want to
be my support crew, but she stepped in at the last minute to get me to the
start and support me until Rachel could take over Saturday afternoon. Training for this event meant that Ruth saw
me even less at the weekends than usual.
Some people might think that would be a good thing, but strangely enough
Ruth likes spending time with me even after more decades together than I care
to mention. I’m fully aware that being
the partner of a long distance running fanatic can take its toll and I’m
incredibly grateful that Ruth allows me to feed my addiction. Spending her Bank Holiday weekend with two
trips to York A&E certainly wasn’t something Ruth signed up to when we
first met. She’s a star and I love her
to the moon and back.
I will get round to writing about the first 90 miles of the
Hardmoors 110, but promise to make it a more abridged version of the race
report.
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