Lakeland 50 - half the length, twice the pain

Having the UTMB lined up for the following month I decided to err on the side of caution and do the Lakeland 50 this year instead of the 100.  Thinking I'd cracked the secret of pain free endurance running in the Joss Naylor Lakeland Challenge three weeks previously was I in for a shock.

As usual I went up on the Thursday night and stayed in a youth hostel so that I got a early start and good camping spot on Friday morning.  I had booked a bed in the newly renovated Ambleside hostel but that was closed due to structural problems being found so they moved me to Coniston Coppermines hostel instead. I met Daniel Milton, a L100 competitor, there.  Surprisingly there were no other competitors staying.

Friday morning saw us pitch our tents not too far from the school on the road side of the field.  I'd decided not to bring the big tent but did bring the porch to erect over the back of the car so that I had a covered seating area, along with my North Face Westwind 2-man tent for sleeping in.

Home sweet home

Slowly but surely the field filled with cars, campers and tents.  Old friends and acquaintances turned up. Originally we had quite a few Goyt Valley Striders signed up for both the 100 and the 50 but this dwindled down to just three of us on race day, for a variety of reasons. There was Paul Hunt and Peter Davis doing the 100 and me on the 50. Other local (to Whaley Bridge) runners included Simon Moorhouse, Nick Ham (both 100) and Colin Wilshaw (50).   My ultra friend Jenn Gaskell was also competing but had to get her leg taped up due to a strain in her lower leg.

I had thought that watching the 100 start would be very strange having taken part in the previous 2 years but it felt like watching any other start.  I kept myself busy taking photographs.

A pensive Paul Hunt at the start

This promised to be an interesting 100 race with previous winners Terry Conway and Stuart Mills present.  I was also interested in what Charlie Sharpe would do.  I first came across Charlie in last October's Dusk 'til Dawn 50 miler where he waltzed round in the dark in a mere 8 h 57m.  Since then he'd been winning or getting podium places on a number of low profile (and some not so low) events, including beating teams as a solo runner, so it was going to be interesting to see what he'd do on this course.

Terry Coway (Course record holder)

Charlie Sharpe (New kid on the block)

Stuart Mills (Old man on the block (red bottles)) 

The story of these elite runners is interesting.  Stuart employed his usual run like hell and hang on strategy. This worked as, apart from the first control at Seathwaite where he was second, he took first place and kept it to the finish in 22 h 17m.  Terry went round in 3rd and 4th places but succumbed to illness and packed at Buttermere. Charlie employed a very different strategy to Stuart and started very conservatively with 27th place at Seathwaite and slowly moving up to 11th at Braithwaite.  By Blencathra he was in the top ten and gradually moved from 6th to 3rd between there and Tilberthwaite.  He picked off the 3rd runner on the run in to Coniston to gain an impressive 2nd place (he was a late entrant so hadn't recced as much as he might have) in 23h 02m.  Next year will prove to be interesting if they all return.

Back to us mere mortals, the 300 or so runners set off at the usual suicidal dash through Coniston.

Charge of the 100 Brigade

I then did my own dash up to the start of Walna Scar Road to catch them coming down from the Coppermines valley.  I managed to catch them all, except for Peter who slipped through without me spotting him.

Nick Ham

Paul Hunt (Hoka Shocka)

Simon Moorhouse

Jenn Gaskell

 I then watched them disappear up Walna Scar Road before heading back to base and a good night's sleep.

Disappearing into the sunset

Before getting some sleep I checked in on the progress of the 100 runners that I knew.  I noticed Paul was way down at Seathwaite and immediately knew something was wrong.  I texted him and received the reply that he'd gone over on his ankle at the top of Walna Scar Road and hobbled his way down to the checkpoint.  Fortunately, another runner who dropped out at Seathwaite was a doctor and diagnosed Paul's ankle as having torn ligaments.  It eventually swelled up to twice the normal size.  Somehow, after getting a lift back to Coniston he drove home during the night.

Of the remaining 100 runners, Jenn retired at Buttermere not wanting to worsen the damaged leg any further with the UTMB only a month away, Peter retired at Dalemain, Daniel retired at Kentmere and Simon retired at Ambleside. Nick made it back to Coniston in 33:37.  He also had the UTMB to tackle.

So, getting some sleep that Friday night, instead of tramping over Black Sail pass, didn't feel as strange as I thought it would and I managed to get a good night's sleep.  The morning went quickly enough and we were soon on the fleet of buses to Dalemain.  Colin and I managed to get an early bus so we had plenty of time to relax in the shade of a tree at Dalemain and cheer the 100 runners on their approach to the Dalemain checkpoint marquee.  It's then time for us to perform.

The new start time of 11:30 arrived and we were off. The initial 4 mile loop around the Dalemain estate was new to me. It was also very hot.  It consisted of a rolling trackless route through grassy fields which brought us out at Dacre castle then back along to Dalemain House along the 100 course.  You would have thought that I'd learnt my lesson back in 2011 during the Ridgeway Challenge run when I set off far too fast feeling cocky after my L100 success.  My legs were wrecked for the next 75 miles.  Back on the L50 I now did exactly the same feeling cocky after my relatively painless Joss Naylor Challenge.  (The fact that it was only three weeks previously wouldn't have helped either.)  I stormed through the first leg to Howtown covering the 10.2 hilly miles in a little over a hour and a half, passing Nick on the way down.

Approaching the Cockpit Stone Circle

I then paid the price for the next 40 miles.  The cramps started on the way up Fusedale. Actually, to be accurate, they started the week before as I was getting calf cramps in bed most nights in the previous week so something was afoot. Once up onto the top I managed to shuffle between the Kops.  Just before reaching the turning point where we dropped down to Haweswater I heard a runner coming up behind me.  I could tell it was a woman from the breathing noises but these were combined with a healthy dose of spitting like a trooper.  This turned out to be Rachel Ball from the ubiquitous Sunderland Strollers.  She eventually finished in an excellent 2nd lady position. She passed me tootling along like a Duracell Bunny and went chasing a group of three runners in front.  Problem was they'd missed the turning down to Haweswater. I initially thought they were being sticklers to the route and not chopping off the corner but they carried on heading off towards the Pennines.  I called them back, much to their relief.

I don't remember much about the run alongside Haweswater apart form feeling sorry for the hikers trying to come in the opposite direction.  One other memory was passing a young man who was wearing very minimal Inov8s who looked as if his feet were very sore (after less than 20 miles).  I later found out who he was.  He packed at Mardale.  He later attempted the UTMB CCC in only slightly less minimal shoes and packed after 30 miles.  I wonder if he's got the message yet.

Approaching the Mardale Checkpoint - photo Amanda Seims

The Delamere Spartans did a grand job of manning the checkpoint.  The portaloos also came in handy but no repeat of last year's stomach problems thankfully. The climb up Gatesgarth went OK.  I chose to leave the checkpoint with empty bottles and fill up at the stream near the top to save carrying it up the hill.  The cramps really kicked in on the way down.  I found that I could eventually get moving on the downhills and somehow break through the cramps.  It was on the uphills and slow technical sections that the cramps literally crippled me.

For once I managed to leave Kentmere in a reasonable time, after sampling their lovely smoothies and pasta. Colin arrived as I left.  I shuffled my cramped way up Garburn being passed all by a number of runners.  Fortunately I managed to breakthrough the cramp and get a decent move on down into Troutbeck.

I was reduced to a walk over to Ambleside until the down hill when I got going again.  It was like the Tour de France with the crowds leading into the new checkpoint (which I found cramped and hot so didn't hang around long).  On leaving the checkpoint the heavens opened.  I sheltered under a tree while I put my jacket on.  The cramps were attacking me all along the next section. Every muscle below my knees was in spasm.  

I managed a jog along the riverside to Elterwater where I suffered the ignominy of being passed up the hill to the quarry by a couple of 100 milers (who I'd just passed). I managed to run into the checkpoint with them, passing the cheering drinkers outside the Wainwrights Inn in Chapel Stile. This checkpoint keeps moving further along the route each year.  At it's current rate it'll be in Consiston by 2019.  I don't want to complain but I found the Heinz big soup a poor substitute for the lovely thick stews served up in 2011. 

The cramps were now reducing me to a very painful walk. The rocky section after Blea Tarn proved very difficult.  I couldn't control my feet as the cramps were making them point downwards and in random directions.  Not ideal when careful foot placement is required.  I do remember be able to run the road section into Tilberthwaite.  I was quickly in and out of this checkpoint as I believed that a sub-12 hour time was still just about on the cards.  

This was were my wheels well and truly came off. As I climbed out of Tilberthwaite I began to feel weaker and weaker.  I somehow made it over the rocks and onto the flatter section where I had to stop and rest my head on my poles feeling extremely weak and sick.  I came round a bit but the next couple of miles was pure misery.  People came streaming past me (19 in all) as I trudged to the col above Coniston Coppermines. I felt a bit better by this point but then I tried to descend.  

As I began to drop down towards Coniston the pain from the cramps brought me to a stop.  I couldn't move forward.  I tried walking backwards but the ground wasn't suitable for that.  I'm not sure how I got down but I eventually made it to the more runnable ground and managed to get going again.  I ran the rest of the way to the finish arriving at 3 minutes to midnight in a time of 12 hours 24 minutes 117th out of 583 starters and 482 finishers.  At least I managed to finish in the same day that I set off. Colin turned up some 20 minutes later.

Checkpoint	Time of Day	Elapsed	Leg	Position
Pre Start Dalemain	Sat 11:26:37	-----	-----
Start	Sat 11:32:45	-----	-----
CP9 Howtown Bobbin Mill	Sat 13:11:15	01:38:30	01:38:30	53rd (583)
CP10 Mardale Head	Sat 15:37:39	04:04:54	02:26:24	83rd (578)
CP11 Kentmere Village Hall	Sat 17:24:22	05:51:37	01:46:43	96th (550)
CP12 Ambleside	Sat 19:25:43	07:52:58	02:01:21	101st (530)
CP13 Langdale	Sat 20:45:54	09:13:09	01:20:11	96th (495)
CP14 Tilberthwaite	Sat 22:37:19	11:04:34	01:51:25	98th (487)
Coniston Finish	Sat 23:57:26	12:24:41	01:20:07	117th (482)

Overall, in the circumstances I'm pretty pleased with that result.  Still inside the upper quartile. It could have been a whole lot worse if I hadn't been able to get some decent downhill runs in.  I learnt my lesson though.  I would not be setting off quickly in the UTMB.

Lakeland 100 Revisited

When the Lakeland 100 course conspires with the weather it will find any chink in your armour and rip a dirty great big hole in it.

I thought my main chink was the sprained ankle that I suffered on the recce a month earlier which was still hanging around. It turned out to be the grumbly digestive system which I've had for a few weeks now.

After last year's delay at Kentmere which I estimated cost me a couple of hours I fancied my chances of getting inside 32 hours at least.  Once again my clubmates Paul H and Peter D were taking part as was Will M who upgraded from last year's Lakeland 50.  Both Paul and Peter were hoping for a sub 30 finish time. Paul had a 32 hours under his belt from last year but Peter had DNF'd due to stomach problems.  Also running were Tom H and Brian L from Tring (where I live).  Tom also had a score to settle having DNF'd last year. Another DNF returnee was Steve K who we'd met and ran with on most of last year's recces.

My training had gone really well up until spraining my ankle on the last recce weekend in June.  This prevented me from topping off my training with some decent mileage.

The weather forecast for the event was cool temperatures (15-16 deg centigrade) and showers which looked like pretty good good running conditions but the Lake District weather is unpreditable if it's anything.

I drove up to Coniston on the Thursday and stayed at Coniston Holly How youth hostel.  My room was full of others doing the race including the aforementioned Steve K and Brian L.  On Friday morning it was down to the school to pitch the tent and register (plus a trip back to the youth hostel to get my food which I'd left in the self catering kitchen. Duh!).  I weighed in at a couple of kilos less than last year and was given the race number 267.

There was no Joss Naylor this year to give us our pep speech which as a shame as I'd hope to have a word with him about doing some prints of a painting of him which I've just finished, and selling them for charity.  The idea being to get him to sign them. I'll have to contact him some other way.

Joss Naylor, Wasdale, 1970s - Artist: Mick Wren

Anyway,  as the start time approached the weather improved (that is if you're a tourist and not about to run up Walna Scar Road!).  It must have been over 20 degrees.

So, 5:30 arrived and off we went.  Up front it was going to be very interesting as the winners from the previous two years (Stuart Mills and Terry Conway respectively) were there as was the highly placed Paul Tierney  and a few others I wasn't familiar with.

Photo: Susan Graham (Me in blue on left and Tom in blue on right)

The usual dash ensued until we hit the Miners Track then it was out with the poles and walk up the hill.

Me and my poles (Paul on right).

The first leg went pretty much to plan.  I passed loads on the downhill section to the bottom of Walna Scar Road. I managed to keep most of those behind me on the climb up (thanks to the poles) and passed a few more on the way down to checkpoint 1 at Seathwaite.  It was here that I had make my first call to the loos.  It was all downhill from then (so to speak).  Leg 2 went well.  After the usual trudge through the bogs round Harter Fell I comfortably ran the rest of the leg passing a few more runners on the way. However, I still lost some 30 places due to my pit-stop at Seathwaite.  The Boot checkpoint was the same as last year.  The helpers were inundated with a flood of runners in a rush to get on in this early stage.

So, it was then the steady incline to Burnmoor Tarn and a drop down into Wasdale where I caught up Peter who was complaining of blisters on his heel bottoms.  On the road stretch before Wasdale Head I was just thinking that we'd get into the checkpoint and Paul would do his usual trick of appearing, whizzing through the checkpoint and disappearing, when who should come up behind us but Paul.  We jogged into the checkpoint where Paul whizzed through and disappeared (never to be seen again).  He was a man on a mission.  I donated my large Compeeds to Peter for his heels.  Ironically this year I'd gone through my first aid kit and cut it down to size so I had no spares but hardly ever suffer from blisters so it wasn't a problem.  Will also turned up at this point and took off after Paul but didn't manage to catch him.  At this point I reckon I was about ten minutes up on last year's time but it was still time for the head torch (Petzl Myo RXP).  I left Peter to put his shoes back on knowing he'd catch me on the up hills. A steady jog along Mosedale and up onto Black Sail pass followed, all the while looking for a reasonable hiding place for the loo (it's even harder to hide at night when everyone has a head torch and you're covered in reflective gear!).  In the end I held out until Buttermere checkpoint.  Having snapped my poles while descending Black Sail pass last year I made sure they were safely stashed away this year.

I was glad to get the descent off Scarth Gap out of the way.  The showers started on this stage some very heavy but not lasting too long so it was difficult to know whether to bother with the jacket.  This was reflected in the variety of body cover in use at any point in time.  There were people in shorts and t-shirts alongside people wearing full body waterproofs.  That set the pattern for the rest of the event.  I had to get the cag out on this stretch as the rain brought the temperature down.  I also had one of several falls going down here.  Running along a grassy trod on a bank parallel to the rocky path I tripped on a rock and went arse over tit down the bank.  Thankfully I missed the rocks but did get cramp in both calfs which I soon stretched out.

As it turned out Peter didn't catch me up on the hills but, looking at the results he passed through Buttermere as I was inspecting the state of their plumbing.  I'd decided to walk the first part of this stage, to the top of Sail Pass anyway to give myself a rest.  While doing this someone behind asked if I was Mick Wren (the race numbers had our first names printed on them).  I'd apparently given him some advice on the Lakeland 100 facebook page regarding poles and he was very grateful for it.  This was the first of many instances of people recognising me for one reason or another to the point where I began to feel a bit like a celebrity.  Must practice my autograph.

Going up the steep section to Sail Pass I had a very weird experience.  On a previous recce in 2011 I'd sailed (forgive the pun) up here using my then new poles.  However, on the actual 2011 event I really struggled which I'd put down to not have the use of my freshly snapped poles.  This year I found it extremely hard even with poles.  About three quarters of the way up I started to keep losing my balance and falling (fortunately to the left and not down the hill to my right).  It was just like trying to stand up when totally pissed.  This had me very worried.  Eventually, as I approached the top of the pass my left ear popped and my balance improved (although I still felt drained).  I can only assume that the air pressure in my ear was affecting the balance mechanism in that ear.

I chucked down a small bag of oat and fruit biscuits at the top and proceeded to descend the very steep path towards Barrow Door.  About 20 minutes before this my head torch had flashed telling me that the batteries were on their way out and now the light was really dimming so I waited for some other to catch me up so that I could piggyback their light.  I had spares batteries but didn't particularly want to change them in the open.  That was another attempted weight saving I'd made this year.  I normally carry a spare head torch (a very small and light Petzl Zipka) as well as spare batteries but I put that in my drop bag this year.  I'll not be doing that again as I felt very vulnerable without that spare.  I only had to drop one of my spare batteries and I'd have been stuffed.

Braithwaite checkpoint eventually arrived and I entered to find Peter in there (not thinking at the time that I hadn't seen him pass me).  After another plumbing inspection and a change of batteries we left together.  Two minutes later it was raining stair rods as we jogged along the road to Keswick.  I paid my respects to my ancestors as we passed Crossthwaite graveyard then it was up onto Spooney Green Lane.

Back in the checkpoint I'd put some boiling water into a chicken tikka freeze dried meal (from Expedition Foods) that I'd been carrying with me and left it to rehydrate in my rucksack planning to eat it going up the lane.  I've used these food several times before on the overnight camps of mountain marathons and they've been great but there must be something about taste buds while on the move.  The chicken tikka was far too spicey and the the texture felt wrong so I just couldn't eat it.  This had happened previously when I tried the same thing during the Bullock Smithy challenge.  So, I've given up on the idea of having a 'proper' meal while on the move.

While travelling up the Glenderaterra valley I noticed it was getting light which shocked me as last year I was approaching Dockray at this time of day.  Those toilet stops and the bad patch over Sail Pass had cost me dearly. We eventually found the new unmanned checkpoint (on the second sheepfold after searching for it on the first one) then walk/jogged to the Blencathra checkpoint but not before I had to make an emergency stop behind a wall to inspect the bracken.  There were no free socks this year at Blencathra but at least it was indoors this time.

By now we were well aware that any chance of a decent time had long gone so we mentally dropped into 'just finish' mode.  It's interesting how this affects the performance.  We walked where we probably would have run if going for a time and, being effectively a team of two, we ran at the speed of the slowest runner at the time.  This had the cumulative effect of our time slipping more and more.  We souped up at Dockray and plodded on to Dalemain arriving at 10:40 to find Will who had retired (along with some 30 others I believe).

I claimed squatters rights in one of the portaloos while Peter had his feet strapped up by the medic. We then refueled on the wonderful soup/stew and cake and custard served by marvellous checkpoint staff, and had a change of clothing.  The spare poles I'd brought along stayed in the drop bag.  In the end we were there for at least an hour but eventually set off walking across the field.  My plans to minimise checkpoint time had long since bitten the dust.

After a jog along the river we entered Pooley Bridge where I popped into the public conveniences (convenient being a very apt word in my case) to see how their plumbing compared to elsewhere in the Lakes. I can report it was adequate.

On the climb out of Pooley Bridge I received my second shock of the day.  We were walking and this guy came sprinting past.  "He's keen" I thought then another ran past then another.  It dawned on me that they were the L50 lead runners. Last year I'd been at Sadgill when the first L50 came past.  This was depressing. The fourth L50 runner was my mate Kieran Davis with whom I'd done the Old County Tops back in May. Ian Corless (of Talk Ultra fame) who I'd spent a few hours with on the last recce soon passed as well.  It was then time for another photo-shoot.

Nice colour scheme (Peter in red)

With hindsight I'm not sure that fluorescent yellow was the best choice of colour for my new role as chief  bracken inspector.  Marc (event organiser) had asked us during the pre-race briefing not to smile for the photographers as they wanted to show how hard and tough the event was but he shouldn't produce such a happy event so we ignored him.

Peter had come up with a cunning plan at this point.  We were going to let the first 20 L50 runners go then tag onto the back of the next one.  Like most cunning plans this one melted in the heat of execution as we watched a good 50 runners go by.  Eventually though I saw one I wanted to follow and tagged on in tow at what felt like a cracking pace (it was downhill).  The fact that it was a very nice looking young woman in short lycra shorts was pure coincidence I can assure you.  This very pleasurable stretch came to an end after about a quarter mile when I noticed that Peter hadn't followed.  I guess my backside doesn't have the same motivating effect.  So, normal service was resumed and we trotted down towards Howtown.

On the last official recce weekend in June I'd met up with two guys in Windermere youth hostel who were also doing the recce, workmates Mikey and Dom.  They were on the L50 and came past Peter and I just before Howtown.  Dom was still suffering from an ankle sprain and was considering his options when they got to Howtown.  As it turned out they both continued and when Mikey got to Ambleside he found out that Dom was still going and waited half and hour for him to make sure he finished.  That just about sums up the spirit in this event.

Last year the Howtown checkpoint was centred inside the building but this year they'd decided to put most of it outside (probably to cope better with the numbers) but after dibbing in I went inside and Peter lost track of  me.  He caught sight of someone leaving wearing a fluorescent yellow top and chased after them.  While he was doing this I was came out to look for him and couldn't find him.  He realised it wasn't me when he noticed the rucksack colour and came back.  I would have popped into the loo here but there was a queue so off we went.

I really suffered here last year in the heat.  This year the heat was much better but being amongst the L50 entrants I was forever acquiring a trail of people behind me.  This pressurised me into going a little faster than I'd have liked to until I had to pull over and let them past.  In the meantime Peter was obviously feeling stronger and took off for the top where he waited for me.

Running as a pair is much slower than solo running.  We each had sections where we felt better than the other and had to wait.  Next time (if there is one) if there's chance of a good time then I'll have to run my own race.

Anyway,  we made our way across the Kops and down to Haweswater, hacking through the bracken at the bottom rather than climb down the rocks.  Along the bottom track I had to find a water source as the drink in my bladder tasted very strange.  I'm not sure what it was but I didn't trust it so had to refill my bottle.  Having done so I then climbed up into the bracken for another 'inspection'.  The noise from the stream hid any noises I might (did) have made.  I then caught up Peter and chugged round to the Mardale checkpoint.  It was getting colder, wetter and windier by now so we put an extra top layer on after a couple of welcome cups of tommy soup.  Then it was up the Gatesgarth Pass path.

This time it was my turn to get to the top first where I waited for Peter.  The weather had set in now so it was cagoules and gloves on.  Coming down the other side was it's usual steep and rocky self until we reached the point where the appropriately named Wren Gill meets the track.  It was like a giant had scooped a three foot deep, two foot wide trench out of the middle of the track. The track was destroyed. That must have been quiet a sight when that happened.  We were walking at this point and I started getting very cold so down in the bottom of the valley we resorted to wearing overtrousers.  It shows how I was feeling the cold as I didn't resort to overtrousers in the 1998 'Howling Howgills' KIMM or in the 2008 Borrowdale OMM.

It was around this point that I had another weird episode. I was walking alongside Peter when I suddenly realised I didn't know who it was next to me.  I went through a whole list of people (runners and non-runners) in my head before getting back to Peter.  This happened a couple of times.  I didn't tell Peter about the episode but I suspected this was a sign of hypothermia.  I spent a few minutes considering this and decided that it would be foolish to risk continuing.  I did have another top and some leggings in my bag but if I put those on I'd have had no back-up clothing.  With 20 dark, cold and wet miles to go it would have been
dangerous.  Having completed last year there was no pressure for me to prove anything so I had the luxury of being able to quit without feeling any loss or guilt.  This was all ironic considering last year I was held up in Kentmere by the medics with suspected hyperthermia.

So we arrived at the Kentmere checkpoint at around 9:00 p.m.(via the Sadgill track which was also torn up by the weather and was also a lot longer than I remembered) where I dibbed into the retiree dibber box being informed that the coach back to Coniston would leave around 10:30 p.m..  I made sure that Peter had anything he needed from me then dashed into the loos while he bravely set off into his second night to get his first completion.

It was at this point that the wicked god of retirees took over.  The first thing he did was to empty the header tanks for the loos in the checkpoint ten minutes after I arrived so they were closed.  He then made sure that the bus back to Coniston didn't leave until 1:00 a.m. So there I was with a very dodgy stomach in a checkpoint with no loos for 4 hours.  On arriving back in Coniston (after hallucinating a woman holding a bike outside the checkpoint) I was told we could have a t-shirt (which was fine as they aren't dated) but the wicked god had the last laugh as when I got home I found it was a L50 t-shirt!

While waiting at Kentmere both Steve and Brian came through and both very determined to finish, as they indeed did.

Back at the event centre I found that Paul had finished in 30:50.  Not the sub 30 he wanted but a brilliant determined effort nonetheless.  Ian had done a brilliant sub 10 and Kieran 10:39.  Mikey and Dom finished as I was there in 14:01 and Peter, Steve and Brian were still out on the course. I'm afraid I couldn't stay awake long enough to see them in.

Photo: Paul Hunt.   Peter at the finish

The journey home provided more opportunities to inspect plumbing as I called into almost every service area down the length of the M6.

In hindsight I'm very happy with the decision I took. Whilst I didn't actually feel too bad in myself during the event it was tiring feeling the need to go to the loo for 30 hours and it probably affected my digestion and energy intake.  I was certainly feeling the cold a lot more than I should have done.  Two days later and I'm already thinking about doing it again having said twice was enough.  However, I should have a guaranteed place in the UTMB next year so I might do the 50 as a training run.  We'll see.

Mission Accomplished - Lakeland 100 in the Bag

A mere 105 miles on rough tracks over 24,000 feet of ascent in 34 hours 51 minutes.  I was 69th overall (with only two people older than me in front of me, although one of those was 67!) out of 116 finishers from 224 starters.  I got to bed at 6:00 a.m. on Sunday having last slept at 7:00 a.m. on Friday.  Two hours later I had to drag my carcass out of the tent to go for a pee. 
 
Preparation
I entered the Lakeland100 on New Years Day as a "sod it, what's the worst that can happen, I catch the bus of shame" new year's resolution.  I spent the next three months getting up earlier than usual to do a core session on the Wii and an intervals session on the cross trainer.  I also upped my weekly mileage from 10-20 miles to 40-60.  I also tried to loose a stone and a half (I started at 13st which is too much for my skinny six foot frame).  The weight was a struggle to get off but the fat came off OK.  I can only assume the weight stayed due to increased muscle mass.  In other words I changed shape without losing much weight.  I did manage to shift half a stone in the end. My dodgy knee seemed to have given up the ghost after I'd ignored it for the last six months, which was a relief. Overall, I reckon I did as much as I could in preparation, including recceing the whole course (I had no intention of having to navigate) and was pretty satisfied with my condition as the weekend approached.

I think that I'd cracked the biggest problem that a lot of my fellow entrants seemed to be struggling with, many years ago back in my developing years.  Mentally, the thought of running 100 miles has never been an issue for me.  My dad was a cyclist and he got me and my brothers on bikes not long after we could walk.  I did my first 'proper' bike ride when I was 5 years old (6 miles to the local power station and back).  I youth hostelled my way from Doncaster to Scarborough and back when I was 9 and did my first 100 mile bike ride as an 11 year old.  I've since done 240 mile 24 hour rides with very little training.  I know in my bones that any distance is possible if you just keep going.  However, the price I paid is that I'm a tourist and not a racer.  I don't mind the distance as long as I can choose my own pace.

My Good Run
After the last recce we had a presentation from last year's L100 winner Stuart Mills.  He asked us to discuss what would make a good race for us.  Stuart is a racer and not a tourist.  He'd been racing since he was a kid. 

I set out three objectives in the following order of priority:

1. To finish;
2. To enjoy it;
3. To get somewhere near 30 hours.

Race Weekend
I brought my family (minus daughter Lucy who's in the US) up to the Lakes with me to try and make a holiday of it.  We managed to get a last minute cottage some 7-8 miles south of Coniston.  I also put up a tent in the event campsite at Coniston High School as I was expecting to finish sometime after midnight on Sunday and wanted to crash out there.

Prior to the start I had to weigh in (so that they could detect hyponatreamia during the event) (at 88.1 kg) and register, collecting my race number (140) and Sports Ident dibber (for checking in at the 14 checkpoints on route) and having my kit checked.  Here's a dibber:

We all attended the pre-race briefing to be given last minute route instructions and a pep talk by the one and only living legend Joss Naylor.  He offered us advice on endurance running "keep the knees bent running downhill" and had a go at the 3-Peakers who clutter up Wasdale with their litter.  Then we had a hour to relax before the start.

There were four of us from Goyt Valley Striders (Mark R, Paul H, Pete D and me) in the 100 and one, Will, in the 50.  Others I knew were Colin W (Pennine), Simon M (Buxton), Steve F (Bingley) and Steve K(Manchester).  We lined up at the start in the hot sunshine.  The forecast had been for sunny intervals but this was no cool summer's day.  It was probably in the low 20's centigrade but it feels a lot more when there's no breeze and you're heading over the hills.  My two pre-race nightmares were hot weather and falling asleep on my feet.  The first was already here. 

 

Leg 1 - Coniston to Seathwaite (1h 27m)

Terry sounded the hooter and we were off.  The first of around a quarter of a million steps!

Here's some early video of the first 40 miles from http://zacpoulton.blogspot.com/ :

Lakeland 100 UTLD 2011 from Mountain Zac on Vimeo.

The usual rush over the first mile or so was soon over before settling down into the climb up into Coppermines valley.  I used my poles, which I'd recently acquired, on this climb.  They help enormously with my less than average hill climbing ability.  At 135g each they are extremely light but do the job admirably as long as you don't put all your weight on them.  I was so glad to have them for the climbs, especially those in the second half when I'd be knackered.  Unfortunately, that was not to be. 

We went round The Bell then back down to the start of Walna Scar Road where Stuart Mills was taking photos. 

Me and my poles 2 miles in         Picture - Stuart Mills

Pete D and I to and fro in the sweltering heat up to Walna Scar then drop over the other side together down to the Seathwaite checkpoint.  I dib in, top up my water and grab some food before leaving.  Pete had disappeared.  I though he'd pulled a fast one and dibbed and gone (he hardly drinks anything).  So I set off expecting to see him him just ahead.

Leg 2 - Seathwaite to Boot (1h 32m)

Across the valley then up to Glassguards where I had to stop the first of several groups on this leg going off route.  Around the farm then up the valley to the boggy stuff through the forest below Harter Fell (we pass both Harter Fells on this route).  I'd come down this boggy valley in much much worse conditions on the 2000 KIMM wading through knee deep slurry, so this felt quite luxurious in the dry conditions.  They'd even repaired parts of the path even since the recce in January, making parts of it runnable. Then it was over the fence and down through the gap in the crags.

Gap between the grags towards Boot                    Picture - Nick Ham

These valleys in the south western Lake District are some of my favourites.  They are less visited than most yet are the most scenic.  The Duddon valley in golden autumn sunshine is absolutely stunning. Along the wall then down past the farm (where an irate lady farmer was (quite rightly)ranting about gates being left open) then it was along the river and down a short lane to Boot.  The two pubs in Boot were packed with evening drinkers who cheered and clapped us as we passed which was nice.  Then it was onto the second checkpoint.  There'd been no sign of Pete so I thought he'd scarpered off into the sunset.  I obtained my first bottle of tea at Boot, having learned my lesson on the Bullock Smithy run last year when I lost loads of time trying to drink tea and move at the same time.  This worked a treat.  After letting it cool a bit I was able to drink it easily while on the move.

Leg 3 - Boot to Wasdale (1h 18m)

My strategy included not running up any hills in order to minimise muscle damage (and also because uphills are not my strength. Neither are downhills since I broke my face on a rock but that's another story), but I found my self jogging up parts of the climb to Burnmoor Tarn.  Having seen it on the recce I expected a few people to follow the track up the hill when it turned sharp left instead of going straight on.  I didn't expect everyone to do it.  It made me wonder if I was wrong but I stuck to my guns and went straight on.  The hardly existent path become more defined and my confidence was justified as I pulled back loads of runners who'd gone up the hill to the back end of the tarn and did two sides of a triangle instead of sticking to the route.  I allowed myself a little chuckle of smugness.  

There had been more footpath repair on this section since the recce, particularly on the tarn outlet and the path down to Wasdale.  I remember it being particularly rough going down into Wasdale but a lot of this had been smoothed out.  The route had been changed to avoid the stream crossing and followed the route that we'd conveniently taken in the recce.  It was starting to get dark as I approached Wasdale checkpoint.  It was still warm so I didn't put on any more clothing at the checkpoint apart from putting my buff round my neck.  The headtorch came out at this point but I didn't turn it on just yet.  Still no sign of Pete.

Leg 4 - Wasdale to Buttermere (2h 18m)

I set off on my own and dropped into Mosedale.  It was now dark enough to use the headtorch but I chose not to use it as I could make out the path OK.  It was a shame there was no moon.  It would have been amazing in this valley with a full moon shining.  Even so I managed to get to the top of Black Sail Pass in the dark without the use of a head torch.  I only turned it on when others joined me and my night vision was ruined.  The trail of head torches bobbing up the path to the pass was an incredible sight.  What a bunch of nutters we were.  We seemed to group up going down the pass.  There we two women in the group (one of whom I later learned was the winning lady Gaynor Prior).

It was here that disaster struck.  I had intended to use my poles only on the uphills put they seems to offer some stability going down in the dark.  I planted both poles into the ground when suddenly my feet slipped out from underneath me.  This was too much for my ultralight poles and they both snapped in the middle.  My heart sank.  I still had 85 miles to go!  I could picture the climbs out of Buttermere, Keswick, Howtown, Mardale and Kentmere all waiting to destroy my calfs and quads. I spent the next 30 miles trying to think of a way to fix the poles.  I even considered raiding the campsite at Braithwaite to nick a tent peg or two but chickened out in the end.  The last thing I needed was being chased down the road by a furious semi-naked camper!

So, I packed my poles away and got on with the job in hand (on foot?).  Half way down from Black Sail there's a craggy bit with a tree next to it.  I managed to remember that this can be avoided by simply going left where there's an easy grass path to the bottom of the crag. 

Going past Black Sail youth hostel one of the hostellers was sat outside watching us troop past.  I wonder how long he sat out there.  Must have been quite a sight with the head torches coming down the hill.  I was too busy watching where I put my feet to look back.  We then mounted Scarth Gap.  I missed my poles already but was pleasantly surprised that I didn't get passed.  The horrid boulder strewn path down to Buttermere was thankfully navigated safely and I managed to run the rest of the way to the checkpoint.  I'd hoped for six hours to this point which was a little ambitious considering it took seven and a half on the recce in January (although I was a lot less fit back then).  I dibbed in at 6:36. 

Leg 5 - Buttermere to Braithwaite (1h 57m)

Topped up the water and tea and grabbed an apple and a bag of jelly beans then I was off.  Halfway through the trees I met up with the other of the two ladies of Black Sail (Gaynor had gone off ahead of her at Scarth Gap).  She and another runner seemed to think I knew where I was going (which I did but don't things look different in the dark) and took my lead.  Fortunately I chose the right paths and we headed off up towards Sail Pass.  At the second stream before the proper climb started I came across another runner.  He turned round and said "Hello Mick".  It was Steve F of Bingley but how he recognised my with my headtorch shining in his face I don't know.  It was weird as I'd just been thinking about him due to his warning me a couple of weeks previously (when we'd both been supporting a mutual friend Dave S on his successful Bob Graham Round) about a very deep puddle on this very path.  We went up over Sail Pass (that path seemed ten times longer and harder than when I'd flown up it with my poles on the recce) and dropped down into Braithwaite together dibbing in at 2:00 a.m.  I loaded up with pasta and rice pudding while Steve took off.  The next time I saw him I didn't recognise him.

Leg 6 - Braithwaite to Blencathra (2h 7m) 

Leaving Braithwaite checkpoint I didn't think that I'd be able to run another step.  My legs were so stiff.  I managed to start with a shuffle which turned into a jog and by the time I left the village I was cruising!  I pulled back half a dozen runners and ran all the way up to Spooney Green Lane (can't help wanting to call it Spooky Green Lane), past a couple of sets of supporters cheering me on.  One of these turned out to be friends of the aforementioned Simon M. 

Between Braithwaite and Spooky Green Lane the route goes along a disused railway track.  This passes the back of Crosthwaite Church graveyard.  Several of my ancestors (the Borrowdale Wrens) from the 18th century are buried in there.  I wondered what they'd make of their ggggggg-grandson running 100 miles for the sake of it.

I power marched up the SGL hill keeping my eyes peeled for a suitable stick to replace my poles.  Didn't find one.  I ran and walked the path from Latrigg up the wonderfully named Glenderaterra valley.  As I approached the turn point at the end of the valley I could see a headtorch coming down from Skidday House (where I'd bunked in my youth when it was still a ruin).  I found out later that this was Colin W (more of whom later).  He'd overshot the turning. 

It was getting light as I approach the Blencathra Centre.  I managed to turn off my headtorch for a large part of the run/walk back down Glenderatta to the checkpoint where we were greeted by loads of balloons leading up to the checkpoint.  At the check point they were handing out free socks.  I certainly wasn't going to risk blisters by trying on untried socks so I didn't take them up on their very kind offer.  Plenty of others did.  As I was arriving Colin was leaving the checkpoint only to take another wrong turn and paying Threlkeld a visit before having to backtrack to the checkpoint.

Leg 7 - Blencathra to Dockray (2h 6m)

This leg proved to be my most weary.  It should have been a good runnable section but I was going through a tired spell.  I managed to run most of the railway line but trudged up to the coach road bemoaning the loss of my poles.  The sun, a big round orange ball, groped its way into the sky as I shuffled along the coach road.

I could feel my water logged socks rubbing on the arches under my feet so at the checkpoint (which apparently had been organised with 4 days notice after the original group pulled out. Well done gents) I took off my socks, rang them out and applied liberal amounts of Vaseline to the soles of my feet.  Maybe I should have tried the Blencathra socks after all.  As I was getting ready to go Paul H turned up.  I thought I'd see him at some point.  He's not naturally as fast a runner as me but he's relentless and has perfected the art of passing through checkpoints without seeming to stop whereas I dawdle and pratt around wasting time.  A real hare and tortoise pair we are (plus he'd managed not to break his poles.  Not that I was jealous of course.) 

I think it was here that Paul told me that Pete had retired with stomach problems.  Apparently he'd not dashed off after Seathwaite but had gone to the toilet.  No wonder I couldn't catch him up, he was behind me! 

Leg 8 - Dockray to Dalemain (2h 39m)

It was sunglasses back on now the sun was up.  It promised to be a glorious day, unfortunately. 

A painful jog down the road to Dockray proper then it was the track round and up onto Gowbarrow Fell.  A group of five or six of us had formed going up the hill.  I led the first half but felt I was holding them back so I let them go.  They soon disappeared leaving my to my own thoughts.  I just saw the last of them entering the lovely Swinburn Park woods as I started the descent.  I love this path through the woods.  It undulates through shaded areas broken up by the sun piercing its way through and lighting up small glades.  I first came through these woods some 20 years ago when I walked with my eldest daughter (she's 26 now) from our campsite at Watermillock to Aria Force.  The trees have grown a bit since then.  

Out of the woods and along the path then the route left the fells and took to cultivated fields and roads to Dalemain.  In the middle of the first field there's a small footbridge across a tiny stream.  On the recce we had just crossed this when a cow, thinking we were a threat to its calf, took a lunge at Paul who jumped back and cracked his knee on a rock.  The calfs had long gone this time. Three fields later and we were out onto the roads.  I'd nearly caught up with the group that had dropped me by now.   

I'm not sure how but I managed to run most of this road section to Dacre, past the still inhabited castle (windows need a wash) and along the farm track to Dalemain and past about eight other runners in the process. It was just after 9:00 a.m.  Time for breakfast.

Leg 9 - Dalemain to Howtown (2h 28m)

Picture this, a sweating and haggard looking 53 year old bloke sat on camping chair in a field wearing just speedos and a pair of compression socks.  Nice eh?  That was me for a while at Dalemain.  I had an almost complete change of clothes and shoes.  The checkpoint crew were marvellous, providing a waited service for the drinks and grub.  I washed myself down with wet-wipes and reapplied sunscreen and insect repellent before getting dressed into a much cooler white shirt. 

Paul turned up 12 minutes behind me but was in and out in a flash but not before spotting our clubmate Mark R laying down at the back of the marquee.  He told Paul that he'd retired.  I didn't want to disturb him as he seemed to be sleeping but we found out later (and in Gaynor's blog (where she calls him Marc)) that he'd been throwing up for miles.  He is prone to this having done it in the middle of his successful 50 at 50 Bob Graham last year.  We'd expected him to be miles ahead by now.  He'd arrived at Dalemain three and a half hours ahead of us!  I think I'd have been sick running at that pace.

After a good half hour or more of my pratting around I set off into the increasingly hot day for the second half.  As at Braithwaite it was hard to get going again but the legs soon freed up enough to shuffle along the river to Pooley Bridge.  This 2 mile stretch to Pooley Bridge from Dalemain was the only part of the route that I hadn't recced but it was hardly a navigational challenge. 

I walked almost all of the section from Pooley Bridge to the top before the right turn.  We'd spotted someone taking a short cut across that corner and we met him as he came off it (not much of a short cut then).  I checked his number later and he retired at Howtown so maybe he'd already decided to pack it in. 

The downhill into Howtown was nice with gorgeous views down Ullswater.  This western view along Ullswater has to be one of the best in the Lakes.

Down to Howtown   Pic - Andreas Mayer

A simple jog down into the checkpoint where I met Paul on his way out.  Colin was in there having a few minutes rest.  As I came out one of the checkpoint marshals was seeing to a guy laying on a bench and wrapped up in a blanket.  I didn't know at the time but it turns out this was Steve F.  He'd fainted from the heat and clearly had to pack.  I didn't recognise him although I didn't look too close.

It was then out of the checkpoint and up Fusedale.  I'd recced this stretch twice before so I knew what was coming next. 

Leg 10 - Howtown to Mardale Head (3h 32m) 

I wasn't feeling too bad at this point.  Some walkers asked what event we were doing.  I explained, showing them the race number on my rucksac like a peacock showing his feathers.  So suitably puffed up I trotted down the farm track to the bottom of the climb.  

The climb out of Howtown    Pic - Andreas Mayer

I could see Paul about half a mile ahead plugging away on his poles (not that I was fixating on them). This is one of those climbs that just gets harder and harder as you ascend.  Just before Groove Gill it gets really steep. This is where I had a unique experience (for me anyway).  I got shin cramp. How do you get cramp in your shins? Don't know but I did and it was agony.  I had to stop and turn round away from the slope.  I was also in serious risk of heat stroke.

Looking back down from Groove Gill    Pic - Andreas Mayer

I made it to Groove Gill and promptly stuck my head into the clear cool water, taking several gulps as I did.  That helped cool me down but there was still a way to go uphill.  It eases off just after Groove Gill before rearing up again to meet the High Street path.  I could hardly move up this section with my shin cramps and had to keep stopping. 

The top at last    Pic- Andreas Mayer

I finally got to the top and cross High Street at Wether Hill.  From High Kop I could just see Paul at Low Kop well over a mile away. I managed a jog along here, found the right path down to Haweswater, unlike many others judging by the paths hacked through the bracken, and caught up with Paul part way along the track along the northern bank.  It was here that I finally found a stick suitable for use as a pole.  Gandalf would have been proud of it.  I certainly was.  I'd been 50 miles without the aid of my poles and there was no way I was going up Gatesgarth Pass without some sort of support, not after my experience on Wether Hill. 

I ran out of drink alongside Haweswater and was beginning to overheat again.  Having passed a couple of streams that might have been suitable for a dip I was determined not to miss out at Randale Beck so I stripped off down to my shorts and compression socks (a reoccurring theme starting here but if I took off my compression socks I was afraid of my calf muscles exploding) and got into a nice cool pool.  I spent a lovely 5 minutes splashing around much to the amusement of a lady walker just downstream.  I hope she wasn't disappointed to see I was wearing shorts when I got out (although I'm sure the compression socks were a major turn on).  

 

Me and my Gandalf staff at Mardale Head just after my dip

A steady jog took me round to Mardale Head checkpoint to clock in at 2:54 p.m.  (Just 34 minutes before Terry Conway finished over in Coniston!  Mind you, he had been practising.)

Leg 11 - Mardale Head to Kentmere (2h 30m)

I met up with Paul at the checkpoint (where one of the Army guys there had clearly neglected the sunscreen) and set off up to Gatesgarth Pass suitable armed with my staff.  Partway up I decide to customise it and snapped off a foot or so to make it a more suitable length.  Mentally and physically I found this a lot easier than the previous hill.  Going down the other side into Longsleddale the conditions under foot were horrendous with crudely cobbled tracks and loose rocks.  As we approached the turn at Sadgill the first of the 50 milers came speeding past.  "Well done lads" he said as he disappeared up the track followed by a huge gap until his pursuers turned up. 

Over the Sadgill track and onto the road we went to be confronted by a pair of fiendishly high stiles.  They were 8 foot high drystone stepped monsters which were very painful to negotiate.  It wouldn't have taken much effort to fall off one of those after 80 odd miles.   As it was we made it over them and down the lane to the Kentmere checkpoint just inside 24 hours, and 85 miles.

I felt no worse, or better, than you'd expect in the circumstances but I was in for a bit of a surprise.

Leg 12 - Kentmere to Ambleside (4h 8m)

I decided that I was sick of drinking isotonic stuff and just use plain old water from here on.  I downed a couple of glasses of water but couldn't face the food on offer: pasta and rice pudding, although I did drink one of their marvellous fruit smoothies.  The marshals at the checkpoint were clearly on the lookout for signs of heatstroke, hypernutremia and dehydration (hyponutremia).  Two of them didn't like the look of me and were clearly concerned.  I'd stopped sweating (how long ago I don't know) and my resting pulse was 110 bpm when it should have been about 40.  Paul said that the colour suddenly drained from my face and he thought I was about to have a heart attack.  I didn't feel too bad in the circumstances but I'd decided myself that I wasn't going anywhere until I got some food inside me.  So, they decided that I was dehydrated and insisted on me drinking more isotonic.  One of them, Phil, said that I should have been doing this that and the other with my fluid intake, all of which I had been doing so I don't know where I'd gone wrong.  I told Paul not to wait for me and he set off after five or ten minutes.  Anyway to cut a long story short I sat around at Kentmere sipping my isotonic for about 40 minutes until I felt like eating.  My appetite returned and I had two bowls of each.  During this time Colin had turned up.  He's a trained first aider so he kindly offered to watch me (make sure I drank and started sweating) over the next leg.  I reciprocated by offering to guide Colin (his legs were giving him jip and I couldn't bear to let him go off course again). 

By this time I'd realised my third objective (to finish somewhere near 30 hours) was long gone so I was determined to achieve the first two (to finish and enjoy it).  I had loads of time on hand so was in no great rush to wear myself out.

So, we set off and strolled up the Garburn Pass.  I thankfully started sweating again but Colin's legs were getting worse.  Coming down the other side we were caught up by Will who was doing the 50.  He stopped to take our picture then took off down the hill. 

Colin and me after Garburn Pass   Pic - Willis Meredith

He then caught up with Paul and they finished together. Meanwhile Colin and I took our time down into Troutbeck.  The 50s were coming by in a steady stream by now.  One of them came past as I was strolling along and said to me "You're looking in good form" to which I replied "That's not what they said an hour ago!".  Colin's injuries got progressively worse as we went.  Coming down through the woods above Ambleside he was reduced to a very painful shuffle and decided that he would pack at Ambleside.  I made sure that he was on the road into Ambleside then took my leave.  I'd enjoyed the rest but was now itching to get going again, especially as my family were waiting down in Ambleside.  I ran the mile or so to the checkpoint.  The clapping and cheering along the high street was unexpected but very nice if not a little embarrassing.  I ran the last couple of hundred yards with my youngest daughter Polly and our dog Phoebe.  My eldest daughter Vicky was videoing my approach just as the battery ran out!  

This checkpoint was in the Lakes Runner shop and it was roasting inside.  I was certainly sweating now.   

Leg 13 - Ambleside to Chapel Stile (2h 4m)

It was head torch time again.  Still no need for an extra top though. I left the checkpoint with my family who came as far as the cinema / last road crossing.  Vicky took my picture.  This is what you look like after 90 miles and being awake 40 hours.

"Look into my eyes"

After leaving the park I joined up with Nick Ham (the man in Union Jack shorts, who also went on to do the Long Tour of Bradwell the following week) for a while.  As I passed Skelwith Bridge Hotel who should be stood outside with a pint in his hand but the elusive Pete.  After blinding him and his lovely wife with my headtorch we had a chat for five minutes before I set off again along the river.  It was along here that I experienced my only episode of sleepiness.  For ten minutes or so I found myself dreaming of all sorts of weird stuff (none of which I remember but something about witches rings a bell).  I came out of this at Elterwater and soon (30 hours in) found myself in at the Chapel Stile checkpoint where I got a seat right next to the chimnea. 

 

Leg 14 - Chapel Stile to Tilberthwaite (3h 1m)

I availed myself of two bowls of their wonderful stews, a coffee and a top up for my camelbak.  I also swapped my t-shirt for a long sleeved top, largely because I knew I'd be freezing after sitting next to the fire. 

I'd recced this section twice before but was glad that I could just follow someone up to the climb at least.  I ended up in a group of 50 milers.  I think it was a mixture of 3 teams.  Blea Tarn came and went and we set off through the bracken.  I knew something was wrong routewise when we started going downhill rather than contouring.  I was committed by now so followed them to the road and sure enough they'd cut the corner.  I told them but they ignored me and set of down the road.  I went up the road to the corner where we should have come out (partly to ensure I'd done the whole route but also to make sure there wasn't a secret dibber there checking for cheats).  I caught the naughty ones up on the hill.  They'd taken a left on the Tilberthwaite track and were coming back as I passed the turning. 

So, down into High Tilberthwaite and along the road to the penultimate checkpoint where on spotting I was a 100 miler they gave me special treatment with a seat away from the crowds and waiting on me with food and drink. Thank you Darwen Dashers.

Leg 15 - Tilberthwaite to Coniston (1h 42m) 

The 50 milers I came down with had gone by the time I left Tilberthwaite.  I went up the steps lit up with blue glow sticks (the steps not me) and up past the quarry.  I got a phone call from Paul going up here.  He'd finished and was going to wait for me.  On putting my phone away I saw my first sleepmonster.  There was a rock and I was sure that there were two sheep sheltering next to it but they kept changing.  One minute they'd have two heads then they'd turn into dogs complete with spikey collars. Weird.  I went on my way.  The recces proved useful here. I managed to stay on the right path but was constantly plagued by more sleep monsters.  The shadows and dark puddles turned into buildings.  Near the waterfall and tree I looked across and was sure there was an entire derelict village across the stream.  This stuff continued until I hit the coppermines track above Miners Bridge.  The descent was rough but not as bad as I'd expected.  I started running once onto the Miners Bridge track, ran by the 50 milers from earlier and kept running to the finish to be greeted by cheers and claps.  It did occur to me then that I was glad I wasn't trying to sleep nearby.  That thought soon disappeared as I dibbed in for the last time.  

Objectives 1 and 2 met!            Pic - Harshan Gill

Leg 16 - Coniston to Land of Nod (1h 15m)

I'd lost a mere 3kg in weight, got no blisters or black nails and all things considered felt pretty good.  Paul sorted me out with food and drink before I went for a shower then crawled into my tent.  It was too warm for the sleeping bag so I just used my sleeping bag liner.  Two and a half hours later and I was up and dressed as I was bursting for a pee.  I stayed up, clapping in the tail enders, until my family turned up from the cottage. 

Paul (still asleep) and me

Would I do it again? Of course.  Still got to meet objective 3.