10.94 miles, to be exact.
I don’t think I can adequately put into words how amazing the run was. It helped, of course, that the weather was on my side: sunny, for the most part, with a gentle breeze which kept me cool. The conditions were perfect for a long run / walk / climb up and down the fells, through brooks, streams, mud.
I set off from outside one of the Sedbergh School boarding houses on Long Lane, with rucksack on and feeling well equipped for what lay ahead. 2 miles in and I wondered if I’d made a mistake: I’d already had to walk considerable amounts. At least if I turned back, I’d get a good 4 miles under my belt, and there’s always next year. I reached for my phone to text my friend, Emma, to let her know I was thinking of turning back… but then I knew what she’d say. So away went the phone and on went the legs.
It was at this point that the first set of ‘elite’ runners came past me with great strength. These were the real runners, in my mind, their calf muscles flexing as they shot past me. I heard their “Well done!” and it pushed me on. As I ran on to Cautley, I met 2 members of the walking party who had set off before me. I stopped for a walk of around a mile, chatting to them, refuelling with Percy Pigs and water, and sharing how my training was going. I had a final stretch at the Cautley pitstop, chatting to more walkers who assured me that I was a proper runner, before I decided to head off towards Baugh Fell.
Within a mile I was walking again as I hit yet another steep descent, and then the real work started. I don’t know why, but I had made the assumption that it was a case of making the climb up Baugh Fell, and then it’d be straight forward: run across Baugh Fell, find my way back on to the A684, which would draw me back into Sedbergh. Of course, things are never that simple, and you should never assume anything.
In reality, Baugh Fell was a series of very serious and sudden declines of 100-200feet (30-60 metres), a great deal of mud, rivers and streams to run through and very uneven soft ground. This was where my ankles took a real beating as they bent this way and that with each landing. At one point I decided a farm track would be the best route, rather than the uneven boggy terrain of Baugh Fell. It was more solid than the marshy fell-land, but I soon found both feet firmly planted shin deep in mud, a la Vicar of Dibley. The only way out was for my hands to go all the way in too. Thankfully there was yet another stream for me to stop beside shortly after to rid my hands of the majority of the mud before continuing on my way. Who wants to run 4 miles with dry mud caked on their hands?
Shortly after my attempt to clean up a little, I realised I was at 6.5 miles. This was officially the furthest I had ever run… though I still feel a fraud for saying that, as I had been walking considerable amounts. An incredible feeling rushed over me. What an achievement! I was 6.5 miles in, out of 10. And the only way back now was to run on; the quickest way home to a shower was to finish the race. Before I knew it, I could see the car park at Danny Bridge ahead of me and I knew I only had one 70ft climb ahead of me before the 2 and a bit miles on the road back to Sedbergh.
Sadly, my hamstring suddenly gave out. It was less of a tight muscle pain, more of an injured feeling. Kissing goodbye to a sub 3 hour time, my running pace slowed to a 15 minute mile (I’d normally run an 11.5 minute mile) as I hobbled on down the road. I was rather alarmed when I looked to see I had run 10 miles, but knew I was still a fair bit away from the finish line. It turns out that this 10 mile run is actually just short of 11.
As I came down to the final 500 metres a message came up on my phone from my friend, Emma, asking if I’d finished. She must have taken my silence and non text back as a sign that I was in fact still running because, as I came running down the final strait to finish, I looked up and she was running down to join me. Just like that, 3 hours and 20 minutes had passed, and I’d run over 10 miles.
It’s only been a day and people have been asking how it was. Quite honestly I’m not sure there will ever be anything like it. To finally complete a run that I was always too unfit or scared to tackle feels incredible. At the end I ran past the teacher who often had to stop me at Cautley because I was taking too long and wouldn’t be able to complete the run in a quick enough time. He smiled and congratulated me. I wondered if he remembered me. I mean, there’s no reason he would. I didn’t run at school, and that was over a decade ago. So I replied, “Thanks! I wouldn’t have qualified though.”
What is incredible is that, year after year, 16-18 year olds run this gruelling route. Some train for it, some don’t, and they finish to rapturous applause and cheering. There is something of a determined and motivated spirit in these young people, that they would choose to complete something so outside an ordinary person’s comfort zone. Now I have done it, I can see why. There is something so freeing, something so exhilarating, something so life giving, about being on the open fells, surrounded by nothing but creation.
Next year the run will be in its 140th year. I’ll be there, chasing my sub 3 hour finishing time. What will you be doing?