Lakeland 50 Ultra Trail Marathon - race report

Lakeland 50 2018

Pre race

After a fairly short and restless nights sleep on the Friday night, which wasn't unexpected due to the amount of people on the camp site and the general buzz of anticipation, as to what awaited us on Saturday morning. I was up early and pottering around the campsite, with virtually no one else about, having the choice of all the thunderboxes and I actually found one with loo roll in, which saved me from a panic and wasting a pair of socks. From the near 30 degree heat that we'd had on Friday as we cheered the Lakeland 100 competitors off, it was a pretty chilly morning with some torrential rain showers and heavy skies. Which to be honest was a bit of a relief for most of us fair skinned competitors. I was surprisingly relaxed and felt no nerves at all, which was really out of character for me, so I just enjoyed the build up and getting my kit on and as others started emerging from their tents and motorhomes the atmosphere started to grow too. I'd had a sausage and egg barm from the caterers on site and was looking forward to getting on with the day. Other Invictus team members started arriving and we were soon all together and going into the briefing, which had the usual humour from Marc Laithwaite. Then it was time to get on the coaches and head to Dalemain for the start.

Dalemain start

At Dalemain it was already busy with loads of supporters there already, as well as the competitors in the Lakeland 50 getting themselves sorted, there were also cheers and applause every time one of the Lakeland 100 competitors came through Dalemain, which was the halfway point on their race, those guys are something else completely. It was really good to see Clare, Gemma and Dave who had driven up from Wigan to support us, so it was quick hugs all round, last words of encouragement and then being herded into the starting pen, ready for the start of the Lakeland 50.

Dalemain to Howtown 17.8km

I still hadn't been feeling nervous, but I knew that it was going to be a tough day. I'd not been able to run properly for 5 weeks leading up to the race, due to injuries to my hip, thigh and glute and the arthritis in my knee had flared up a bit, but this wasn't going to stop me enjoying myself. The plan was to stick with Jack until Howtown, then I'd probably fall behind and settle into my own rhythm. So off we set, to the sound of ACDC, Thunderstruck ringing out from the p.a. system. What I hadn't banked on though was how warm it was when the clouds cleared and the sun came out and within 5 mins I was boiling hot and had to take my jacket off, this was the last time I was to see Jack. I set off again and just gradually settled into my own pace. Chatting to the odd other runner, having a laugh with some and generally just plodding along. It always takes me a good few miles to get into my rhythm, so I knew that I just had to relax and wait for that to happen. As we came through Pooley Bridge the atmosphere was great, with loads of people shouting and cheering and with the tourists thinking "what are these lunatics up to"? After an hour or so my back had started to hurt, which was slightly sooner than expected (it's usually about 2 hours), so I decided to take my first painkillers. I was carrying enough drugs to fell a baby elephant, so knew I'd be ok if I took them at the prescribed intervals throughout the day. So down with the first 2 codeine, pressed lap on my watch so that I knew when I'd taken them and I couldn't have any more pain relief for another 3 hours and just crack on. By the time I got to Howtown we'd had a couple of heavy showers and although the niggles in my legs were sore, I was happy with how I was going. Straight into CP1, quick dib of the dibber on my wrist, to check in at the CP, then I picked up a handful of jelly babies and biscuits and popped them into a plastic sandwich bag and off out again, ready to take on Fusedale.

CP1 Howtown

Howtown to Mardale 15.2km

Feeling fresh and energised by the little stop at Howtown I set off up Fusedale. I'd read comments earlier in the week that Fusedale is often referred to as "the cauldron" because it's so notoriously hot and humid in summer, but there was to be non of that today. I'd got chatting to a lad about stuff in general and we stuck together for a mile or so, until the climb started. It was about this time that the hail started too, so I just put my head down, pulled my hood up and kept plodding away. It soon became clear that many of the competitors were really struggling with this weather and were having some proper sense of humour failures (they obviously weren't northerners 😉), the pace got slower and slower until eventually I just stepped off the footpath and started passing them. The higher up we went the worse the conditions got, some people were literally being blown over by the gales and the hail stones were getting bigger and coming at us horizontally, it was that windy. Some competitors were even just stopping and sitting down. This just seemed to fuel my energy levels and I was overtaking loads of competitors, all the time I just smiled to myself, remembering that if you smile you can't feel fed up at the same time. As we got over the top of Fusedale and left onto High Cop the hail had stopped, but it was still windy and blowing a gale, so I thought it'd be nice to have a little trot with a tailwind. As I started to run though, the pain in my knee and hip suddenly went through the roof, I literally couldn't run at all. So I just had to make my way down to Low Cop and then down to Haweswater as best as I could, stopping regularly and keeping my mind occupied by taking water, salt tablets, jelly babies etc. Everyone who I'd overtaken going up Fusedale had now repassed me and I was feeling frustrated and a bit down. Fitness wise, I felt great, but the pain just wouldn't allow me to do anything more than walk downhill. As we got onto the footpath that runs parallel to Haweswater I managed a few little runs where the footpath was flatter and it was a relief to get some better pace going again. I'd stopped at a stream and refilled my bottle and the ice cold water tasted absolutely amazing, so I was using little things like that as a way of staying "happy" and focused. The weather was still changeable, going from pleasant sunshine to torrential downpours with virtually no warning at all. So it was a case of constantly jacket on, jacket off, jacket on, jacket off. At one point at the top end of Haweswater, at Mardale, there was a huge black cloud and a massive bolt of lightning and that's exactly where I was headed but I just focused on getting to CP2 at Mardale where I could regroup. Thankfully, by the time I got to the Checkpoint the cloud had passed and I could take on board fuel. I had what felt like a litre of Coca Cola and half a loaf of ham and cheese sandwiches, before setting off again.

CP2 Mardale

Mardale to Kentmere 10.4km

Not long after leaving Mardale we were treated to more of the Lake District's finest summer weather, with more driving rain, hail and gales. This time, directly into our faces. Ascending Gatesgarth Pass it was just a case of head down, grin and bear it, using my poles for balance as well as helping to push me up the incline. I'd done this part of the course a couple of weeks earlier, with Jack and Ste, as a recce and it was tough then, in nice weather, but today it was just brutal. I just concentrated on not looking up the mountain and just kept putting one foot in front of the other and the top would arrive sooner or later. Cresting the summit and we were going straight into the teeth of the gale, the driving rain sapping any body heat and I'd started getting colder and colder because I wasn't going fast enough to generate heat. Halfway down and I was shivering uncontrollably and getting a bit worried because I knew I had to warm up somehow, and fast. I was starting to let my head go down and I had a thought that "if I can get to Ambleside, I can drop out there", I quickly told myself to shut up, get a grip and keep moving. So I put my waterproof pants on and carried on shuffling down the steep descent, which was as much as the pain would allow. As I got nearer the bottom of the descent the footpath levelled off a little bit, so I was able to increase my pace to a slow trot. This felt amazing, not only because of the body heat it generated, but also because it felt so good to get some proper movement back in my legs. I caught up with a bloke who was just ahead and he'd been crying, so I asked if he was ok and he told me how cold he was and that he couldn't feel his hands, so we stayed together for a while and we both carried on towards the bottom. As we dropped lower, he seemed to pick up a bit and the feeling came back to his hands, so I set off again at a slow, painful trot. This was a key stage for me because I knew that by the time I reached Kentmere I was over half way, but as I went through the couple of fields before the Kentmere CP I looked at my watch and knew that any hope of a 15 hour race was a rapidly fading possibility, so then my focus shifted towards just finishing it. I was sore, cold, soaking wet, tired and hungry, so the next CP couldn't get here soon enough. The marshalls at the Kentmere CP were amazing, not just for being dressed in grass skirts and having a "beach party" but also by taking my bottles off me and filling them up with Coke, or blackcurrant juice, making sure I had enough to eat and drink and then I was off out again. I'd decided before the start of the race that I was going to spend as little time in each CP as possible, so I was still trying to maintain getting in there, quick refuel and fill up, sort myself out and get going again.

CP3 Kentmere

Kentmere to Ambleside 11.8km

Leaving Kentmere I was still struggling with the pain, the painkillers didn't feel like the were still having a great effect and my back was aching even on flatter sections (it only usually hurts going up hill), but I knew that every single step I took, it was a step closer to the finish line, albeit 23 miles away. I'd had my third lot of painkillers by now and I tagged on to a couple of competitors from Manchester, so we spent a few minutes chatting about random stuff, until we got to the climb up Garburn Pass and they started to fall behind. I was feeling ok ish, so I just ploughed on, knowing that when I got to the top of here it was comparatively flat all the way to Ambleside, with just a few hills in between. I then caught up with another group and we stuck together most of the way to Ambleside. One of them asked me how I was feeling and I remember saying to him "I wish my body felt as fresh as my mind", I was content with how I was doing, knowing that I was strong enough to finish. Passing through Troutbeck was a surreal moment because there were 4 ladies wearing massive duck costumes at a road junction. Either that or these painkillers had just produced an awesome side effect. Dropping down to Ambleside the group I was with pushed ahead and I was alone again, until I caught up with a bloke who was by himself too. So we stuck together 'til Ambleside. He told me he wanted to start triathlon and had heard about the sport. He didn't know I was so heavily involved in the sport and I think he soon came to regret mentioning it when he couldn't shut me up talking about it. Coming up the road into Ambleside and we started jogging and it was a great feeling when I saw a friendly face in Gemma, who told me that she had a message from Ruth and Hannah and that they loved me. I think I managed to disguise my bottom lip going at this point. Luckily normality was resumed soon after when Clare told me that my mate Phil had posted to say "get a move on" or words to that effect 😃. Coming into Ambleside CP and it was great, partly because it was nice to see some proper civilisation for the first time in what felt like ages and I spent a while (far too long) talking to Clare, Gemma and Mike, before setting off again. 

CP4 Ambleside

Ambleside to Chapel Stile 9km

Leaving Ambleside and feeling ok I was almost looking forward to the next section. It was a nice flat few miles to Chapel Stile, with only a small hill in it. However, within 5 minutes of leaving Ambleside I remembered that I'd wanted to take my waterproof trousers and jacket off and put my headphones on, ready for some tunes if the going got tough in the dark. So there I am, stood in the pitch black, trying to strip off and get my headphones out, without knocking my headtorch off and with not enough strength to balance properly, I must have looked ridiculous. Wardrobe change completed and off I go again, before getting to a cross roads only to have complete brain fade. I was stood there looking at the Lakeland 50 road book guide that we all had, cross referencing it with my GPS map and I still couldn't work out which way to go. Maybe I wasn't as mentally fresh as I thought! Until someone coming up behind me shouted "go left". So off I went again. I knew that at the top of this road we went onto Loughrigg Fell and then it was on to Skelwith Bridge. After Skelwith we followed the river to Elterwater and I was hoping to trot again along here because it was so flat, but with the state of my legs, feet and back, there was no chance of that, so I just walked but used my poles and tried to set a good pace walking. I was actually catching a few people up and passing them, even though I was walking, so that did wonders for my morale. During this section I'd developed hiccups and they lasted for what seemed like hours. I was behind someone and had been hiccuping for ages and I'm sure he actually tutted, the cheeky sod. I'm pretty sure they were getting on my nerves more than his! Coming into Chapel Stile and I nearly took a couple of wrong turns and had to be corrected by another competitor a few times, before finally arriving at Chapel Stile Checkpoint and the most amazing chocolate cake. Again having my bottles taken off me to be filled with Coke, but my request for them to add a shot of Jack Daniels fell on deaf ears. I'd been feeling sick every time I'd tried to eat anything but jelly babies since the Kentmere CP, so when I tried the chocolate cake and didn't have any side effects it felt great.

CP5 Chapel Stile

Chapel Stile to Wrynose 10.6km

From leaving Chapel Stile I knew I only had about 10 miles to go and although my body was screaming at me to stop and let it rest, but there was absolutely no way I was going to pack in so close to the finish, I could almost touch it, it felt that close. Just after leaving Chapel Stile and it started chucking it down again, so it was back on with the jacket. A couple of miles later and my headtorch started flashing, letting me know that the batteries were starting to run out. So I decided to change them, holding my phone in my mouth, with the light on, while I fumbled about in pouring rain trying to swap the batteries, before cracking on to the last checkpoint. During the next few miles groups started to form as competitors caught up with those in front who were starting to suffer now and this wasn't helped when we came to the first of two ladder stiles. All I could think was that Marc Laithwaite must be a very sadistic man, to put two 10ft tall ladder stiles in the course, at about 43 miles 😂. After these it was up another hill and following the footpath to the small forest, before the unmanned Wrynose CP. At one point, near the top of the hill, I looked behind me back down the hill and it looked absolutely awesome to see a really long line of torch beams all the way down the hill. After the forest it was just a case of traversing a hill and fighting our way through another sea of ferns and across some rocky ground, before emerging onto what's normally boggy ground, but was much drier because of the recent weather and a short walk towards the CP, which was the penultimate one. 

CP6 Wrynose Pass

Wrynose to Tilberthwaite

This was the penultimate leg of the race and I knew we didn't have all that far to go. By this point though any small hill felt like a mountain and each step going down hill felt like I was being struck by lightning, with shooting pains in my feet, ankles, knees and hip. Not to mention the constant ache in my back and shoulders. I was holding my poles behind me and lifting the weight of my pack up, to relieve the pressure on my shoulders and that seemed to help quite a bit. Coming to the bottom of Wrynose Pass and we turned off the road and up another hill. I knew that we weren't far from the finish now and I kept smiling to myself as I recalled some of the laughs that we'd had on the recce's that we'd done as a group. It was along this stretch that Mick put some dried grass on Jack's shoulder, only for Jack to chase him and try to throw him in a bush, with Mick squealing like a schoolgirl 😂, I don't think I'll ever forget memories like that and it was recalling those that made this section seem easier than it possibly was. I don't recall much else from this bit, apart from one bloke asking me how far to the CP and I said about 2 miles. I thought he was going to either start crying or punch me, such was his shock. I was obviously more tired than I thought, because it turned out to be just round the corner, oops. Shuffling into the final CP and I felt wrecked. I'd been on the course for over 16 hours and hadn't sat down since 1100 on Saturday morning, so I just asked if I could sit in one of their chairs. I knew this may be a mistake, but I just had to take the weight off my feet and knees. Luckily, after a few minutes I climbed out of the chair, actually in all honesty, one of the marshalls lifted me out. I grabbed some more jelly babies and was ready for the final 4 miles. I asked where the box was that we put our £1 toll fee for the Tilberthwaite steps, which was actually a charity donation to someone's young son, called Jacob, who is suffering from cancer, so just for one night the steps had been renamed Jacobs ladder. 

CP7 Tilberthwaite

Tilberthwaite to Coniston (finish) 5.7km

Leaving Tilberthwaite I decided I'd put my headphones on, so searched for a suitable playlist, turned it up loud and hit the steps with all the ferocity and speed of a baby garden snail. I'd got Metallica - Blitzkrieg blaring out and all I could do was wince as I tried to lift a leg up a step at a time, before using my poles to push my body up and repeat all the way up. Luckily there are only about 25 or so steps and they were all lit up with green Cyalume sticks (so looked amazing from the bottom), but it felt like each step was 5ft tall and they were never ending. After conquering the steps I just used my poles to push me up the hill before I came to an old ruin. There was a low wall that was about 2 ft high and it was just too inviting to walk past without sitting down for a few minutes and have a little rest. I ate nearly all my remaining jelly babies, drank all my coke and set off again. Getting to the rocky scrambling section and standing at the bottom of it, looking up and thinking "how the hell am I going to get up there"? I just inched my way up it, taking it slow (very) and steady, eventually emerging onto the grassy footpath again. From here I knew I just had about 1.5 miles to the top before it was all downhill to the finish. As I got further up it started raining heavier and heavier, I'd got Slayer - Raining Blood playing now and the thrash metal just kept me going through the final bit. The rain started to ease slightly but I started to get really worried because my vision had started to blur, the higher I went the more blurred it got, so I was thinking all sorts of things about what was wrong with me. I was wiping my eyes to see if that helped, but it didn't. Then it dawned on me, I was walking into a bank of cloud and it was actually fog that was reflecting the beam of my head torch. The mind can play some funny tricks when it's tired. Panic over and it was up to the summit and down the other side. Descending was the usual pain with every footstep, but I was soon on the tarmac road that led into Coniston. At the T Junction I was met by Angie from McLovin' bikes who gave me some praise and told me Mark was up the road, so after getting up to him and telling him that he was a liar for telling me I'd love the event, I was off to the finish line, crossing with a time of 17 hrs 35 mins and 30 secs. After a quick finish line selfie I was taken into the marquee and met by a roar of cheers and cowbells (I still hate those bloody cow bells), before burying my face in my hands and blubbing like a baby, before sorting myself out and getting my medal and finisher photo. I was in absolute bits, physically, but I was buzzing from being able to get through the day and being able to dig deep when I needed to.

Finish Coniston

In conclusion

From last September, when I was lying in a hospital bed, feeling completely broken and in a world of pain, I've never looked back and thought "if only". I've only ever tried to look forward and remain positive. Yes, there have been many days of pain and many days where I just couldn't face putting my trainers on and getting out running again. But I've only ever tried to lead by example and remain positive for as much as I could. On some of the training runs that I've done, when I've been in absolute agony, bent double in pain and the people I've been training with have encouraged me to carry on and that I'm doing ok, when family have showed unwavering support, from literally lifting me out of bed and drying me off after a shower in the early days after my crash, or by helping Ruth out by giving her lifts to the hospital or to come and visit me themselves, or by just being subtle in their support, things like that have kept me going. Without the support of friends, clubmates and incredible family, I'm not sure I'd have got this far in such a short space of time. For all that, I'm incredibly indebted.

All the way through the Lakeland 50, I tried to remain as positive and mentally strong as I could. There were times when I could have let things get on top of me and stopping at the next checkpoint would have been the easy option, but I kept going. Drawing strength from recalling listening to people like Marc Laithwaite say that getting to the finish line should always, always be your goal and don't make any rash decisions that you will regret for a long time. When I said to those competitors that "I wish my body was as fresh as my mind", I meant it. I was so utterly focused on not giving up and knowing that the mind is by far the strongest weapon in any athletes armoury, because ultimately your mind will give up before your body will and I wasn't prepared to let this happen. On the Thursday before the race my dad gave me some advice (as dad's do) and he told me not to "over do it" and I could stop if it feels like it's too much. I told him that "that's just a state of mind". I didn't mean to sound arrogant or blase, just that I knew that I was mentally strong enough to finish this race and if I stayed strong mentally, my body wouldn't let me down.

The Lakeland 50 was the most brutal race that I've ever done, by a long way, to see grown men crying because of how they were feeling, to cope with not only an extremely tough course, but the weather conditions as well made it feel all the more like a great personal achievement. If you go into it with any sort of niggles and pains, it'll find them and amplify them tenfold. Similary, as you progress through the race you may find other parts start breaking down and will hinder your progress. But as long as you keep going forwards, putting one foot in front of the other, you can do it. These races are meant to be "enjoyable", but they're meant to really push you. Afterall, how do you know where your limits are, if you don't push yourself beyond them?