Six Dales Circuit 2012

I last did the Six Dales Circuit in 2009 when I arrived at the start late and had to chase the field to catch up. This year I allowed an extra hour to travel from Grantham. My new sat nav seemed to help no end and I arrived with a two hours to spare. I pondered how the extra time could have been spent in bed. A 5.15am start was a challenge in itself. I spent the extra time walking a small section of the route near Hartington to remind myself of the way across some fields and to take some pictures to illustrate this post.    

 

Lathkill Dale

 

This event is a firm favourite. The 25 mile route passes through some spectacular parts of the white peak and the six dales of Biggin Dale, Wolfscote Dale, Beresford Dale,  Lathkill Dale, Bradford Dale and Long Dale are only more enhanced by the golden colours of the season. This year we were blessed with cool November sunshine that made the autumnal colours glisten even more.

 

After my mini recce I returned to the sleepy and probably still sleeping village of Biggin  to watch the walkers start. The village church bells struck at 8am and a noticeably large field of walkers passed the car parking field where I stood. I made my own final preparations before walking to the village hall to chat with other runners who were also milling around waiting for the same church bells to strike an extra time an hour later. It was good to be reunited with other folk from previous events. Arriving in Biggin with two hours to spare had left me feeling relaxed, obviously too relaxed because, as I lined up at the start and glanced to the right I noticed a tally card attached to another runner's back pack. "I haven't got one of those" I thought sleeply before the spark lit. In my laid back state, although I had pre entered, I had forgotten to register at the start. Thereafter followed my more usual pre race routine of panic as I rushed back into the village hall with seconds to spare until the bells tolled. Thankfully, seconds later I was back outside complete with tally card clutched in my hand. A normal relaxed start just wouldn't have been fashionable.

 

The path after Hartington

 

 

The bells rang nine times and we cantered out of the village and down into Biggin Dale. The dale contains plenty of slippery lime stone and I cut some colourful shapes as I tried to keep my self upright. The white cliffs of Wolfscote Dale dominated the side of the valley and the clear water stream running through the middle of it far below. I ran alongside the stream with only Fraser Hirst in front. I knew Fraser was a stronger runner than I and I was surprised to have kept up with his pace. I needn't have worried, after the first checkpoint at Hartington, Fraser fired the afterburners and ran on out of sight. I was still running strong as I crossed the moor towards the midshires way. This was the part that I had recceed earlier in the morning. By now I had caught up with the 8am walkers and they provided a handy line in front to aid my navigation across a few tricky fields.

 

A stiff climb to the midshires way challenged the lungs but there was no time to rest. I glanced back and noticed plenty of chasing runners. I ran fast along perhaps two miles of the disused railway. For some trail runners this part is too hard underfoot and monotonous. I used the opportunity to run faster and put to use my seasons training on the roads. Another climb to the Bull in' thorn leads to a easier downhill section more or less all the way to Monyash. The checkpoint at Monyash offers a fine selection of food. I was ready for replenishment and ate malt loaf and sweets washed down with cordial. The checkpoint at Monyash even offers Staffordshire oatcakes with cheese, appreciated by walkers and runners with cast iron stomachs. I reluctantly turned down the oatcake offer and ran out into perhaps the most beautiful dale of the route, Lathkill Dale.

 

The upper part of Lathkill  Dale is a national nature reserve and apparently English writer Izaak Walton declared the stream which flows through it as the purest and most transparent stream he had ever seen. I've never heard of Izaak Walton but I can confirm that the stream this year flowed strong and clear passing occasional waterfalls which add to the beauty of this picturesque dale. I noticed occasional 'twitchers' perched on the dale side with tripods ready to photograph the plentiful local wildlife. This is a great place to run. The initial rocky stage gives way to an easily runnable river bank all the way through to Over Haddon and on to Conksbury Bridge. The sun continued to shine and it was an invigorating stage all the way to the next checkpoint at Milldale.

 

Conksbury Bridge

Just before Milldale I crossed the wrong bridge but realised my mistake as the track at the other side  looked unfamiliar. I had remembered the route so far but now had to resort to the route description which confirmed that I had crossed a bridge too early. I retraced my steps and carried on. Just before the track up to Milldale I noticed a fluorescent jacket flash in woods ahead, it was Fraser, I hadn't seen him since leaving Hartington earlier in the morning. Fraser had already visited the checkpoint and was disappearing through the woods on the final stage to the finish. I shouted some encouragement which was hopelessly lost between the trees. The climb up the track to Milldale is stiff and I had to walk in parts. After Milldale I would only have about six miles left to run. I thought I was still second in the event field but I had started to tire. I didn't dwell at the checkpoint it was time to get this thing done. I wasn't going to catch Fraser but it would be nice to be second home.  The route from Milldale involves a retrace of steps back down the steep track to the river before negotiating fields and a wood towards the final dale, Long Dale.

 

On the descent of the track I met perhaps four or five other runners. I was surprised that they had caught up as I hadn't seen anyone behind for quite some time. Perhaps my bridge error had cost me time. I struggled in the final stage. My energy ran out and I resorted to the emergency provisions which I had carried in my back pack. I staggered up towards the descent to Long Dale. My pace had slowed dramatically and I was sure my chasing comrades would catch up. These events aren't super competitive but its nice to run as fast as you can, challenge your previous times and hold your place in the field. Long Dale is usually very boggy and I wasn't looking forward to wading through the mud, the energy from the emergency provisions had yet to kick in. This year surprisingly the Dale wasn't too bad and I was able to shuffle at a reasonable pace to the road. The final climb to Friden and on to Newhaven went on for ages as the later stages of these events always seem to.

 

Pork Pie Den

I was glad to cross the A515, mostly downhill from here. I noticed that if I kept pace I could break four hours. The rations kicked in and I galloped ahead. I took a direct line up and over the disused railway. From the top I could see the buildings in Biggin nestling temptingly less than a mile away. I kept a strong pace to enter the village and on to the village hall arriving back in 3 hours 55minutes before shaking hands with Fraser who had come home perhaps seven minutes earlier.  

 

This was a great day out across an inspiring route. Staffordshire Long Distance Walkers Association put on a brilliant, good value event. The comparatively nominal entry fee includes a three course meal at the finish. Soup, stewed meat with vegetables and rice pudding is offered along with tea or coffee and there is a vegetarian option available. Each finisher is awarded a printed certificate. It was good to eat with the other folk that continued to arrive all with their own tales of their 25 mile adventures.

 

After the event I drove out to Conksbury Bridge and wandered back through Lathkill Dale to appreciate the views at a slower pace and take some photos to further illustrate this post. A great day finished with a half a pork pie and pickle in the excellent Lathkill Hotel.      

        
 

Rowbotham's Round Rotherham 2012

The alarm clock sang at 4.50am. I grunted and then like an automaton, headed like a zombie to the shower. It was no fun. Thereafter followed a quick bowl of porridge and a strong cup of coffee before the journey North to Dearne Valley college near Mexborough. The Round Rotherham is a 50 mile ultra trail classic through the South Yorkshire Forest. I don't remember running through forest, the route is mainly track, ploughed fields, and canals with the odd short section of road.  There is only 800m of climb on this circular route demanding a steady pace throughout. Seven checkpoints provide welcome refreshment at Grange, Treeton, Harthill, Woodsett, Firbeck, Maltby and Old Denaby. I had completed the course in 2007 when the event was run in December. The whole show is supported by an informative website. The website contains a wealth of information to assist entrants including all manner of navigation aids and statistics from previous years. I get the impression its a labour of love for the author Henry Marston. 

 

Sponsors Flags

 

The instructions were clear,  "the start is NOT at Dearne Valley Leisure Centre east of Mexborough. The start is at the leisure centre attached to Dearne Valley College. Despite the clarity of the information we arrived at Dearne Valley Leisure Centre east of Mexborough shortly after 6:15am. The leisure centre was closed, the gates were locked. A momentary panic helped to wake me up (I was still struggling) after which I orientated our position on the map, (a skill which would prove handy later in the day) and we realised that we were just around the corner from where we needed to be.

Registration went well. I collected my bright orange t-shirt, I took some photos of the sponsors flags flapping in the dark next to a runner who was practising tai chi yoga mysteriously on the grassy adjacent bank  After final preparations I lined up at the start. It was still dark but not cold, I noticed as we gathered in the car park ahead of the final instructions that some of the field had chosen to wear head torches even though dawn was due very soon.  At 7am a klaxon sounded and we steeled off into the first dark mile of the 50 miles which lay ahead.

 

Afore ye start

 

I struggled this year. It became apparent almost straight away. The previous weekend I had done back to back long runs and I had begun to feel invincible. I had recovered quickly from the double and had managed to keep up regular training the following week. I slightly suspected that I felt a little more tired than usual during a 10 mile run with Grantham running club on the Thursday but generally I have been feeling good of late. Despite my recent strength the wheels came off as I cruised down the tarmac path alongside a lake in the very initial stages. I felt a bit flat and my legs heavy, not how you would want to feel with 49 to go.

The initial negativity was checked to some extent by the feeling of contentment with managing to get out bed early and focus on a positive challenge. I was running alongside like minded folk. The sun was about to come up and the early signs of life stirred all around us. A eerie mist hovered above the lake to the right and the occasional golden autumnal leaf would fall through the last of the night air on to the trail in front of us. At one early stage, just after dawn we ran into a single track rail yard which housed a steam train. The yard was flanked by a few old terrace houses, the lights glowed warmly inside. Outside the steam train stood idle but with an imposing presence. I wished I had time to take a photograph of the scene but time didn't allow it, I was running the event with the intention of recording as faster time of possible but I was becoming increasingly worried about the feelings of nausea which had intensified.

 

UTMBer Paul Booth of Pennine & I

 

I noticed lots of international runners running the event. I understand that part of the overseas attraction is because the Round Rotherham qualifies for the chance to go through the lottery for the Western States 100.  As I ran along the canal side on the way to Grange Park I listened to a conversation between a couple of runners behind me.The first was from the United States and the other from Canada. They had recognised each others accents and were winding each up by making slants on each others respective countries. It all began to feel out of the ordinary. It was before 8am, just after dawn and I was running alongside an American and a French Canadian from Montreal..... on a dirt track in Rotherham.

The first checkpoint seemed to take a while to encounter. I was feeling rougher and rougher. I simply felt heavy and slow. I couldn't muster up any kind of rhythm and feelings of despair quickly began to creep in, it was far too early for that. "Perhaps I was coming down with something or it just wasn't going to be my day" I thought. On the way to Treeton I decided to self assess. The issue seemed to be centred on my stomach. It wasn't hurting but it felt like pressure had built up within and was bloating to the extent of slowing my down. It was similar to how I felt in the last leg of the Thunder Run which also involved a run in the very early morning after little sleep the night before. I decided that perhaps my body would realign around 10am which is a more appropriate and usual time to wake up on a Saturday morning. With that positive thought I plundered on through Treeton and out towards Harthill

Roche Abbey

 

 

By Harthill I'd had enough. Tracy was out in support and I explained my woes. I decided I would take extra time at the check point and ponder the  pros and cons of retirement. The sign outside the check point read "runners and walkers only", Tracy must have wondered where I had gone as I didn't emerge for quite some time. I sat inside and drunk water with an electrolyte tablet. I ate lots of food. I didn't want to retire I had retired at the 100 earlier in the year, I might get a reputation. I had also picked up my t-shirt at registration. It looked good but I couldn't wear it if I didn't finish. I had to carry on. I had a WC trip  and emerged back into the great outdoors. I had had a word with myself, regrouped and it was now time to find a decent stride. As I left the checkpoint i realised I was almost half way, just the encouragement I needed.

 

 

As I ran out of Hartill a relay runner passed me. In addition to the main event, the race can be run as a team relay. I noticed that I was able to match his speed even although I had run almost 25 miles and he had just begun his first leg. If I was able to follow and keep up it would make navigation easier. It was noticeable that he knew the route. I chased in pursuit, mindful that slowly I was beginning to feel better. A couple of miles further on I was still in touch. At last I had found a rhythm, My stomach issue had subsided and to some extent I felt as if the race had just begun for me. The relay runner in front paused at a kissing gate. he looked at me and gave me a rye, almost disapproving smile. "You know I'm on the relay" he said. " If you keep following me at this speed you might blow up". I explained that I had only just got going after a woeful first half and that I was grateful for his pacing and navigation. " ah I see, I've had similar issues in the past" was the reply, " good luck keep moving". Such is the camaraderie of these events.

 

By Woodsetts I was still running strong but my relay compatriot had run ahead. The strength which I had found would thankfully last for the rest of the race. I can't remember a previous event where I have felt stronger in the second half. It's usually the other way around. I crossed the A57 and into the golf course. I'd "misnavigated" and taken a chasing group with me. A 12 timer caught up and lead us, now as a unified group back to the right track via overgrown brambles that stung my legs. We were at Lindrick Common. The lane was flanked by massive mansions one of which was called "Nirvana" and had a massive rocket launcher in the garden!

 

Nirvana

On the way to Maltby we passed the impressive Roche Abbey which stood ruined but grandly in the afternoon sun. This was the only part of the route I could remember from 2007. I was fortunate to run this part with a Maltby runner who I guessed would know the way well. I had otherwise navigated by map, route description and following relay runners until I could not match their pace any longer!  A minor error took me to the railway before I rectified the mistake by passing under the bridge.

 

Plenty of cake was the order at Maltby checkpoint. I knew the next leg involved a long stretch and I was tiring again but not to the extent of my morning woes. I still had about 13 miles to run 8 of which were on the next leg to Old Denaby. By luck or chance another relay runner passed as I left the checkpoint and I was in pursuit. On the back of her shirt it read "Banksy of Basssetlaw". It was apparent that the runner knew the way and if I could hang on it would save time reading the route description. I managed to hang on for perhaps three quarters of the leg before fading. I met Christensen Hornbech of Denmark and a Scottish runner both who had travelled especially to take part. I was enjoying the unlikely feel of this multicultural encounter. The leg to Old Denaby went on forever. The chat with my Scottish comrade got me through.

 

 

 

After Old Denaby only 3.2 miles left. I sank a bit of liquid and I was off. This had been a hard day and I looked forward to finishing. Christensen had left ahead already but I caught up. I decided to run on and chance navigating the last leg to get back as quickly as I could. Finally I crossed the canal and looked to the left to see what looked like the leisure centre. "Surely not yet? Yes that's it" I thought. I could see the sponsors flags swaying in the wind which confirmed I could see the finish. Today had been tough but I Had ground it out and learnt a lot about self management and mind over matter. I could wear my t-shirt with pride. I crossed the line 60th in 9:15:10. I retired for cottage pie, mashed potato, peas and gravy all after a hot shower. A tough start had turned into a great day out and the feeling of satisfaction was all the more intense. Nick Ham and Mick plumber completed the grand slam.

 

By my calculation that's 522 miles tough ultra racing between March and October. A fine achievement, congratulations and thanks again Mick for helping with my head cut at the Long Tour.                         

         

          

"Doubling Up" - The Dave Lewis Challenge & the Spires and Steeples Challenge 2012

There are many good events close to Grantham at this time of year. The Spires and Steeples event has been on my list for a while but it clashes with one of my favourites, the Dave Lewis Challenge. This year I felt fairly fit, had rested well during a recent holiday overseas and so I thought I would try and "double up" by doing both events on consecutive days.

 

The Dave Lewis Challenge

 

Arrgg new route where's the map!

The Dave Lewis Challenge is a low key event organised by chimney sweep, Robert Ellis. The event involves 27 miles of trail, field, road, track and river bank from Kelham near Newark on Trent. The event is affiliated to Newark athletics club. The untimely passing of a fell runner in a race the previous week caused widespread grief particularly amongst the fell running community. As I stood among friends on the the start line, I reflected how lucky we are to be able to take part in these events and that the Dave Lewis challenge was a good example of how the memory of a late athlete can live on and inspire others. I understand that Dave Lewis was a dedicated Newark athlete and coach who also had an untimely death, each year the total proceeds from the event go to a charity approved by his widow who turns out each year to start the event. This year,  £750 had already been raised for the fight against breast cancer by the time I finished the event.

 

I arrived at the start in the car park at the Kelham Fox twenty or so minutes before the start. After handing over my entry I fee I sought confirmation that the route was the same as the previous two years, a route I knew fairly well. "No it's very different" was organiser, Ellis' response. Thereafter ensued a fraught quarter of an hour locating my map and a highlighter and perching over the organiser's car, fighting between other race participants to try and highlight the route and checkpoints. The organiser had given out an extensive route description but I had difficulty following route descriptions in previous years and I hoped my impromtu map plotting would be reliable.

 

At 8.30am perhaps thirty or so participants set off North to Bathley-Norwell-Ossington-Caunton-Knapthorpe-Upton-Rolleston-River Trent-Averham and back to a most appropriate finish at the Kelham Fox public house. The start was easily navigable for perhaps a mile along a tarmac road. I ran out strong and found myself at the front of the runners field. Walkers had left an hour earlier and I wondered when we would catch up with them. Its not often that I am the front of an event but the experience taught me that front runner has a responsibilty to navigate well in the interests of thise behind! As I paused to read the route description another runner ran passed and then he paused and so I ran passed him, that processes continued cat and mouse fot the first few miles. Eventually without spoken agreement we started to help each other. I read the route description aloud and he confirmed the description by features on the ground.

 

On the way to Beck Bridge I was frustrated to be caught by some runners behind. These events aren''t really about winning but I was frustrated that our navigation had perhaps been followed by a fairly large group behind. In fact the line of the chasing group as we ran towards the checkpoint was different. We had run a dogs leg and the chasing group had cut a diagonal across the dogs leg probably on the correct route and nearly caught us up.

 

Gathering ahead os the start

 





At Beck Bridge I decided to bag the route description and follow my hastily prepared map. Following straight highlighted lines for distance was easier than slowing to a shuffle every couple of minutes to read the route description. The map worked I saw a straight road for a couple of miles and stretched out a lead leaving my compatriot and the chasing group behind. The sun was shining through distant high clouds. Despite the flat profile of the agricultural farm land to the North West of Newark, the landscape has its own charm. Horseriders rode by, country dogs were being walked by gents wearing tweed jackets and carrying staffs and the last of the early morning fog simmered above the dewey fields in the distance. It is  post harvest in these parts and the fields that we ran across were often barren with just the cut off stalks of the harvested crops left in the ground to challenge the skin above our ankles. On the way to Caunton in a heavily ploughed field I noticed something slither rapidly into a small hole between the clods of soil. It moved so fast and seemed to slither but I wasn't able to catch a proper sight, it was black and fast, perhaps a mole? At some point a little further on a Deer leaped out of a bush in front of me, it was inspiring to see it clambber off at speed. 

 

On the way to the checkpoint near Caunton farm I realised I had lost the path. I knew it because the path I had been following had gradually dissipated away and I was left floundering across an even more heavily ploughed field. I could only wade across the big clods of soil and was grateful to get to the road at the other side. I could see the checkpoint to the left and to the right were some approaching runners. I was confused. I had run really strong on the previous sections and I knew those behind were some distance away. Perhaps I'd varied from the routes to such a degree that they had caught up? Perhaps the runners I saw approaching weren't in the event? I arrived at the checkpoint to drink water and refuel. I recognised the runners as, Vaughan and Anne Wade, stalwarts from the Peak District ruining scene and obviously doing the same event. I hadn't seen them at the start and my confusion deepened but I didn't havetime to discuss it all, I had an event to contend with. I exchanged a brief pleasentary and ran on. 

 

Much of  the route to Upton was on familiar, previous Dave Lewis Challenge ground. In my view the route gets even better from this point. I ran through an orchard towards the checkpoint, negotiating angry dogs snarling through a fence in an adjacent garden. I noticed how the apple crop wasn't as plentiful this year. Banana Poppy seed cake is available at Upton checkpoint. It's good, really good, so good I had to ask if it was ok to keep eating it. I knew the next leg to the River Trent went on for a bit so I wanted to fill my stomach. "No problem, you've earned it!" was the friendly reply.

 

 

 

River Trent

I ran on to Southwell racecourse. I must have been tiring because I nearly staggered on to a green on the way to the racecourse at Southwell golf course. The footpath passes straight across the fairway but the obvious line would take you straight across the green. Thankfully I remembered etiquette just before I stood on it. A trio of golfers stood looking quizzically at me as I ran by in my shorts shorts and lycra with steam come off the buff on my head. A circumvention of the corner of the racecourse  led me across the railway line. I paid more attention to the threat of passing trains than I had to the threat of passing golf balls.

 

On the way to the River Trent I happened upon a checkpoint that I wasn't expecting. It's nice when that happens. Mentally I was set for a leg to Averham (which is, I understand pronounced airham by those in the know) I took the opportunity and guzzled more liquid. The route to Rolleston Power Station is picturesque along the banks of the wide River Trent. It was great to be running free, feeling good and inspired by the strong current of the river which raced alongside.

 

Just before the power station I entered another ploughed field and saw a lone walker in the distance. I assumed he was an event walker and I shouted a greeting as I approached. I should have shouted from further back as he jumped in the air with fright. I was able to atone for my misdemeanour by confirming the route to the power station before I ran on chuckling to myself inwardly. The route alongside the power station follows a narrow path between the might of the concrete building, industrial pipes and chimneys on one side and the similarly powerful River Trent on the other side, before passing through fields to the penultimate checkpoint at Averham. On the way to Averham the path was so rutted it was easier to run through a field of what looked like sweetcorn. I was flanked either side and chuckled inwardly for the second time as I ran happily through a ceremonial guard of  sweetcorn that rose at either side of me. 

 

I didn't dwell at Averham, I was getting tired and looked forward to a hot shower at Kelham hall followed by lunch in a warm Kelham Fox pub. The final section passed a reverse of a previous year's route which I struggled to remember. Ikept an eye on the map which I had clutched throughout not wanting to go wrong at such a late stage.

 

I arrived back at Kelham in approximately 4 hours and 20 minutes to receive a chocolate and a medal from organiser Ellis followed by the promised hot shower and steak and kidney pudding in the pub. I would recommend the Dave Lewis Challenge. there are no prizes and no official times but the checkpoints are well organised by volunteers, the route description isn't that hard to follow and the event is a great excuse for a day out running in great countryside supporting a good charity and through featureful terrain.           

           
Spires and Steeples Challenge

 

Lincoln Cathedral adjacent to the start.

I had a bit of stiffness after the previous day but I knew if I could get out bed and get to Lincoln for the start I would be nine tenths of the way to the finish. I crawled out of bed early for the second day running. We arrived in Lincoln by 8.30am for a 9.30am start.

 

The Spires and Steeples event runs from Lincoln to Sleaford along a waymarked route that can be done as a challenge at anytime during the year. The organised event is supported by a crew that volunteer at checkpoints and marshall at the parts which are hardest to navigate. There is a debate about whether this event is well organised or not. I had no problems, I thought the organisation was really good. I never really understand the good race bad race debate. For me If you turn up pay an entry fee and run a race through beautiful countryside with a few fuel stops in between, anything else is a bonus. The bonuses at Spires and Steeples were a good quality technical t-shirt, a medal, a certificate and free sports leg massage at the finish.

 

The route leaves the grandeur of Lincoln Castle and heads down the steep cobbles of historic Bailgate before leaving the City heading east along the banks of the River Witham to Washingborough. From there  runners head in a Southerly direction following this route to Sleaford. 

 

First Runners Leave Lincoln Castle

The field was bigger than the previous day and there appeared to be more quality runners participating in the 26 mile event. Similar to the Dave Lewis Challenge, walkers had left Lincoln, along the same route an hour earlier and there was also a 13 mile event which began at the halfway stage at Mertheringahm. I ran along the River in about fifth position but I was running noticebaly faster than the previous day and I questioned whether I had gone off too fast. It became apparent that I was running a race that many around me were treating like a typical road marathon. At checkpoints, those around me were swiping bottles of water from the hands of volunteers and running on without stopping. I did the same through the first couple of checkpoints but on the way to Metheringham I had a reality check. I'd run 28 miles the previous day, I was now running a faster pace than the previous day and taking on less fuel. I was trying to compete with those around me and I knew from experience that it's dangerous to run someone else's race. At the next checkpoint I took a bottle of water, walked on a few yards, stopped removed the bottle from my ruck sac and transferred the water into  the bottle, along with an electrolyte tablet. In addition I ate a jaffa cake bar from my bag. As I did this it was demoralising to watch lots of runners pass by gulping a quick shot of water before discarding their bottles and running on at speed. Although it was frustrating I thought it would be interesting if I kept well fuellled, to see if in the later stages I could pass those that had passed me. Would they be ruing less speed because of their earlier hasty checkpoint strategies?  

 



The route to Sleaford was very runnable mostly on grassy tracks with occasional fields, some of which were ploughed and rutted. There were infrequent roads into picture postcard Lincolnshire villages and church spires stood grandly in the middle of each of them. Participants were given six rubber bands to wear around their wrists. The idea was to drop a rubber band at each checkpoint. I was confused because we had run for miles and I still had four bands left. I knew there were only two checkpoints before the finish which would make three bands in total, what of the other one? I caught up with a runner in front who was similarly perplexed but thankfully he too had four bands left. The best he could think was that the organiser had given us an extra band in case we lost one. I thought that was unlikely but I kept the thought to myself.

 

I must have been in about fifteenth position by Digby with about 9 miles left to run. Surprisingly given the previous days efforts I had run strong and the blow up that I expected to happen didn't materialise. It was time during the last 9 miles to use those fuel reserves. I pushed on towards the finish. On the way out of Lincoln earlier in the day a repeat offender had warned me about the final stages "it goes on a bit" he said in a typically endurance runner's understated way. I took note, a word to the wise i thought.

 

 

  

The fuel reserves paid dividends and I began to reign people in. With each runner passed I seemed to gain in strength. I was able to extend my legs and I felt great as I ran along the final stages adjacent to the River Slea.  Somewhere about 3 miles before the finish and similar to the previous day, I happened upon an unexpected checkpoint. it was the mystery band drop that left  one band to drop at the finish. I took the  unexpected opportunity to drink some more but I didn't dwell, not wanting to interrupt the good pace that I had mustered. The last two miles did "go on a bit", Sleaford never seemed to become visible in the distance. Eventually the River became flanked by buildings and it was apparent that I had entered the town. Soon after I noticed the welcome sight of a finish funnel on the opposite side of the River. Across the bridge and home to the applause of spectators who milled about on the green and river bank. I was welcomed with a t-shirt and the news that I had arrived back in 8th position in a time of 3 hours and 40ish minutes.

 

The best part of a race

 

 

I don't remember doing long events on consecutive days before. The hardest part was getting out of bed. I think the running was easier on the second day and for some reason I am not stiff today (the day after the second event) yet I was stiff on the night after the first. It was great to run from Lincoln to Sleaford. This was a popular event with walkers and runners and is accessible for long distance walkers and runners with a shorter thirteen mile option. I was fortunate to have lift to the start and from the finish but being a linear route people without lifts need to leave theirs cars at Sleaford and catch the bus which is organised to ferry entrants to the start.  

 
     

Redcar Half Marathon 2012

The hardest rule of running is that it takes ages to gain fitness and a moment to lose it. One day I was sat in the 35 degree heat of a Greek beach feeling fit - the next I was running alongside the Corus factory in Teeside feeling fat and knackered. 

 



Tata Steel - different to a Kefalonian landscape



 

 

After negotiating a dog that snarled towards us as we walked across a piece of waste land we carried on to the start. According to the owner, the dog was "as daft as a brush" but I took no chances as I dropped my bag between my ankles and the dogs teeth.  The start of this year's Redcar race had been moved further along the beach front because of works to the coastal path. The Redcar race is a good opportunity to catch up with the Whittingham family, friends from university. Paul "Whitty" Whittigham had managed, despite a trip to the Riverside the day before, to keep a handle on alcohol intake and arrived at the start feeling fresher than previous years. Whitty's race prospects looked relatively better than mine. I knew I would feel the affect of a two week break in Kefalonia including lots of Mythos ale, kebabs and very little running. My new Grantham running club vest also had its first outing at Redcar.

Whittingham's

 

The conditions were good as we set off in a Northerly direction along a dual carriageway adjacent to the North East coast. In the first few miles I noticed flags on the local Vauxhall dealership flapping vigorously in the wind and a slight turn in the road led runners straight against it. The wind carried on in gusts as the race field ran towards the turn point at mile five. I began feeling better than I should have done given the lack of recent activity but by the roundabout which took us back towards Tees Valley Leisure Centre I was tiring and it was clear I was going to have to use mental strength to zone out and plod on. I was grateful for the stillness as the wind subsided after the turn. It was so still that I questioned if it was possible for the wind to now be behind me or if it had stopped altogether. I noticed a couple of "grafters" who were stood behind the Corus factory gates and had come out to support. The factory is massive and bleak and runs the entire length of the first few miles of the race course. I understand that most of the inhabitants of "Redker" are employed there and the factory was recently bought by a Japanese company, Tata saving the company from administration and saving the "Redker" grafters too.

 

 

New Top

By the time I arrived back at the Leisure Centre I was having a hard race. I had a dodgy stomach and thought about a pit stop at the Leisure Centre but decided to carry on, nothing more than a lack of race fitness. The new route was better for spectators as runners passed the start/finish three times during the race. I waved to Tracy, Becki, Lucy and Emily as I passed. The next section through to ten miles was a straight run along the coast road. The North sea was clearly visible alongside and I glanced occasionally to look at the pipes, ships and wind farms which interrupted the view.

 

The coast road took its toll. I noticed a grey stone toilet block adjacent to the road and decided to have a pit stop after all. Less than a minute later I was back on the course, I can't remember stopping during a race before and was a bit miffed about it. I ran on towards the next turn at ten miles. It seemed to take ages to arrive and I was grateful to do a 180 degree turn to run the final three miles back to the start/finish at the leisure centre. It was apparent that the wind hadn't stopped and I was now, once more, running flat against it.  At some point during the final few miles Whitty ran past on the opposite side of the road smiling and waving. I was surprised that he looked so fresh and as he wasn't far behind I thought he might do a PB.

 



Paul Whittingham



 

 

The crowds which flanked the final mile took my mind off the race pain and eventually I saw the finish funnel, phew. I finished in 1 hour 30 minutes 53 seconds I had hoped to get under 90 minutes but the holiday excesses seemed to have taken their toll. This was a hard race and I hope the difficult miles are enough to freshen me up for the next outing wherever that might be.

 

Whitty came back to a cheering duo of daughters in a time of 1 hour 51 minutes and 43 seconds almost a PB and time that inspired the confidence to "take it seriously next time". We retired to receive post race gifts. This year no t-shirt but a 'buff' instead to celebrate the 30th anniversary of the well organised race. The day finished with a trip to "Starters" for a "strider" (or a restaurant in Yarm for a burger) and a few celebratory pints. Thank you the Whittingham's for another good trip to Boro.

           

Bullock Smithy 2012

 "To some people its just another challenge walk, to others its the most important date in the calender."
(Quentin Blagg in his piece - "One Man's Challenge. A History of the Bullock Smithy Hike")

On the first full weekend in September contenders gather in Devonshire Park for the annual foray across the Peak District. Many will have recced the route, debated kit choice and planned strategy ahead of the annual gathering in Hazel Grove.  This year''s entry was almost a record with 300+ participants signing up for the 56 mile challenge, the aim being to propel themselves over 7,000ft of ascent and descent through a circular route across the dark and white peak district and all to be completed within 24 hours. This year the Bullock Smithy was part of the UK Ultra distance championships.
 

Founder, John Corfield and I

The sun shone occasionally through distant broken clouds as we arrived like lemmings at the Scout Hut in Hazel Grove. There is a balance to be struck between moving efficiently through registration and kit check but on the other hand, enjoying the atmosphere and renewing annual acquaintances with other serial contenders. It was good to see one of the founding fathers of the event, John Corfield at the start. Each year he travels from Shropshire to watch people suffer in the event that he devised in the mid 1970's. Kit check and registration went well and I returned to the car to grease the inner thighs and tape the nipples.

 

  

Over the years the Bullock Smithy has become a family affair in the extended Rushworth clan. Perhaps eight or so relations have completed the Bullock Smithy including my partner Tracy who went round in 22:40 in 2005. I was then thrilled when my fifteen year old nephew showed renewed interest this year. Seanie put in a summer's training shuttle running up Shutlinglsoe with his friends, romped round the Peaker's Stroll then signed up for "the Bullock".
 

Nick & Mick - Grandslammers

The anvil was struck at noon releasing the collective excitement from the the balloon of Devonshire Park as 300 outdoor people burst out to cross the Peaks. I ran down the A6 and watched Neil Thompson of Stockport Harriers disappear at pace. I caught up with Chris Davies who was surprised that there wasn't a bigger pack of runners at the front. He needn't have worried, I glanced behind and there were plenty of people in pursuit. The route took us up Towers Road, across the fields on through Higher Poynton before arriving in Lyme Park and on to the first checkpoint at Bow Stones. We were now out in open countryside.  The intermittent sun had become more apparent. The thin clouds in the sky were high and not able to shield the rays. It became increasingly evident that we were in for a hot one this year.

 

We continued to the Moorside Hotel. I took a slightly different route across the moor which would have worked well if I had taken a better line. The climb to Chinley went well. I tried to conserve energy. I was concerned that I might have gone off a little fast. I knew the majority of the climb was in the first 30 miles and given that it was so hot, it made sense to run conservatively through the first half.  I staggered up Chinley with a runner who had travelled from Brighton to take part, he reminded me to appreciate the view. From the top of Chinley Churn, the clear sunlight lit up the Peak District as far as the eye could see. The dark peaks and green valleys were inviting, they would be the playground for the next nine hours or so, fantastic!   

At the drinks stop at Peep 'o' Day I guzzled half a litre of fluid and refilled my bottle to take with me. "the heat would take victims", I thought. I didn't want to be one of them. I drank lots this year, perhaps 500ml at each checkpoint and almost the same amount in between. The next climb is the longest, rising to Edale Cross at 541m. I met Nigel Aston (another repeat offender) and we negotiated the flagged steep embankment into the valley before the climb to Edale Cross. I was able to run sections of the climb to Edale Cross still accompanied in sorts by Nigel, Tony Audenshaw and one other. The stoney trail winds up around the side of the magnificent Kinder Scout. There was plenty of other folk using the path and enjoying the sunshine. I enjoyed the views of the fells to the my right and back towards where we had come from. I questioned where nephew Maguinness might be up to.

 

Steve Holt gives final instructions

 

 

There was a mass on spectators at the checkpoint at Edale Cross. I was grateful for the round of applause as I paused momentarily for the official to clip my tally card. I romped on towards the steep rugged stepped descent of Jacob's Ladder. This year I decided to take a few minor route changes, one of which was going straight ahead at the left turn mid way down Jacob's Ladder. I went through the gate and proceeded down the steep bank. Oh dear. The bank was too steep and there was no path, instead it was a scramble down all the way to the stream at the bottom. To make matters worse I had taken Nigel and another runner with me! At the bottom we were reunited with Tony.  I was later to learn that we were all more or less together at the point where we diverted. At the finish I asked Nigel for his opinion on my route choice, he remained  silent but the disapproving, slow shakes of his head and taught jaw, confirmed to me that the stepped path is the preferable option next year! 

I managed to pull away from my compatriots on the way to Edale. The sun was beginning to take its toll. I felt thirsty for the first time and decided I was going to increase my fluid intake. I had been drinking lots but such a warm day required more. On arrival at Edale I was surprised to see Neil Thompson of Stockport Harriers sat down on a chair.  As I ran down the road at Bow Stones I  had watched Neil disappear round the moor after the Moorside far in the distance. Neil should have been the best part of a hour ahead but appeared to have come to grief. Sadly chaffing in the nether regions meant he had to retire. Edale is a welcome checkpoint, I always dwell a little longer to take on rice pudding and chat with volunteers Val and Brian Dooley who look after the checkpoint with their friends.

 

I left Edale feeling good, refuelled and well watered. There was no sign of Tony or Nigel and given Neil's untimely retirement I had moved up the field by default. I was however only 15 miles in with a long way left to run. The 3 mile trip to Castleton is short but includes a climb over the Great Ridge via Hollins Cross. The sun continued to batter down but the views and motivational value of the brightness made the difficulty of the heat well worth it. After descending Hollins Cross,  I meandered my way through tourists and cars to the checkpoint. it was good to see Tracy out in support after lunch with friends. Jam sandwiches was the order of the weary runner ahead of the climb to Peak Forest at 24 miles.

Approaching Brand top

This was my 21st attempt at a Bullock Smithy and If I successfully got round it would be my 17th completion after failing on my first four attempts. Every other year I have taken the Cave Dale route to Peak Forest but I have always been tempted by the route via the side of Peveril Castle. I should have learnt my lesson at Jacob's Ladder but again I decided to do it differently this year.  I had been told the route involved a runnable path at the summit. I never found the runnable path at the summit. Perhaps i did find it but I was too tired to run it.  The hill up the side of the castle is steep. I decided to take a direct hit at it rather than extending the misery with a diagonal incline.That slope needs replacing! I really laboured up that bank. I alternated between hands on knees, hands behind my back and during moments of desperation hands on the ground on all fours. There were frequent amounts of fluid falling from my forehead and I hoped it was the water from my buff  which I had drenched in a stream rather than pure sweat from my body. Eventually I reached the top and then of course there was another top and then another. Eventually I reached the summit where the path from Cave Dale merges with the route that I had chosen. I saw a familiar face, Steven Jackson (another repeat offender) emerging out of Cave Dale. We ran together to Peak Forest and noticed that a runner with a green top was chasing in pursuit across the moor.

I ran out of the check point at  Peak Forest and took a banana with me. I had already stuffed lots of ready salted crisps down the hatch washed down with refreshing lemon cordial. I shuffled up the road and walked up the steep incline whilst eating the banana. I was still feeling surprisingly good at this point. I usually have at least one low point during a run of this distance but this year I escaped feeling relatively good throughout. The next checkpoint would be 28 miles, half way round the course. I calculated that I might get there by 5pm which was making my sub ten hour dream unrealistic. I was far from bothered, it was a hot day, I was enjoying the event and was running towards the top of the field. By Miller's Dale I think Stephen Watts, Chris Davies and Robin Houghton were the only people in front so it was a case of keeping the wheels turning and ploughing on.

Miller's Dale can be a difficult place. There is soup which will no doubt be appreciated by the walkers later on but soup doesn't sit well on a runners stomach. I am also aware of the impending stiff, horrible climb up the road towards Chelmorton which greets you after you leave the checkpoint. Contenders also have to block "half way" thoughts out of their minds. I retired twice at Miler's Dale when I was younger. The thought of turning round and running back the same distance you had come was terminal for me twice. It was only after I learnt to  focus solely on the next six mile stretch that I was able to carry on. I wondered if my nephew would make it past Miller's Dale later in the day.

The climb up that road is grim. Every year I seem to get caught by other runners as I labour towards the junction at the top. This year was no different. As I approached the A6 Julian Brown caught up and it turned out, like last year, we would run on together to the finish. On the approach to Chelmorton the red arrows gave us a fly past. More honestly, the formation was entertaining crowds at Chatsworth House and we were unintended beneficiaries. We quaffed jam doughnuts at the checkpoint and ran to Earl Sterndale at 36 miles. This was great running, the sun was shining brightly affording extensive view across the rolling undulating pastures of the white peak. The smoke from the red arrows illustrated the blue sky in the distance. The increasing pains and strains of the event were forgotten as we ran steadily along the tracks and fields to Earl Sterndale.

 

 

 

Julian Brown leaves Chelmorton

On the approach to Earl Sterndale a pack of cows surrounded the stile that we had to negotiate. I've been in these fields and seen angry cows before. I was scared. If I'd have been by myself I would have diverted but Julian is a brave man. His direct line approach towards any type of cattle was a technique I would witness more than once. He ran straight towards the pack "come on they are only curious" he assured me as I tailed cautiously behind. The cows scattered as we approached then closed in behind us. Believe me, I was through that stile in no time. Julian followed unconcerned some seconds later.

We were caught on the way to Earl Sterndale by a Colin Lough. We later learnt that he had taken a slightly different route to us through the adjacent fields. Colin encountered some angryier cows on the way. The cows had charged him. It was clear from the way he relayed his story that he had been involved in a nasty encounter that had shaken him. At the finish a supporter confirmed that she had been watching the encounter from the summit of an adjacent hill and she too was worried for his safety.

We ran on to Earl Sterndale and were surprised to find Stephen Watts who was suffering with stomach issues. Stomach pain and sickness was a feature of many peoples events this year, perhaps caused by the hot weather or excessive amounts of potions consumed to cope with the hot weather? We walked out of Earl Sterndale, Stephen agonised over the decision to continue or retire. He continued and the four of us, Chris, Julian, Stephen and I ran on towards Brand Top. In the valley before the climb to the barking dogs I noticed a obstacle in our path. "A bull!" I cried. I am self confessed wimp when it comes to animals. For the second time in as many legs I had to participate in Julian's direct line approach as I took cover in his wake. The bull ran on away from us down the path. I guarantee that If I had tried the same technique, the opposite outcome would have happened.

The four of us got to Brand Top unscathed. Stephen had run a strong leg but his stomach issues remained and forced him to retire. , Julian, Chris and I ran on towards Cumberland Cottage at 43 miles. We took the fields from Brand Top as the sun began to come down and the relentless sunshine faded. I enjoy the stillness of the route to Cumberland Cottage, the shadow of the Roaches looms far in the early dusk distance and the peak of the the Macclesfield Matterhorn, Shutlingsloe stands grandly ahead. The impending close of the day adds an eeriness to the remote paths around three shires head before the next stiff climb to the A53. It is always good to get through Cumberland Cottage before dark so as to negotiate the rocky path in the last of the evening dusk. We surprise the checkpoint staff who are lighting a wood fire in the bare stone cottage. I consume two rounds of fruit cake, Julian takes a breather and Colin changes his top.   After leaving Cumberland Cottage we encounter a runner coming up the path. It's Neil King, another previous finisher that has come out to support Stephen Watts, oh dear. We explain Stephen's woes as the four of us trundle on towards the grim road section to Walker Barn. 

 

The Red Arrows love the Bullock Smithy

 

 

It was good to see Neil Thompson at the bottom of the path. Neil had come to grief at Edale earlier in the day but instead of staying at home licking his wounds he decided they were in too sensitive an area and instead came out to support, a good illustration of the camaraderie of the event.  Neil (King) and Chris pulled away when we reached the road, leaving Julian and I to continue alone. It turned out Neil did Chris a good turn by navigating from Cumberland Cottage all the way to the disused railway track at Whitely Green. It enabled Colin to use his better strength to good effect rather than have to wait for Julian and I to navigate. Further supporters pulled alongside during the road to Walker Barn, the warmth of their cars looked inviting. It was clear that we were running back towards civilisation. As we ran over the brow of the hill before the descent to Walker Barn, the views of the rolling hills gave way to the lights of the Greater Manchester conurbation which twinkled softly in the distance.  

 

I was hanging on at Walker Barn with about twelve miles to go. Agonisingly so close to the finish but yet so far. 47 miles in with 9 remaining seems comfortable but  then, a run from Walker Barn to Hazel Grove would be a significant run on any day. Julian and I stealed through the streets of Bollington, on to the canal towpath and the checkpoint at Whitely Green. I thought we were in fourth position at this point which was great,.

 

Nephew Magunniess congratulated by his sister, Erin.

 

 

The final leg involves the Middlewood way. Miles of endless, straight, disused railway track, flanked by steep embankments at either side. The embankments obscure the view and restrict the moonlight, you might as as well be running in a tunnel. The bridge which marks the end of the nightmare never seems to arrive. Eventually it does and we climb up the steps to the road. More stealing through the residential streets of Higher Poynton  bring us to the penultimate straight down Towers Road. Passing the occasional dog walker who looks bemused as we trundled past looking dishevelled and lighting our way with torches we arrive at the A6. Ye Ha! almost home. We pick up the pace to the finish and I feel relief mixed with a bit of sadness that such a great day is almost over. We enter the scout hut, 4th in 10 hour 36 minutes.        

 

Finishers are rewarded with a cooked breakfast.The scout hut was quieter this year, the winners Chris Davies and Robin Houghton had already left for a well deserved rest. The pair ran in together in 9 hours 43 minutes. The previous weekend Robin Houghton won the 87 mile Ridgeway Challenge.While we ate other runners returned to rounds of applause. First lady was Julie Gardner in 11:21 and I understand that Julie will this week fly out to Italy to compete in another ultra race next weekend.  Liveish results were being broadcast on a projector which we viewed as we ate. It was great to see that my nephew had gone through Earl Sterndale in good time, his sitser Erin had got to Miller's Dale. The next day after the presentation we watched my nephew somehow manage a sprint finish in 23:08, nice one Seanie, a fine achievement.  

Never again?

Many thanks to all the helpers who give up their time to make the event so enjoyable. Special thanks to Tracy for her support and photos which illustrate this post.

 

Results

 

Photos