Last weekend was my last ultra.
Really? Well, I think so, yes. And I’m happy with that thought. Or at least content. Mainly because I have a new path to take, that keeps me in the mountains, just at a slower pace.
This summer I became a Mountain Leader and that has given me confidence and a realisation that there is life beyond being an ultra runner.
However, I had entered Lakes in a Day a year ago after I turned my ankle soon after Lingy Hut in the Northern Fells and I was happy to give it a go. A year ago, although I found it hard to run with an energy-sapping Menopause, and painful knees, I still had the remnants of the huge endurance base I had built up over the previous 10 years. In November, however, my right knee finally snapped with a meniscus tear and that put a full stop to my running, in any form whatsoever.
In February I had keyhole surgery and my Consultant cheerfully told me I could run in a couple of weeks. I don’t think his idea of running was the same as mine. He probably meant I could literally run (which I could) a hundred yards, whereas I was disappointed I couldn’t immediately start training and I still had pain in the knee whenever I tried. I gave up trying until July. Then suddenly, there was no pain. Nothing at all. It was a miracle.
But, no running at all for 7 months finally killed off what lingering strength I had, which became apparent when I started climbing the 8,000ft of ascent I did during the 22 miles of the race I did complete. Oh the irony that the very surgery that allowed me to run again, ended my running career.
A glorious start
Leading up to the race, the weather forecast was looking a bit grim. Knowing I was going to be slow, I decided to pack as a Mountain Leader rather than as a racer and carried a 18l backpack. I started in waterproofs, but also packed a couple of mid layers and my paramo smock. Plenty of spare gloves, snacks that would keep Scooby happy and a 2 man shelter, I felt prepared for the elements I knew Helvellyn and Blencathra would throw at me.
Climbing up the back of Blencathra I knew I was slower than usual. However I reached the top in good spirits, saw my friend Joe for a hug and a quick snatch of a cheese and pickle sarnie, then I scampered down Halls Fell Ridge. This was the only time my inov8 X Talon Ultras failed me – I was sliding all over the place on the wet rock with what was really very little surface area on the sole of the shoe. They were brilliant, however, on the fells.
I reached the checkpoint at Threlkeld to have the lovely surprise of Baz waiting for me – I didn’t think I’d see him until Ambleside (or sooner if called upon in an emergency) so it was a real lift to see him earlier than expected. A quick whizz through the checkpoint, and out the other side to where Baz was waiting for me (spectators aren’t allowed in the checkpoints). I dug my mid layer out for extra warmth and ditched my soaked waterproof mittens (I came down looking like a drowned rat), donned dry gloves (bliss) and set off for Clough Head.
The traverse up to Clough Head
The route up to the base of Clough Head was tricky – over rough ground with no track. However, I found the base of the traverse that cut through Red Screes and kicked me out on the track leading to the Clough Head trig. Halfway up this traverse I got a message from Joe asking how I was. This immediately alerted me to the fact I was probably being very slow and was probably at the back of the field.
It’s hard to describe the feeling as I climbed. My muscles didn’t ache or complain. It was more that there was just no power. No oomph. The battery was empty. I noticed my HRV stats had dropped earlier in the week, but in all honesty this is what I’ve lived with for 4 years now and I just accept I can’t do anything to change it.
I toiled up to the trig, slightly annoyed at this almost out-and-back when I had the Wainwright already, and turned around and jogged down the hill. Climbing up towards Great Dodd the wind got stronger and stronger and I was blessed with a sharp hail burst that was so painful I almost climbed into my shelter to get away from it. I was aware of the time ticking and when the hail stopped, I got my phone out to quickly gauge the distance to Grizedale Tarn, which had a cut off at 5.30pm. It was now 3.15pm and it was 11km away. In theory, it was doable but I knew it would be tight. I thought I’d get to Stybarrow Dodd and see what time it was then.
I got another message to keep an eye out for Max, another runner behind me (I wasn’t last!). I paused and looked back and saw a man only a few hundred yards behind me so I waited for him. He was a cheerful soul who had done the Spine Challenger in January so clearly knew what he was doing. We went a bit wrong as I followed the track round to Great Dodd instead of cutting off the corner, so we jogged as much as we could along this nice flat bit. The wind was gusting strongly though, which made it very hard for me to run as it simply blew me off my feet.
Just as we crested the bank above Sticks Pass I checked my watch. it was 4.50pm. We still had about 5 miles to get to Grizedale Tarn and I knew I wouldn’t make it. It wasn’t going dark, but it was dark from a heavy overcast and the wind was relentless. I was getting cold. I told Max I didn’t think we’d make it but he wanted to crack on so I bid him farewell as he ran down to Sticks Pass. I paused, wanting to notify Joe and Baz of my plans while I had reception. I was getting very cold very quickly and I couldn’t dictate instead of type because the wind was so loud. Cold fingers meant strange words! Having done that, I too jogged down to the familiar spot where only 2 weeks ago I had watched over runners from the 13 Valleys Ultra pass by. Here I stopped again, dug out my synthetic down jacket and over mittens, and started jogging down the hill.
It’s funny how having such a strong passion for something can lead to wrapping your sense of self worth in it. For so long I had battered myself again and again, like a moth against a lightbulb, trying to run. Because if I didn’t run ultras, who was I? What was I without it? I had made ultras my working life as well as my personal pastime and if I couldn’t run them, what was the point? I co-own and manage RunUltra and recent changes brought about an opportunity to sell it. If I didn’t own RunUltra AND couldn’t run, then what good was I?
All these questions were answered as I trotted down the hill, in no pain whatsoever, away from a race I wanted so badly to finish. I was now a Mountain Leader. I had managed myself over hard terrain in a safe and comfortable manner in horrible weather and made a wise decision to end while it was safe to do so. I can do this while helping other people too, and help teach them how to manage themselves too. I am more than an ultra runner.
So I made a decision too – to sell RunUltra. The offer was to keep me on as Editor, and I can continue to do the work I love, while watching others achieve the glory I so long dreamt of.
And I have another new hobby that takes me into the mountains, with the man I love, one which allows me to stay on the trail with far less effort than running….
Update! 12th February 2025 – I didn’t sell RunUltra, I bought out my partner! I am now the sole owner and Director of RunUltra Ltd. Crikey….
Header image: Andy Milton
PeaksPrincess 