Back in Peak condition

July was a bad month. Injury meant I was unable to run. I'm not good to be around if I can't run. Thankfully though, the pain in my Anterior Tibialis cleared up after two weeks as opposed to the four I was expecting. This meant I was able to get out again, to my enormous relief.

One reason I was so keen to get back was the upcoming Limestone 50 in the Peak District on 3rd September. Would my leg hold up? I did a few light training runs and crossed off my 300th parkrun. A sore plantar caused some discomfort, but it faded as I continued to run.

And so the summer holidays flew past and suddenly race day was on the horizon. Physically I was free of pain, but mentally I was full of doubts. How would my body hold out during a 50 mile run involving over 7300 feet of elevation? Only one way to find out.

Matt Shimwell - henceforth known as the Cow Rustler for reasons that will be revealed - drove up with me from south-east London to Glossop where we would be staying with his parents. Steven Buck - aka Catford Fire, the name of his delicious hot sauce company - travelled up separately and would meet us at the start line.

At 7:30, a remarkably sensible hour for an ultra event, we drove to Castleton where we registered and fiddled around with safety pins for half an hour. Strict instructions had been given regarding kit and our bags were checked and items ticked off including maps, (the Peak District Ultras 100, 50 and 33 miles are unmarked courses) compass, whistle, first aid kit, clothing etc.

At 9am those of us taking part in the Limestone 50 miler and the Peveril 33 gathered at the start and set off. The 33ers would turn off part way through and rejoin us towards the end. Runners in the Millstone 100 event had been running through the night following a 7pm start, and we would see some of them after they had completed their loop on the north Peaks and joined our tour of the southern section.

We headed up a long climb from Castleton rising 700 feet in just two miles, needless to say we walked most of the way. I chatted to Lauren Johnson - female winner and record holder of the Spine Challenge - she was hoping for a ten and a half hour finish. Matt, Steven and I had set our sights on 12 hours, but as this was Steven's first official ultra and longest distance by 10 miles, would settle for all three of us finishing.

We dropped back down into Bakewell, which enabled us to stretch our legs before heading back up another 600 feet climb to Bleak Knoll, this time covering the elevation in less than a mile. Walking poles came out and we realised just how different a hilly ultra is to one on the flats of southern England.

Descending again towards Hathersage we followed the River Derwent through Fallcliff wood to Grindleford. By this time we were 10 miles in and we were feeling strong enough to chat and share banter amongst ourselves. 

The path rose steeply onto Froggatt Edge, Curbar Edge and Baslow Edge before descending into Baslow. Along the edge we were treated to magnificent views over the southern peaks. Giant rock formations stood defiantly along the escarpment like sedentary sentries petrified and worn by years of inclement weather. On this day however, the wind was still, and the sun strained through high cloud cover giving perfect conditions, albeit a little muggy.

Photo credit: Mehul Vaitha

From Baslow we had an eight mile relatively flat stretch towards Darley Dale. This took us on a diversion around Chatsworth Park where an event was being held. As we traipsed through the car park tens of thousands of people were enjoying Chatsworth Country Fair. Reproachful looks were directed our way by the Barbour brigade as we loped past in our fluorescent lycra and running shoes.

Our biggest obstacle, and the most unforeseen, occurred at this point. A herd of cows had gathered on a narrow track and completely blocked the route. A couple of walkers and other runners were stood behind them unsure what to do. This is where Matt stepped forward and calmly pushed his way through the cows, patting their flanks and making a path through the middle. The rest of us followed tentatively behind making soothing sounds and dodging the piles of fresh manure. Eventually we emerged unscathed and trotted on.

Chatsworth

The cow rustler in action

By this point we were half way through and at the southern end of the course which involved a clockwise loop from Castleton east to Hathersage, south to Matlock, west towards Monyash before turning north back to our starting point. 

This was also the lowest part of the course both physically and psychologically. Matt had pulled out of the event at this point the previous year and was struggling with the chimp on his shoulder. Climbing up through the 500 feet wooded slope towards Birchover he began to grow weak and looked very pale. His parents were meeting us at the top and we took time to sit by their car and assess our progress. 

It was a turning point. Would he continue or was it better to stop? I knew from my own experience in the Brecon Beacons that with some fuel he would recover and urged him to push on. His parents were naturally concerned, but had confidence in the fact we were running as a group and allowed us to wave goodbye and continue. As expected - although still remarkable testimony to the body's ability to recover - Matt was back to his normal self within a couple of miles and feeling better than at any time that day.

Unfortunately Steven was having his own issues as we passed Eagle Tor and Robin Hood Stride heading for Youlgreave. He was feeling bloated and had a sharp pain in his upper stomach - cramps. Running caused it to worsen and so we were having to walk / run more often. 

Now at 30 miles we were counting down the parkruns to the finish. At Lathkill Dale we entered the incredible environment of Ricklow Quarry. This alien landscape of towering limestone walls and hanging foliage was where we had our first light shower. The floor, which was littered with large chunks of rock, became slippery and the soles of our feet took a pounding as we picked our way through.

A short while later we approached a checkpoint at Monyash. At this point I must give huge kudos to the checkpoint volunteers. Checkpoints were located roughly every ten miles and contained a fabulous array of food catering for all dietary requirements. Sandwiches were freshly made to order, flasks refilled, a range of savoury and sweet snacks and a separate selection for vegan runners. The people looking after us couldn't have done more to help and were always smiling, encouraging and full of energy. 

Found him

Another climb followed by a steep descent brought us to the River Wye which we followed to Monsal Head. Here we were met again by Matt's parents who topped up our water supply and posed for a photo with us in front of a magnificent backdrop of the Headstone Viaduct, its huge arches spanning the waterway in the valley below. They continued to support us despite having had to call out a breakdown service when their car wouldn't restart after seeing us off the last time. 

With our 'crew'

The Monsal Trail was our route for the next few miles. A disused railway line, it was flat and straight and involved running through two tunnels. Darkness had fallen and we had been out for almost 12 hours. Headtorches on, we battled through the moths and flies into the first unlit tunnel. Steven continued to struggle with cramps and bravely attempted to trot, but it was no good, it was all about time on feet now and getting to the finish.

The second tunnel was lit and we caught up with a couple of other entrants. The welcome sight of the final checkpoint at Miller's Dale meant a last chance to restock and refuel. A Halloween theme was a rather bizarre choice, but made for some good humour. The medical team checked Steven was ok to continue. He took a couple of Rennies and we plunged back into the darkness for the final nine miles.

We continued to traipse across fields over numerous stiles made of stone steps that were becoming increasingly difficult to get our legs over. The path was unclear, but Matt's excellent navigation skills kept us moving in the right direction. It was a good job as Steven was using all his energy to put one foot in front of the other despite the pain and discomfort while I am just useless at directions.

The miles slowly passed and midnight approached as we followed the circular beams of our head torches into a cloud of moths and flies, towards what we hoped would soon be the finish line at Castleton. Eventually we spotted the town and began our descent, zigging one way and then zagging another to the bottom of the hill.

We had never been so happy to see the Devil's Arse as we retraced our steps through the car park and up to the church steps which marked the finish line. Family members welcomed us, as did more smiling volunteers offering a meal, drink and wooden coasters to commemorate our achievement.

We had started together and finished together. Despite the terrain, weather, pain, sickness, terrible dad jokes and sore feet we had completed the 50 miles and 7,300 feet of elevation through some of the toughest running in England.

Kudos to the 100 milers and everyone who completed the courses of 100, 500 and 33 miles. A huge thanks to the organisers at Peak Running and the amazing crews at the checkpoints. This is one of the best organised, safest, most supportive events I have ever entered. Book for next year!