Hardmoors 55

I'll start at the start...

Hard-"prep"

The inspiration to do this came in a pub. Not so much a drunken dare or bet, but a nudge from a fellow off-road runner on the fringes of Autumn 2009. She said "You should give this a go", and showed me a piece of paper. On it was the Hardmoors site address. Being between challenges - I'd just done the 3 Atlantic Coast marathons - I looked into this. A March ultra didn't seem unreasonable, but I knew this was a step up from my previous 30-something mile efforts.

Training proper commenced about Christmas time. Whilst the general public moaned about the weather I got out and ran around various snow-covered areas of Yorkshire clocking up over 15 most Saturdays in Jan, sometimes low twenties, with a Sunday run and good midweek mileage. When the LDWA calender "thawed out" in February I had a drip-feed of easy-going 20+'s to feast upon. I clocked up a record personal mileage in January and wasn't far off in February too. Training peaked in Feb with a good Rombalds Stride and then a 36m out and back hill-run just two days later. I survived.... confidence built.

This was to be my first experiance of an ultra without food stocked CP. It wasn't all out unsupported as it had two cosy village halls on route where drop bags would be distributed to and tea/coffee was provided. Sorting out in advance what I would carry, what would go in drop bags, preparing food, was more prep than I've ever done before and I'm glad I took a day off to get this sorted and mark up the map before I set off up North.

Hard-"reality"

I've done some good running/walking/cycling in the North York Moors. Some good climbs, steep wooded-valleys and certainly many great views, are to be found - Langdale End area is good for starters. But compared to the Dales, Lakes and parts of Calderdale and the pennines they've often seemed slightly more tame, not so high, not so muddy. But they are still quite remote in places - inhabited just by tiny villages and hamlets - and have there own little weather patterns that can vary wildly from hour to hour and from the plains to north and west.

So then, could the Hardmoors 55, struggle to live up to its aggressive title? Well, for those who've done the Osmotherley Phoenix, the hilliest bit of that event - near the start - features after 22m of this.... and they've thrown in two extra climbs for good measure... and the sections either side aren't plain sailing either.

Due to the early start needed for this event I'd stayed over with Mark and family. So the early start to convoy to Guisborough - the end, dump a car and then travel back to Hemsley - the start, meant no rushing around following a 4am rise. Things were going well enough, well ahead of time, arriving about 50 minutes pre-start. I may have crippled a pheasent that tried to puncture my wheels near the White Horse, but life in the wild is harsh, which is appropriate for some sections of the days event along the exposed northern ridge paths of the Cleveland Way.

I faffed around at the start making last minute adjustments to my back pack contents and slinging some extra stuff into my drop bags and bag of warm gear for the finish. It was warm but raining so I added my best waterproof into my second drop kit bag, suspecting my starter might need a change by then if the rain kept up. It had been raining since the previous night so optimism off it stopping was outweighed by "gut feel" that it wouldn't. At least it wasn't windy. In contrast Mark seemed to be ready with half an hour to spare - I do envy those who can be so organised so quickly and without fuss. My tendency is to over-think, over-organise, over-pack and therefore end up muddling around last minute frantically checking the "small details" and often overlooking more important ones (more on that later).

Hard-"work"

With my warm clothes and drop bags safely stashed in the van for distribution along the route I was ready for the off. Jon Steele gave us an entertaining speel and then the manager/caretaker (?) of the Cleveland set us off -
and I want THAT job -
RING RING,
"Hello",
"Whats that.... a Cleveland way sign crooked near Sutton Bank..... I'll get my trainers on and I'll be there in 2 hours" :¬).

It was almost a dash through Helmsley to the official Cleveland Way start, it seems no matter the race length some people always blast off like its a 10k. Onwards and upwards along steady ascents and descents through fields and woodland. Scenic in a "parkland" sense, nothing hard or moor-like yet. The trend was upwards as we headed west, as I'd deduced in advance plotting the route on map. From Helmsley at about 250ft  we undulated until we arrived at Sutton Bank at 9m and 980ft. Then followed a loop of the "White Horse" on the hillside which involved a descent down wet stone steps to the lower car park and first CP, some wooded trail and a step climb back up. A challenging little loop just to bring us back to the Sutton bank car park we'd just left. On the way out to the White Horse the leader had floated past in the opposite direction towards Sutton Bank, no long distance shuffler I can tell you!

Not sure why, but it was here it occured to me that I had not packed any footwear in to my dry clothes bag for Guidborough - DOH!!!! - an illustration of what I had said before about my tendency for organisational mishaps.

Thing started to get tougher out on the long northward stretch to Osmotherley. The Cleveland way sticks close to the high western escarpment edge of the North York Moors. On a clear day you'd have grand views over the lowlands towards the Yorkshire dales. Today, just mere snippets of this - like tree-lined Gormire lake visible beneath the murk as the path skirted the edge. We were surrounded by this low cloud for the whole section before Osmotherley. There was also a strengthening wind from the north-east gradually combining with precipitation to chill the left-hand side of my body. This section climbs very gradually towards Black Hambleton (1300ft) along about 10 miles of exposed moorland and often quite sloppy track. Mark and I had maintained a good pace, just slowing a little towards 20m, in truth we'd probably not taken enough food on in this early stage as we'd pushed on at sub 11-min/mile pace.

The turn off into Osmotherley was welcomed, dropping beneath the cloud and out of the wind raised our mood even before we got to the village hall and our first drop bag. I'd approached this as the first of three sections of the route. At 22m it was the longest, but also the first and had only really been made difficult by the weather. I dumped my wet t-shirt and sodden wind-proof top in the bag and changed for a long sleeved T and my lightweight "emergency" waterproof - my bulkyfull waterproof being at the Kildale drop, 20m away. It was nice to be dry again. I also gulped down the sandwiches and malt-loaf I'd planned to eat during the first section, washed down with tea and transferred drop bag food and drink top up into the backpack. We didn't hurry outside again, taking a luxurious 15mins indoors and heading back out with renewed optimism.

Section 2 - The climb out of Osmotherley mirrors the start of the Phoenix with a swift climb up to Beacon Hill (980ft) and then onto Scarth Wood moor - a return to no visibility, constant fine rain and wind. My early optimism that my thin waterproof would be upto constant "bombardment" was soon dashed. Following the drop to the start of Live Moor Plantation (456ft) there was an initial steep climb up onto an exposed Moorland ridge. This was a grim section. As it went on each flat section or minor drop would be followed by another climb. On the long north-easterly trek towards and then along Carlton Bank the wind was whipping over the ridge blowing masses of fine rain at us horizontally - like running through a carwash over and over again. It wasn't heavy rain, or strong wind, but it was constant and I was soaked by now. Is this what purgatory would feel like? Briefly I considered the possibility I may be forced to drop out, but I soon dispelled this, thinking "keep moving, keep warm". If I wasn't shivering I was ok, right? Others also fared badly here, some suffered so badly they dropped out later at Kildale. Towards the peak cairn (1340m) I pushed the pace for awhile as Mark had often been doing most of the lead running, but was possibly coping worse than me at this moment, not helped by having taken off his waterproof at Osmotherley. The steep descent towards Lords Cafe eventually came and gave us a little respite, chance to eat some food and for Mark to get his waterproof on away from the worst of the weather

An equally cold climb up to the Wainstones CP followed. We almost missed it in the gloom passing to the wrong side of the rocky outcrop, but were called back by the young lad of CP staffer. I felt for the guy stuck on this exposed, rocky outcrop. The Osmotherley to Kildale section was really packing in the climbs as the Cleveland way visited every ridge summit that it could. I did feel things could only get better, thankfully I was right. I'd mentally prepared myself for the Urra Moor crossing - the highest point on route and on the North York Moors with a trig at 1490ft - to be the worst. I was pleasently surprised, now away from the ridge there wasn't quite the same buffering by wind and rain. We reached another cold and single-manned CP at Bloworth crossing and turned north heading towards Kildale and off these damned hard moors.

It was a miserable uneven stoney track for a few miles, always a "pleasure" when you've done 20 miles, never mind nearly 40. I eagerly awaited reaching the tarmac road just for the smoothness and variety it would offer. When we did get to it I soon wished for softer ground as the descent started, the hard surface jarring my feet and knees. Things were soon better though, Kildale wasn't in cloud and the rain had ceased and the high moorlands were done with! 42.5m done.

There was a retiree at Kildale, she'd looked strong heading out of Osmotherley as we'd arrived, but now looked pale and cold sat down here, before she headed off to lay down. I believe there were several retiree's here. Though my lightweight waterproof had been inneffective on the moors it had dried quick, as had my T underneath - maybe it wasn't so bad up there? I had a warm tea, sorted my food for this stretch and had the luxury of a shoe and sock change. Mark and I left Kildale after about 20mins - a very long stop even by our standards on LDWA challenges. Increadibly the sun was out as we climbed from Kildale upto a hilltop woodland, now low in the sky it lit up the white buildings of Kildale a golden yellow. This meant for the first time today we were able to run in a single layer without discomfort. Climbing stiffly up to the Captain Cook monument I was tired but knew it was now a matter of "when" not "if" I would finish.

The sun had set as we made the last significent climb up to Roseberry topping, short but steep to another remote CP. Heading down the rough steps we knew it was time to don headtorches. Unfortunately my dithering changing batteries cost us a few more minutes and I got cold again. But now we were all systems go for Guisborough. Progress was a bit slow through wet and spongy moorlands, but the torch did its job and we had no navigational issues. Into Guisborough woods and it was warm and the surfaces were easier to run. The town was a sea of lights, still far below and I thought this would be quite a nice place to run around on fresher legs. Glowsticks and one further checkpoint marked the route out of the woods. Now it was just a mile along an old railway track and a turn to the finish at Guisborough Cricket club. We arrived in 12hrs 36mins, which is 14 minute mile pace, most of our early pace was lost between Osmotherley and Guisborough, which was the hardest section of the event by a distance.

Hard-"reward"

It would be pretty sadistic not to have a feast after such a long run and the Indian restaraunt in Guisborough obliged. Starter, curry, rice and nan washed down with a large beer. I didn't eat every bite, my hunger not matching my endurance today. No bad thing as I intended to eat and eat and eat for the next few days (and I have).

Learning the hard way?

It really wasn't that bad, the slow pace after Osmotheley meant my energy levels never went flat, I just got gradually stiffer throughout as expected. I started to feel a bit naucious at about 35m so I need further practice eating on the run. I also need a proper waterproof for future events, one that will keep me dry all day and night if required. I also need to remember to make sure I have dry footwear at the end, on this occasion I was able to partially clean and dry the shoes I'd worn for the last 12m sufficiently to wear them to the restaraunt - not ideal!

ACC Day 3 - Lelant to the end of the Isle

I awoke on Sunday with still functional limbs so I guessed it was time to get the final run done and dusted. I seemed to be famished as I'd not really eaten enough the previous day. So I had plenty of porridge, bread + jam and then a banana not long brefore the race. This just succeeded in giving me an upset stomach by race time. Camp was quiet immeadiately before the briefing as many runners had started with the walkers, fearing the worst in the last days offering or needing to make a train/plane back to the real world? There was a bit of gallows humour on the minibus which lifted the mood slightly from the standard aura of the tired, nervous, and, following the brieifing, probably fearful passengers.

The slightly reduced runners gathered on masse on a village green near a church, some like myself watered the flowers. No complaints from the congregation who hopefully prayed for our mortal souls. We were soon off and it was quite a sedate start. Paths, alleys and quiet streets winding towards Carbis bay and then St Ives. I recall thinking that St Ives is somewhere I'd like to spend more time. Pleasent looking pubs, cafs and little shops. I must be getting old as I would have probably thought that of Newquay at one time.

Of the RW forum members I'd shared prep for this event with; Stuart was off up ahead on the way to a superb performance, Tommy I had just met and ran the first few miles with and then we met up with Gareth almost by accident. Nice to put faces to names and hear a bit about how this was going for them. Lots of solid surface and reasonably flat streets meant for a faster start than day 2. On the other hand it wasn't like day 1 where I purposefully had my foot on the brakes for 13miles. A small group of runners had bunched around me and kept me in line when I tried to go the wrong way after climbing the headland beyond the harbour - it was a short cut.. honest ;¬)

After another climb out of St Ives things soon got rough. My early confidence and pace would soon be knocked for six, but for now I was ascending and descending ok and managing to skip over the stones, boulders, twigs of heather and keep in line on the twisty and undulating paths. The trails here were a sign of things to come, fun at first, concentrating on keeping balance and rythm when there were a hundred-and-one obstacles in every one hundred strides. Gone were the straight, flat, and good surfaced paths that made up much of the previous days. This was more like crossing rough moorland somewhere like Calderdale or the western Yorkshire Dales.

By the time the path diverted inland to Zennor - following the return of a section of path near Zennor head to the sea - the cracks were forming in my will and endurance. Running the road into the town I seemed to be in slow motion almost like being towed by the guy in front. I felt like I had at 22 on day 1 or twenty on day 2, no longer confidently catching those in front, now just a passenger on an unpredictable ride. The sun was also out and I was sweating buckets as I often seem to do in the least hint of warm weather. The stomach was neither here northere at CP1 so I guzzled coke and water and ate some chocolate which seemed to agree. Then it was off again in slow motion, slightly bouyed by the very late arrival of CP1, probably more like 10m than 10k'ish, which is a good incentive that I'm near halfway.

A few runners passed me on the way back to the coast and the roughest section of terrain of the whole 3 days. Picking up where we had left off before Zennor it was wild, rocky, moorland, zig-zagging up and down the coast as it sloped towards the jagged cliffs. I was keeping up with those in front - who I was sure were ahead of me the previous day - until I hit the rounding of Porthmeor Cove. Then I just had to walk a bit as the path zigged up hill through more rock-strewn foliage. I let a few runners passed and decided to walk to the next flat bit. As I topped out I passed a girl I had the few previous days, also struggling, who on both occasions previously had then undertook me as I faded. As I approached a hill top the path became unclear, head was almost spinning and I couldn't see the, surely close, CP2 to pull me on. I became more ungainly, short of breath and unstable. A few minutes of this and a small fall made me realise I couldn't get to CP2 without action. I grabbed my emergency gel to get in some energy and electrolytes quick. I then reagained my direction and pushed on at a march. I passed "MdS" Mike who had gone out with the walkers, like myself he was unsure of the true path t this confusing section of the coast "path"?!. He had some of those walking poles, I could have done with some as the downhills were rabbit-punching my trashed quads.

The, panoramic, event signature, CP2, perched high on Trevean cliff, was a welcome sight as I waddled in. As scenic as this was it was not ideal as there was standing room only and the crowd were sheltering me from getting easy access to food and drink. So I only got a bit of water and coke and went on with no food for my "grumbling tum". The footing on the paths improved after CP2. A small blessing almost lost on me as I could barely run the slightest incline and any small obstacle halted me. The names of place I passed were now lost on me, there was some old mining remnents which distracted me for a while. Everything seemed to be uphill, even if only a tiny gradient. This was somewhat not an illusion, as when we got to CP3 were were far above the Atlantic. That was still a way off though. Any last remnents of energy I had were soon left slightly off the side of the coastal path. I inadvertantly strayed to a lower path which soon rounded a headland in almost scrambling style as I had to engage my hands to climb up and down boulders whilst keeping a safe distance away from the crumbling edges. I rejoned the true path, probably having not suffered a distance penalty, but a time and energy one.

Cape Cornwall appeared to the south and a long way below the high approach past a small castle and cairn. Thud, thud, thud,  went the hammer to my quads and soles of feet as I padded down the hill ungainly. I felt proper rough at this CP and drank at least 5 cups of water and coke. I then took a cheese and pickle sandwich and lay on my side in the grass verge behind the "grub van". I lay there for a while, eating in mousebites, trying to psyche myself up for the next.... last section. just about 6 miles, how could I consider giving up now. People came and went, any competive instinct I had was drained, I just needed to drag myself to the end. After 10-15 minutes I was back on my feet and plodding out of the carpark. The next section was comparibly good footing, some tricky stones implanted in paths and the odd big stone to clamber over, but for the fresh trail runner this would have been rather fun. It was a really dipper of a route though, traipsing up and down over whatever hills could be found. More runners passed and others appeared ahead, obviously suffering a bit like myself. I focused on trying to catch up with somebody! I ran downhills, level bits and did what I could on the uphill and tricky bits. I wasn't walking all of it as this would just prolong this experiance... not in a good way. Despite this I was only averaging about 17 minute/miles.

After an impossibly long 3 miles a beach appeared - Whitesand Bay, the last beach before the finish. I passed some walkers and then some runners, I ground almost to a halt on some soft sandy sections and then into a town. Sennen Cove, a nice little place and a flat, concrete path to run along. Despite this luxury I still had to take a walk break halfway through town. A sign said "Lands End 1 1/4m" :¬0 - but pointed uphill :¬(

Then I was hallucinating, "Holy batman and robin...", the caped crusader and his squeeky-voiced assitant passed me. No.... it was actually happening, whatever wonders the crime fighters had in their utility belts it had them running a storming finish, despite the costumes that must have been baking them. I regained my focus, just a few hundred metres now. Me and another guy even broke into a fast finish, despite the ludicricity - is that a word - of getting there a few seconds faster in what had turned into over a seven hour, 28.5 mile run! Winners did just under 5!! Amazing, but consider the difficulty of this last days course when I remind you they'd been sub 3:30 yesterday.

I was there, the line, I stopped for a picture, received my rather cracking laser patterned glass trophy and was directed over to the food. I didn't dwell on the frankly anti-climactic Lands End (Cape Cornwall was more impressive). Water, water, water, was the first order of business. I've never appreaciated water, undiluted by anything calorific, more. The budget cola on offer had become a close second. After a few moments rest I grabbed my hard-earned pasty and headed off to the food table. I didn't feel hungry so availed myself of a "For goodness shake" which I've always found rather pleasent and effective. Thank the lord a "meat wagon" had just pulled up and I joined the other coastline casualties in crawling in for the luxury of automated transport. I couldn't resist nibbling the warm pasty - it was good - but unfortunately my parched throat couldn't drink enough to let me digest it all so I had to leave half till I got back to camp.

It was pretty much dark as I arrived back at the holiday park. Daryl - of the MdS suvivors team was already back at mine and Mikes chalet. He'd sucumbed to a painful foot injury and was able to complete the last day, but not in time for his train connection, even having gone off with the walkers. Made me realise that despite my bodily failures I was lucky to be seemingly uninjured. I tried a hot bath, I felt I'd give the ice bath a miss today, I'd punished my body enough. That took the edge off despite several acrobatics to try get properly washed up in the worlds smallest bath. Not long after Mike arrived back after a long day out, finishing just before sunset. The three of us dedided curry would be just reward and got a lift with one of the votwo guys into Hayle - some of them were still ferrying back tail-enders, well after dark. Those still out there were real heroes, they must have spent nearly half the last 24 hours on foot.

The curry was heavenly, the the cobra beer nectar. I remember once having a strong curry thats name was supposed to translate to "medicine for the sick man". If this is true todays Chilli Chicken Masala must do something similar for the man with very tired legs. A true reward - but I didn't need a reward, completion had been enough, the pasty the prize, the smile on my face didn't fade all the next day. I figured I was the happiest person spending 9 hours on a train the next day - though I may not have had much competition.

Its been over a week now, I'm back in the real world, the rat race, I've probably piled on the reckoned half stone I worked off on a parallel world where the sea was just a few footsteps to my right and a short drop away. It was life changing; though I'm no better or worse afterwards, probably no happier, or sadder, but I've taken on a challenge that was enormous to me and risen to it. Whats left to do now, but to look onwards and upwards and reset my expectations and think about what to do next. What challenge I can rise to meet, and prepare hard for to give me a focus to drive me on past the mundanities of life, the real stuff, getting in my hours, paying the bills.

4:39 - 4:43 - 7:12 - 79miles - 23rd of 127.

Drunken-Euphoria will return in a yet unknown adventure.