Hardmoors 60, 21 September 2013

Filey 5.45 am

The bus took us from the school in Filey, to Guisborough, a journey by road of just under 50 miles, so we could run back to Filey along the scenic route.  I can see why some might think this is a bit strange.  However there are a number of checkpoints along the way, with splendid arrays of cakes, biscuits, chocolate, Chia Charge flapjack, and a selection of drinks including cola, coffee and tea. So, it's kind of an "all you can eat for £45" meal deal.  You simply have to run between courses.

Guisborough Rugby Club

Kitcheck and registration is busy, final adjustments to straps and gear, the RO's final instructions are over, so we make our way outside, and we are off shortly after 8 am.

Immediately there is a steep climb in the woods, up to High Cliff Nab.  I had run in these woods with Ultra Runner Moorsman, in July 2013, today's climb was harder.  It seems the start of the race is a closely guarded secret until race day.   There was relief all round on reaching the top and the Cleveland Way stretched out before us. 


We ran through Guisborough woods and to Slapewath where a surprise cheeky checkpoint checked our progress and ability to stick to the proper route.  We crossed the main road, after the hard climb up, we then ran along Airy Hill Lane racing chasing and overtaking.


After passing through Skelton we followed the path through the woods, under Skelton Beck viaduct which years ago was deemed picture post card material, then on to Saltburn-by-the-Sea.

Steve running across Skelton Beck on an earlier recce.

We all had a hearty welcome at the Vista Mar checkpoint, Jon Steele and Shirley were there, with a lot of other people who were cheering, we had our photos taken, and were invited to help ourselves to the lovely selection of food, it was the closest I have come to feeling like visiting royalty at a garden party, I could have stayed longer but had to keep moving, just a hunch I had a long day ahead. All we need to do now is keep the sea to the left, till we get to Filey.  I was running on my own still, and didn't know where Steve and Andreas were.  


Up to Hunt Cliff and the site of a fortified Roman signal station, then along Cattersty Cliff, down the path to Cattersty Sands, the natural sand beach at Skinningrove, home of the famous Skinningrove Homing Society.  The prize pigeons played an important part in World War II, local fanciers donated many birds to the Ministry of Defence and they flew messages in the Invasion of Europe.  They were also carried by RAF crews to alert their position when they were in dinghies shot down in the North Sea, awaiting rescue by Royal Navy craft.

Passing by the Homing Society of the other long distance racing brothers and sisters, from here there is a climb up to Hummersea point, followed by lovely cliff top running, through Boulby then on to Staithes; running down the steep road to the harbour and then through the narrow streets, you are soon running round Beacon Hill, veer left of Port Mulgrave, and then arrive at Runswick Bay.   Between Staithes and Runswick Bay Andreas caught me up and we ran together looking for Steve.  


Runswick Bay Checkpoint, there is my drop bag waiting, this is a great pit stop, cheery marshalls and cheering locals.  As we leave, Andreas tells me we have done 36 miles, and have 26 miles to go. 


Moving a little slower now along the beach then up the path to Kettleness, along the disused railway to Sandsend, another checkpoint, another rest knowing the next few miles to Whitby would be hard going on the pavement.   Through the whale bones, just a quick stop for photos, weaving through the crowds in Whitby, not a goth in sight, but pirates a plenty. 


The Robin Hoods Bay checkpoint in the village hall provided a welcome resting place, with much needed coffee.  I decided to spend time fixing a hotspot on my foot which turned out to be one of the best things I did.  I cleaned some sand off which was exfoliating the ball of my foot - left unchecked it was going to get vicious, I put a blister plaster on and felt a million times better for it. 


We set off for Boggle Hole, then ran through green fields with the deep blue sea on the left in brilliant sunshine, just heaven approaching Ravenscar.   I was getting a bit tired, by the time I arrived at the checkpoint I was scanning the table like a hawk.  Crisps.  Yum.  Normally denied as I am on a diet but today the salt tastes good and I am hoping to burn off more calories than I consume.  We stayed just a few minutes, and I said to Andreas: "we'll dig deep when we get to Scarborough".   

Hayburn Wyke came and went, the trees provided some shade and it was cool and shady.   On the cliff tops you see helpful signs with a picture of a person falling off a cliff, and remember to watch your step.  At places, looking down you can see a sheer drop like a well, you could sink like a stone with the deep drop to the sea.

It was around there that I started thinking about faking my own death. Triggered by the sight of the sea and the waves on the shore or the sheer drop or thoughts of the canoist from Seaton Carew, a weird combination of these things seemed to transport me into visions of 'doing a Reggie'.  I was enjoying myself, don't get me wrong, but you do find yourself having some weird thoughts at times. 


So, now we are approaching Scarborough and the promenade seems to last forever.  It is dark but we are on the pavement so headtorches are not needed, yet. 


A princess and her fair maidens whiling away the moonlit evening on the  shores clustered around cardboard boxes of treasures, dandelion and burdock, cola and magical food parcels.  Damn fine coffee.  By this point it was difficult to tell runners apart from rough sleepers.  It was dark and uncertainty lay ahead.  We stayed awhile then ran off following a trio with headtorches, I was clutching my secret weapon (a Boost bar) in one hand and a Hi5 gel in the other.  The sky was dark brown, the moon was vanilla and reflected on the still sea.  Around this time the run turned into a re-enaction of Hate and the Tortoise.   No that is not a typo, read on.


Mr Race joined us and for the first time in my life I was the only one who knew the way.  Running in the moonlight I loved the stillness and the silence.  I don't really manage well talking when I am running I usually end up falling over.  The Cayton Bay checkpoint was chilled and good.  I eyed a Twix and wanted it but could not take it, I had eaten so much sugar today.  The Coke was grand.  Down to the woods, then back up and we soon reach a sign that says "Filey 5 miles".   "Oh no", I muttered, "it's going to go on for hours"

"How come, it's only 5 miles!"

"You watch".

The running was pleasant enough.  Mr Race sped ahead.  The sea on the left, the moon hung low in the almost cloud less sky.  Some lights to the right every now and again.  Through a caravan park.  More lights to the right.  Where was Filey Brigg?  I panicked after what seemed like a long time.  Maybe we had gone past Filey?  How was I going to tell Andreas that we had run further than we needed to?  How could we run past Filey without noticing?  Secretly I panicked but I didn't want Andreas to know.  I worried I had missed a turn. I could not work it out, why weren't we at Filey Brigg by now?


I was power walking up the hills (slopes, really) and lurching into a run when I could.  It might be a ten second run then back to the power walk.  I didn't want to walk all the way to the end from here, I wanted to get back.  Andreas later confessed that every time I started running he was thinking evil thoughts.  That's the thanks you get for getting someone to the end.  I think it might have been a low point for both of us.  When we finally reached Filey Brigg I thanked our lucky stars.  I had not taken us the wrong way, and now the end was within our grasp.


I knew if the tide was out we could run along the beach to the Filey promenade.  I ran down to the sea and called Andreas after me, we could run along the beach saving us the climb up then back down.  Running along the beach in the dark with the sea close by and the moon following us, was one of the better moments of the run for me.  I knew we were nearly there. 


Filey

The sea front was quiet, just a few late night promenaders, and the checkpoint was in front of my face before I was expecting it.  A hearty welcome at the checkpoint including directions.  We moved along the sea front past the beach huts and up Martin's Ravine, up to the golf club house then along the path to the right, past the camp site where our tents were and on to the road, up to the school, in to the hall and there was Steve catching his breath, he was a minute or two ahead of us.


Finish

We had been running (well, let's say moving) for the equivalent of 2 working days (normal working hours). 

I could not drive for just under 15 hours but I enjoyed every minute of this run.

After a rest in the school and nodding and smiling and uttering monosyllables in the hall, we went back to the campsite.  I thought I slept well although I am told I was groaning all night.  My entire body hurt - my arms, feet, quads, glutes.  It was good pain though.  Such an amazing experience, enhanced by the weather, the sun and the moon, the support and other runners and friends.  

Grand slam next year? 

1st male         Jim Mann           10h 03m 37s
1st females    Carol Morgan  &
                     Shelli Gordon       11h 31m 54s
30th              Steve Dixon         14h 41m 15s   (1st MV 60)
31st              Sarah Smith         14h 42 m 49s
32nd            Andreas Mayer    14h 42m 52s

     started
91 finished

Lakeland 50, 27 July 2013

There are times in your life when you have to squarely look yourself in the eye and ask yourself some serious questions.  There are others, when you can forget all about that David Copperfield kind of crap and simply spill yourself over a 50 mile linear route in the Lake District and have an elemental experience.  


Following entry to the Lakeland 50 in September 2012, Steve Dixon and myself resolved to harden ourselves to the long haul.  Whilst I have regularly worked 12 hour shifts throughout my career, Steve is a bit of a part timer having made better plans for his future in his youth, I was concerned for him, and hoped to make him a little more hardy. 


We cycled around 25 miles to the Yorkshireman, we cycled to reccie the Full Tour of Pendle, we cycled 25 miles to the Haworth Hobble and looked forward to 27 July 2013 when we would enjoy every step of the 50 miles and have a strong finish.


The Woldsman, in April, was my first attempt at running 50 miles but with a dicky left knee I should have known better - a fantastic day, but I paid a heavy price.  Following on from a month of limping post-Woldsman, being unable to run I stretched, biked, swam, aqua jogged and foam rolled for England with the Christmas lights on, to my favourite LP. 


I went on a night time reccie from Ambleside to Coniston with Steve Dixon in June and I ran on the North York Moors one Sunday in July with Ultra Runner Moors Man and on the back of that decided I was just about fit for the Lakeland 50.  


Six days before the race, Timperley reverberated with my cussing as I stubbed my little toe in the throes of housework. 

Urgent texts to Ace Physio at midnight were followed by a sheepish visit to A and E on Monday morning, this little piggy was strapped to the neighbouring toe, RICE, witch hazel and arnica were applied all week and by Friday the toe was better.


Steve D and myself hauled our bikes on the train and replacement coach from Leeds to Windermere, and biked to Conistone via Hawkshead, only sending one couple of mistakenly grateful tourists in the wrong direction on our way.  Steve was so psyched up for the Lakeland 50 he was unable to navigate to his usual high standards.


Thankfully we had reccied at Easter 

 

Around 8 days before the event I walked from Pooley Bridge to Ambleside and wild camped at Sadgill.  Walking towards Troutbeck, I met the potter who made the prizes for Tanky's Trog.  He offered me a lift from Troutbeck to Windermere but I insisted on finishing the reccy as far as Ambleside. 


I rubbed shoulders with last year's winner who was casually swinging the cup he was returning in the queue to register.  I fell over about 5 yards after the start and although I jumped up as quickly as I could I didn't really settle into a proper rhythm.  In fact I could not enjoy the race as I was bloated and felt physically rubbish most of the way round. 


It was very hot and when the cool rain came it was welcome.  Heavy rain drops started to fall on the roof of the portaloo while I was at Kentmere Institute.  The rain started and stopped.  I was so hot, there was no way I could wear my waterproofs walking up to Garburn Pass, the rain seemed happy to start and stop and so was I. 


I could not whip up a run along the river after Skelwith Bridge to Elterwater, which has to be the most runnable stretch of the 50 miles.  I walked and ran, mostly walked and just before I came out of the woods before Wainwright's Inn, I heard cheers.  The woman behind me muttered "oh no, we are going to have to start running"  as we emerged onto the road.  "Not for long!" said I, and we ran along to the cheers of the happy people in the pub, then reverted to a shuffle as we turned off the road.


Approaching the Chapel Stile checkpoint I felt quite overwhelmed for the incredible support which is to be found all around this race, from the start to the finish, as the marquee was lit up and braziers burned, smoke blazed across the path and the welcome and support there and at all the checkpoints was magnificent.


As I left Chapel Stile it started raining again, but it was still warm.  I was trotting behind Tom and Jon by now and was secretly yet no doubt obviously very pleased not to be on my own at this point, with what lay ahead.  I tried to keep up with them but kept losing them.  However I was not alone.  There were plenty of shadows inching their way along at this point in the dark, Lakeland 100ers - a ghostly combination of ancient mariner-like Roman Centurions clanking their chains.


The rain became heavier, and I got soaked; at Blea Tarn I had to put my waterproof on. Just after this I bumped into Tom and Jon again and their ace navigating got us to the compulsory unmanned checkpoint in no time. 


I ran a while with Super Kev, the giggly road runner from Wigan.  As we hit the tarmac at Tilberthwaite he knelt down and wept, and kissed the metalled road.  We caught up with Julie and another couple of people he knew at the checkpoint and we all headed out for the final section warmed by teas and coffees. 


One minor error as we headed towards the slate cottages instead of away from them, which lost us a place but three of us ran down the road to Coniston and through the rainy streets, to the cheers of the supporters to the finish, into the school and into the gym where we were cheered and presented with medals.


Andreas, Amanda and Steve greeted me, having kindly waited up for me, with a styrofoam cup with sparkling wine, which tasted just great.  A first aid lady gouged the grit out of my cuts and I had a baked potato and salad, that's it, I am definitely on a diet after this heavy experience.


In the Black Bull on Sunday evening we met a 100er called Nick who told us how his secret weapon had been ham sandwiches he had pulled out of his bag which had revived him.  The penny didn't drop but it would have been obvious to most we were talking to Mr Ham.


I finished the weekend with a rendition of Frank Sidebottom singing Radio Gaga, as Nick wanted to know what kind of songs Frank sang.

I am looking forward to next year, I believe I can knock at least an hour off my time.  Sincere thanks to all the race organisers, marshalls and supporters.  A fantastic event. 

Lakeland 50, 27 July 2013

1st male  Ben Abdelnoor               7h 39m 26s
1st female Katherine Brougham      9h 44m 10s

73rd   Amanda Seims      11h 38m 47s
73rd   Andreas Mayer     11h 38m 47s
78th   Steve Dixon            11h 42m 58s  (first MV60) 
223rd Sarah Smith           13h 56m 40s

587 started
482 finished

The Woldsman, 13 April 2013

I forgot to tell you how good the Woldsman was, starting at 8 am on 13 April. 

A lovely 50 mile circuit round the Yorkshire Wolds, with Andreas, Ian and Steven Worth replacing Steve Dixon on the start line, who was forced to withdraw due to illness. 

What joy to run in such good company,

to stop at such lovely cake-filled checkpoints

 

and to be visited by Steve and Ziggy at Thixendale who bobbed by to deliver some emergency gels and join us for a hearty pasta lunch and crumble pudding. 

I said to Ian: "we'll dig deep when we get to Wetwang".

Ian: "I thought we were already digging deep?"

Ian was smiling by the end.

as were Andreas and Steven

I would like to do this LDWA event again.  I felt quite proud to be flanked by such good runners and even though my knee took a hammering, and I was literally crippled for a month, my memories of this day are of us basking in golden wolds.  Magical.  Although I do remember muttering at one point "if I see another bloody wold..." but that was just me displaying a shocking lack of humour on one of the best days of my life. 

We took around 10h 20m if I remember correctly and around an hour of that time was spent partaking in the refreshments on offer, to be polite.

Number of starters 195
Number of finishers 181
First Male & First Overall Neil Ridsdale in 7 hours 58 minutes
First Female Lorraine Laycock in 9 hours 19 minutes

12 Steven Martin Worth  10:18
13 Sarah Smith               10:19
13 Andreas Mayer          10:19
13 Ian Sanderson            10:19

 Start Driffield Showground 018566

1 6.75 Danes’ Graves 022634 D 2 13.5 Sledmere Village Hall 936648 H D S 3 20.5 Wharram Percy 866644 D S 4 25 Thixendale Village Hall 842611 M (cut off 5pm) 5 31.5 Givendale Scout Hut 818538 H D S 6 36.5 Huggate Wold 865547 D H S 7 42 Wetwang Methst Hall 932591 H S 8 46.5 Sand Pit CoBage 973578 D Finish 50 Driffield Showground 018566 M

D – cold drinks H- hot drinks S-snacks M - Meal 

The Wadsworth Trog, 9 February 2013

Well, a bit of a disaster really. 

I could only manage a recce of part of the course two days before.  Along the way I gaily laughed and had a lot of fun but that was mainly due to being out on my favourite OL21 terrain. 

When I work out how to insert pics there will be one here.

Obviously, when race day came things were going to be markedly different, and more in keeping with life generally.

As we gathered at the start at Chiserley, I checked my compass was in the pocket it lives in, I heard a click and crack and thought ah, hopefully my thumbcompass will be in another pocket.

Ahem.

Then a bit later my Camelbak failed to work.  Damn.  I am carrying 500 ml of Hi5 [off the internet but legal] and can't drink it.   Great.

So I slipped, I stumbled, and I fell.   I didn't run believe me!

Eventually I get through the checkpoint at Cock Hill where you might be timed out, with 5 minutes to spare.  I am fed up and wish I was having the fun I had on recce day. 

The cheery marshall at Withins tells me to help myself to a jelly baby "if there are any left"...

At the reservoir I got my compass out and the needle was miles away from where it should be.  Literally - it was gone!  Nowhere to be seen.  The thumb compass was nowhere to be found.  I followed footprints and with the help of other straddlers who were very helpful, I made it to Shackleton Knoll and almost started to cry, this is not going well. 

Then mercy me, Karen looms into view, pushes everything into my Camelbak and me into shape and disappears so I have another wobble and apologise to the sweepers as everything is going wrong, I realise I am going to be timed out and mentally throw the towel in.

After the climb from Lumb Waterfall, I hear Karen shouting "come on Sarah", so I run and catch her and Livi up and we get to the final potentially timed out check point only 30 minutes late, and miraculously they just let us pass. 

Thank the lord for laid back marshalls.  I get back after some map fondling with the additional rescue of my iPhone compass - until I fall into an icy bog with iPhone compass in hand... and make it back before dark!

Damn that was hard.

Next year I know how hard and can't wait to get it.

Hebden 22, 19 January 2013

Start: 8 am, Mytholmroyd.  22 miles in an anti-clockwise direction, heading up to Lower Crimsworth near Pecket Well, turning at Gibson's Mill, then up to Old Town and Slack. 

                                                    Gibson's Mill



From there down to Blackshaw Head, along the Calderdale Way. 

Down past Delph, through Jumble Hole Clough, past the waterfall and the remains of Staups Mill, across the railway and the road and then it's a climb up from there to Broadhead Clough.  Past some ruins, you find yourself on the Pennine Way, then instead of heading for Stoodley Pike which monument stands there like a piece on a chess board, you follow Dicks Lane, cross a moor, and climb down into Broadhead Clough.  From here, you head for Cragg Vale, turn round past Turkey Lodge and head back down to Mytholmroyd.

Today in sub zero temperatures, snow which was kneedeep in places, it was hard going, with a cold wind in your face some of the time.

What a great day running in snow on my favourite OL21 map.

Last year's time 5:09
This year's time 4:53

An improvement of 16 minutes explained by: not being so bleeding ignorant when it comes to the route, reducing the amount of time spent at cake stall/checkpoints and taking the food with me, meals on wheels if you like.  Last year we were hampered by an elemental wind, with the emphasis on mental, especially for the last say 6 miles.  

Being driven home, I find out that the Brass Monkey is cancelled, so I have a day off tomorrow...

Steve texts me to say he has actually lost 1kg on this race.  Disqualified.  The array of food you are treated to at the checkpoints is for the runner's benefit and welfare.  To lose weight on this race shows you have insufficient regard for your wellbeing. He suggests a 10 minute penalty.  OK. 

Recce of the Hebden 22

Today, 5 of us reccied the Hebden 22.  It us took from 9 am until 3 pm.  I hope to do the race in under 5 hours though. 

Alun and Jack left us half way and Steve, John and myself trundled all the way round.

It was a little misty, and warm. 

We were treated to some good views towards the end.

It was fairly wet and quite muddy.

Hardmoors 30, 1 January 2013

“I was going to go to Ravenscar for my summer holidays but the walk to the beach was down a steep cliff…”.  The steep cliff which ruined the dreams of the developers defines Ravenscar as it gives you sweeping views from the top, and it is the impressive bulk which you head towards as you approach from Whitby.  Ravenscar was fortunate in that it escaped the developers’ grasp.  Twenty years ago, I camped at Bent Rigg Farm walking from Scarborough to Whitby along the Cleveland Way and went back many times as I was drawn to the place.

Ravenscar, the bare outline of a village, coupled with the remote Raven Hall Hotel perched on the top of the cliff directly above Wine Haven and with sweeping views of Robin Hood’s Bay.

The Raven Hall Hotel was looking a little tired until recently it was given an injection of life and is now a popular wedding venue.  The photographs on the walls of glamourous gatherings there in the glory years gone by, put me in mind of The Shining.

Inspired by beautiful pictures of the coastline by Ultrarunner Moorsman on the Hard Moors Facebook page in September 2012, I signed up for the Hard Moors 30, having previously felt the route looked a little tame.  A disused railway features a lot in the figure of eight route, which might be ideal for cycling with children but for running, for me it is too enclosed.

Steve and Andreas joined me on a recce of the route in December and we were treated to a lovely day, the rugged majesty of the North Yorkshire coastline splashed in bright colours courtesy of brilliant sunshine.  Setting off from Leeds in the dark, we had driven through the dawn to arrive at Ravenscar at 9 am in daylight.  We had coffee and cake in Robin Hoods Bay, and later enjoyed coffee and chocolate in the church yard of St Mary’s church at the top of the 199 steps (or 398 for Steve).

The Specials’ eponymous first album was the first CD of the year, on the early morning drive to Ravenscar, followed by the Smashing Pumpkins.  I arrived in Ravenscar in a good mood having driven through a dawn again, the light was bright on arrival, the road frosty, a nip in the air.

In the village hall I was greeted by very efficient and very young marshalls who registered me and gave me my race card.

The race organiser cheerfully advised us that if we had brought fell shoes or road shoes choose the fell, as the muddy sections after Whitby were ‘bad’.  Oh well, that was about 4 or 5 hours away for me, not an immediate problem.

Having been told to “bugger off” by the race organiser, we were off.  I set off at a fairly good pace, my race plan was to “put some effort in”.  I don’t know why but I cannot go fast.  My body just resists being pushed on the speed side.  It is probably worried it ‘might hurt’ but I just chug along gaily at a steady pace most of the time, for hours.  The plan for today was, “try a bit harder than normal”.  In fact, I had told myself: try so hard that you feel ill at the end.  I have read blogs where fell runners run so hard they vomit in the race, and I feel ashamed that I just jog around and breeze up at the end beaming, saying “that was great, I really enjoyed that”.

It’s just such a great feeling setting off on a long run, knowing you have 5 or 6 hours of this ahead of you, savouring every step, every turn, every new view, warming up and getting into the rhythm.  It really is like being on a train with a bit of a thrill of running thrown in. 

We run round Blea Wyke Point, and head down to Hayburn Wyke where we leave the Cleveland Way, and head inland.  Just after the first check point, a self-clip, I was running across a boggy field, when I heard a man cussing loudly. I laughed thinking he had just got wetter than he expected – I felt a little sheepish when another runner told me he thought the first one had lost his shoe. As I looked back he seemed to be searching for his shoe in the bog, assisted by another so I felt bad.

From here, you turn onto the disused railway, and keep going along that until Whitby.  The long stretches along the disused railway could in theory get a bit tedious at times, but I don’t expect entertainment on a 30 mile run. I imagine what it would have been like to travel along that track, on a train and forget I am propelling myself.

Check point 2, having completed the Hayburn Wyke loop, is at the village hall, then trotting off back on the disused railway, this time heading up to Whitby. This stretch of the disused railway is the scene of a previous disaster around 20 years ago when I found myself walking along this stretch, with Tony, in the dark without a torch…  it’s a long story. 

Check point 3 in Robin Hood’s Bay, food and drink and friendly marshalls.  No time for coffee and cake this time. I plough on along the disused railway, still, heading for Whitby.  You are treated to glimpses of the sea to your right if you are heading in the right direction. Whitby Abbey comes into view sooner than you think it will and running into Whitby and through the throng of daytrippers and up the 199 steps and through the church yard and onto the coastal path. I don’t think breaking the lucky duck all those years ago mattered after all.  This is going so well.

Leaving St Mary’s, the coastal path was fine, hard pack terrain. A little mud a bit further along then the small patches of mud became larger until I was running through swathes of mud, which turned into channels and then tracts of land which were fields of mud.  The mud was frothy and bubbly, churned and whipped and a really lovely light brown colour.  It was difficult to get a grip and easy to fall.  Ahem.  Past Far Jetticks.  Clock Case Nab.  Craze Naze.  Calf.  Castle Chamber.

Back in Robin Hood’s Bay, the marshalls check you in and keep you going.  Then, I find myself running down the hill to Robin Hood’s Bay laughing and beaming from ear to ear. 


I call out to a pair of runners, “isn’t this great, are you enjoying this?”  And they look at me like I am the most annoying person they have encountered ever.  What on earth is she on about?  I run down the hill wondering if this unbreakable descent will end in tears.  Surely it must, I can’t stop or slow and this is too fast for me!  I’m going faster and faster, momentum is gathering yet I manage to stay upright and then swerve to the right and up a ginnel, past the chippy, and up to the coastal path again.

More mud, more slipping and falling.  Down the steps to Boggle Hole, up again, past Tinkler’s Stone, then it’s that lovely finger post saying “Ravenscar 2 miles” and I think ok, that’s 20 minutes left, damn.  Up the hill to the Raven Hall Hotel, it’s nearly dark, I power walk and try to fall forward to see if I can fool my body into running.  Remember your race plan.  I am tired, but not ill and certainly nowhere near vomiting.  Turn right at the top, hook up with a runner in pain, but he joins me in our combined attempt to finish this running.  We count down the seconds and lurch into the village hall beaming from ear to ear.

All the prizes await – hot coffee, a lovely baked potato, crisps.  Then a presentation of trophies, and heading home in the dark, a perfect start to the New Year.

HARDMOORS 30 Category winners
1st Robin Carter 4hrs 21mins
2nd Neil Risdale 4hrs 23mins
3rd Anthony Gerundini 4hrs 30mins
1st Lady Sophie Crad 5hrs 32mins
1st 50 vet David Jelley 4hrs 41mins
1st 50 vet Lady Alison Brind 6hrs 15mins
1st 60 vet Dave Thompson 6hrs
1st Shire Darren Gillman 7hrs 39mins
Sarah Smith 6hrs 15mins