I didn’t go into this race with the best attitude! If you’ve spoken to me in the past few months, you will have heard my moaning about everything to do with the event, from the exhaustive nature of the kit list, to the consequent weight of ‘The Bag’, to the simple fact that I really didn’t know why I’d signed up for it.
Given all that…it’s hardly a surprise that I didn’t make it to the finish. This is a race that demands everything from you, regardless of which distance you’re attempting (I was on Challenger South, the 108 mile Pennine Way section from Edale to Hawes). I didn’t know why I wanted to make it to the finish line, and so it transpired that I wasn’t willing to give everything, to do everything, and to try everything, to get there. All I can say is, I get it now! The ‘Spine Family’ is an experience I’ve never had in my life before, despite plenty of races and events, all of which have been great. But to receive this level of unconditional care, support and sheer love from an army of strangers was different. It has utterly got under my skin, and I think there’s little doubt that I’ll be back for more.
My post-match analysis is lengthy; read on if you’d like to know why I failed (and why I feel at peace with this), as well as my thoughts on how I could succeed next time.
Conditions for this year’s Spine race were incredible (in the literal sense). Beginning down in Edale, the ground was carpeted in thick, powdery snow, roads into the village were still treacherous, and temperatures were approaching double-digits negative. As we set off, it became apparent that the going was to be very slow. Pity the race leaders (Mark Darbyshire and Rupert Allison) who were breaking trail. Those of us behind at least had their tracks to follow, but we still found ourselves trudging through knee-deep drifts. Even when the snow was less deep it was still loose and powdery. If you don’t often run on snow, imagine something akin to trying to run on dry sand. The energy required to make progress was huge, and although I didn’t feel that I was over-exerting, I noticed how much hungrier than usual I was, and how fast I was burning through my fuel supplies.
I quickly realised that this wouldn’t be my day. Spiners are divided into runners and walkers; the former intending to jog flats and downs where possible, and the latter planning to walk the entire event. I am a relatively slow walker, so I rely on being able to run to maintain my average pace – and I just couldn’t run! There are long sections of the Pennine Way on paving slabs, and as long as these aren’t iced over they provide an excellent surface for easy running. Sadly, we didn’t see a single slab in the 80k section from Edale to Hebden Bridge, all being lost under the snow. This had a big impact on my pace (slow), my effort levels (high), and my motivation (variable!).
Despite all of the above, I really enjoyed the majority of the first leg to Hebden Bridge. Although the underfoot conditions were tough, the overhead conditions were awesome, bluebird skies during the day, and moonlight and stars at night, so bright that a headtorch wasn’t really needed at times. I hadn’t realised before the event how much unofficial support there is on route, and it was lovely coming into pop-up Mountain Rescue support points every few hours, cheery people providing hot coffee, snacks, water refills and encouragement. My one complaint through this section was The Bag. For my first attempt at this race, I hadn’t wanted to invest lots of money (the race itself costing £400) in ultra-lightweight kit. I think this was the right decision, but it meant I was carrying 8-9kg on my back. I have used this bag a lot, and I am used to using it fully loaded, but for some reason it quickly began causing excruciating pain in one shoulder. I was constantly shifting and adjusting it, trying to escape the pain, which eased whenever I was able to run, and returned during the (frequent) extended periods of hiking. When training with the bag I have been switching regularly between running and walking, so I hadn’t experienced how it would feel when hiking for hours, fully loaded. More on how I plan to resolve this, below.
Arriving into Hebden Bridge (around midnight, after 16 hours and circa 75k) was a little morale-sapping – the checkpoint had been moved from its usual location due to frozen water pipes, so we had to negotiate a steep descent and re-ascent through the town to the replacement checkpoint, in the knowledge we’d have to retrace our steps to return to the route at the point we left it. Finally arriving was to be plunged into a warm bath of kindness! The Spine volunteers are everything they are rumoured to be; mainly experienced ultrarunners themselves, they know exactly what you need, and exactly what to ask and do. I planned to stay in the checkpoint for around an hour, so I got my watch and headtorch on charge before having a hot meal and a full change of clothes. I re-taped my feet, which were in perfect condition, and re-stocked my pack with more food. This made me a little anxious, as I could see how much more I’d used than planned, and realised that despite packing far more than I’d thought I’d need, what was left would only just be enough to reach Hawes.
Then I made what in hindsight was a big error. I decided not to attempt to have any sleep at Hebden; my rationale was that I’d done 24+ hour events before, and I was only 16 hours into this one. I also struggle to fall asleep quickly, so I was anxious about wasting an hour lying down, only to not sleep anyway. So, I packed up, got my departure kit check done, and set off back up the hill, at around 1.30am.
I perhaps should have realised sooner that the lack of sleep was a mistake. I stopped to change layers twice in the ascent out of Hebden, each stop probably taking 10 minutes or more as I fumbled with straps and buckles, and tried to put things on in completely the wrong order. Descending through fields covered in deep snowdrifts I fell repeatedly, and realised that I was starting to fall asleep on my feet; the transition from ‘wide awake’ at Hebden to ‘dropping with fatigue’ happened in just two hours. The Bag had also started to bite again on the long uphill hike, making me want to cry with the pain.
I reached a road crossing, and spied a bus shelter. I decided to sit down in this for a few minutes to collect my thoughts and decide what to do. There seemed to be three options. I could continue moving, and hope that my brain woke up again, I stopped falling asleep, and the bag stopped hurting. I was reluctant to do this, although I knew that if I stopped moving for more than 30 minutes, the safety team would come looking for me. But the next section was 13 miles with some remote moorland, both for my own safety (falling asleep in snowdrifts isn’t super sensible!) and for the safety team, I didn’t want people having to trek out onto the moorland to rescue me. I could stop and try to have a nap in the bus shelter. Or I could phone HQ, DNF and ask to be picked up.
This was the point at which my lack of a ‘why’ became a problem. If I had really, really wanted to get to Hawes, I would have attempted the nap. It might not have worked (freezing cold bus shelters not being conducive to sleep), but I would have tried everything. I knew as I contemplated it that I didn’t want it that badly, and I picked up the phone. From there, it’s all a bit of a blur of half-asleep images. I got all my kit on and fell asleep standing up in the bus shelter, fell asleep again in the van on the way back to Hebden, and then once in the checkpoint, the wonderful volunteers swiftly conveyed me and my sleeping bag into a bed.
Side note here to explain just how wonderful the volunteers were. I’ve been through checkpoints aplenty, and always been greeted by smiling, helpful, encouraging people, so this isn’t to disparage any other event. But the Spine atmosphere and support is something else. It’s hard to explain how peaceful and content I felt after the race, despite the DNF, but I think it’s partly down to having spent 24 hours receiving unconditional love and kindness from dozens of strangers, all giving up time and energy, and in some cases spending the night out in the cold and the snow, all willing you on. Hebden CP volunteer Ian helped me when I got back at 5am on Sunday morning; I couldn’t really speak, so he patiently listed off all the things I might want, while I shook my head no, until he reached ‘sleep?’! A few hours later, waiting for a lift, I got a phone call with the news that my grandmother had passed away mere minutes before the start the previous day. The news was expected, but I was exhausted, and I started to cry. Within seconds, despite being busy with prep for the next influx of runners, chef Michael was by my side giving me a big, reassuring hug.
So, what is the learning? I love a list, so here goes:
1. I need my ‘why’. But, I have it now. I loved this event. I didn’t understand it, and now I do (at least, I’m starting to!). I want another go, and next time I want to reach the end to do justice to the army of people that turn out to support everyone on their journey.
2. I need to invest in kit. I will never be a fast walker, so to complete this adventure I need to be able to run, at least at times. That involves not having 8kg of painful bag on my back, so I need to do my research, pare down my kit, and find ways to make that bag lighter. And probably, buy a new bag! (I’ve hated the storage and water-carrying on this one almost since I’ve had it, but I also hate waste, so I didn’t want to buy another).
3. I need to think about sleep, and be prepared to sleep. In an event lasting 40+ hours, it’s not reasonable to go all the way in one go, so I need to plan to sleep somewhere, and prepare for the possibility that it could be under a hedge.
4. I need to consider racing more. I am hyper-competitive (with myself, as well as with others), which I think drove me too fast in the early sections. If I’d focused on completion, rather than competition, I might have adapted to the conditions, conserved more energy, and made it further. I race quite rarely (my competitive nature tends to make racing stressful, rather than fun) so I wonder whether racing a few more ‘B race’ events would help me manage this.
That’s enough from me. I’m off to research just how light a spork can be…
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