
10 months ago I set out on a journey to get myself to the start line of the Lakeland 100 and scratch this ever growing itch to run beyond the 100 mile mark. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy and some serious changes to my lifestyle were needed but with the big 4 0 timer counting down it was now or never. I enlisted the help of running coach Nick Brooks who has been amazing from planned runs through to nutrition advice and even got me to train eating crappy checkpoint food and if I’m honest I probably wasn’t his perfect student with trying to fit in scheduled runs alongside nationwide travel for work. January came around pretty quick and although I had noticed a huge improvement in my running and stamina, something was missing, lets be honest, we all knew what it was and I had to face it, I was a lard arse …. Nobody ever looked at me and thought … he’s a runner!
Time to make another change, gym, diet and lose the booze. It was tough but then the results started to come in and it felt great and gave me the confidence boost I needed to crack on so we upped the training with the goal clearly set .. get this thing done.
3 months later, 22kg down and 24% less body fat I felt primed. The weight loss plateaued as I needed to intensify my training which meant the low carb diet would have to go. This level of commitment comes at a price of course, if I wasn’t working I was running or in the gym, I missed many family events and left Nicola to arrange everything in everyday life so I could focus, I was obsessed and even reluctant to go on holiday in May in fear it would jeopardise my training but I knew it probably would have been the final straw if I had pulled out of that ☺️.
On the the 25th of July I sat in Coniston faffing around with my kit waiting for the 6pm start when I got stung by a wasp on the back of my neck, I wasn’t sure at the time if it was a good omen or not and didn’t want to look it up just in case I didn’t like the answer. The race started and Matt and I got off to a cracking start in the classic lake district drizzle. We had an agreement to stay together for as long as possible but to not be polite and hold off waiting for the each other if they were having a bad patch. This was actioned early on as turned around halfway up one of the hills to no sign of Matt. Everything felt good for me as I headed up onto the fells, the night was very mild with no breeze to cool us down, not even on the higher ground. The trail of torch lights from Wasedale head up Black Sail pass were as good or even better than they look on social media. By sunrise I was beginning to feel the fatigue kick in which was reflected in my pace. At Blencathra I checked the tracker and could see Matt was only 40 minutes or so behind me, I was pleased to see he was still going. The old coach road was a real slog. For those that don’t know it, it’s a long stretch of farm track on open fell that seems to go on for an eternity, it’s flat and not technical so you know you should be giving it beans along there but the legs just don’t want to, this is where I probably lost most of the time I had made up in the first quarter..
A familiar "Hello" came from behind as I entered Dacre, Matt was back and looking great, Dalemain soon came into view and although it sits at 59 miles, in my head it's the halfway point and a chance to put on some fresh gear and restock carb powders. Absolutely knackered I think to myself, a 10 minute kip won’t harm surely? I set an alarm and put my head on the grass …. What felt like 10 seconds later a marshal starts prodding me… ‘mate your alarm has been going off 30 minutes, are you ok?’ Oh pants, that was not the plan. I jump up, finish off packing my things and crack on. The sleep worked wonders and I set a few PBs getting to Howtown. From there I was wired, I had the almighty Fusedale to do but I knew on the other side was a bunch of manic Spartans waiting for my landing so I cracked on and got it done passing a sleeping Clare on the way up. Running into Spardale was something else, 76 miles in and I felt like I had just started. I was greeted with loud cheers and stripped of my bottles and restocked like an F1 pit crew swaps tyres. I knew what had to be done and I wasn’t letting this lot down so I smashed some soup with a piece of bread and headed on up the notorious Gatescarth Pass.
The second night was tough as I found myself sleep walking along the side of a river being woken by bushes in my face as I veered off course and it was mainly a blur with one focus; one step in front of the other. A moment of panic set in at chapel Stile thinking I wouldn't make the 40 hour cut off as my fatigued brain misread the hours on my watch as minutes, a lovely checkpoint crew member managed to reassure me I had plenty of time, 6 hours and not 6 minutes 🤭 so I plodded on. Once the sun started to rise the adrenaline kicked along with the realisation of what I was about to achieve, my pace tripled and I really knuckled down. As I pulled into Tilberthwaite checkpoint, I spotted Matt who had gone on from Dalemain just before I had my power nap. The final climb was a big one and someone mentioned the club record was to complete the final section in 1 hour 15 minutes, this still needs verifying but at that point it set an alert off in my head, I chucked my Jacobs Ladder donation in the collection bucket, the poles came out and beast mode was engaged, …. It didn’t last long and as I slowed near the summit the metronome Clare Farrell soon caught up so we enjoyed a rapid descent picking off at least 15 places on our way down and a sprint finish clearing that section in 1 hour 12 minutes.
37:33:59 - Done
I couldn’t have done this without the support and encouragement from each and every Spartan, Nick Brooks' support has been invaluable and obviously the patience and understanding from my family played a huge part in making this happen.
My advice for anyone contemplating it; its scary, its daunting and you can't do it half arsed but its certainly worth it when you finish.