The day started early, a 03:30 alarm call to get to Horton in Ribblesdale for a 6:30 start. I could have stayed in bed for a bit though, as we didn't actually leave Horton until around a quarter past 7. The massed walkers, all raising money for St George's Crypt and St Patrick's Mission, were split into two groups of varying walking ability and after a blessing from one of the Monks from St Patrick's we were off. But rather than sticking with the other walkers and participating in a group challenge, I had decided that I wanted to try and run the 3 peaks.
As I trotted off from the groups I fiddled with some of the extra kit that I had with me. Come race day I normally set out in the bare minimal. Vest, shorts, shoes, possibly some gels to help along the way. But as this was the 3 Peaks and I've spent half of the last 3 months either injured or recovering from injury I wasn't taking any chances. I had a pack full of water, gels, tissues and wipes. A full change of kit, walking poles, and my ipod.
I've not run with music for years but there wasn't going to be any race side spectators to cheer me on and there wouldn't be a random band playing ELO just at the right moment. As I passed the school leaving Horton I popped my headphones in and the opening strains of Car That Sped by Gene came on. Martin Rossiter sang the opening line "You have to do it on your own..." and I got goosebumps. The ipod was filled at random and was set to shuffle! I was off.
I passed my first of many walkers on the road out of Horton and, entering the first field, took my first walk. I had 24 miles to cover including 5000ft of elevation and I didn't want to burn out too soon. As the field levelled off I jogged on. This was my plan for the day, run when I can, walk when I have to, and don't push too hard.
Even walking I was passing people and running up to the first trig-point at the summit of Pen-y-ghent felt incredible. 40 minutes gone and I was well on my way. On the way off PyG I crossed paths with another runner, a hi-five would have been perfect but neither of us offered. He did notice my bib number and asked if I was part of a race, "only against myself" was my reply, and on I pushed.
The walk between PyG and Whernside is long! It was this long walk at my last attempt that made my mind up to try and run the 3 Peaks. If I could cut hours out of this section then my time would be so much faster than my original 9+ hours. The runner caught me back up again and slowed to jog with me for a chat. He agreed that "running" was better than walking as the walk takes too long. He pushed on (not attempting the 3 hills) and left me to my thoughts.
I got to the first check point at High Buckwith to find no check point. This didn't surprise me as I was always under the impression that the volunteers were marshaling the walkers not the fool who had decided to run. The Support crew did pass me in their minibus however, on the road to Ribblehead, en route to set up check point 2. I met up with them as they were still pulling tables and chairs out of the bus. It turned out that CP1 never existed. The new owners of a farm on the route weren't happy with the bus going down the lane to the proposed marshal point. The previous owner hadn't minded at all but these things happen.
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| Feeling good at Check Point 2 at Ribblehead |
With the boulder removed I cracked back on with the challenge. I ran along the side of the railway for a couple of miles before the path crossed it and Winterscales Beck and turned left towards my second summit of the day, Whernside. When I started walking on the climb up Pen-y-ghent it was because I knew I should, however I started walking going up Whernside because I had no choice. Each foot step was harder than the last. I could happily have ran on flat for miles but I had nothing for climbing.
I eventually stopped to take stock of my situation. I was short of breath, the heat and humidity were making breathing hard, and my legs were wobbly. I took my second energy gel of the day (earlier than I wanted) and broke out my walking poles. I had brought them with me in case my ongoing knee issues flared up again but it wasn't the injury that was my problem, it was my lack of fitness from being on the injury bench for such a large part of the last three months. It took a while to get used to walking with them but I soon found a rhythm and finally made it to my second trig-point of the day.
I took 5 minutes break to sort myself out in the lea of the breeze at the summit of Whernside. It had taken me much longer than I had expected to get to the top and I still had the two bits of the walk I was dreading most to contend with. Having scaled the stone wall up Ingleborough before I knew that was going to take everything I had left, but first I had to get down Whernside again. The path down is a steep flight of bright blue boulders but with two functioning knees and a set of walking poles I got down them with no problems, I even passed people on the way down.
Back on the flat (ish) I tried running again. It felt much better than walking but the poles, which were so helpful moments earlier, were getting in the way. I thought about collapsing them and re-strapping them to my bag but I knew I'd need them again as soon so I ran on as best I could. I passed a Swales Dales Ice Cream Van, and bemoaned my lack of planning to carry cash with me. An ice cream would have been very welcome!
With thoughts of ice cream behind me I kept plodding on towards the short road section passing the Old Hill Inn, and another opportunity to curse my lack of cash. A pint would have been even more welcome than the ice cream I didn't have. I climbed the stile from the road into the fields at the foot of Ingleborough and noted the "Danger Bull" sign. I was in no fit state to out run a bull so when I crested the first slight rise to find myself face to face with cattle, my heart stopped.
It wasn't a bull! It was a cow with calf. I kept a wide berth and made sure not to get between them. I like this field section of the route. It's lush and green, speckled with limestone and is one of the few sections that haven't been paved, or eroded from decades of ramblers/walkers/runners taking on the challenge. It's mostly clear of even the faintest desire lines. But eventually the slabs are back, replaced by duck-board, as the fields are replaced by bog.
The going was again in an upward direction and I was again struggling. I cleared the boards and got to the foot of the near vertical stone stairs that I had been dreading from the moment I had signed up to the Challenge. There is a well worn rock here that many a walker has rested upon before climbing Ingleborough and I added my mass to the eons of erosion. I had another gel, and then drank the last of my water. I had no idea how much I'd consumed but with the extra from the check point it was over 2 litres. It wasn't enough.
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| Just the steps to go |
I pushed on, refilled with self-belief from my good Samaritan strangers, and although it was slow and a struggle, I made it to the final trig-point of Ingleborough in 5 hours and 31 minutes. All I had to do now was make it back down the hill and back into Horton.
It was 4 miles. Only 4 miles. Just 4 down hill miles. I could do this. It was only a shade further than a parkrun. I could run sections of this if I was sensible, the bits which weren't littered with lose rock or jagged limestone. But then I remembered my lack of water. I was already thirsty and even a 40 minute parkrun would leave me gasping for a drink before the end, so I decided to walk the final section of the day.
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| Horton comming into view. The home straight. |
All of this was done to raise money for St George's Crypt, whose volunteers supported the walkers throughout the day. One of the other walkers needed assistance getting down from Ingleborough after rupturing their Achilles. If you would like to make a contribution to my fund raising, no matter how small, please click on the below link. Thank you.
https://www.justgiving.com/fundraising/Ewan-MitchellY3P
