Northern Traverse 2025

To the end, to the end, I'll journey to the end.

In summary 

The Northern Traverse is a non-stop race from coast to coast, mostly following Alfred Wainwright's famous route from St Bees on the Irish Sea to Robin Hoods Bay near Whitby on the North Sea. Competitors have to be self sufficient between checkpoints, which are up to 55km apart, carrying food, water, appropriate clothing and everything else needed to keep moving (if possible) or at least safe.

The key figures are 300km (186 miles) and 6500m ascent. The biggest new challenge for me, on top of the distance, was that it would take me through three nights (the leaders would manage it in around two days, and the last finishers would take more than four). The longest ultra race I've done took me into a second night, but I didn't have to sleep. I knew that wouldn't cut it for this one, but not how things would play out - where would I sleep, how would I deal with being so tired?

This is going to end up being a long write up, I can tell already, so if you want the short version: to cut to the chase, it wasn't easy, but it went really well and I finished in 86 hours.

John Kelly style annotated map:

At work I tend to go to a Microsoft Excel XY scatter plot as the best way to tell a story, so:

Blue bars are hours of darkness. Shows (a) I did well keeping moving on night 2, barely slowing down all night; (b) I wasted a chunk of daylight sleeping at Richmond (but I needed it); (c) the biggest room for improvement would have been to have a shorter Lordstones stop (but I couldn't face heading out before dawn)

Aims

I started the Northern Traverse in 2024, but stopped after 120km (just past Shap). The aim for this second attempt was to complete the full distance. I don't do that many races, so when I do, I want to make the most of them and push myself to do something new. Crossing from sea to sea would be hugely satisfying if I could make it.

Last year my feet got very wet and I lost the will to carry on, so I needed to do a better job of looking after myself (physically and mentally). I wasn't aiming to go flat out, but I did want to try to pace myself to be relatively efficient.

The cut offs are generous enough that you could complete the race without running a single step, and have a good rest at every checkpoint. That wasn't what I had in mind, I wanted to maintain motivation on each of the sections, and balance pushing myself with resting and taking care of myself, not running until things broke.

I also wanted to put myself into a position where optimising sleep strategy was part of the challenge, to see how that works. I didn't mention a time when people asked me before the race, but I would have liked sub 80 hours as an ultimate goal, and I'd worked out that that was do-able.

Staying safe and uninjured was important, and enjoying myself along the way too.

Training and preparation

My basic plan was to keep up 50km running per week, with a bit of elevation, and find some interesting "ultra" distance runs here and there, much as I'd done for the past 5 years. On top of that, I finally joined my local running club (Helsby) in January, which has been good to introduce me to some proper organised training rather than just my normal chaotic approach. Saying that, the speed sessions will take a while to fully bear fruit and I was holding back a bit as the main priority was to start the race injury free. The best thing about joining the club was meeting other people to run with.

I ran with my pack on as much as possible - carrying more than I'd need in the race. In the last two years, I've also done a few FKT runs on local routes - the longest of which was 150km in 25 hours - which helped put me in situations to practise relevant skills. In February, Liz from the club accompanied me for the South Cheshire Way, at 60km my final long run.

As much as the physical training, I put some thought into the psychology. I went back over every time I'd attempted 100km or more and critically analysed what my limiting factor was. In a couple I'd had specific physical issues (IT band, foot maceration), but in every other occasion it had been mental. I thought over what the mental issues had been, I picked out the following:

• Music cheers me up, but when I'm annoyed I can't see that
• Competitive spirit drives me. I don't race often, but I enjoy it
• Partnerships are great, but I can easily end up getting sucked into someone else's plans. Sometimes I need to do what is best for me.
• Imposter syndrome makes me doubt my own decisions.
• When in discomfort, it can be easy to focus on problems, not solutions
• When circumstances change, and I'm forced to change plan, it can destabilize me
• I experience a lull at about 2am, and then a boost during the dawn
• Splitting a challenge into manageable chunks allows me to avoid being overwhelmed

I felt like understanding myself like this would allow me to put together a better race, and have much more impact than worrying about kit details and nutrition plans, etc.

I didn't recce the route, but I'd seen up to a bit past Shap in last year's event and was happy to take the rest of it as an adventure to new places.

Pre-start

So after 2 years of obsession, I was in a strong place to give the Northern Traverse a decent shot. Registration and kit check on Friday went smoothly, I got my picture taken in Helsby kit.

📷 Ourea events / Northern Traverse

At breakfast on race morning I chatted to a few people including Simon Lewis, who'd happened to be with me at the moment I decided to quit last year. He'd made it further than me, but only to Kirkby Stephen. We talked for a while, and agreed we were both in better shape to get the job done.

The weather could not have been more different to 2024. Clear skies, a gentle breeze and a forecast to remain this settled for the whole week. It had been dry for weeks too, so probably as good running conditions as you could hope for in Cumbria in April. I was wearing a jacket on the beach as I dipped my toe in the Irish Sea, but I'd be starting in shorts and t-shirt.

Start to Rosthwaite, 48 km

I'm using sub-headings to break up the text here, and this is exactly what I did during the event, considering each section as its own challenge. At the start of each, I loaded a GPX file to take me to the next target, and at the end I stopped my watch. I didn't want to see my watch say "120km completed, 180km to go" - that wouldn't have done my head any good. Plus, uploading small sections to Strava meant I got a little "kudos" while I was going.

At 08:30 we were off, up the coastal path. It was immediately obvious how different conditions were to last year. These fields were so muddy in 2024, it felt like a constant battle to avoid spraining an ankle as I slid about. This time was much easier, and I was able to push on a bit. Going out "too fast" was part of my deliberate strategy, but I needed to keep an eye on myself not to overdo it.

After about 5km, I felt my shoe moving a bit, so stopped and tightened my laces. This sounds like a trivial thing, but running with loose shoes could have ruined my feet in the early stages. You need this attention to detail in self management.

I barely stopped at the Ennerdale Bridge support point (24km), just filled my water bottle and moved on. Along Ennerdale lake, I was with Simon again for a while. We made no decision to team up, but we naturally fell in together. It was possible to run sections of the path along here, but neither of us wanted an ankle injury so we were taking care on the rocks.

📷 My BIB number photography

At the forest track, I was running the flat and downhill sections and keeping Simon in sight, but he was a little quicker and I wasn't going to push to catch him. The first tough climb of the race is up Loft Beck. Just keep moving forward. It was much easier to just take pleasure in the incredible views this year, not battling the weather. I'd decided not to use electronic navigation aids for the 60km until Grasmere - where I'd been when darkness fell last year. I could remember the course up to there and enjoy looking around me.

📷 My BIB number photography

I'd started to catch and pass a few of the Lakes Traverse people, so had a few little chats, but kept to my own pace, running where I could. 

At Rosthwaite, I got my first experience of support point hospitality. It was nice to get in out of the sun and off my feet, and the volunteers were lovely. A quick check of my feet, a couple of slices of pizza, some encouraging words from Jen O'Neill. 

Rosthwaite to Patterdale, 22 km

Off out then, and not long until the next big hill. On the way up, passed a runner who had dislocated her shoulder - wrapped in her survival bag, mountain rescue had been called and someone was waiting with her. I offered food, but she had all she needed. A reminder that things can easily go wrong.

There were a few stream crossings where I had to step carefully to avoid getting wet feet - but at least this year it was possible. The climb was harder than I remember, presumably just because I was moving faster than last year.

📷 My BIB number photography

As other runners had strong spells, they'd pass me, but I didn't get dragged in to anyone else's pace at this stage. I was eating well, getting through my stock of food - think I'd polished off most of this:

I stopped at Grasmere to get my head torch out and rearrange my layers before sunset, then up the steep climb to Grisedale Tarn. I was strong up this hill, overtaking quite a few people on the way. By the time I reached the tarn, the sun had set. Looked beautifully peaceful (last year I was in the dark and the gale force winds were blowing the lake in waves on to the path).

The descent into Patterdale was a matter of taking it slow and steady in the dark. Some of the Lakes Traverse runners were pushing a bit harder by now, with only 30km to go to their finish. I had a lot longer to go, so no worries letting them pass me. The only physical issue I had was that after running on fairly hard trails for this long, my feet were a little sore.

On the walk into Patterdale village, I joined up with Andrew Malcolm while I thought what I needed from the checkpoint.

In a change to plan, I decided to try the sleeping tents. I didn't feel tired enough to guarantee I'd drop off, but just lying down and resting my feet felt like it would do me good. After eating (chips and burritos), I went and lay down for 2 hours. The people on either side of me were immediately snoring, which I was quite jealous of. Proper sleep didn't come for me.

After a second coffee (I'd brought coffee bags in my drop bag, which I highly recommend), I chose some extra layers, put on my more cushioned shoes and headed out. 

Patterdale to Shap, 25 km

This section was new to me. Last year Storm Kathleen had been so ferocious that a low level diversion was used to bypass Kidsty Pike, the highest point on the route. This year, we were going up as Wainwright intended. The climb is long but not too steep, and I was on my own for most of it. I met Sharon Dickson near the summit - navigation wasn't totally obvious in the dark so we helped each other. It was cold at this elevation, I guess around freezing, but I'd put on enough layers.

The descent from Kidsty Pike was the most "technical" sections of the route - picking our way over rocks, often shuffling on our bums. I bet Damo and the front runners flew down here, but I was taking it very slow, moving gingerly so as to avoid any injury risk. Sharon kept telling me to go ahead as she was slow on this type of terrain - but I think she underestimated how slow I'd go. She would overtake me, and then again request that I overtake her. It took a long time, but eventually with relief we reached the easier terrain of the lakeside path.

A successful first night then, all the Lake District hills complete. I felt a bit tired, so I wondered about trying a bit of a nap. At about 05:30, I found a comfy spot on some grass, and lay down for 20 minutes with my eyes shut. I dozed, and then by the time I got up it was daylight. Just as I was getting moving, I was passed by someone in a bright yellow top.

Feeling rejuvenated by the dawn and the rest, I felt able to put on a bit of a run to catch him. This was John Burgin, and we ended up staying together all the way to Shap. We talked, we got cake from an honesty box, we made a minor navigation mistake.

Shap was a minor support point like Rosthwaite - cups of tea and hot food on offer, but no drop bag. I was pointed toward a table, where I enjoyed a couple of bowls of chilli with my shoes off while talking to Claire Cologne. As it was now daylight, and going to be sunny, most of the warm clothes went into my pack.

Shap to Kirkby Stephen, 31 km

As I jogged down Shap high street, John was only 100m ahead of me, so I figured I'd push on and catch him. I never did manage this - he was moving much quicker than I could. Anna Jebson caught me, and I ran/walked with her for a while until we caught her friends.

As it warmed up, it wasn't easy to go fast, so I didn't -  air temperature was only about 17C, but there was no shelter from the sun. Some nice views though as we came into the Dales.

 

My feet were increasingly sore now, and that helped slow me down too. Nothing bad in terms of damage, just the impact of hitting the ground a few hundred thousand times. I took painkillers a couple of times, but for the most part just embraced the constant low level pain. It helped keep me awake, and stopped me from pushing anything else to breaking point. Looking back, I think this possibly made my race. 

Had a couple of little sit downs by the side of the trail, and found myself in a group of four with Claire, Anna and Karen. The tracker showed we'd ended up in a bit of  gap, with nobody else close-by. Amusing episode on the way down into Kirkby Stephen - a horse followed us across a field, constantly nudging our backpacks with its head and trying to pinch things. At one point it snaffled a light off Karen's bag and had to be persuaded to drop it. This could have been a bit scary, but Claire did a grand job of staying calm and gently telling the horse off.

We all decided that fish and chips was a good idea, so found a chippy before heading into the checkpoint. Most people were going to try a proper sleep at Kirkby Stephen, but it seemed like a waste of daylight and I doubted I'd sleep in the noisy sports hall, so after eating and completing other "admin", I just had a 10 minute doze on the grass.

Kirkby Stephen to Reeth Dales Bike Centre, 37 km

This is the section I'm most proud of, the one where I headed out of my comfort zone. I was alone on the way through town but soon caught Steve Bruce. He said I was faster than him up the hill and to push on, which was either great encouragement from a fellow competitor, or a polite way to tell me to sod off and leave him alone. He did have a point, I was moving well. Sometimes you move well with someone else, but if you don't naturally fall into the same pace it doesn't work (which is probably applicable in general life too).

If I had to list my biggest fears in this sort of thing then being high up, at night, on boggy terrain would cover most of them. I was very keen to get down off the Nine Standards plateau.

The problem with that was I wasn't yet up there, but I was storming up the road as the sun set. I came upon another runner. It crossed my mind that if this was Steve I might have an issue. Was one of them a hallucination? Did I black out somewhere and lose some time? A relief to read his bib had a different name - just another guy in a blue coat.

I pushed on, feeling really strong and determined. After it went dark, I spotted a head torch and reeled in the next person. It was Jukka, who I knew from last year. I was grateful for a friendly face, and thought I might chat awhile, but I was on a mission and moving much faster. Actually, the bogs were nowhere near as bad as I'd feared. There was work ongoing to improve the paths, which had involved installing a few bridges, and laying down flagstones. Even where the flags hadn't been put down yet, there were long stretches with pallets of flagstones which were easy to see and showed the route. Additionally, it had been so dry of late that even where I did lose the path, I could trudge about with no fear of getting stuck up to my waist (suspect 2024 would have been a different experience, if I'd made it this far!). I was able to make good progress, at times turning off my torch to run by moonlight, and I caught and passed a few more before Ravenseat.

I'd passed the boggy section and was nearly at the Tan Hill Road crossing when I started to feel tired. I was in new territory for sleep deprivation, and still had a long way to go to until the next village, Reeth. I thought I might try for a nap at the road crossing, but I wasn't totally comfortable with that idea, out here in the cold (about 11pm by now).

At that very moment, I came across someone taking off his back pack. "Don't mind me, I'm just going down for a nap here, I reckon I'm about to fall asleep on my feet", he said, or words to that effect. Talk about right person, right time. Can I join you? He set an alarm for twenty minutes and we lay down on the grass - if one of us didn't wake up, the other would wake him. I took the opportunity to pull my special move too. I took out a camping meal, and added water to the flameless ration heater before going down for this little nap. 20 minutes later I was awake, I had a hot curry, and a friend for the night!

As we got moving again, feeling refreshed, he introduced himself as Dan. It felt like he'd saved my race already, but we ended up spending most of the rest of the night together. We worked well as a partnership. He'd reccied this section of the course so he knew what it looked like in daylight, but if anything I was stronger on the climbs. These lead mining valleys were tricky underfoot, and the climbs tough. The last slog up Bunton Hush (?) seemed particularly ridiculous - what on earth was Wainwright thinking here?! Anyway, we made it, and started on the long track down towards Reeth.

I was feeling a little chilly now, at about 02:30, so started moving faster to generate some heat - just focussing on walking fast. I don't think the temperature was any cooler than last night, but I was depleted by tiredness and feeling the effects more.  A few minutes later I looked over my shoulder to see I'd left Dan behind, he obviously wasn't so comfortable moving this quick. There was no sense waiting for him, I'd just have got cold, so I moved on aiming for another nap in Reeth.

It was along here that things started to get a bit challenging. I'd left Dan well behind and all I was focussed on was keeping myself on the GPS track. As I came down to a bridge across a stream, I saw a crouched Samurai warrior, or I guess someone dressed up as one. That's a bit odd. No, don't be silly, it's just a statue of a Samurai, nothing to worry about. Oh, no it's a boulder with some lichen on. So this is what hallucinations is like. Right, I don't really need this right now.

I knew who I was and what I needed to do, and how to do it was matter of keeping the arrow on my watch on the line. Soon I'd be in Reeth, a nice normal village, a place of safety. What's this, houses by the side of the track? I'm in Reeth already, great! The houses turned back to reeds, not so great. I just had to trust that my functioning brain cells were capable of understanding the GPX trace. It wasn't helped by the fact the path all looks the same for quite a stretch, at least in the dark. I was 99% sure I wasn't going around in circles though.

To give myself credit, I didn't panic and I was eventually in Reeth, lying down for a quick doze in a bus shelter. After that I got up and pressed on about 1km to the Dales Bike Centre, arriving just before 5am.

In the daytime, the Bike Centre is a race support point - there's a shop where you can buy new socks, a cafe with a reputation for great cakes and they even give race participants a free hot drink. These services aren't available at 5am, but they do leave the toilet block open. I staggered in to find at least 4 bodies already on the floor and joined them. At least one person was snoring impressively. So this is what it's come to. This is what I do for fun nowadays.

I couldn't actually sleep in this environment, but I could have an hour's rest before leaving to get to the proper checkpoint. 

Reeth Dales Bike Centre to Richmond, 16 km

Once it was light, I set off. Outside a shop I spotted a robot sculpture made of tin cans, and thought I'd take a photo of this unusual sight. The shop didn't exist, let alone the robot, it was a dry stone wall. A little confused still then, I would have welcomed some company. Up ahead I saw a group of four runners who had stopped by the side of the road. I was just about to run ahead to met them, and then they too disappeared. Oh well, onwards. It was a lovely clear morning, I could see that much.

After a while I met John again and we tried to piece together how we've arrived at the same point at the same time. Essentially, he'd had a fast day time leg before Kirkby Stephen, while I'd been slow, and then he'd struggled during the night, whereas I'd been moving quickly despite the sleep deprivation issues. In a race this long, you're always going to have ups and downs, and you just need to roll with them. Over the course of my 86 hours out there, I crossed paths with a huge number of fellow runners, all with our own race stories. 

We'd become a group of four by the time we reached Richmond, and we all went into town to visit the bakery before going to the race checkpoint.

Sleep was unquestionably needed, despite it being the middle of a sunny day, so I got out my sleeping bag and mat, put my watch on to charge and headed to the tent. I set an alarm for two and a half hours sleep. By this point (mid morning Monday, about 50 hours into the race), I was tired enough to drop off easily, and got my first proper sleep since waking on Saturday morning. I slept well and woke naturally before the alarm and moved back to faff with my neatly packed bags.

It was more organised than it looks here, I'm sure. Although it was a warm now, I wouldn't see my drop bag until Lordstones in the middle of the night, so I needed plenty of layers. After feeling cold last night, I took even more clothes for this leg, including my super-warm Buffalo shirt. Curry, chips and a black coffee went down well.

I popped into see Ollie the medic, who was super helpful as well as entertaining to talk to. My feet weren't in bad shape after airing while I'd slept. The medics were great, discussing what they thought needed doing and demonstrating technique. Ollie recommended ditching my liner socks - they probably had reduced friction on my feet up until now, but headed into another hot day, we thought the extra thickness of sweat soaked material would keep my feet too wet. He taped a few parts of my feet, and added moleskin padding on the balls of my feet.

With that sorted, I had a few more pieces of cake, because why not. Writing this I realise how good I am at eating - some people seem to really struggle with it, but it's not a problem I've ever had.

As I was heading out, I met Petra who'd just arrived, and Jen took this photo of us. Jen, volunteering this time, had finished last year when both Petra and I failed to do so. Lovely to all cross paths at this point.

📷 Jen O'Neill

Richmond to Danby Wiske, 22 km

'Journey to the End of the East Bay',  has long been one of my favourite songs, and could/ should be a Northern Traverse theme with that title and chorus refrain. It's not all relevant lyrically (although neither is 'Born to Run', which gets played a lot at races). When that tune came on on the way out of Richmond it was a moment of pure joy. Sun shining, legs working, well fed, feet more comfortable, total confidence, that bassline, and I'm wearing sunglasses, hit it!

This stretch is admittedly unspectacular, in comparison to some of the lumpier sections we'd seen. I'd heard that it could be a miserable boring slog, but I didn't find that. In the dark after a lot of rain, I guess it would be less enjoyable but it passed easily enough - it was quite like a lot of running back home in Cheshire, country roads and farms. 

On my own (I hadn't seen another competitor since leaving Richmond), I had a bit of time to think about where I was and what I wanted to do. It came down to a couple of options:

1. Crack on and get to Robin Hood's Bay as soon as possible. An 80 hour time could be do-able. This would be hugely satisfying, but the night could be horrible and I'd probably get slower and slower and be fairly zombie-like with lack of sleep by the end.
2. Take it easy now, have a long sleep at Lordstones, re-start feeling fresh on Tuesday morning and treat the final 60km as its own trail ultra. My legs felt good, so if I rested well overnight I should be able to run decent chunks of it.

I weighed these up and decided to go for Option 2 instead of working myself into a total wreck. I'd done the sleep deprived determined thing on Sunday night, I'd rather finish in a better state a few hours later. It's not like anyone would care what my time was. If I was going to relax a bit, I may as well pop into the pub at Danby Wiske. I ordered a pint of Coke, and enquired about food. They could do me a curry in 15 minutes - not a hard decision there!

While waiting for my curry, I checked the tracker and saw a pair of runners were just up the road. I went outside to cheer them on or invite them to join me but they didn't turn up - a local runner told me he saw them settle down for a nap in a field.

So back inside, I plonked myself down at a table next to a group who are walking the Coast to Coast in sections. They hoped to be at Robin Hoods Bay by the end of the week. We had a nice little chat, but I suddenly realised how very bad I smelt, after 50 something hours of this - probably worse than is generally acceptable in polite company! I shuffled a bit away from my fellow diners. 

Danby Wiske to Lordstones, 27 km

Off I go again then.

I made a point to stop before sunset to layer up before it gets cold. Long trousers and a midlayer, headtorch out. Shortly after this, I saw another runner up ahead doing the same -finally, some company. Disappointingly, this person was a hallucination. Not even night time yet and I was already seeing things! I also saw a cat that didn't exist. This solidified my commitment to have a decent rest at Lordstones, which was still a way further on. I was awake enough to trust myself for now, but staying up all night could have got very messy.

I had to stop and burst another blister, then onwards to the A19 service station.

The 24 hour services is a renowned oasis on the route, with multiple food options and somewhere warm to sit, or even nap. I didn't need that after my pub stop, so as soon as I'd established there were no other runners there, I was out again. The tracker told me there were a few people about 1km down the road. Catching them would be a tall order, but I was going to have a go. If they were slow up the hill or stopped for a few minutes, I could have a chance.

I was really focussed here on moving quickly, running as much of the downhill sections as was possible in the dark, and power hiking the ascents. I'd started rationing information to myself. My watch was just showing the arrow on the track, and the distance to the next turn. I didn't need to know anything else. I'd set little targets like saying when I got to the next turn I could reward myself with a peek at the tracker to see if I was catching anyone, or check how far it was to the checkpoint. Deliberately frustrating, but it motivated me to get to the next turn, and that was all I needed.

These forest tracks would be fun in the day. Not that I was miserable now, but this was just a task to be done, ticking off the kilometers. It was getting cold and I put on more clothes, now up to five layers. At this point, I was wearing more than I had on the Winter Spine Sprint - which had been in -16C windchill. It wasn't anywhere near that cold, maybe just below freezing, with a little breeze, but I was into my third night now and my body wasn't in an ideal state for temperature regulation. With enough layers on I was fine.

I caught the odd glimpse of head torches, I thought I was closing the gap slightly, but I was alone so I started doing things to keep my mind active and awake. At one point I was reciting shop names from Runcorn Shopping City in the 1980s - Tesco, Argos, John Menzies, Littlewoods, Iceland, Wimpy, Woolworths, Halfords, Boots, Dixons... 

I'd done the whole 49km leg from Richmond without seeing another competitor, so it was a relief to arrive at Lordstones checkpoint and into a tent full of people. The race staff and volunteers were amazing, taking my food order and bringing me a warm drink. I was told there were even shower facilities, which sounded tempting, to get warm and clean before settling down for a sleep. I had a quick word with the medic, who thwarted that plan. His advice was that the tape on my feet was well adhered and it would be much better to leave it there rather than soak it off. OK, then, no shower for me.

I had a meal of bolognese and chips, and then at 3am, I went for a sleep, telling the volunteers I'd be there until after dawn. There was frost on the ground, and it was really cold in the tent (a six person tent to myself this time), but my sleeping bag was snuggly warm and I was soon fast asleep. 90 minutes later though I was wide awake, with no chance of getting back to sleep in the cold tent.

I had a bit of breakfast while it was still dark and decided I'd stick to the plan to stay until 7am rather than head our early. Photo below was taken on the walk down to the toilet block-  so cold!

I got dressed and spotted John again. He was almost ready too, so I reckoned I may as well join him.

Lordstones to Glaisedale, 33 km

Three of us (John, Paddy and I) headed out at 06:45. A volunteer had told me that the effort of the next few hills would warm us up a bit. The Wain Stones were fairly spectacular, but no views from the hills as it was still foggy.

I was dressed for the day, anticipating sunshine, so I had to pull a couple of buffs over my head to keep warm on these summits

John and I were going well so we stuck together, Paddy dropped back - his feet weren't in a good way and he hadn't slept. Finally the sun burnt off the fog, but it was still cold for now.

On the old railway track we tried a little run. My legs felt great, John thought he was better off walking, so I moved ahead on my own.

I stopped to tie my laces, and if proof were needed that the trail gods were smiling on me, at that very spot ..

Enjoying my free toffee, I pushed on towards the Lion Inn. A couple of race staff popped out to cheer me along and remind me that there was water available, but I didn't need a top up.

It was warming up now, so after leaving a cereal bar at Fat Betty (apparently it's a tradition to leave food at this boundary marker for fellow travellers), I removed a few layers. Enfys caught up with me soon after but we didn't stick together for long. First I went ahead and then she passed me.

 This was one of my favourite views, down into Great Fryup Dale, which is also a good name.

My legs were still feeling great, but my sore feet did not agree with the stony path down into Glaisdale, so I wasn't able to take much advantage of gravity on the downhill.

First thing I did in the checkpoint was take off shoes and socks and have a look at the damage. A bit macerated, but nothing too bad, Moraig the medic recommended letting them air for at least an hour so the skin could recover. John was in after me but left before me. 

Glaisdale to Finish, 31 km

I left with Mark Thompson, and we soon caught up with his brother Dan. We walked the first 7km together, talking of a midnight finish which seemed about right. As the steep hill out of Grosmont started, I was moving quicker and they encouraged me to move on without them, so I did. I got a little glimpse of Whitby, and called my mum to let her know I was going well and wouldn't be too much longer. It's a very long uphill road, I wasn't going to run it, but I was marching up well enough (the climb took me 28m:09s - Damian Hall took 32m:40s - this wouldn't be the last segment I'd beat him on either). While casually chatting to my mum, I was moving faster than the race leader had done while setting the course record! (Admittedly he was quite a bit quicker over the previous 270km!)

At the top of the hill, I checked my messages, looked at the tracker and saw people not too far ahead. Okay that's it, I was going to try and catch them - I was in a running race! Only 20km to go, so I didn't have to worry so much about self-preservation any more. I pelted it along the road and then down into Littlebeck, stormed along the woodland tracks past Falling Foss. On the climb up to May Beck, I had gained nearly 14 minutes on John. I was on my own, but make no mistake, I was in a race here. I didn't know if I could actually catch anyone, but I was going to have a damn good try. 

The sun had set by now, and it was the fear of the cold that slowed me from my run. Common sense prevailed, I was still perhaps a couple of hours from the finish. I was sweating due to the exertion and on a windswept moor, which could be a perfect recipe for hypothermia. I calmed myself down, slowed to a fast walk and put a warm jacket on.

On the road through Hawsker I had another little jog, and then through the caravan park. The coastal path itself wasn't great for running, at least not in the dark, so I walked as fast as I could, until... what's that, a head torch up ahead?

Okay, now I was running! It was Steve, and (with a brief apology for being a bit of a competitive idiot) I was past him seconds later. Properly running now as I came into town. I saw someone else, who's that? I ran past him too. It turned out to be the official videographer, and he tried his best to keep up with me on the steep road to the finish. My sprint down that hill, at 4:07/km pace was faster than anyone else in the race (Damo managed 4:45 /km). A brief glimpse of my back made it into the race highlights video at 1:56.

And that was that. Wow, I ran across England, and it was almost all type 1 fun. There may have been a few times I had to get my head down and keep moving, but I can honestly say I didn't have any moments of feeling despondent or miserable.

📷 Les Hampson

Dean Corrie (volunteering here, I'd met him on a previous race) and my dad were there to greet me. I was elated but keen to get into the post race support point and sort myself out. Had a wonderful (vegan) sausage and egg butty, and later on saw Petra and a few others after their finishes.

Reflections

I absolutely loved this race - it's a challenging route, with an amazing range of scenery as you cross the country. The long distances between the checkpoints are a challenge, and the fact that you have to be self-sufficient on the way is exactly the type of thing that appeals to me. It's not easy to pull everything together and keep moving, that's why it's so satisfying.

The support you do get from the race is fantastic. The provided map is helpfully annotated. The check points give you everything you need, with nice food and loads of helpful volunteers who can't do enough for you. The logistics work seamlessly, and your drop bag always ends up in the right place for you. Couldn't ask for more.

I am absolutely satisfied with what I achieved here. For a first attempt at something this long, I handled it well. The sleep deprivation was a bit of a journey into the unknown, and I may use that learning in future. I didn't put myself or anyone else in danger by taking unnecessary risks, I was always in control.

Physically I managed myself well. My sore feet held me back a bit, but that turned out to be no bad thing. The worst "injury" I picked up was a sunburnt lip - I wish I'd remembered that I had lip sunblock stuff in my bag the whole time.

The only goal I didn't achieve was the idea of finishing in 80 hours. Could I have done that? As the graph shows, I had a long stop at Lordstones. Maybe being tough on myself and forcing myself out earlier would have shaved a few hours off my finishing time. On the other hand I'm inclined to think that the time spent off my feet helped keep me in good condition. Am I disappointed I was a few hours over my best-case scenario time goal? No.

I also enjoyed the whole experience, and that's also the point.

Thanks

All the race staff and volunteers, special shout out to Jen, Dean, Ollie and Moraig. Everyone I ran with or met. Friends and family who sent supportive messages. The Hampsons of Danby Wiske. New training buddies from HRC. My dad for picking me up at the end, putting me up with my moodiness and dragging me up another field in the dark after the finish.