Okay so at 8:30 am on Saturday morning it was kick off time for my fifth crack at the Fellsman. Its funny that on every other occasion that I've run it, especially in the middle of it, feeling weather blasted, terrain blasted, cold, miserable and knackered, I decide, vehemently, that I am never, ever, ever, ever doing this flipping thing again if its the last thing I do.....
.... but, within a couple of days, the memories all fade and I want to do it all again. Its just brilliant really, brilliant but brutal. And epic. And fairly fricking stupid. But brilliant never-the-less.
The Fellsman 'brochure' says that its 61 miles long with 11,000 feet of climb but my Suunto Ambit running watch made it a snip under 60 miles long but with 12,927 feet of climb. Either way its long and its high! The 3 Peaks fell race, run from Horton on the same day, makes a big thing of its 5,300 feet of climb over about 23 miles but the Fellsman chucks that amount of climb at you in its first three (of ten) peaks in the first 13 miles and, after those first 13 miles, you still have 47 miles to go and getting on for another 7,500 feet of climb! That said its not really the distance or even the climb that does you in on the Fellsman, its the ground that you go over - mainly tussocky grassland or boggy, tussocky grassland or boggy, wet and tussocky grassland.... with hills and dales of course. It just sucks your strength and will to go on out of you with every step. Relentlessly.
Well it did for me on Saturday and the early hours of Sunday anyway. I'm still not sure of my exact time for getting round the 60 miles this time (the proper results are not out yet) but it was something like 18 hours and 15 minutes, worryingly 90 minutes longer than it took me last year, but boy did I struggle. Almost right from the off I was suffering from nausea and stomach cramps and it was only after dark (12 hours in) that I started to feel better. Ironically, by that stage, I was grouped with 6 other runners (the organisers insist that runners group up for safety after dark) so I couldn't really take advantage of my late in the day spurge in fitness. Having a bowl of prunes and custard the night before may not have done a whole lot of good for preparing my tummy to be honest but for most of the day my legs felt like they were misfiring too (maybe still recovering from the London Marathon two weeks ago and my foray into the hills of the Lake district last weekend?). So what with that and the nausea it all made for one seriously tough day.
Anyway I rocked into the finish at Thresfield at about 2:45 am on Sunday morning completely plastered in mud, head to foot, but with a big smile on my face. Hester was patiently waiting for me to arrive and, apart from her cheery smile and much needed cuddle, the bottle of Black Sheep beer that she thought to bring along was the making of my day and went down an absolute treat.
A cracking day, all in all then. Funnily enough my legs today have felt fine and I even went for a 4.5 mile run over Whitber Hill this evening. Contrast that with my efforts at the 26.2 mile London Marathon just two weeks ago where I finished a complete train wreck and could barely walk for two days. All the same, were a keen road marathon runner turn up at the Fellsman, he'd be sure sure to notice the incredible contrast.... "its running Jim, but not as we know it"
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Runners starting to mill about before the off from Infgleton |
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The first climb into the low cloud over Ingleborough |
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Me, with hard man of the hills beard, coming off of Ingleborough |
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Starting to climb Whernside |
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A truly brilliant descent from Whernside into Kingsdale |
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Climbing Gragareth |
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Looking back towards Whernside from near the top of Gragareth |
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Not so many crowds as the London Marathon then.... |
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Adnan, a running mate, at the Blea Moor checkpoint with Ingleborough now visible in the far distance |
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The start of a bugger of a climb out of Stonehouse |
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Pen y Ghent in the distance from the top of Great Knoutberry |
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Descending to the Snaizeholme road crossing |
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On the way up Dodd Fell |
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Fleet Moss ahoy! |
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Roger, who I ended up grouping with, on the way to Middle Tongue - the last photo before dark |
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Ze route |