Pennine Barrier 50 Ultra - It Started with a Kiss

There wasn't any kissing involved, but I got your attention.
They'd built the start/finish arch and as I looked on, I couldn't help remember the last time I saw it, albeit with a different banner, the Chester 100 mile race.

All quiet at the start

The 'Did Not Finish' (DNF) for the Chester 100 has played on my mind since waking the next day. I know I made the right decision, but that didn't seem to quieten the nagging voices. The training between the Chester 100 and the Pennine Barrier was limited. Limited by a change of a job and losing my running 'Mo-Jo'. The job was exciting, losing my running Mo-Jo was scary; without my running I can't fight my dark days. So, I toed the start line, (well actually about 15 metres back, I didn't want to be trampled), convinced I had 50 miles in my legs no matter how limited my training was. I didn't know how painful the adventure back to the finish line would be.
If anyone knows me, or been a captive audience on a run, will know it always takes at least four kilometres to 'get into a run'. This route is an exception; the scenery invigorates you from the start as Malham Cove sets the stage for the scenery ahead.

Welcome to Malham Cove

Up and over 'the cove' and onward to checkpoint one my pace was okay, and I felt okay. 'It's the start, what do you expect', is all I kept saying.

The route to checkpoint one takes in Malham Cove and an 'out and back' section to round up the route to the advertised 50 mile.

The running pack quickly spread out over Fountain Fell. A strange place, always so quiet. last year covered in a fog made the navigation a challenge. Not this year. This year, arriving at the fell summit, the whole Yorkshire Dales opened to us. Good or bad, it presented us with the challenge in full.

Fountain Fells and beyond

Arriving at checkpoint one, you'd think I'd gate crashed a party. The energy and enthusiasm from all the volunteers was amazing. It was no surprise it catapulted me onward to take on the first of the three major peaks of the day, Pen-y-Gent (PYG).

As PYG drew closer something clicked. I felt good. I decided today I'd try to beat last years time of 14 hours, 59 minutes and 45 seconds. That 45 seconds is important! The cut-off was 15 hours. Fortunately, this year, we had 17 hours.

At the shoulder of PYG I joined what felt like thousands of people attempting their own challenge in the form of the Yorkshire Three Peaks.

The paths were full, and they were not expecting someone to move quickly past them. Calling out, 'heavy breathing man passing you', brought with it a laugh no matter how tired they were. I paused on occasions to speak with individuals and groups and find out their reasons. Most people I spoke with couldn't imagine taking on the challenge I'd set out to do. Yet, it was I who was in awe of everyone I spoke with. So many stories. Many were struggling with the heat yet they were determined to forge on. I felt proud to be sharing the trail with them all.

Approaching checkpoint two the stomach cramps started. 'Here we go again'.

Into the party which was checkpoint two, and I took time to fill up on food and water. Switching to a lower mix of Tailwind to water and drinking half a litre of water before setting out for checkpoint three.

Before me lay the second major peak, Wernside. This is my nemesis in the Yorkshire Three Peaks. It goes on forever and you always feel you're going in the wrong direction! The thing was my stomach cramps helped. The distance isn't the true challenge, it's overcoming the 'issues' that the 'time on your feet' cause.

For the next few hours I conducted what felt like science experiments as I tried different fuelling regimes to overcome my stomach cramps. Before I knew it Wernside was over and I was into checkpoint three. Someone greeted me with, 'How are you feeling'. I felt great. Oh, everything was hurting, but I'd beaten my challenge and I felt great.

The approach to Inglebourgh, which is the third peak, can beat anyone's resolve when you're tired. As you trace the track ahead of you all you can see is a wall of green. If you've never walked it before you ask, 'how do I get up there'. Finally, the route is mapped out by the multi-coloured tops of walkers ahead. You then wish you'd never asked!

For me, it's the easiest of the peaks. It's short and sharp. Having to pass the turnoff back to Horton-in-Ribblesdale (HIR) to reach its summit, you pass other racers and say hi to people with whom you share this fantastic community.

From Inglebourgh the descent is long, and in places rocky, into HIR. It isn't long, in relative time, before I enter the car park full of Gazebo's. I go the wrong way and a voice. 'runner this way' cuts through the noise and I find my way into checkpoint four. Oh cheese never tasted so good.

For all the people I'd spoken with today Horton-in-Ribblesdale is where their adventure ends. It's not the end for me, but I feel I'm homeward bound for the finish arch.

As the path climbs up to the shoulder of Pen-y-Gent I'm taking stock of how I feel. It's easier to work out what doesn't hurt. That's the tip of my nose.

At the final wall, I turn right and I'm now retracing the route back to Malham. Into checkpoint five and the smiles and energy from the volunteers is infectious. With their support I'm out quickly and onward to the final climb of the day.

I've saved myself for this moment. I will push as hard as I can and push I did.

I passed a few fellow runners and checked they were okay and needed no help from me. A first for me was when a lady decided she needed a 'moment' and broke down in tears. Together we got to the summit of Fountain Fell again. I was privileged to experience someone, who was in the throws of doubt, dig deep and escape their despair. At the summit she was back on track and heading home.

Finally, I could see the showground in the distance. Nearly there. Checking my watch nearly stopped me in my tracks. I was over an hour faster than last year. As I followed the final bend of the road back to the showground the arch revealed itself and for a moment my bottom lip had a quiver. I was home.

It felt like home. Everyone there was cheering. It felt like they were there just for me. 

Presented with my medal and my tee-shirt, but also presented with the belief that the Chester 100 was just a hiccup and my journey to my first 100 mile race is still on course.

It ranks as the best race I've done and will do again. I'll be back next year. I may never run it as fast again.

To anyone who wonders whether they should do the race... The race time or the colour of the medal is of no concern. It's the community you feel part of and the way everyone wants you to do well. Running ultras can be a lonely endeavour, but when you meet a fellow, it's like Christmas come early.

So, no kisses, but the tears weren't far away.

The smile says it all