In April I'm going to be attempting to run (/hike) the Fellsman, which is a 61 mile (ish, depending on navigations skills!) ultra marathon in the Yorkshire Dales. https://fellsman.org.uk
I ran 11 ultras between March 2019 and November 2022. Then in 2023 I was plagued with these weird issues with my legs combined with fatigue, and it turned out I had a series of blood clots followed by a DVT. This never went and I wasn't sure if I'd ever run much again, and over time it's become scar tissue in my main femoral vein resulting in venous insufficiency (I have about 75% venous return in my left leg).
Then in 2024 I broke my left ankle and didn't know it was broken for 6 months, and even now I've got about half the range of moment in dorsiflexion than I did before.
Over the last year despite these chronic issues I have found I am able to run again but it is so much harder than it used to be (not least because I got heavier, I have trouble with yo yo weight, having just two opposing states with food: hyper focus health freak or dysfunction and I can never choose which phase I'm in). I did discover that I could run a marathon again, so l can't see any reason why I can't run another ultra in theory. The theory isn't going great as I'm simply unable to run as many miles of training as I want to as I get too tired, with all my effort I can just about manage what used to be my baseline effort of 100 miles a month. Will it be enough? Well I guess we'll see!
RACE REPORT (warning - it’s long [yes even longer than normal] but I wanted to remember it all):
I managed less training than I used to do for an ultra: less total mileage and fewer back to backs runs. However I did what I wanted and I got to my taper uninjured, which rarely happens!. I expected to be going slower so judged that it would cancel out.
There were a few of us from Devon going up, one dropped out of the Dart (the 30-miler) due to injury and 2 others dropped down to the Dart from the full, leaving just me and Martin doing the Fellsman - they’re better runners than me so didn’t help the intimidation! I had looked at the finish rates over the last 10 years, and average of 73% if starters actually finish - also a bit worrying! The route is pretty epic too: it has 11 summits, 10 of those are over 600m and 4 of those are over 700m. However I was over-tapered and raring to go.
In the week leading up to it I have been nervous, then a bit unwell, then just itching to get started. Then when I drove past Skipton and saw the Dales I got a wave of excitement, I love it here but I haven’t been in so long. I’ve wanted to do this race for ages, this area of the country reminds me of my Dad. I’ve also hiked, climbed and caved here, and when you go to old climbing areas you bump into old climbing friends. I saw not one but two: Helen Fulson (also running) and Jen King (hiking independently), and even managed to get them in the same photo!
I had booked to stay in the school sports hall which is very convenient, but it was overly warm and it took a while for the noise to die down but thankfully I slept well though (my watch doesn’t agree but what does it know. It also says I had a very stressful day yesterday, which could be true given all the driving in heavy density traffic). The race kit list is pretty extensive for your own safety and my bag weighed 4.5kg without water, 5.5 with. That was also after making some last minute kit swaps for lighter weight gear as the forecast was so good. Carrying more would have hurt my shoulders as my bags straps start to twist and rub.
There was a full field of 500 participants, a return to strength on its 62nd year after a couple of quiet years. The route is dramatic to say the least, starting with two of the most iconic mountains in the Yorkshire Dales, Ingleborough and Whernside, 1950ft ascent in 3.3 miles then 1500ft of ascent in 2.6 miles. I had a lot of nervous energy to start so used that to make sure I got the first cut off inbetween the two. The cut-off was 3 hours, I expected it to take 2.5 hours but I’d also mapped it out to a hiker’s timings using Naimiths rule as with Ingleborough (being such a big hill there was a chance I might be close as I’d be slow), and that came out at 3:30, so I was quite keen to keep moving whenever I could. As it happens I actually made it in 1:50, oops. I had to take it easy on the downhill steps too as I could feel my knees going weak after the steep ascent, thankfully that’s the only time they hurt. The thing I was most conscious of was sweating into the handgrips of my poles - it was certainly warm, even at 9am.
Going up Whernside was another matter. Having already completed one uphill my heartrate was sitting at 180 and my heart started needling. I’ve always enjoyed uphills and my legs still do, but with the post-DVT restricted blood-flow my heart rate shoots up and I start to get chest pains. I have asked the doctor about this and he says if anything that’s good for the heart but it doesn’t feel it, it feels like I’m about to have a heart attack! I had to slow to really deliberate foot placements to bring it down to 173. The curlews were singing as I made my way down down the hill towards Kindsdale towards the shorter and steeper ascent of Gragareth, a characteristic sound of the area.
I was still around 35 mins ahead of my estimate ahead at checkpoint 6 (losing just a little bit by bagging the trig points and true summits), happy to bank that for later as I expected to be slower at night. One thing I should have done that I missed in my copious prep is write down the distance to the next water stop so I could better ration my fluid, I kept having to do it on the fly by translating the checkpoint to the route gpx on my footpath app and look at the distance on there. I rarely get thirsty but it was so warm today I was constantly thirsty and it was my predominant thought (and a big topic of conversation with other runners I passed or who passed me). It seemed like such a long way to Dent after the first two refreshment stops were much closer together, and I could’ve drank three times what I had on me. The downhill lanes to Dent were totally beautiful lanes but also absolutely destroying on the quads.
I was fantasising about coke. I hadn’t drunk extra at the last refreshment stop, only refilled, so I planned to rectify that Dent. Unfortunately they had run out of both coke and electrolytes even though there were still 40+ people behind me. I put out a request to the Facebook page for more supplies for later because it sounded like the organisers maybe didn’t know that they’d it had run out as they’d done a pre-drop. Somebody replying online saying I have been rude to the girls at the checkpoint. I hadn’t been rude - no swearing; no accusing no judgement; no blame as it wasn’t ever about that. Dismayed yes (actually totally deflated); overly thirsty yes; asking questions so I could process the info to find a solution yes; sharing my situation yes. Because the girls were so young they didn’t understand my need and they weren’t able to give me the information that would’ve helped. The staff there were just saying that they had already got through a lot of liquid, I mean that’s understandable but I’m not looking for justification because I’m not blaming for anyone, just trying to find a solution to a clear issue, and the fact they didn’t see that have an uncomfortable situation. I was then panicking though but I’d be disqualified or something by being perceived to be rude, this is the last thing that you want on top of how you’re feeling, it’s hard enough to look at a phone screen on the move as it is, let alone trying to reply to a message when you feel like you’re under fire when you’re already stressed.
The next section was on the road where I found myself on my own at last, and I was feeling down for a bit. I continued marking the passage of time with one Salt tablet every hour (later on it was significantly harder to keep track of this, finding I’d missed one by a thing up to 40 mins). I also noted milestones such as 20% of the way, a quarter, a third, etc. I didn’t think about how much I have left though as that had the opposite effect on motivation! As I started climbing toward Blea Moor I started to cement race relationships with the going-at-about-the-same-average-speed-other-participants. I passed Sav and friends having a rest - I wasn’t sure what I thought of Sav at first as he had swung his pole tips wildly in my direction, but I soon discovered he’s a bit of a superhero. Every time I saw him he’d gained a companion, first 1 and now 2 and it stayed to increase. I also then saw two young lads Dom and William and we had a chat about the stifling heat. I dunked my hat in a stream which gave me a few minute of icy cold bliss and noticed Sav (who walks at a lightning pace, in fact his hiking pace is my ultra running pace) and co were nearing. I called back a suggestion to do the same and he did, so I popped back a thumbs up, simple but relevant moments of race bonding.
As we descended (after the relentless uphill with no shade) to Blea Moor tunnel the hotspot on the ball of my right foot started to grow, I tend to wear two pairs of socks as my compression socks (which I need to wear) don’t give enough padding alone. I possibly waited a bit too long to sort it out. Here I stuck up a conversation with one of Sav’s buddies Daniel, we joked about the contrast between specific objectives (23:15, mine) versus broader ones (22-24, his). He loadedly asked if I was planning to address my hotspot, so I did on Blea Moor which saved me a much worse world of pain later. As a little team of 6, we correctly navigated our way past the Blea Moor tunnel on the poorly marked right of way that it’s essential to follow, feeling pleased with ourselves that we hadn’t overshot and gone down to the track as others had done.
I was mildly amused to see it had taken me just shy of 10 hours to do a marathon, a good indication of the quality of the ascent. At the Stonehouse refreshment stops I didn’t expect anything but the team of Power Rangers really lifted my spirits. I stayed there quite a while but I needed it - I sorted my foot out properly after the emergency repairs on Blea Moor, had some pasta, went to the loo, charged my watch and phone, sorted out chafing elsewhere (I had used pretty much my entire first aid kit by this point), had a rest, and chatted to a load of other people doing the same. It obviously worked as after that I re-gained my enthusiasm and some speed.
I passed through the viaduct at the golden hour enjoying the last of the beautiful views, then suddenly the wind upped as the sun dropped (as forecast at 9pm). I have never done so may kit stops in such a short space of time. I kept stopping to put on a layer at a time from the bottom up including finally replacing shorts for leggings (shorts over the top!). I hadn’t wanted to put it on all and once so I was a bit concerned that I had then run out of layers (except waterproof trousers and a spare pare of gloves and buff) but actually that’s as cold as it would mostly get and I was just on the warm side then. Night had also fallen so I attached a head torch and rear light as per the rules. It seems to take an age to reach the summit of Great Knoutberry, and I guess others had felt the same as they warned of false summits as they came back down. That was a theme of the event for me, that everything seemed to take longer to arrive than I expected. That’s a bit unusual as usually I’m more about the journey than the destination with ultras but in hindsight a) that’s the impact of being 4 years out of practise with ultras, and b) that’s what you you get with you choose an ultra that is a merge of a standard ultra marathon and a day out in the mountains - I’m experienced with both individually but not together!!
As I made my way down to Redshaw refreshment stop, alone and calm again and fully in night mode, it was wonderful to see the checkpoint lit up in the distance and a beacon pointing me to the track towards it. That’s one of the many things this race does really well, is nighttime checkpoints that are welcoming from a distance as well as on arrival. Just before I entered I stopped in the field to enjoy the sound of the snipes I had just disturbed, their sound is like no other.
At the checkpoint I realised I was being looked at oddly (by ‘Screwy’) and addressed by name while being asked what I want to drink: ‘Is it Sarah?’ ‘Yeeees?’ I say warily. He taps a pitcher of coke and says ‘that’s what you want isn’t it??’ My heart could have sunk but I’ve got my humour back so say ‘ah, does my reputation preceded me?’ ‘Something like that’. I feel I am forgiven after a chat, and I’m left with a string of instructions with names of people to greet at the next checkpoints. I can’t tell me I am being tested to see if I’m actually a nice person, or if we’re just having a friendly chat. I say I can barely remember my own name right now (true) but as it happens the names to stick in my head (Katy, then Nick and Neil).
Leaving Redshaw towards Snaizholme the path is hard to see. The instructions are clear which side of the fence to be on, but actually the path is a little way from the fence and I sink into the bog a couple of times before I realise that. With damp feet and having paused at the checkpoint I have chilled again so I pause to extract my buff and second pair of gloves which warmed me up and I never got cold again. However I would have been cold had I had to await rescue. I should have taken my Rab Vapour Rise, that’s what I run in in the mountains. I was following the kit list too blindly and not thinking for myself, lesson learned. There was a collection of white lights close together behind me here, but they also paused so I couldn’t see who it is - it looked like an army platoon.
The platoon caight me on the approach to Dodd Fell CP as the footpath leaves the track - it’s Sav, he’s amassed a squad! We join up for a bit to find out way up the hill. We get swayed into a gully but the rocks are mossy and it’s clearly not a path so I check the OS map to find the actual path to the left and we quickly re-adjust to find the correct way to the summit. Apparently others weren’t so lucky and were lost up there for a while. We stay together for the descent too, make quick group decisions when my GPX track turns out to have an error and there’s no way to cross the wall, so we decide to backtrack as it’s quicker. It’s was nice to be with some people here as I was feeling sick - I’d lost the ability to identify thirst, instead every time I felt weird I had a drink and felt a bit better, but it’s a sign that your body is tiring and your muscles are using energy that would normally go to other systems.
Despite enjoying the company I couldn’t relax and couldn’t get on with the bean stew at Fleet Moss refreshment stop so I set off alone again, sometimes I find it easier to be in my own head when it’s stressful, to listen to the smaller signals more clearly. It also surprises me how at peace and calm I can be in a situation that should be quite stressful, I mean I wouldn’t exactly choose to head out on my own on a solo night nav session on a standard day. Speaking of nav, my navigation is decent but I would say on the Fellsman it’s less about navigation skills and more about terrain familiarity and nouse: knowing what a path might look like on the moor, knowing that mossy rocks mean a path doesn’t go up that way etc.
The next stretch was a nice gentle downhill which I hadn’t taken the time to notice as on my checkpoint map check I was mostly checking for milestones and mandatory instructions. I was so glad I took time to make a decent GPX though, the mist had come down and the path was pretty hard to see so a good track was invaluable. Fair play to people who did or do the Fellsman navigation by map and compass. I’m quite capable but it would be significantly slower and take concentration that I have in spades when hiking but not when endurance running.
I came down out of the mist around 2am. My legs felt good but the rest of me felt a bit unwell, and my normally mild asthma which manifest as a cough was quite bad, you’ve just gotta keep going though, and somehow you know that’s what you’re going to do. I had messaged a friend ‘it’s tough’ and he had said ‘you are tough’ and that became my matra - ‘I am tough’. I had found my grit, found that I still had it in me, and I had no doubt that I would persist and finish. I could see the platoon nearing from behind too, so whenever I reached a nav decision I’d shine my torch back in case they wanted to follow. I reached a point with two options - follow a clear path that possibly went the wrong way, or head off route onto some off-piste terrain that appeared to be the correct direction. I chose the latter and although a little suspect and the former might have gone to the same place I could see it would work so I used the torch again so suggest it as a good option, I waited until the platoon had reached the clearer path where I was then ran on through the wooded corridor. The path, as before, seemed to keep going and going and every time I thought I’d got to the road it was another lightly wooded field. I think it doesn’t help when you can see the flashing beacons from miles away but in the night you don’t get a sense of scale of how far away they actually are.
The platoon passed me again just after the tally checkpoint at 43 miles (not one of the marquee ones), and this time they just kept on going and somehow I knew I’d never catch them again. It’s funny how one moment you can be fine and the next it all unravels. I had started picking up a hotspot on the wall of my left foot to match the one on the right. It would’ve been nice to make it to a refreshment checkpoint (the bigger, marquee ones) to do the necessary foot TLC but I had to stop on the exposed uphill slug in the misty dark to try and sort it out. I taped wadding to the affected area like I did on the right foot, but as I set off again it didn’t feel any different. My speed slowed right up from 20 min miles to 30, increasing the time I had left from 7 hours to 10 which, although would have made the cutoffs, was unmanageable with the pain. I had plenty of time to firm up my decision as it was 5 miles to Cray, the next refreshment stop that had a pickup, but by Stake Moss (the hilltop checkpoint before Cray) I was almost certain I was going to retire at Cray. I did wonder if the impending dawn would change my mind, but as light returned to the world it only made me feel calm about my decision. At the checkpoint I announced as I was retiring as soon as the chap welcoming people in asked how I was.
I’d been looking forward to the chilli at Cray, the one thing on the whole menu I was excited by, but when I arrived they had run out, another measure of the disadvantage of running near the back (when you’ve actually been on your feet 2.6 time as long as the leaders). But then again, by then everything I forced down me tasted like cardboard so I don’t think I actually could’ve eaten anything anyway.
The bus was already ready to take me and the other retirees back to Threshfield so I didn’t have to wait long. That’s one of the things that really stood out about the event: the sheer numbers of people involved. They had clearly worked very hard on the many aspects of the organisation, effectively, with teams dedicated to the different areas. Obviously there were some areas that hadn’t worked out for all like the hot-weather catering (that’s not to say the catering staff hadn’t worked hard or tried their best, as they clearly did, these things are just hard to predict), but other areas really did run like clockwork. The refreshment stops were a highlight to me: wonderfully lit, spacious and welcoming, and a little hub to regroup with people coming or going. The hill-top checkpoints full of friendly helpers - it was fun to have checkpoints right on the summits, it gave the hills greater significance.
I’m not sure what to do about the hot foot issue in the future, the same thing happened in Puglia in November but it’s unusual to run in that heat in the UK. Maybe I’ll use normal socks and a compression sleeve, although I’ll need new shoes are my current ones are oversized. Unlike Puglia though I didn’t end up with fat sausage fingers from fluid retention like I often do, despite the salty pizza the night before. That’s one element of pain I managed to avoid at least!
Despite DNFing with 15 miles to go, I:
- carried on going for 20 hours 17.5 mins, the longest time I’ve ever been on my feet
- ran 48.9 miles which is my 4th longest ultra marathon (also the furthest I’ve fun since July 2022)
- ran all though the day and the night with no nav mistakes, finishing after dawn (photo just before dawn).
- completed my 100-miles-a-month-every-month-for-a-year challenge after 6 years of trying.
For these reasons I feel victorious, completing the event would just be like the cherry on top.
