Lakeland 100

Me being lazy and also I really don't recall much, here's a breakdown of the Lakeland 100.  Also I took very few of the following photos (none of the actual race), thank you to those who did and made them available online! If you have an issue with me using your photo please let me know and it will be removed. Also here's a link to the promoter's video of the event, pretty cool.

Back of the finishers t-shirt

I left the house at 7am and walked about a mile and a half to the Kidderminster train station. As I waited on the platform I felt like I was in a Patagonia catalog. I stuck out, casually dressed, obviously out of place with my one duffle, wrinkly collared shirt halfway open, shorts and flip flops, on a cool Friday morning. A few easy train changes, then a 30 minute delay causing me to miss the earlier train to Windermere (my final train destination), thus missing the bus to Coniston. Really no big deal since there was a later service for both. The train journey was scenic and relaxed, as they always are, and other than the delay fairly un-noteworthy.

Oxenholme Station

I felt at home at the Oxenholme train station, the "gateway" to the Lake District, where I had to wait to catch a later train due to the delay. It was full of tourists, backpackers, climbers; outdoorsy looking folks. It was like a National Park in the states, I fit in and didn't stick out like I normally do here. I felt comfortable and relaxed all alone despite the reason why I was traveling.

When I finally arrived in Windermere I got my bearings and figured the bus schedule out. The 505 Rambler was what I needed and I had 45 minutes to catch the next one. It's a tourist bus that takes its time supposedly meandering it's way around the Lakes. £8 got me an all day ticket which was cheaper than a one way ticket to Coniston. Rumors float around about the hour long bus ride taking longer than normal due to road works. I've got time but I'm getting anxious. The sun is abnormally hot, I'm hydrated, but need to eat, I just want to be ready to go with no worries. The race starts in five hours. 

Out of curiosity I ask a taxi driver how long and the cost of a lift to Coniston. He replies in an unfamiliar accent, "about 30 minutes and maybe £35". Sold! Despite holding a bus ticket in my hand, I guess I'll call it convenience tax. 

The driver, Joe, well actually Josef, ends up being Hungarian and very well traveled. We talk the entire ride about low budget travel, peoples' views of other countries, where to go, what to see, how many people miss out on so much culture when they go on holiday to all inclusive resorts. Very fun ride, despite the price I was happy to fund Joe's future trip for four months to South America with a side trip to California. He works, saves, then travels with his wife. Pure awesome. I was thoroughly jealous of him! Reminded me of who I used to be.

Tent City view at John Ruskin School

I arrive in Coniston at the John Ruskin School and get in line immediately to check in. They check I have all the required gear having me remove everything I've so carefully packed, give me my race packet (map, road book, number), and then weigh me, writing the weight in kg on my race number. They do this just in case the doctors think I look real bad during the race and want to get an idea how much water I've lost. I take the previously carefully packed pile of gear, falling all over the floor, to an open space where I can repack it. 

tent city

I then wander over in the hot sun to figure out where to set my tent up. I'm directed to a quasi shady spot and set up my tent and then rummage through my gear getting organized for the race. If I recall I think I've got a few hours here until the start. I end up repacking my race vest a couple times since being ripped apart for the gear check. I then wander town trying to find some food with which I have little luck. It doesn't help I blew all my cash on the taxi and can't find an ATM! Nothing seems appetizing in the heat, British food isn't all that appetizing to begin with! I settle for a couple hard boiled eggs, some candy bars, and a Coke, lunch of champions right? Back at the tent I stick to the shade and not only eat what I just bought but also all the extras I brought intended for my drop bag! Oh well. The warm watermelon sure was good! Then it's back and forth to refill my water, pee, water, pee, water, pee, and attempt to sleep until race time. This evening start thing is no good!

I get into my running clothes and head up to the race briefing, handing over my drop bag on the way. It's super hot inside with all the people and I can barely understand what the RD is saying. Supposedly it was very motivational. I learn very little but once outside the temps seem cool since I'm dripping with sweat! It's about 530, I amble back to my tent, gear up, and amble back to the start trying to stick to the shade. I talk with a Scottish guy at length about the race and UTMB awaiting the start. We're herded to the line and "dib" our timing sensors to let them know we're at the start. We all had a stick-like sensor tied to our wrist that we plugged into another unit at each checkpoint that tracked us, pretty cool idea! These also instigated the Twitter updates.

Anyway, from here it all gets pretty cloudy. Some guy sang some opera song at the start. I think this was an inside joke from a previous Lakeland and the guy I think was someone famous. Then like that it was 6pm and we were off into the uncommonly scorching heat!

I lined up near the front and through town worked my way up within the top 10. Once we were out of town we followed a hot, exposed, and rocky dirt road. I settled in with a previous top three finisher from Ireland. We stopped a few times to dunk our heads in creeks and to refill water as the heat was horrid. I guess giardia wasn't an issue here because we drank from pretty much anything! A well known Scottish guy caught up with us and we all talked and ran along. We hit the first checkpoint, Seathwaite (7 miles), and we're in and out within a minute. I knew I was going too fast for the conditions and the initial descents were wearing my quads out. I was in for a rough rough ride! I knew and didn't act, big mistake.

Paul from Ireland

We all ran together until I decided to slow down a bit keeping the other guys in view in order to prevent getting lost. Well sure enough within a flash I had the option of hopping a stepped fence (I believe this is called a stile) or following a rugged road downhill. I chose downhill. I chose wrong. As I'm heading back up hill another guy comes at me, we check the map and gps and rather than run back up we traverse and bushwhack our way through a few ravines and tons of bracken fern. After the thrash, and back on track, I'm not sure if it was faster or not! More descending and soon I arrive at the second checkpoint, Boot (14 miles). Some shitty dry British cookies and an attempt to rehydrate I'm back on my feet.

somewhere on Friday

I'm still feeling the rush of being near the front, the urge to push it, but also I'm feeling the dehydration, the descents, my failure to eat and drink early and often. My urine looks like Coke, bad news. A bigger realization hits that I've fallen apart way too early and I need to get back on track. Once again, I failed to act on the growing problems, which now had grown. 

I vaguely remember my fight through the night. The final checkpoint in the evening before donning my headlamp was Wasdale Head (19.4 miles) and had a bunch of people dressed like hippies. After that was the climb up to Black Sail Pass. People were starting to hurt early, the heat had taken it's toll. The climb was no big deal but the following descent was heinous in the dark. Technical rock gardens, some solid, mostly loose, and "baby head size" as we'd say mountain biking. A total nightmare for making progress. This seemed to be the resounding theme throughout the race; rocks, cobbles, baby heads. God damn nightmare. Add to that the braidings of trail everywhere I got off route a few times. Frustrated, I pushed on as more and more headlamps crept up behind me, with no sight of anyone ahead. Finally a dirt road portion along a lake. The smooth was so forgiving! But to my dismay my quads were trashed so any want to run fast was shut down. 

A little longer break at Buttermere (26.3 miles), the 4th checkpoint. Tomato soup, the saltiness is delicious. I drink three cups. The temps were nice now and we followed a gradual grass lined single track climb. Under other circumstances probably a great run! It's darker than dark out tonight, much like Superior, the stars are amazing. The best I've seen since leaving the US. 

I hobble down the descent into Braithwaite (32.8 miles), checkpoint 5, in the center of town. Pasta down the hatch, I eat the few apples I find, I hang around wasting time with the temptation to drop out looming high. Here I bump into a guy I met through work. He's ran this race before and was back again for another shot at a better time, he also got lucky and is doing UTMB this year which is 6 weeks after Lakeland. The next segment winds along roadways and through towns until we cut off and up a dirt road which degrades into bracken lined single track, well I think that's what it was! You couldn't see anything! We hit the first unmanned checkpoint (there were two of these in areas where cutting the course could happen). The single track soon turns into a rough road descent. Good for making up lost time, well, if your quads let you run. I'm painfully reduced to a walk as the guy I know runs off in the dark. The cool part about this section was that you go up an open valley and back down the other side giving a view of a line of headlamps climbing up where we'd just been. Anyway, back to the pain cave. 

I walk into the Blencathra checkpoint  (41.3 miles), with full intentions of dropping out. I'd guess it's around 4am and I'm greeted by some guy dressed up as a fairy in a full pink Lycra suit. I can't tell this dude I'm dropping out. I eat two hotdogs, yep, hotdogs. Have some coffee. Chat with the checkpoint volunteers about where I'm from, during which I anger a Canadian. The British always tell me Canadians hate being called Americans, so I always mention this. This time there was a Canuck in the room! He didn't say much when I tried to speak with him, kind of got the cold shoulder. Anyway..... I exit and I can put my headlamp away as it's slowly becoming light out. I'll drop out at the next checkpoint, good workout, got my money's worth.

From what I remember this next segment had a fair amount of nice runnable terrain, disused railway, rough dirt road. Runnable when your your body allows you to run. I shuffled my way along a beautifully treed corridor following a river along an old rail line. Shuffled. Then after a wet boggy thrash onto a super nice rolling dirt road that went on for about three miles. Beautiful running. However every step burned like fire. In the distance I could see a stand of pine trees out beyond the rolling moorland of grass. This is about where the next checkpoint is. So close, then I'm done. I'm dropping out. I see the big tent set up at the end of the road for checkpoint number 7, Dockray (49 miles). I make it look like I've been running and start to fuel up. Squash soup. Coffee. Coke. I don't have the courage to quit. I'll get my drop bag at the next checkpoint at mile 59 and be done there. Maybe I can get an early train and sleep in my own bed tonight. Nah, sleeping bag sounds good, I miss camping. I'll go to the pub, get a nice dinner, have a few too many beers. Yeah, I like that. I never get to do that anymore.

I believe somewhere along Ullswater

Through the settlement of Dockray and onto some sweet bracken lined, rolling single track following the length of Ullswater (a lake). I tag along with two people who are clocking a good run/walk pace and the time passes quickly. We hit a long segment of road, pass a castle, then onto Dalemain, checkpoint 8 (59.1 miles), and the start of the 50 mile race. I grab my drop bag and begin to wash my feet, change socks, switch shoes. I notice one blister on my right second toe; drain, cover, good to go. I eat a bunch of food and get on my way. The 50 mile race starts in an hour or so I think. It should be fun to watch the leaders as this is the British Championships, they'll be haulin' ass!

Howtown Checkpoint at Bobbin Mill

Tim and I entering the Howtown Checkpoint

Wasn't I going to drop out? Guess I forgot to. I pass over some fields and through some gates catching up to a guy named Tim. We run the entire next section together. He's from Bath and has ran and finished Hardrock in Colorado twice! His wife is also from the USA! We end up having great conversation which passes the pain. Following the other shore of Ullswater until checkpoint 9 at Howtown (66.2miles) we are greeted with watermelon! He'll yeah! No fifty mile runners yet so we make haste before they swarm the checkpoint!

other people climbing Fusedale Beck,  Howtown CP at the lake below

Up Fusedale Beck we go. I believe a beck is like a creek. The sun is out. It's hot. And we are on an exposed climb. Tim and I are still together and the 50 milers have yet to catch us. I stop to take a piss and Tim pulls away from me. I begin running with a guy from Northern Ireland. He was just in the US for a last minute trip to help pace a buddy at Western States 100 in Tahoe! He bought his plane ticket two days before WS100 and didn't have much time to tour around but said he had a blast and loved the area. You're preaching to the choir! On top of the pass it was open moorland the 50 milers caught up finally and they were as expected hauling ass. Must be nice to feel so good! I think they all were required to cheer us 100 mile people on which honestly was very much appreciated. The next descent, as with so much of this race, was beautiful, probably even better with fresh legs. Overlooking Haweswater (a lake) we dropped down and then followed single track lined heavily with bracken fern. It was tough for passing people. Soon I was at the next checkpoint, Mardale Head (75.6 miles). Refueling frenzy commences and I actually fell asleep in a chair while eating! Not for long, maybe a minute or two, but I was a mess!

Mardale Head Checkpoint

Got to keep moving! Straight up a loose and rocky climb for quite a while. Ascending to Gatescarth Pass I kick in the ski walking and blow past pretty much everyone. There are a ton of people around now since the 50 milers are in the mix now, all 650 of them! Over the top and I'm feeling good until the descent starts. Quads. Hurt. Bad. I shuffle my way along and start talking to an Italian guy named Carmine. He lives here and like me is married to a Brit. He's raced all over Europe so I just listen and keep asking questions. It's really fun talking to all these people who have done so many races that Americans only dream of doing. We begin to go back and forth as the pain we carry comes and goes. It's unreal how mentally down you get when you can't run downhill. 

climb from Mardale Head to Gatescarth Pass

As my thoughts wander I realize this is the first time I've been a "middle packer"! And honestly it's pretty damn cool. No counting places and no pressure! I get to meet so many interesting people! The most I have met since moving here four plus years ago. For the longest time I have struggled with finding common interests with anyone here. Don't get me wrong, all of the people I've met here are great, but take the mountain-outdoors mindset and stick it in the city, well, they don't relate. Everyone I speak with understands, they relate, we speak of the sunrise and sunset, the stars sans headlamp, missing all the beauty because of the night, good beer after hard times, high fat diets, the difficulties of balancing family life and training. It's fucking awesome! It's so nice to have people who "get it" to vent to. They know the ups and downs of this stuff, they've been there and done that. 

And the elation subsides and a long painfully runnable descent ensues. I bounce back and forth with Carmine and few other people depending on who is shuffling or running. The heat seems to be subsiding, the sun disappearing behind darkening clouds and sky. I recall a few stiles to go through, a medium length but steep up and over, roads, farms, and back to civilization. Finally the next checkpoint at Kentmere (82.1 miles). It's a busy place with a mix of 50 milers and the bleak looking 100 milers. I mow through a ton of fresh berries that they are using to make smoothies. A few bowls of pasta down the hatch. I attempt to sit down, my quads are on fire with the squatting motion. I once again waste too much time at the checkpoint and finally shuffle off with a few other folks.

temperatures throughout Saturday, abnormally warm

It's hard to believe I'm going into the second night. I've grouped up with Carmine and a couple from Cornwall, Pat and Diane both I believe in their 40's. They suffered through the Lakeland 100 last year to have Pat finish fighting off extreme temperature variations where the race went from hot temps to cold rain, many people being pulled for hypothermia. Diane unfortunately dropped early due to stomach issues, ie puke-o-rama! So they were back determined to get her a finish. I thought it was awesome seeing them run such an event together. If I remember right Diane was approaching her 100th marathon this summer too, they run and race all the time. So cool. So on we went, if I recall this section had a lot of narrow, rolling, country roads. Good conversation getting to know each other, about all things running, and soon we are being showered with a cool drizzle. As we approached a wooded area nearing  Ambleside the trails braid and no one can tell which way to go, we herd up with some 50 milers and end up choosing the correct fork, drizzle turns to rain and our waterproof jackets come out. Soon we are navigating our way through town, darkness has fallen and people outdoors at the pubs cheer us on in the rain. Finally the next checkpoint Ambleside (89.4 miles). Time is ticking so we eat and try to get moving, we're not moving fast so just need to keep moving. Carmine has some pretty good swamp foot going on and it sounds like Pat does too. Both are having trouble putting pressure on their feet. 

We decide to stick together to avoid getting lost in the dark. Pat's previous knowledge of the course helps out greatly but in the dark things are hard to recall. My GPS comes in very handy. It's pitch black out and although fairly flat this next section lasts forever. The rocks are now wet as are any fences needed to climb, tiredness clouds our thinking, headlamps only add to the mental tunnel vision. It feels as if we a going nowhere but through endless fields of bracken fern on stone ridden pathways. Soon we see civilization, we quietly pass through a farm littered with "Please Be Quiet" Lakeland 100/50 signage. I remember very little of the section leading up to the Chapel Stile checkpoint (95 miles). It's funny looking at the map and day time photos of the checkpoint as all I remember is flat black surrounding a big white, lit up tent! We eat, drink, fuel, get on our way to the next. All I can think about is my sleeping bag.

Same as the last section. Black. Ferns. Wet slippery rock. A slow rain comes down. I'm starting to get cold so I cinch my hood up wishing I had easy access to my winter hat. I'm too exhausted to move fast to warm up. Zombie-like we move forward looking for the next unmanned checkpoint in the darkness. We all feel like we've been going forever, where the fuck is this thing! A total thrash begins, the single track is so overgrown that no trail really exists. Scrambling over huge wet talus surrounded by ferns the footing is heinous. Everyone is struggling to try to stay uninjured. Once through the boulders a boggy and wet section. Ankle deep muck hidden by long grass, attempts to stay dry are futile. We're wet anyway from the rain but everyone tries to keep to the high ground. Finally a road and the unmanned checkpoint. Well it took forever but at least something for a reference point. The next road section to Tilberwaithe checkpoint (101.5 miles) seems endless just like everything has since nightfall. We see the lights of the tent in the blackness. Finally. 3.5 miles to Coniston and I actually want to drop out as I have considered for pretty much every checkpoint since mile 19.

In and out. Refuel and let's get done. The rain has subsided but it's cold, I still struggle to keep warm breathing back into my jacket and keeping my hood on tight. Straight up a steep, uneven, rock slab staircase we go. Now that was painful. It soon turns to a steep zig-zag of fern lined single track. Once up high we see headlamps in the distance that must be following a ridge line of some sort. Considering our position and the route this makes absolutely no sense, we start doubting our location and from here on we frequently cross check the map and gps. How bad would it be to get lost now! The route is flat, wet single track surrounded by tall grass. The final descent. I can see lights coming from Coniston reflecting in the sky but still very little of the terrain is visible. In the dark the wet, steep rocks are horrid to down climb for everyone so lots of waiting ensues to make sure people are getting down safe, a few sections appeared to be quite exposed. The lower we get the easier the terrain becomes. Morning light is beginning to show and headlamps are now off. I've been up for over 48 hours moving in one form or another. We finally go through the gate we started through and are on a road which you'd think would be a relief; smooth surface, it's light out. Nope. It's downhill, steep, and it hurts. Once we get more into town we all try to look in good shape and painfully run our way past spectators. It's surprising how many people are out which is pretty cool. The sun is out. All four of us cross the finish together and little excitement ensues. We congratulate each other and go our separate ways. 105 miles that ate me alive but I finished.

race signage

I amble I to the race headquarters, look around a bit, get my drop bag, my race medal and finishers shirt. I hang out a bit looking at results which are too slow to update, thus seeing nothing. I look around for people to talk to, I know no one. So I go to my tent and attempt to sleep. No luck despite how tired I am, it reminds me of when I was younger camping. Up all night drinking only to be awakened all hungover by the hot scorching sun. Just totally uncomfortable. Hot. Sweaty. I'm not even hungry. I get up and head to the showers and wait in line. Of course the drain is plugged, I step in ankle deep manky water, I don't care. 

Nothing else to do so I proceed to tear down my minimalist camp set up, pack and then try to figure out where I catch the bus to get back to Windermere train station. Easy which was nice. Right next to the bus stop is a cafe. May as well eat even though I'm not hungry. Coffee sounds good. The coffee is shit, as expected. Even though I've never been a big fan of the full English breakfast I am enticed by the name "Mega Breakfast". The shitty beans and sausage were delicious, despite my hate for them, and the quantity was just Iike home, way too much! While eating I fortunately bumped into Tim, the guy from Bath! He joins me for breakfast briefly before I have to catch my bus. I was glad I got to see him again as he's registered for the Cotswold Way Century in September which I am hoping to do! The race finishes in Bath so he is excited to run home! 

Mega Breakfast! 

On the bus and on my way home. It's about 11am now and my travels go smoothly. The wife opts to pick me up in Wolverhampton at the train station to expedite my travels, I had about 2 extra hours tacked on due to waiting for trains compared to my trip getting to Windermere. 

And like that the whole experience is over. Just like it never happened. Few people ask about how it went. No big party or celebration. I finished far, far, far from my intended goal, felt miserable the entire race but still had a phenomenal time. The reward? A t-shirt I'll likely never wear, crappy medal, a worn out map, and road book. But the experience, although foggy, etched in my mind. Despite the many times "never doing this again" went through my head the date registration opens for 2015 is on my calendar! Spectacular event.