08/09/2013

Braveshorts does the Full YorkshireMan...



The Full YorkshireMan is ‘ard, reet ‘ard.  It’s not for pristine gym bunnies, the underprepared or those wary of self-navigation; the race organisers recommend undertaking route reccies.  Also, the race is operated under strict Fell Running Association rules which require each competitor to carry an assortment of compulsory items such as windproof clothing, a compass, a map, a whistle, flare gun and anti-elephant cage.  Ok, I might be slightly mocking the severity, but you get the gist.  Later, when asked if the race was demanding, a gnarly runner from Keighley & Craven replied to a spectator: ¨ Well, it’s a bit like doing the Leeds Half, bashing out a hard, fast 10k then slogging up and down Snowdon…¨ As I said, not for gym bunnies, the underprepared or those devoid of self-navigation…  

And so the day had arrived.  A simmering blend of excitement and mild apprehension filled me on the morning of the race.  I’d gained many nuggets of marathon advice, read many off-road training tips and even received a Vaseline suggestion from my Dad (that I subsequently then forgot to apply).  I’d packed and checked my kit the night before, and - just to prove I was mildy ‘bricking it’ – unpacked and checked it again before leaving home.  I’d trained, completed reccies and was ready.  Or so I thought…

Surprisingly, there were quite a few other first-time marathon runners on the start line; nervous smiles and dry mouths all round. Hydration packs were given the final adjustments. Laces were tied and knotted to bog-resistant standard.  Above, not a cloud in the sky; the sun baked all below.  So much for the cool weather forecast - it was going to be a warm one!  A few incidental words of advice relating to bulls in fields and killer bogs and we were off!  The first mile was all uphill; most were thankful for the bottle neck and brief pause at the stile leading up to the car park at Penistone Hill. Leg muscles were then given a brief respite on some soft grass before being guided by marshals past the public toilets, across the Stanbury Road and then up the gravel track to Drop Farm.  The first (of many) stone step stiles led into and down a lush green pasture field.  I simply wanted to maintain my breathing and not go too fast. To my right, though, I could see the leaders approximately a mile ahead already scaling up the beast of Stairs Lane. Gulp! Wish I hadn’t looked.  

Stairs Lane is a mostly rocky, uneven track that goes directly up for about a mile in distance and ascends approximately 750 feet in height.  I ran a third of the way up then adopted the fell runner shuffle to save energy and strength for later.  Near to the top of the lane I started out on a slow run. My legs felt good and no discomfort.  Quickly the rocky lane was left behind and the easiest (and arguably most enjoyable) section appeared – the green track following the conduit along the contours of the hill for approximately 2 miles. The relatively safe surface allowed me to lift my head and enjoy the scenery.  The Worth Valley was fully exposed to the left - an awesome view in the sunshine!  

I safely navigated the first and second technical sections including a rocky, flooded track and then towards Ogden Water over the moorland, heather-flanked bridleway. With local knowledge and all that I tailed behind a pair of Keighley runners. A cool breeze on the moor tops was pleasant as I then ran down some steep steps and across a footbridge and steadily up the sharp incline on the other side. Ovenden Moor wind turbines circled round to the right; the moor was a strangely a little spongy and bouncy across to the Checkpoint 1: Withens Pub (8.5 miles).  It was a real boost here to get support from fellow Pacer Mark Smith.

Less inspiring was the sight and being passed by the first three half marathon runners.  They’d set off 30 minutes later and had managed to reach me just before the two routes diverge.  I’d just taken my first energy gel so was hoping for an instant spark before the anticipated boggy section across Rocking Stone Flat.  What is surprising here is that the moor is neither flat nor does it comprise many stones?  Certainly left me rocking and almost rolling on a few occasions, though!  My legs were bit jelly-like on the hard surface of the farm track after exiting over a wibbly-wabbly wooden stile.  The route now merged with the Calderdale Way and the section I’d ran earlier in the year as part of the team relay. Again, boggy sections led to more stone step stiles and steep, claggy fields.  A brief recovery quickly shifted into a steep downhill that proved difficult to brake and hold a steady pace.

I again caught the Keighley pair as the route cut up through wet bracken and across a permissive footpath next to a golf course; golfers looked on, a little perplexed. A number of spectators applauded and cheered at the café at Ogden Water; on a reccie I’d even been photographed by a coach full of Japanese tourists who’d pointed and shrieked thereby managing to create a stereotype of the terrified crowds trying to escape Godzilla… quite surreal!  I immediately found myself running solo for the next 2 miles across open grazing fields and down a track to Checkpoint 5: Denholme Velvets (14.5 miles). I scooped a couple of waters, nibbled on a few broken biscuits and consumed another energy gel.  

Mentally, I wanted to get beyond 16.2 miles so I could start the deduction process – less than 10 miles to go.  From there I’d adopt the same on reaching 20 miles (just a 10k race) and then the 23 milestone (only a parkrun…). But from nowhere I started to feel physically tired.  My legs were heavy, shoulders were tight and my pack was severely chaffing under my biceps.  I drank plenty of hydration pack water through the technical section of Denholme Beck.  I rummaged in my pack and chewed on some food.  This made me feel a bit sick so I went back to water.  I recognised that my pace had significantly fallen which was bit dispiriting as I knew this was a section with no major ascents.  I passed Pacers Vincent Bussingham and Nicky Anness who offered some support and confirmed the next water station and refreshments were near.  I remember congratulating Hilary Wharam (Horsforth Harriers) but don’t really remember the fine view on approach to Hewenden Viaduct.  

I also don’t recall arriving at Checkpoint 6: Hewenden Viaduct (17.5 miles), but I do remember trying to force down some food.  I first tried a section of Mars Bar (won’t use this ever again as a pack snack) then progressed to a banana.  This was ok but stupidly was convinced to try one of the jam doughnuts offered as a checkpoint snack.  On first bite I knew instantly this wasn’t a good idea!  Surprisingly, I shortly passed a Stainland Harrier who had one of these dry, gaggy doughnuts in each hand!! Obviously a true fell runner!  I did manage to clean my palate on the sour fruit from an apple tree that a fellow Pacer had recommended – thanks James Clark! And the generosity just kept coming… beyond Hallas Lane Farm two young kids were handing out fruit sweets.  The human spirit (or the sugar) did lift me slightly however I still felt sluggish over more stiles, through woodland trails, along rutted field paths and up to the village of Ryecroft.  Walkers clapped as I shuffled past and up on to Harden Moor.  I started to pass some other runners and while offering them small crumbs of support – in my head they were full of wisdom and thoughtful, but were likely just grunts – I started to feel buoyed by my marginal progress.  I discovered a reserve energy store as Keighley rolled out beneath me and I descended down the tarmac road into Checkpoint 8: Off Shaw Lane (21.25 miles). 

Shortly after leaving Checkpoint 8 I remember looking at my time and calculating that I had 53 minutes to get under my target of 5 hours. Instantly – and stupidly – I thought ‘well that’ll be easy…’. The next 5 miles were a slog.  All was going fine for the first 2 miles (completed in 22 minutes); I even managed to pass other runners who’d stopped for further refueling and stretching.  Then, loads of kissing gate stiles, undulating tracks and not a lot of company; although some runners were in sight each was battling individual demons and fighting towards the finish. Just beyond the penultimate Checkpoint 9: Sugden End (24.25 miles) there was a constant disjoin between brain and legs; simple functions were complex undertakings and even the mildest of ascents seemed like the most strenuous challenge. This might be easier on the streets of London or other urban marathons.  Not here. Almost every step is tough. The steep descent down to the valley floor of the Worth Valley was not pretty, rather unorthodox and comprised holding on to tree branches, nettles and thistles to slow down; I may have even fallen out on to and stumbled across the Oxenhope Road.  

Over 25 miles completed.  Just one further mile to go.  All I needed was a sub-10 minute mile.  Simple, eh? The first obstacle was a severely rutted and steep camber path; a few snug, iron kissing gates quickly followed.  Then there was the stone down steps on to Brow Foot Lane.  Over the rail bridge and turn right on to Belle Isle.  Here, I recall Pacer Jim Wheldon providing some great motivation (and err a ‘running’ commentary of my overtaking prowess…!). I soon turned my attention to the cobbled ascent of Butt Lane.  I will repeat an earlier analysis from a reccie that the lane wasn’t too bad. Revisited with legs battered and mind bashed this is a bugger of a finish - yep, Coopers you were right!  Still, I managed to stumble up the lane.  Only 150 metres to the finish. Less than 2 minutes to the 5 hour milestone.  But, as I turned on to Rawdon Road, severe cramp struck in both quadriceps, instantly halting any progress.  I’d never had cramp in these muscles before and didn’t know how to alleviate.  I adopted a quick squat position while holding on to metal railings then somehow I managed to return upright.  From there, it was just grit teeth and battle up the hill.  One last barrier, though, was the set of steps leading down to the final checkpoint at Haworth Primary School – the beep of the dibber sounded like the doorbell to paradise!  And a clocked time of 4.59:03.  Reet ‘ard, but reet chuffed!

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