The Minster Way in a Day
5:45 – Dinnington
I can’t say I had the best night’s sleep, anxiety keeping me awake. The night before anything important has always been the worst time for me. I lie in bed contemplating whether I have done enough to succeed. Of course, this doesn’t help in the slightest, I can’t go back and do more preparation. It does however seem to get it all out of my system, so by morning I am focussed on the task ahead. But awaking from a restless night’s sleep isn’t much like waking up at all. The usual refreshed feeling is replaced with a groggy passenger urging me to get a few more hours. Great things don’t start with a lie in.
It’s funny when I read mountaineering or running memoirs because of the military detailed descriptions of what was eaten on multiple-week-long journeys, I can’t even remember what I had for breakfast. Something with calories no doubt, because I expected to be burning more than 7,000 throughout the course of the run. My Dad and I ensured the car was packed up with everything I would need, and off we drove.
6:20 – The Drive
I don’t remember much being said during the journey, whether that is a consequence of being knackered or nothing was said I’ll never know, just the music playing and the feeling of being absolutely knackered, watching the dark sky bleed into blue. It’s only about an hour’s journey, but it felt like the longest hour of my life. Little did I know that record was shortly to be broken.
07:30 – Beverley
We arrived in Beverley and parked up right next to the Minster. I think now is normally the time the nerves would set in, the enormity of not one but two marathons lying ahead, except I didn’t feel nervous. I had put the work in, not missing a training session. Whether it was raining cats and dogs or hot as hell (or both) I ate the miles up. I popped the boot and got geared up, checking I had the essentials in my bag and ensuring I knew where everything was positioned for speedy resupplies later in the day. An elderly lady walked by, and we got engaged in conversation. “Morning”, we exchanged. She looked quizzical, and we explained I was going to be running to York. “Ooh, good luck”, she replied, and tottered off on her way into town. It’s weird how we imagine things before they happen; what will we be feeling, the atmosphere, the expectation. It was all rather underwhelming. Maybe I should do an organised event. The start lines of the countless obstacle course races I’ve completed are always an adrenaline source and great fun. Anyway, the reality was a muggy morning, just me and my dad, but that’s all I needed.
07:51 – Beverley Minster to Scorborough (11.3km)
It’s not the most appeasing time, seven fifty-one, nine to eight, oh seven fifty-one hours, it’s a bit of a mouthful. Given I was standing right beneath a massive clock tower you’d think I would’ve waited for the bells to chime. Well, I didn’t. I couldn’t wait to set off. Months of training whilst finishing up my degree and subsequently working long hours on my feet in a pub meant I was ready and eager to get going. I lined myself up against the large wooden door of Beverley Minster, feeling the cool beneath my fingers, knowing that in around 10 hours I would be doing the same over 50 miles away. I shook the hand of my father – who would act as support car for the day, a boot filled with homemade isotonic drink, water, and food – and said see you later as I bounded off through the streets of Beverley.
I had formulated an itinerary for the day, with precise locations roughly every 11km where Dad would be waiting for a resupply. With the distance and elevation gain of each section I worked out a rough time for when I would be arriving, and if I stayed with this or slightly ahead, I would be golden. Aside from just finishing, I really wanted to get it done in under 10 hours. Arbitrary, but sounds good, so that was the goal. There was a problem. Much of my training was in Sheffield, renowned for being anti-flat. This meant I was used to maintaining a constant pace over hilly terrain, not the flats of Beverley and the Vale of York, resulting in a pace of 5:16/km instead of the prescribed 7:03/km for the first hour. This was my first mistake, and it wouldn’t be my last.
The route starts off through the lovely city of Beverley, taking in the market square and historic arch ways before detouring through housing estates and across a fast road to meet farmer’s fields. Being humid, I quickly warmed up and regretted wearing my waterproof from the go. Here the scenery isn’t too spectacular. Aside from the railway line and river you mirror there isn’t much else around. For this reason, I was excited to see the spire of St Leonard’s come into view.
Scorborough (11.3km) to Bainton (24.1km)
Arriving at the car, I grabbed a drink of orange and then removed my waterproof – it wouldn’t be worn again that day. I had underestimated how warm the day would be and was already sopping wet with sweat. Mistake number two. Losing that much water and salt that early on would come back to bite me.
St Leonard’s marked the start of the route I had recced. 50ish km of the Minster Way I had previously walked or run with Dad to get a feel of what I would be faced with. Some might say that takes the adventure out of it, but I was nervous enough about not finishing given the likelihood of DNFs in ultra-running, especially being a newbie, so I thought checking out at the route was a smart move. It was quite comforting knowing where I needed to go and being in familiar surroundings.
Crossing the road, I immediately had to slow to a walk. A short field filled with cows and calves lay ahead of me, and I was not playing chicken when it came to half ton farm animals and their babies. From there it’s a couple more farmer’s fields and a jaunt through a plantation before arriving in Lockington, one of the many quaint villages I would pass through. I take a right and spend about a mile tearing up the tarmac. I dip into Kilnwick before passing a secluded lake with an enormous weeping willow. Running trails has always been my favourite. Having to think about your next foot placement takes running to a far more enjoyable level and keeps you sharp. Another stint of road running brought me to Bainton.
Bainton (24.1km) to Cobdale Lane (37.5km)
Dad was waiting for me on the corner of Preston Lane and West End, where I again topped up on homemade isotonic drink and pizza. Why pizza? Aside from it being high calorie, I hadn’t tested if I could get it down whilst running but I thought I would be able to. Luckily, I could. I set off again. Legs feeling fresh, I undulated through telly tubby style sheep fields and trotted into North Dalton. This is a popular stop for walkers of the Minster Way to grab and pint and some snap at the Star Inn. I wouldn’t be enjoying such comforts. I ploughed on through to join a network of a hybrid tarmac-dirt road system bordering an endless expanse of farmer’s fields. The first few kilometres I was unfortunately sheltered by a hedgerow from the wind, but a quick switch further up the road placed me on the opposite side and I was able to enjoy the gentle breeze.
I passed through another farm, re-joining the dreaded tarmacked roads. Thankfully this was short lived, and a hard left placed me onto a grassy and undulating trail scarred by tractor tires and flanked by deep hedgerows. The views from here were spectacular. Deep cut valleys and a patchwork of forest and farmland. I passed a couple with a very inquisitive pup who joined me briefly before finally listening to the calls of its owner. I cannot remember its name, but it was adorable. It would be nice to add that detail, but much like breakfast I don’t recall. Parked up and waiting in what really amounts to pretty much nowhere was Dad, waiting for my arrival.
Cobdale Lane (37.5km) to Bishop Wilton (47.7km)
I again loaded up on water, salts, and carbs before plodding on. I still felt fresh, running all the way aside from the cow scenario. Despite this spryness, I would shortly be brought to a walk. The Minster Way is not a particularly hilly route. Over the 52ish miles you only actually tackle around 800m of ascent. However, this is condensed right in the middle, giving an elevation profile that looks like a worrying ECG, and I was just about to hit it. Running along a barbed wire lined path I dropped sharply into a valley, which I immediately had to climb back out of, 80m of elevation lost and then regained in less than a kilometre. A strong power walk brought me to the opposite ridge where shortly after I dropped another 110m into the village of Millington, which, you guessed it, I had to climb out of again. I will always remember this section of the run though. To enter the village, you pass over Millington Beck on a little wooden bridge, and guiding you is a Minster Way fingerpost ornately covered in English ivy. There are numerous fingerposts along the route, but the beauty of this one really stood out.
I powered up the hill and out of Millington, passing allotments and another farm to enter another cow field. As expected, cows and calves were blocking the path, so I had to take a little detour as to not worry them. I passed through an annoyingly finnicky double gate and a large pen of sheep receiving what I imagine were vaccinations before steadily rolling on through the grounds of St Ethelburga’s Church in Great Givendale. From here it was just few hills before I made the steep descent into Bishop Wilton, where Dad ran a couple hundred metres with me to the car.
Bishop Wilton (47.7km) to Full Sutton (55.2km)
This segment, in all honesty, was uninspiring. Lots of road running and not much exciting to speak of, I also can’t really remember much from it, so…
Full Sutton (55.2km) to Kexby (65.2km)
Another stint of about 4km of road running which passes a prison and pig farm leads to Stamford Bridge and the River Derwent section. Here you get 6km of riverside bliss on hard packed trail. I could not enjoy the wildlife and river serenity, however. This is where I started to get a bit tired. I remember calling my girlfriend at the time and simply stating, “This was a stupid idea”. I mean, I wasn’t wrong, but even though I was suffering that wasn’t a reason to just throw in the towel. I gritted my teeth, got my head down, and soldiered on. It didn’t help that the landscape didn’t change, so it felt like I wasn’t making any progress at all, and time seemed to come to a standstill. Thankfully the next checkpoint came into sight. This river path is quite amusing as it doesn’t seem to have an official end in Kexby. You head up through some very overgrown scrub and have to step over a metal railing (like you get on motorways) to join a pavement.
Kexby (65.2km) to York Minster (84.9km)
This heading is a bit of a spoiler alert, but yes, the final 20km were done in one big push due to a little bit of miscommunication on my part. I fuelled up for what I thought was going to be about a 10km segment. Kexby marked the end of the Minster Way I had seen before so this was now all new to me. The path takes a large, rounded detour to eventually cross the main road again a couple kilometres West. Here you pass through patches of woodland and roads tunnelled with overhanging trees. I made a little mistake and had to back track to pass through a small opening into a woodland, which, in my day dreamy state, didn’t look like much of a path at all compared to the track I had just trotted down. Thankfully I didn’t end up in the York Maze, which, although not visible from the track (or I was just too focussed on getting one foot in front of the other), is close by.
Coming through the Heslington Tillmire SSSI I was beginning to really struggle. This was kilometre 76 and my hips were tight. Still running, each step was of limited range and I must have looked a right sight. I flanked the Fulford Golf Course and passed a couple of runners with their hydration vests on too. We exchanged nods and I walked across the bridge spanning the York By-Pass. The end was in sight. Well, not sight, but I knew it was close. It was here I’d tried to get Dad to meet me and run the final 5km with so we could share in the moment. He’d helped me get to this point and running is something we have done together for years so I wanted him there. My instructions, however, were not the clearest, and a quick phone call clarified he had no clue where he was going and that he would meet me at the River Ouse. I was beginning to feel a real need for electrolytes, so this news was a big blow.
I carried on, passing by a cemetery, and taking yet another wrong turn into a dead-end cul-de-sac before realising it was the next one down that had the path I was looking for. There was an elderly man in one of the upstairs windows who must have had some questions for the dishevelled boy looking around confused on his quiet estate before running off. After joining the river side path, I finally bumped into Dad. The final few kilometres. I was also surprised by my friend George who had got the train up and he joined me running, if you could now call it that. I was hunched over and moving barely faster than a walk, completely focussed on just getting finished.
Turning onto Low/High Petergate, I found a sudden burst of energy and practically sprinted to round the corner into the courtyard of York Minster. Tourists were getting their photos taken in front of the huge doors and stained-glass windows, but I wasn’t waiting to finish. The door was there and by touching it I would bring about the climax of five months of solid training. The elation I felt was indescribable. Here I was, a guy who just had the silly idea of running two marathons in a day and had actually done it. Much like the start there was no big show, no interested crowds, just the people that matter. That’s all I need.
Stats
Total Time: 9:47:17
Moving Time: 9:22:55
Distance: 84.85km
Average Pace*: 6:38/km
Average Speed*: 9.04kmph
Calories: 7,913
*From Moving Time