The Next Stop By Request Will Be…
Bing-bong, the next stop by request will be… a silly idea. I feel like there a few things more Sheffield than the automated voice that punctuates thousands of tram journeys each day. To me it’s as Sheffield as Henderson’s Relish, steel-working, and the general friendliness that is enough to make Londoners recoil in confusion and fear.
I’d been looking to do another long run, in fact getting myself booked onto the Ambleside 50k in September, but I needed to do something sooner. Much sooner. On the 19th of January I had my epiphany, a flash of brilliance, and had to put it into words. Picking up my phone, I texted the old man.
‘Had a geniously unique long run idea’
‘Plotted and doable’
‘Visit every tram stop in Sheffield and Rotherham’
‘I call it…’
‘The Next Stop By Request Will Be’
‘Go for it, I like the idea.’
I’ve been riding the tram a lot more recently, having taken a very long hiatus. I guess that’s what you get for living in the city and having a car (moment of silence please…). Whilst at comprehensive school, my friends and I would get the blue route from crystal peaks into town, have a look round Faregate, then getting on the yellow line to Meadowhall on the same ticket. Many hours were spent sat on those trams. Have I sat on every possible seat? Probably not. Have I ridden on the purple line? I don’t think so. Have I seen every stop? Most definitely not. The purple line is definitely the reason for the last, being, in my eyes, the neglected child of the Supertramp family. It only has two unique stops as opposed to the blue line’s 12 and the yellow line’s 13 (if you ignore the tram train, four if not), making little distinctive impact on the Sheffield landscape and accessibility.
So, now knowing I had not seen every tram stop, and indeed not stepped foot on some I decided to change that, because reasons, and opened up Reweighs to plot the route. Ten days later, I was running it.
I woke to my alarm at 5am, immediately hitting snooze and getting a few more minutes of sweet bliss before being pushed out of bed. A bowl of porridge with a whole banana plonked on top and a very generous drizzle of honey was the first addition of fuel to the proverbial fire. Thanking last night me for checking and double checking my pack, all that was left to do was add a generous squeeze of ketchup to the pre-cooked bacon sandwiches and stuff them into my pack.
Stepping out of the door I embraced the cold air. 8 hours lie ahead of me. I didn’t have enough sleep. Nothing I can do about that now. One step after another, the warmup kilometre to the first stop, Middlewood. I ran along the platform fumbling with my phone, double clicking lock to open the camera and switch to selfie mode to capture the first of what I hoped would be 50 handsome snaps. The first tram wouldn’t leave here for another hour and three quarters, so the platform was pleasantly empty. Not even a car drove by, giving a calm commencement to the day. The more stops where I didn’t have an audience for my self-indulgent photography the better. Heading back and crossing to the opposite side of Middlewood Road, I got a snap on the north bound stop of the staggered platform of Leppings Lane. Not all of the tram stops in Sheffield are the directly across from one another, with multiple being staggered such as Leppings Lane, West Street, and City Hall, presumably to help avoid the build-up of traffic on the surrounding roads when two trams pull into the stop at once. Sheffield has enough issues with poorly thought-out junctions and lights so thank god there was some forethought here. Anyway, before I lose my tram of thought (I am hilarious), for the purposes of this run I only had to visit one of each stop’s platforms. Leaving Leppings Lane I pattered my way to Hillsborough Park. As you can see, or not, you have to squint to see the sign. Here, instead of the nice head height signs at each of the other stops, Hillsborough Park’s are like flags at full mast and a nightmare to get a selfie with. A quick detour from the yellow line onto the blue I picked up its termination stop, Malin Bridge, before turning on heel and picking up the first shared stop of the day, Hillsborough, outside the cheekily named Second Girlfriend.
Leaving Hillsborough I spotted a steadily swaying figure in the distance, one of the last standers of the previous night’s festivities. On approach I could see he was on his phone, slowly asking, ‘Excuse me mate, what postcode is this?’. Not knowing whether I’d crossed into a new area code or not, I pointed back the way I came and told him the centre of Hillsborough was just down the road. I quickly picked up Bamforth Street, Langsett / Primrose View, and Infirmary Road, before entering Sheffield’s newly christened clean air zone and snapping Shalesmoor. Here was the beginning of the first hill of the day. Thankfully it’s a gentle slope with the brief respite of the Netherthorpe Road stop halfway up as I passed underneath its namesake. I was mindful here to take it easy. I was 30 minutes into what I expected to be about an 8 hour run, the last thing I wanted to do was run at a pace that at the time felt easy but 4 hours later would be hell. I needed to keep at a ‘easy easy’ pace.
Next followed University of Sheffield, funnily enough a stop I hardly ever used during my time at Uni. My houses were all on the wrong side of the tracks in the literal sense, not in the idiomatic, they were all in nice areas as far as student accommodation goes. Greystones and Crookes. It’s surprising when you look at the history of the Sheffield tram system that it used to serve so many more communities. Handsworth, Beauchief, Heeley, Firth Park, Crookes, Walkley, Intake, Wadsley Bridge. Now it is a fraction of that. Granted it is now a much more expensive electric powered system, and these areas have regular bus connections, but it’s nice to think about a cheeky horse drawn ride home after a night out on the town. A sharp left took me onto West Street where I avoided the dregs of the previous night that swilled in the street. A few revellers awaited taxis, taking comfort in chips and leaning on one another for support. Another snap and I was at City Hall, a few steps later Cathedral, and only a few more, Castle Square and Fiztalan Square / Ponds Forge. If a tram had been running between these stops at the same time as me, I am confident I would’ve won that race.
Here in the day was the first major split; the yellow and tram-train routes to Meadowhall and Rotherham Parkgate. You rise via the tram bridge onto park square roundabout and drop off the other side. It is the first section of many you aren’t allowed to mirror the tram’s route. This first detour is only minor, and I was quickly snapping Hyde Park. I re-joined the main road and pattered down the steps of Cricket Inn Road. There was someone walking along the platform, the first witness of my ode to public transport. When planning the route, I was unsure on how to get to Nunnery Square from here, ultimately deciding on backtracking to Hyde Park, crossing over the A57 and entering via the park & ride car park. I peered through the fences into the tram depot. The trams sat dark except for the screens which were adorned with a big green tick and the words ‘Tram Prepped’, something I had never seen before. I chuckled. It was like something from Thomas the Tank Engine. Leaving that amusement behind, it was a few minutes of downhill running to Woodbourn Road. Writing this and looking at the aerial satellite imagery, I had no idea there was a running track on the other side of the screening trees. I had wondered for a while where people were running in circles on Strava, never actually just going on the map and looking, but keeping it a mystery. Well, mystery solved.
I got lucky with the lights at the end of the road and managed to cross without breaking my stride. Heading over a footbridge I snapped myself at Attercliffe. As kids we had a joke, ‘The next stop by request will be, Attercliffe’. Don’t ask me why, I can’t remember, kids will have their meaningless jokes. I passed through the outer edges of the English Institute of Sport grounds and snapped Arena / Olympic Legacy Park. At this point there is another large diversion around the Utilita Arena, which in my head will always be the Motorpoint Arena. I passed through the empty car park of Valley Centertainment and snapped myself at its stop. Here I had to divert again, taking in the majesty of the Meadowhall Retail Park car park. Two youths were sat on the opposite platform as I covertly snapped Carbrook / IKEA and legged it up and over the footbridge. This next section was probably the most pleasant bit of running on the whole route. The Sheffield & Tinsley Canal, complete with newly laid trail and series of locks. Away from the traffic it was much more peaceful. I passed a few dog walkers and a couple of people on their morning commutes. Water trickled consistently through the gates, feeding the pool below. I have always wanted to have a go at opening a lock lift. Crossing another footbridge, I arrived to an empty Meadowhall South / Tinsley.
Navigating the spaghetti of roads around Meadowhall was fun. I’m pretty sure I crossed at what wasn’t a crossing but looked perfectly suitable. I quick-step tippy-toed my way up the steps at Meadowhall Interchange, patiently waiting for the automatic doors to open, before running through the waiting room and repeating the process to get the platform. That’s Meadowhall Interchange, and the yellow route, done. The woman sat in the waiting room must have had at least one question as I sped back through the waiting room not 10 seconds after leaving. The journey towards Rotherham Station to pick up the two tram train stops was long and industrial. There were no pleasant sights to have along this stretch, just a seemingly endless stretch of industry and wasteland with the expected mix of buddleia, hawthorn, and ash; stunted growth amongst shattered concrete. I ended up getting two photos at Rotherham Station. One on the platform and one with the sign outside, I couldn’t decide which one I preferred the look of. The final stretch to Rotherham Parkgate was surprisingly greener, again beside the canal with healthier looking trees. A large group of mallards and swans was being fed by someone across the water. That’s the tram train done. It was time to now repeat all that I had done from Park Square Roundabout, just in reverse, except this time I didn’t have the photos of each stop to break up my journey, making the whole thing feel a hell of a lot further than it was. Thankfully, a surprise lay in wait, kinda. As I re-entered the car park of Centertainment, I checked over my shoulder. A car in the distance, far enough to allow me to cross over the roundabout without incident. Halfway through my crossing I looked again. Now closer, I could see it was my dad’s car, with none other than, you guessed it, my Dad driving. When I go out on a long run, I share my live location through Garmin with at least one person in case anything goes awry. He had been keeping an eye on my whereabouts and decided to come give me some encouragement. As I ran through the carpark, he got the following recording. It was such a nice surprise and kept me motivated to see some new scenery. You can imagine my relief when I arrived at Sheffield Station / Sheffield Hallam University. The full platform either side didn’t even bother me as I grabbed my cheesy selfie and carried on my way to Granville Road / The Sheffield College.
I now had the biggest challenge of the day so far sprawled out ahead of me, the arduous climb up to Manor Top. I’d known this was coming and I had been mentally preparing myself. I had already planned to walk the steeper sections as it’d be quicker and far more energy efficient than trying to run. Park Grange Croft arrives early on up the hill, just before the tram re-joins the road after spending some time in the sky on its own little bridge. I then weaved my way up Park Grange Road, snapping its stop and getting to the plateau of Arbourthorne Road. Spring Lane and Manor Top / Elm Tree followed shortly after.
I then spent what felt like an eternity alongside the dual carriage way of the A6102. One foot in front of the other and I somehow had further and further to go. It didn’t help that I had to wait for the lights to change to allow me to cross onto the island for Hollinsend, only to then have to wait again to get back to the path. Rinse and repeat this process for Gleadless Townend and I was thoroughly deflated. The only thing that kept me afloat was the knowledge that I had nearly completed the purple route. My facial expression at Herdings / Leighton Road probably tells you more about how I was feeling than I can put into words. The same for Herdings Park. Purple route finished! The next section was nice and flat, but uneventful. White Lane, the final leg of the blue route. The finish for visiting every stop now well in sight. All that remained was a long slog to the next stop. I am unsure whether this is one of the most spaced out stops, but it felt like an eternity making the rounded detour as the tram takes its lone journey along its separated route.
At this point I was getting a little thirsty. So far, I had done all of this on less than 2 litres of water and I was diligently rationing the satisfaction of each sip until the final stretch from Crystal Peaks before I would be resupplied. Thankfully, from Birley Lane it is pretty much all downhill, so the next bit of running went, not easy, but less difficult. Gravity is a marvellous thing. Left foot right foot left foot right foot. Each impact upon the pavement a reminder to just keep going. A small set of steps where the path leaves the tram tracks up a grassy verge felt like a sheer cliff. Maybe a little more dehydrated than initially thought. The Birley Fire Station was to my right as I snapped Birley Moor Road. I bet they have some water I thought. A gentle undulation, down then up, brings you to Hackenthorpe. I wasn’t so lucky with the lights here and had to patiently wait for three cars to emerge from the junction. A young father watched his son ride his scooter on the skate park. Another downhill stretch, gently curving to the left before straightening out on a rise led to Donetsk Way. Slipping into the trees briefly, I had another difficult time crossing the road to Moss Way, a stop that serves The Sheffield College and Owlthorpe. This is another stop I had not stepped foot on before.
Here we are. The final stretch. 5 more stops and I’ve done it. Eyes on the proverbial prize. By now I had well and truly lost the embarrassment of taking a selfie in front of a group of strangers, and proudly snapped myself in front of a large crowd at Crystal Peaks. A tram was just rolling in and I decided to try and race it to the next stop. I didn’t win. Not by a long shot. Beighton / Drake House Lane is much further away than I remember. This stop is home turf. Where the story starts. Beighton is where I was predominantly raised, and this is the stop that would ferry me into town. It is now a straight shot, 3 stops left. I passed through trees and across a little field to join the main road and begin the slow struggle up what amounts to a whisper of a hill. Taking my moment when the lights turned red, I crossed the road. Waterthorpe down. Westfield School is directly adjacent and there was a football match in progress. Players stretching on the side-lines and coaches barking instructions. One last downhill on a grass verge gave me some respite and I was securing Westfield. Here we go. Running up that last hill was a good feeling. I forgot how thirsty I was and just had the image of myself on my phone for one last snap. Halfway, but actually just over.
I waved to Fiona in the car park as I crossed the tracks and took my pack off. She pushed water and pure orange juice into my face, it’s never tasted so good. My semi-dehydrated state never being more apparent. I walked in circles to prevent my legs from stiffening up whilst those at the tram stop looked on, probably wondering what the hell I was doing. I don’t blame them. A banana and gels were loaded into my pack, as well as 1L of water in my soft flasks and 750ml of orange squash in my pack. Up until this point I had been eating bananas, gels, bacon sandwiches, bars. There is a list at the end of this post for anyone interested in how much I ate. But the TLDR: probably not enough. A quick kiss and thank you and I was off again, retuning the way I had come.
I will not give a full recollection of the return journey, instead opting for a nice little summary. It’s a story of monstrous hills (slight inclines), toxic plumes (smokers outside the miners welfare), and foul metal beasts (trams).
I finished the day back at Middlewood. The equivalent of each tram journey in Sheffield and Rotherham, both ways, as close as possible without doing an illegal. I didn’t finish as quickly as I was hoping, but it was close enough; a job well done. All that was left was the last kilometre or so home, and it held the most entertaining moment of the day. Ahead I could see a man walking toward me. Baggy clothes, full on dreads, slightly swaying. I checked over my shoulder to see the road was clear and stepped off the pavement to give him the space it looked like he needed. ‘Hey man, do you wanna drag of this?’. I laughed inside. He held out a spliff the size of a cigar (okay, large ciggy), thin wisps of white smoke curling from the subdued embers. He was high as a kite, loving life, exuding joy. I declined. Not the kind of celebration I had in mind. My reward was much more indulgent. A bowl of Ben & Jerry’s Sundae Cookie Vermont-ster, handed to me by an awaiting Fiona, eaten whilst pacing back and forth in the courtyard.
The next stop by request will be, bed.
Stats
Distance: 75.57km
Moving time: 08:10:30
Elapsed time: 08:22:00
Average Pace: 6:29/km
Elevation: 915m
Calories Burned: 6165
Calories Consumed: 2457 (10 gels, 1.5 bacon sarnies, 3 Nutri-Grain bars, 1 banana, Pure Orange Juice)