I signed up for the Ambleside 50k on January 1st, 2023, after seeing a poster advertising it on the corner where Borrans Road meets the A593. I wasn’t having the greatest of times, being mid mental health crisis and about to quit my job (which ultimately was the best decision I could make), I needed something way off to look forward to. This kick started me back into running after my HOTH success, and I ticked off some wacky and fun ideas; The Next Stop by Request Will Be (all the tram stops / journeys in Sheffield and Rotherham), The High Peak Way (an old route that was almost lost from the internet), The Yorkshire Wolds Way (though a DNF, I learned so much), amongst others.
Unfortunately, as it seems to be par for the course for me, I became injured and began to lose the love I had built for running. Each step was painful. I had neglected proper selfcare, and you could say I fucked around and found out. But I wasn’t just going to give up and relegate the event to a loss of £50 and leave it at that, no matter how close I came to actually sacking it off (it was close). In the month leading up to the event, I had painful shin splints which made running a near impossibility. Each week I would try to get some miles in and each week I would be met with pain. How was I supposed to run 1650m of elevation over 50km if I can barely make it around the block?
I won’t recommend the short space of time of what I did next, as I am certainly paying for it a bit in the aftermath, but nevertheless it helped get me through. I began cold water / icing treatment. Now, I am not a running coach (though I do want to get my LiRF / CiRF at some point), but if you haven’t tried it, I can highly recommend. I’ve been into open water swimming for a while, and mentally I always feel better for it. It also helped majorly with the inflammation and pain, and pulled me back into a routine of sorts, instilling discipline. I can see why people rave about it. What I wouldn’t recommend is the painkiller combo I used on race day. Yes, it got me through, but if I remember anything from my PE GCSE, it’s that painkillers get you back on your feet, but can exacerbate the problem.
So, let’s get into it.
The sky was grey and the air warm, threatening at any moment to drench myself and the other 150 or so runners in a deluge. I popped two ibuprofen tablets, applied a layer of ibuprofen gel to my shins, and queued for the loo. Fiona went to stand over the small bridge that leaves the park to wait for the race to start. The competitors queued to clear their dibbers and take their places under the start line arch. I have never actually used a dibber before. They’re like regular chip timing but you must physically place it into a receiver at each checkpoint to log your time instead of it being automatic. The pre-race brief was given, and the crowd counted us down from five. four. three. two. one.
I must race for myself today I thought as I set off. I was not going to be setting any PBs or winning. Today was just about getting myself around the course in one piece (or as close as possible). I do struggle with this kind of mindset because I want to do well. Sometimes I think what’s the point of doing it if I am not pushing myself to the limit. Of course, this is ridiculous, but I think a lot of runners out there suffer with it in some form, whether that is doing recovery runs at not recovery pace or trying to match a hilly run pace to a similar distance run done on the flat. Even the I am not going fast enough so I might as well stop mindset. Today was all about moving. Keep moving. No stopping. Just progress.
The course is nice and flat for all a couple hundred metres before it climbs up towards Loughrigg. Steeper and steeper the road becomes, twisting up the hillside before becoming a packed trail and protruding rock. I maintained a short step running gait for the entirety of the hill, knowing that the tens of people that had passed me would pay for their eager speed. I decided to fall into step with a man wearing a UTMB series t-shirt. If anyone knew anything about pacing, I thought it would be him and my heart rate wasn’t too high. Bearing left the route misses the actual climb up to Loughrigg, and instead drops down to circumnavigate the tarn. Here I used a couple more runners as pacers as we descended, knowing there was no point in going too quickly and blowing up my quads.
Pleasant running through fields, woodlands, and beside the river Brathay followed, and before I knew it, I was back on the roads. I should mention that within this first 7km or so the flag situation did not inspire too much confidence. For those who haven’t run a trail race (don’t worry, I’ve barely run any), the course is typically marked by small, orange flags, with the occasional large arrow sign when the course allows (near roads, fences, etc…). One woman had barrelled on straight up a path as the right turn flag was well hidden in the grass, and only the call of other helpful runners got her back on the right track. I was leading a small group and had to make a quick left or right decision as there were no flags in sight. Luckily my descending right choice was correct, as my watch didn’t make any angry beeps at me telling me I had gone off course (I had forgotten to zoom in so detail was not really visible on the .gpx file. That and I wanted to rely on course marking as much as possible, so I wasn’t having to switch watch screens.) The UTMB adorned man was within the lower woods, looking confused, and I shouted ahead that this was the correct way despite the lack of flags. The hi-vis marshal through the trees was a welcome sight. Unlike the branch I nutted. Completely unseen to me, a branch hung low across the path, and I careened straight into it, knocking my hat off in the process. I quickly turned and picked it up, laughing at myself for the stupidity. The first aid station rolled around quickly. It was after a pleasant climb and an even more pleasant descent filled with people breaking away and then slowing down when they realised no-one was following. I stupidly had only drunk one of my 500ml bottles, with the majority of the other remaining. If I had drunk the litre per aid station, I had planned I think future problems would have been avoided, if not at least delayed. I filled this up and was moving again.
When I was attempting the Wolds Way I bumped into Neil Ridsdale, a previous record holder for the Hardmoors110 (a 110-mile race through Yorkshire). He had mentioned that during his record attempt that he was only stationary for 8 minutes over the 20 or so hours he was running for. During my run that day I had stopped moving for well over 30 minutes, so I was determined to get in and out of aid stations as efficiently as possible today as practice for when I return for my solo aided attempt.
A silly but very minor mistake of misreading adjacent flags that meant go straight on down the invisible path led to the woodlands on the eastern side of Lake Coniston. I didn’t kick myself too hard for stopping and double checking as I saw to my left people running back towards me who had also read the flags to mean take the packed trail, but luckily realising their mistake and backtracking. I thought I was running at an acceptable pace up the steady inclines that followed, but a mix of what I suspect to be nerves and accidentally filling with Voom hydration (something I hadn’t drunk before) led my heart rate to creep high into the 180s. I had to chill and fast. I pulled myself back and decided to take in my surroundings. The trees were tall and dark and often gave way to an unobstructed view of the fells in the distance. It was a lovely, if cloudy, day. The steady climbing gave way to flatter undulation and then just fell away. It was fall and pray territory. It was brilliant. I careened down the water carved path, bounding left to right between the sloping sides to maintain some semblance of stability. There were numerous hikers along the road and paths that meandered to the northern end of Lake Coniston, and their presence and cheers helped with the tarmac slapping. I will note you aren’t supposed to receive external help, it is a race after all and there are aid stations available for everyone to use to keep it fair. One competitor, who did place before me, did get given at least bottle from I assume their partner here. Naughty naughty. The second aid station came in at around 23km, and seeing Fiona just before was a mental boost. I was quick and efficient and got both my bottles refilled before padding away. I knew the biggest climb was to come, and I stuck to the heels of another runner whilst I mentally prepared myself for the climb. Run the flatter bits, hike the steep, don’t be a hero.
It was ‘orrible. A steep and unrelenting climb by the copper mines. The man I had been following slowly pulled away. His legs were about twice the size of mine and there was no way that I was keeping up with that kind of power. I am proud to say that I didn’t once think of stopping on this climb, and the power walking wasn’t demoralising in the slightest. I sometimes get a bit disillusioned on long stints like this, but I am learning that at my current fitness level the only way to efficiently traverse such hills is to walk. Even more surprising was even though about four people overtook me on this section, it didn’t knock my confidence. In the moment I knew what it was, an educational moment about pacing. Over the first 25km and ~850m of climbing I had averaged pretty much 6:00/km dead on (Strava has me at 02:30:19). This is roughly equivalent to the 25km race and would have put me in 5th place. Unfortunately, I had another 25km and 800m elevation to go, so that statistic is irrelevant. As I crested the hill, I went to start a slow run and immediately felt the creeping hand of cramp squeeze my left calf. I won’t disclose the words that went through my mind. It wasn’t yay. These are the make-or-break moments, if you let negativity wash over you, you’re as good as done. I thought back to the high peak way. Running alone I was traversing the Great Ridge from Mam Tor to Lose Hill. Moving well I stepped off the path onto the grassy edge to pass some walkers and slipped, turning in the air to fall hard on my back with immediate cramp throughout my leg. Despite that, I was able to keep going whilst holding further cramps at bay. Yes, I did have a little cry, but I pulled myself up and kept going, finishing the 47km and 2000m elevation (although not in time for the café). I had a drink, sucked down a gel, and moved as quickly as my body would allow. There were some fun rock filled river crossings as well as some bridges. You could make the bridge crossings quicker by not using the bridges as you must climb some short steep slopes, but marker flags were on the bridges, so it only felt right to use them. The route then blended with the 25k, and it was a boost to not only be around more runners, but also overtake a lot of them. The third aid station just before Fell Foot Farm was a welcome sight. I filled water whilst a volunteer filled Voom and I grabbed a bar.
The mental benefit of the 25k runners was short lived. After this aid station the 25km route turned right whilst the 50k went left. I climbed slowly up the road, winding and for some reason walking the apex of each turn. It’s shorter, but way steeper. A group of motorcyclists descended and then it was done, only one road section left. The marshal directed us right and informed us that there was only 15.5km left. Only. More hikers gave cheers of encouragement as I ran and happily stepped to the side of the path without asking. A fun switch-back descent (which would’ve been made more fun if I was not internally weeping with fear of cramp) made me entirely miss a right turn and I had to fight back up the hill to rejoin the route. Here I began running with a guy called Adam. We had spoken earlier in the race shortly after the first aid station. He had signed up for the Dragon’s Back Race in 2024 and this was part of his training. We were both struggling in our own way and decided that we would run together and talk. The section towards Chapel Stile was thankfully flat and easy underfoot, and the final aid station was right there. We refilled water and fuelled up. I downed three cups of water and grabbed another Voom bar. Fiona was perched on a rock, but I had no time to stop, I had a race to finish.
I was blissfully unaware of the horror that lay ahead. The final climb. Adam pointed to people disappearing over peak that was impossibly near for its height. The climb was just steep stairs. 150m worth. But that was all that stood between us and finishing. One step after another. A sign saying smile. A man with a bike and a camera. We were done. Almost. I suggested we ease into running to ensure cramp stayed at bay. I fell behind, not able to run without stiffening. I signalled for him to go on without me as he was a way ahead and turned to see where I was. I just focussed on moving forward. I joined the Grasmere path. The presence of hikers and swimmers on the small beach area shouting words of encouragement helped me on. I passed more 25k runners and we all exchanged positive words, all of us moving forward. The rocky descent from Rydal Caves was difficult, but I kept moving forward. The road then came, the last section. We had done a run to swim in Rydal a few days prior and that was only 4km from the house. I had about 2km to go. For the last 5km I was working out whether a sub six hour was possible. It was. If I just kept moving. Coming to the end of Under Loughrigg I could hear the crowd cheering. Three minutes left. I crossed over the bridge. A group of hikers parted as if I was Moses from shouts of their friend to move out of the way. A minute and a half left. I crossed the finish line in 05:58:54.
Elation washed over me. I was just wanting to finish and had managed to get a sub-6 and 20th place from 166 finishers (though my print out says 18th and it was a mass start).
So what have I learned? Over the second half I was overtaken by around 6-8 people, so pacing in the first half definitely needs some work (that and my 50/50 split was essentially 02:30:00/03:30:00). But, the only way I am going to learn is to race, and I am super stoked on my time given the circumstances. When I compared to a similar run I did solo in 2020 (50km with 1350m elevation), I was around 35 minutes slower this time but I was training far more then and in good physical shape on the day, not masking injury and hoping for the best. I also need to work on solo motivation. I can’t keep relying on the presence of others to keep me moving, especially as I want to keep pushing my solo run distances. This was my first run of distance using bone conduction headphones, and they definitely helped to alleviate the boredom in some of the lonelier sections.
I’m now recovering and looking forward to Ellie on the Humber in late October, the 6-hour race back and forth across the Humber Bridge which starts at 6pm. I know I can improve on my distance last year by pacing properly and keeping consistent. Watch this space.
Stats
Race time: 05:58:54
Distance: 50.83km
Elevation: 1663m
Average Pace*: 7:03/km
Average Speed*: 8.5kmph
Calories: 4889
Calories Consumed: 1545 (~31% of burned, 910 in High5 gels + 264 in Voom bars + 225 Voom Hydration + 146 Cashews)
Average HR: 162bpm
*from moving time