Hardmoors 42

42?? Well yes, it should have been 55 (or rather 54 due to a late course change) but as things turned out, I called it a day at 42 miles.

This race was one I had some trepidation about, knowing that I didn't have nearly as many long runs under my belt as I would have liked before tackling a race of this length this early in the year but I was keen to at least be at the start line of the first running of the Hardmoors 55. I'd missed the first Devil O' the Highlands, I'd missed the first Loch Ness Marathon and I'd missed the first Highland Fling race. I was darned it I was going to miss the first Hardmoors 55, a race that looked to have great "classic" potential.

I travelled down with John Kynaston & Sharon Law, both very accomplished ultra runners and we met up with Andy Cole and Brian MacIntosh at our hotel. A lot of talent in one room, with one exception. ;-) That said, I was still excited by the prospect of getting started. I expected it to hurt, I just didn't expect things to be quite as bad as they turned out.

As other bloggers have already recounted, the conditions on the day were little short of horrendous for an ultra race. The combination of low cloud, wind and exposure for such a long duration meant that something like a third of the field failed to finish the race, mostly down to hypothermia.

Hill and ultra runners often sail a bit "close to the wind" with regard to protective clothing, relying instead on fitness & the consequent generation of body heat to hold the elements at bay. Unfortunately for those of us who lacked fitness or experience of the prevailing conditions on the day, the prolonged exposure to the elements was very hard to deal with. I can honestly say that I've never experienced prolonged cold like that during a race, not even during the 2005 WHW race or during my winter WHW run.

I'd started off a bit overdressed, opting to wear my "walking" gortex jacket with hood and all the way to the first checkpoint I was planning to take it off and stow it my bag. Immediately after leaving the checkpoint though, we turned to face a north wind and I was only too happy to keep it on. In fact, without that jacket & hood I'm sure I would have withdrawn at 22 miles at the Osmotherly checkpoint. As it was, after a cup of tea I felt a lot better and headed out determined to make it to the next dropbag point at Kildale as 42 miles. I think if I had realised just how exposed that next section was I might have given up then. As it was I plodded on, grimly trudging my way up the hills and slipping and sliding through the mud.

Some of the time I "ran" with other runners but most of the time I was travelling alone. Because of the low cloud the views that should have been stunning were minimal to non-existent. All in all it was a very lonely and difficult run, not helped by mistaken decision to not study the route in detail before the race. I had no real navigation problems (apart from one brief moment when the low cloud was so thick it was hard to work out where the path continued across a car park) but not knowing how far it was to Kildale made the second section really drag on and on. I think if I had known just how long it was from the Bloworth Crossing to Kildale I might have coped better mentally. Instead, I was forever expecting to see a sign directing me off the moor at every corner and having my hopes dashed repeatedly.

By the time I reached Kildale I was destroyed mentally and physically completely unable to continue, my hands numbed to near uselessness and my energy almost totally spent in just trying to keep warm.

I think I arrived between 5:45 & 6:00 pm which, in the grand scheme of things and considering the conditions, I'm not unhappy with. Yes, I'm disappointed not to have finished but I have no regrets at stopping there. It's the only time I've been scared of dying during a race and I know that on the day it would have been madness for me to have continued.

Like many runners, my amnesia for the sheer unpleasantness of it all is already kicking in and having sworn "never ever again" many times on Saturday, I'm now thinking about next year's race and what I'll do differently.

I've learned more from this DNF than I think I have learned from numerous race finishes and whilst the experience probably won't make me a faster runner, I hope that I'll be a safer and better prepared runner.

I'm now much more appreciative of the benefits of hot drinks and the advantages of support crews & runners. Sure, when conditions are benign you can get away without these but when things turn nasty, they can make an enormous difference.

I'd just like to finish by extending my thanks to Jon Steele and all the marshals and everyone else who helped to make the race a reality and kept us all safe out there.

p.s. Just in case anyone is wondering, did all that rowing help (100 km in 4 weeks), the answer is "B*ggered if I know". ;-)