Just a matter of time.

Day 2: Hebden Hey to Lothersdale

I had enough things that would threaten to slow me down in this race, so immediately after sending that message to my friends I screwed on my sensible head and announced I’d be going dark. I popped the phone on airplane mode and started up the road into that Great Big Unknown. Day 2…day 2…on repeat in my head like a kid on a road trip constantly asking ‘are we there yet?’ Thankfully I wasn’t asking that question as it’d be soul destroying. But Day 2 suited me just fine.

And here I found myself firmly back on track to my original Plan A. In no time at all I was turning back on to the trail and apologising to the jovial ‘Free Sticks’ sign that I’d not be making any contributions today, I had a race to finish.

After I summited the short sharp climb, the Engo patches in my left shoe decided to part like the Red Sea and I could feel one of them rolling up under my last two toes. That wasn’t exactly starting as I meant to go on, so a quick bit of admin to snip off the offending bit and back in action I went. Soon enough I reached the Aladdin Gate (if you’ve seen it you’ll probably know why I’ve named it this) which had always been open in the past. This morning, it was closed and for the life of me, my fuzzy head flat out refused to locate the latch.

Lucky for me a member of the public was coming from the opposite side, clearly amused at my total incompetence. As was I, when he pointed exactly where I was looking, at a very obvious and easy to operate latch. We passed without further incident, but I immediately realised if I was going to survive this day I’d need to be inserting micro trail naps into the rota. As if to prove to myself that a bit of sleep would be acceptable, I sent another selfie to the gang, noticing that my eyeballs looked a bit like I’d just had an all-nighter after a 1980s Grateful Dead show. ‘Don’t panic!’ says I, while trying not to panic.

I delighted in how easy it was power walking up the blissful long stretch of road on my way to Walshaw Dean Reservoir, made easier by the playlist I’d been curating for nearly two years and listening to during my ‘treadhills’ sessions to get my head in the game. Having been a dancer in my previous life, it was largely a given that once I started doing ultras I’d use music as a tool to get me through them. So I’ve never really ‘run’ an ultra at all, so much as I’ve danced my way through them. I had a few walking-specific playlists I rotated throughout the race, largely knowing exactly how fast I’d be moving if I walked to the tempo of the songs therein. If there is a secret weapon to making sure you will not miss cutoffs, this, my friends, is how you do it.

But dance or no dance, I was bloody knackered and despite catching up to some company and planning a kip at Top Withins, two miles was too far and I needed to stop for a bit. I decided to have a little snack and lie down on a cylindrical stone structure (not sure what its purpose is but it looked inviting enough) not caring that it was hollow, full of rubbish and swarming with flies. The glamour of a Spine Race never really leaves you.

Fortunately about 5 minutes with closed eyes was enough of a bump to get me moving again, singing my way up to Top Withins. I had a brief chat with two other runners before ringing HQ to announce I’d be resting for a while, probably 30 minutes. This would mostly hold me over until I reached Malham 1.5, barring ‘The Ickornshaw Moor Incident’ but I’ll get to it in the correct order!

I lay my foil poncho on the ground to prevent getting wet, then necked a squeeze of that divine Primula and a few other bitty things before lying back and propping my feet up on the bench, as planned. This certainly was not Saturday’s torrential rain any longer, and the sun was absolutely beaming down when the clouds eased. I worried I’d burn but was mostly too tired to do anything about it.

Thirty minutes later my alarm went off, and I was feeling impossibly refreshed all considered. There was no one else around. In retrospect, I remember being in situations like this, this late in the game previously, and feeling rather sorry for myself, a bit lonely, and thinking what the hell am I doing here? But with that rest, and that sun, and that food, and that clock ticking my dream away, I kicked my own arse and got moving again.

I was still wearing my cool weather top, which was not (yet) causing any issue, so didn’t think twice about it. The breeze was still cool enough and I wasn’t moving fast enough to overheat. I made my way along Ponden Reservoir, remembering how I told my mates the story of the baton during a recce. On this occasion, as I had the fortune to be carrying it once again, I reached into my chest pack and gave it a little squeeze for luck as I made my way towards the drudgery that is Ickyshit Moor. Oh! That’s not its name at all, is it? My bad. IckornSHAW Moor. Ickornshaw.

That’s it. Ah.

I was deposited out of a short trail section on to New Laithe Road, crossing over to its stile and the start of the lungbusting short, sharp climb to come. Lo and behold two Highland coos were holding court precisely in front of the stile I needed to get out of the field. I know they’re meant to be gentle, but…horns…so, I looked to the left and spotted to my great relief a section of fence down, inviting me to take a little detour. How could I resist?

Onto the pavement and the road that at this point may well have been Mount Everest. Up and up I went, now getting a bit toasty but I kept telling myself I’d cool off when I stopped climbing. But I was feeling it. I texted my mates that I was suffering but fighting like hell. I hadn’t seen the half of it.

Now into the Moor and in my head that old disco song has taken over the replay but with extra special Spiney lyrics ‘Moor moor moor! Don’t really like it, don’t really like it…’

And then out of the clear blue, everything that could possibly debilitate me came to the party at once. It was like Old Chimpy had unlocked Courage Castle, drained the moat, and sent party invitations to Joffrey’s army. I was dizzy, overheating, exhausted, hungry, angry, frustrated, discouraged. I quit for what would be the first time of many. I had to stop. Immediately.

But when I stopped, I didn’t quit after all. Instead, I tried to figure out which problem to solve first.

I sat on an old bit of fence. I took on another squeeze of cheese, half a sandwich, some water. Started walking again, music adding ambience but not motivation.

No.

I stopped again. ‘I’m too fucking HOT,’ complaining to the ether.

I practically ripped the pack off and flung it on the floor as if I was angry with it. I’m bent at the waist, rooting around for my short sleeve top. I couldn’t find it. Now I’m getting amped up because I’m too fucking hot and I can’t find what I need. I know I put it in there. I KNOW it’s there.

I couldn’t find it.

I decided I’m going to dig out my spare long sleeve polo neck and chop bits off to make a t-shirt I can wear and not melt in. I’m going to…

…lie down. I’m going to put my head down on this drysack and rest…

And now I’m crumpled on the grass, head on the drysack, just completely done done done. Madonna and Justin Timberlake are telling me how they’ve only got four minutes to save the world and I tell my heavenly Dad that I’m ‘…going to get up as soon as this song shuts off…’

And the bloody song shut off in the middle, for no particular reason. ‘Wha–?’

Well I guess I know the reason. I sit up and throw daggers at the heavens. ‘OK! OK! I’M UP!’ I can feel everyone I’ve ever loved and lost looking down at me telling me to pull it together, I can do this. Come on, girl.

Open the bag again and spot the telltale green I was after. My short sleeve right on top, as obvious as the latch on the Aladdin gate. I practically rip off the top I have on, change into the short sleeve and instantly half of that ‘distraught list’ has melted away. More food in, and there goes another issue.

‘Enough Maxine. Get your ass going.’ 

Chiding myself for being such a weak and pathetic pudding. And I’m up. And the pack is closed tight. And I’m moving into the ‘Moor moor moor! Don’treallylikeitIbloodyhateit…’ The conditions of the day and underfoot were the best I’d ever seen and once I hit flagstones and regulated my body temperature the crisis faded and I was back in the game.

Just.
Like.
That. 

Well whaddaya know?

Finally reached the end of the moor to find it wasn’t the end at all, but little more than a mouse maze of muck, just when you think you’ve reached the exit you jog right, now dip, HEYYYY!!!! remember that clean shoe? (GLOOP!!) Here have some bog! I populated more of my profanisaurus with many invented curse words and at last escaped, only to remember that there wouldn’t be a bacon sandwich waiting for me. (And let me tell you, there is no end to my joy that I knew this little tidbit in advance.)

I decamped to a reasonably flat spot where I’d spend some time on a planned full sock change and more food intake. The Cheese of Life was still working its magic, and I was feeling reasonably positive. I even had a bit of banter with a passing family on their way into the moor, warning them to duck as they may be accosted by the ghosts of my cursing the minute they closed the gate.

I switched off airplane mode on the phone to see a stream of message notifications from the chat roll across the top like that giant wheel on the Price is Right. It stops and I text again. ‘Just escaped Ickornshaw Moor and it remains heinous. Onward to Lothersdale.’ I hoiked myself up and plodded onward, eventually needing a wee. I stopped alongside a drystone wall and just as I squatted, a tiny frog started jumping towards me. ‘Dude! No!’ I shouted. ‘That way, that way!’ and I’m flailing and pointing as if it will understand, frantically hopping in one direction with tights round my knees being chased by a frog with a fetish. I managed to escape the chaos and get moving again to find a man sat on a bench mere paces round the next corner, who probably heard the lot. I just cannot even.

As I neared the last short bit of trail to the road crossing, a woman in a hi vi comes towards me and asks if I’m Maxine. She’s SST and apparently I was not moving for long enough, so they sent her to look for me. Pretty sure it was the sock change and not the frog incident, or maybe just the on again off again through the moor, but it was enough to raise an alarm.

That thing that burrows into the back of my head and deposits its poison lit UP.

You’re too slow. You’ll never make it. You’re not good enough. You haven’t trained enough. You’ll fail again.

I smiled at the SST and told her how I wasn’t sure if I’d be quitting or not. For now it was ‘not’. For now I was number 424, well into day 2.

I closed the gate and made my way to Cowling, where two small kids on bicycles greeted me as I turned on to Nan Scar.

‘Hey! How far have you gone so far?!’

I genuinely had no idea. ‘Oh, about 60 miles?’

‘How far do you have to go?’

‘108 miles.’

Big smiles. ‘You’ll do it! You’ve got this!’

I smiled back. ‘Thank you! I go up that steep road now?’ I pointed to the left. Having gone wrong here on a recce, I thought best to be absolutely sure.

‘Yep! Good luck!’

‘Thank you!’ I smiled again and carried that cheer an awfully long way to a small water crossing at the bottom of a hill, passing through the gate to find a table set up with water and snacks, and two trail angels in the form of a man and woman stood in their garden watching my arrival.

‘OH. MY. GOD.’ says I. ‘Is this YOU?!’ I looked at them and gestured at the table.

They smiled and nodded.

‘This is the most amazing thing I’ve seen in hours! You are absolute lifesavers!’ I couldn’t contain my glee and proceeded to chat excitedly as they filled my bottles and listened to me talk absolutely out of my arse about all and sundry. Despite the jovial chat and positivity in my head in that moment, I quit another three times as I stood there, claiming I’d be stopping in Lothersdale. Eventually I unwrapped a bag of my own snacks and as I removed the elastic band I told them all about how my favourite rubberbands are the little purple ones around the asparagus. Seems I needed more sleep after all.

As I left, the lady angel wished me luck and I mused how funny it is that I even needed luck to quit. Off I tottered up and onward to Lothersdale. Despite carrying the gold standard of poo trowels (the Dirt Saw Deuce and it, too, is purple) I was in need of a real toilet and was beginning to really crave a pint of Coke to the point it was almost painful going without. These factors upped my pace considerably as I smiled at the SST who surely noticed how I didn’t appear to be quitting anytime soon. I didn’t even seem to feel the horrible descent to the road that I’d long been dreading, and within minutes I was sat at a picnic table downing what was probably the most incredible cold drink I’ve ever had. I’d bought two canned drinks from the chiller to combat flavour fatigue and tucked them into my pack. A few chocolate biscuits went in before I decided I didn’t want to spend the time to eat here as I’d grab something at the tuck shop.

It was roughly 5 pm. I had 14.5 hours to go 18.5 miles if I was going to make it to day 3.

I decided I was going to make it to day 3.

___

All too familiar with pain
All too familiar with pride
I've been on my knees 6
But gotten up 7 times
It was never even a question of "is it gonna be mine"
It's not a matter of chance
Just a matter of time

I been watching the clock
10,000 hours go by
I keep putting in the work
The tears are filling my eyes
I swear I never been tested like this
But this is mine
It's not a matter of chance
Just a matter of time

Never look back
If something's standing in my way
I always push back
If something seemed impossible
I never took that
No cos now I know better
Can't stop won't stop
I won't quit ever

The deepest waters won't take me
The highest fall it won't break me
The blood & sweat is what made me

Imma get mine
Just matter of time.

 

- Matter of time! - Jordan Baum, Michael McNamara, Travis Margis

___

All blogs in this race report:

Prologue: Here we go. (Pre-race)
Let the Games Begin. (Edale to Torside)
Keeping the Faith. (Torside to Hebden Hey)
Just a matter of time. (Hebden Hey to Lothersdale)