The pain cave

 It's the day after myself and Sam F completed our first (and according to Sam at the moment, our last! ) 100k ultramarathon

We had previously completed a 70k ultra around Lake Windermere in a time of 19 hours 56 minutes, so my reasoning was that it wasn't much further. 

The first aim was always to finish. Finishing anything like this is a massive achievement in itself, whether you run or crawl across the line. 

The cut off times for this were such that you could walk the whole thing and still finish, a generous 34 hours were give to complete. Give our time for the Lap, I had a secondary quiet goal in my head of sub 24 hours but it was a definately secondary aim. 

We had also decided that we would do the continuous version, meaning that once started we would keep going until finished. There was an option to do the first loop, sleep overnight and then do the second loop, but I had concerns about seizing up overnight and not being able to move the second day! Sam agreed to this on the provizo that she would be allowed micro sleeps whenever she chose which seemed like a fair bargain 😜

The first loop went north around the Dark Peak area from Bakewell with the halfway point back at Bakewell, and the second loop south around the white Peak area with the finish once again back at Bakewell. The 100k was interspersed with rest stops, catered with drinks and food along the way. These stops appeared every 9 to 16km. We knew from our previous forays with this kind of race that these were usually pretty well stocked, reducing the need to carry massive amounts of food in between.

These rest stops can also be dangerous in that they make it very tempting to sit there for a long time. It's hard to prise yourself back out of the chair you have sunk into and get yourself back out there... it get harder the further you have gone. If not careful, the hours spent in these stops can accumulate very easily! 

We had also been warned by email that the weather forecast was for highs of around 27 degrees C so we had to have the ability to carry at least 2L of fluid between the checkpoints so I had purchased a water bladder to make it easier to carry that amount.

Training pre this event for both of us had been sporadic. I have very little spare time but at least my current job has me running between 9 and 12 miles every day in short bursts but I had been unable to fit in any continuous or longer milage.

So Friday arrived quickly. I sorted out all my animals and set off to Sam's ready for the drive up to Bakewell, which we figured would take us around 4 hours, leaving us with plenty of time to visit my uncle and aunt, who lived nearby, and then get ourselves to the Showground, set up in our tent for the night and sort kit ready for the Saturday morning.

Kit wise, I hadn't really had time to think about it carefully, so had just shoved a load of stuff in a suitcase with the idea that we would have time to perform a proper kit selection once up at Bakewell and pack it into a size suitable for carrying round 100km.

We arrived in good time, having stopped at my uncle and aunt's for a coffee and quickly found our tent (set up for us). We threw our kit in and then headed over to registration where we received our bib number, athlete pass, breakfast meal voucher and a buff.

The participant area was where the start and finish lines were surrounded by billowing. flags, music was blasting out and the number of people gathering slowly at this point started the butterflies in my stomach going. Excitement, nervousness, doubts, all part of pre event build up.

Time to sort out kit for the next 2 days. We had to decide what to pack in our race bags and what to put in our halfway bag, what we were going to run in for the first half and what we may need for contingencies.  We had to bear in mind the weather forecast but Friday evening, the dark grey clouds were prominent overhead and the wind was reasonably strong, complicating kit choices.... plus in the Peaks the weather can change quickly. There seemed to be very little mandatory kit other than a battery pack to keep your phone charged and a headlamp. In the Lap we had also been told to bring a bivvy bag for emergencies so both of us had brought one for this... did we pack that given that the forecast was dry and hot? We both did pack it in the end... when heatstroke hits you can feel cold so could be useful for that as well.... plus after lots of sweating, if we had an injury and had to stop in an exposed place we could easily get cold. It seemed sensible to keep this in our kit, plus they don't weigh much!

For the race bag, aside from the 2L of water in a bladder and the bivvy bag, I packed another collapsible bottle for sticky drinks like coke that I didn't want to put into my bladder, some energy gels and a bag of sweets. I decided against taking my thin sweater but packed my raincoat as an extra layer as the dark clouds were really dark and I couldn't believe it wasn't going to rain. I took the sun cream and Sam took the small first aid kit, consisting of blister plasters, plasters, and drugs! Paracetamol and brufen, along with some anti histimenes and immodium, in case something we ate upset our stomach. Into our halfway bags went a change of socks, t shirt, buff and underwear, along with some leggings in case the weather forecast was wrong and the shorts were a bad choice to run in. More gels, electrolytes, sweets, spare headtorch. All in all we were quite pleased with our packing.

For the Lap, we felt like we had packed too much... it is always a balance of preparedness against packing your fears, so this time we took a lot less food supplies knowing that we would be looked after at the rest stops. 

The race bag felt heavy of course especially with the 2 L of water but my bag seemed to fit quite well and was comfortable. We dropped off the halfway bag at the stand and then went back to the tent to chill before trying to get a decent night's sleep.

I wouldn't say I got a great sleep as woke up a few times and the alarm went off at 5 am, giving us time to get up, sorted, breakfasted, and to the start line for 0645 briefing pre 0700 start. 

More people were arriving that morning and as we wandered over to breakfast it was becoming quite crowded. Not only was there a 100k continuous race, there was also 25km, 50km (either the first or second loop) and a 100k with a night's sleep in between. I believe a total of around 3000 people were doing one of these options. The racers were split into different start waves. We had asked for and got the 0700 as we wanted to ensure we had the full amount of time to complete if necessary. Whilst the cut offs were generous, I was still mindful that it wouldn't take much to slip behind and the last thing I wanted was to be stopped from continuing at one of the checkpoints. 

As always, myself and Sam checked out some of the other competitors and the size of their kit bags. In Slovenia we were surrounded by whippet thin professional looking proper runners with packs the size of a peanut, which doesn't build confidence! Here we could see people that looked more like us... average size... average packs... 

We saw one person with a 35L rucksack and wondered what on earth he was doing carrying that! 

The time for race briefing came quickly. One wave of runners had already gone and we were the second wave. We headed into the start pen where we were treated to a hilarious safety briefing with important info... and then..  my worst nightmare, a group warm up to 'I would walk 500 miles'.. 

Let's hope my walking/jogging is better than my co-ordination! 

The countdown began, reached zero and we were off! Unlike Slovenia no one seemed to sprint out of the start gate and we settled into a comfortable marching walk pace. There were loads of people and we were overtaken by some and overtook others. In these things the start is often frenetic but as people find their pace, it spreads out and you end up with smaller groups of people going all at roughly the same pace. I had in my head that we had a long way to go so wasn't concerned about rushing at the start. I was keen to find a bit of space as crowds of people aren't really my thing but I told myself to be patient and not to push too hard just to escape people (except Sam of course!).

Given the fact that we are not real runners, and in ultras many people walk the uphill, that was also our plan... walk up, run the downs and the flats if we can. On the Lap we ran a reasonable amount but all running pretty much died out after halfway... I was figuring the same thing would happen here... 

We soon came to a nice bit of downhill, grass, soft underfoot, so we started jogging, slowly, at conversational pace. Perfect. It felt good. 

The scenery was beautiful, especially when we came to the grounds and house of Chatsworth. Even from a distance it was a stunning building and the grandeur of the estate evoked thoughts of carriages and Mr Darcy 😜 Not unpleasant thoughts.

My legs felt good, but I put that down to the fact that they hadn't realised what I was about to put them through. I always think it best not to tell my legs. 

Usually about 10 to 20 miles in, they have a sudden realisation that this is not a quick jaunt and start complaining before giving up and accepting the inevitable. If I told them, the rebellion would start earlier I think! 

Ahead of us in the distance were three women, all clearly running in memory of someone, pink ribbons in their hair. I had clocked them earlier, again from a distance as they seemed to be on a similar pace to us and I figured we would have them in view every now and again for most of the day. I took a picture of them as they broke out into a jog. They seemed to have a similar strategy of walk/jog as us.

We passed through beautiful fields and quaint villages, lots of farmland, the proper stonewalling prominent throughout. It was an idyllic scene, ruined by us lot storming through. I felt sorry for the poor people who had decided a day out in the peaks would be a nice quiet way to spend the day, only to find us lot!

The first Checkpoint came quickly. 14km from the start.

Both myself and Sam had small niggles. Sam's achilles was quite painful and I have had plantar fascitis recently which was rearing it's ugly head now and again. We fist bumped as we entered the Checkpoint, acknowledging our progress, got scanned in and then went to grab snacks and fill up water bladders. The Checkpoint was well stocked and we each grabbed a few snacks, sat down and shoved in the food. I never feel hungry when doing things like this so have to force myself to eat regularly.

We had managed to drink regularly in this first leg, but still probably not enough. Electrolytes went into our bladders and we topped up with cool water. 15 minutes and we were once again fist bumping on our way out. It had been a good stop. 11 km to the next stop and we would be at quarter distance!

Thinking about quarter distance was probably not the best strategy for me as it seems such a short bit of the whole. It started playing on my mind somewhere around the second leg and sat there, digging in to my brain. 

We started climbing up, the climbs weren't steep and wound up really quite nicely. The poles we had were coming in to their own and helped propel me upwards. 

Sam has always been better at the hills than me and inevitably is always at the top before me. Fine is my head space is good but if there is the niggle digging in to my brain, it can start me on a spiral... and that's sorta what happened somewhere around one of these ups. It was steep and I was slow and then the thought if how far we had to go re emerged and before you know it, thoughts of not making it, quitting, missing the time cut offs all creep into the head. 

It seemed a bit early for this to happen to me but I think it was because I had let myself think of the whole, so I gave myself a good talking to and decided to focus on just the next Checkpoint, which was only a couple of km away. This helped and gradually the spiral I had got myself into, unspiralled a bit. 

Both me and Sam go very quiet when we are struggling. We check in with one another when this happens. 'you ok?' The answer is always 'yup' regardless of how we are feeling but this is how we communicate.

We hadn't been talking much anyway but that never matters with me and Sam. She is one of the few people that I can be silent with and know that it is not going to be taken personally. Having people you can be comfortably silent with is incredibly rare. We were both managing our head space and even though we are a team... the headspace struggle is yours alone. Yeah sure, having someone else there can help, a comment they make, whether totally mundane or the funniest observation can distract for a bit, but ultimately it is you against your own headspace.

We got to the Checkpoint, fist bumped, and once again were remarkably efficient, keeping the time there to the minimum. We could have made it slightly less but in my head it's a balance... you need to refuel and rest a little, and that will help in the long run. 

We set off again, fistbumping on the way out, a little ritual, that made me smile, a sign that we are a team, regardless of any pain and suffering.

From a time point of view we were doing very well and any concerns I had about making cut off times were now well and truly put to bed. We were a good few hours ahead of any cut off time so I relaxed about that.  

The people had also spread out nicely now and we were often alone on the road, which is how I like it. My competitive streak had kicked in a little and although ultimately the competition in my head was me against the terrain, I was keeping a little bit of a tab on who we were ahead of, whether we passed any women (category rank in mind). Given our decent pace, I was also bearing in mind my 24 hour plan B. We were on track to get to the halfway point by 12 hours, giving us a chance to complete in 24 hours... it was still a secondary goal but I kept tabs on it.

We were still managing to jog a little on the non technical bits which was gratifying. I was also beginning to look forward to the night time bit. It was still unbearably hot. 

They say women don't sweat, they perspire 😂 but the sweat was literally dripping off my top lip at times. The breeze at the higher elevations was my salvation. It was blazing sunshine with little cover and very oppressive. I think it was on this leg that we were beside a river and I took the opportunity to throw lovely cool water over my head, Sam followed me down to the water and did the same.. I soaked my buff in cold water and wrapped it around my wrist in an attempt to cool down.

I was now fully focused on only the next Checkpoint, not allowing myself to think of the whole. My legs had started to play ball and actually felt pretty good at this point. Conversely I think Sam was having a bit of a spiral moment. We seem to spiral at different times which is good as having both of us spiral at the same time is not pleasant. 

It seemed like the next Checkpoint came quickly and here (I think, they all started to merge into one) we kept it even shorter than usual, knowing that the next one would be the halfway point.

My mood had buoyed up a bit. Halfway loomed closer just 15km away. I was looking forward to the clean t shirt and socks more than anything..  I was also looking forward to some proper food, savoury food rather than all the sweet stuff we had been consuming.

We were following this girl who was doing a bit of jogging... it was a nice downhill bit on grass so we also set off at a slow jog. We passed a few people on this little bit and was good for my mental game. It was nice to have a bit of change of pace. This bit lasted a good amount of time but then turned upward and became a bit stoney... we cut back to walking pace and lost sight of the girl, until we came upon her sat on the side of the trail, blood on her knee and face having clearly taken a tumble. We asked if she needed anything. She said she was just going to sit there for a bit and let the adrenaline settle. She said it's not far to go (we were about 42km at that point) so we wished her well and carried on our way, hoping that she would be OK to continue.

The halfway point was actually a few km over halfway, which I was glad of as it meant the second half was less! I was focusing on the positive and the next Checkpoint and it was keeping spiralling in check. We had a reasonable climb up and then the trail wound down into the valley towards Bakewell. We found ourself by the river, where we had sat with pizza the night before, and walked over the bridge back to the Showground. 

We checked  in to the halfway stop and the women there asked us if we had finished... we were a little surprised as the 100k was quite clearly marked on our bins but she explained that not long before a guy had come in and had to convince them that he had finished the whole hundred km. Insane. Someone had completed before we had got to halfway! He had done it in around 10 hours I believe which is a superhuman effort! 

We had arrived at the Checkpoint in around 11 hours 45 minutes which just about put us in track for 24 hours but we knew our stop here would be a little longer than the others. We queued up for hot food and sat down shovelling it in. The food was ok, but I would have preferred a big fat burger to be honest.

We finished eating, grabbed our halfway bags and gratefully changed into our new clean unsweaty socks and t shirts. We made a decision not to take the raincoats this time and each put a thin sweater in our packs instead. head torches into the bags, suncream out. We were heading towards night fall and I have to say I was looking forward to this bit.

All in all we took about an hour at the halfway point, which I thought was pretty good going! It wasn't yet dark so we still had good views as we climbed up out of Bakewell. We were now heading into the White peak area to the south of Bakewell and almost immediately the terrain seemed to change from the darker rocks to white shale type rocks. We had only 9.5 km until the next Checkpoint and we figured we would make it before dark.

I remember that the terrain became a bit trickier, more stones and there was one bit that the shale was very hard on the feet. The path narrowed and became a bit tricky and I remember remarking that I was glad we were getting that bit done in daylight. Roots and rocks on a narrow uphill path were tricky enough when you could see what was ahead.

I was feeling pretty positive at this point and as we climbed a hill towards the next Checkpoint I knew we would make the full 100km. If we had got to over halfway we would drag ourselves to the finish line.

The sun was setting, we were pretty much by ourselves and the trees were silhouettes on the skyline. All had gone quiet, the birds were settling down for the night and all that broke the silence was the tramp of our feet and the clicking of our poles on the gravel. It was quite serene. 

The next Checkpoint was at the top of the hill in a field and we dragged ourselves through the gate, got scanned and went to sort out food and water. One more Checkpoint and we would be 3/4 of the way through.

We both had the odd 'hot spot' on our feet and we put on comfeel blister plasters to prevent worse. My legs felt a bit stiff.There was a hot food option here and I was once again grateful for the savoury choice so I picked up a ham and cheese panini and forced it down, I wasn't hungry at all but knew I needed the calories. Sam picked a sausage roll which after eating half, declared it to be the worst thing she had ever had and left the second half.

We were both suffering a bit by now... the km taking their toll. Jogging had gone out of the window.. it was now all we could do to put one foot in front of the other. 

We didn't stop here long. After the next Checkpoint we had our longest stretch so we were going to take a bit longer at that one. We had 9.5 km to go until that Checkpoint so reasoned that we would be ok with a minimal stop.

At this stop we caught up with the 3 women we had seen earlier and as one of them passed me to get a drink, a flash of recognition hit me... I tapped her on the shoulder and said 'are you Lucy?' She looked at me in confusion as she said yes and I told her my name as to be fair, the last time we had seen each other was over 20 years ago. She was one of my schoolmates. Then another of her group came up and I pointed at her and said 'Sam?'... another schoolmates... we played hockey together. 

It was a lovely random surprise meeting!! 

Me and Sam collected flashing lights provided for our backpacks and set off into the night, headtorches lighting up the road beneath our feet. It was flat and gravel... and just continued like that. I was initially grateful for the flat road but as we went on I realised that the walking gods were having their fun after all! They had lulled me into a false sense of security with a path that on the surface appeared to be kind... but the reality was that without undulations and changes of terrain, the pressure points on the feet were the same with every step! Basically my feet started tearing up... blisters forming with every step... I could feel them forming, I could feel the increase of pain with every agonising step... Sam too was having the same problem..

Reasoning that it wasn't far until the next Checkpoint we carried on, one painful step in front of the other. We had run out of blister plasters so really we had no choice but to continue and sort our feet out at the next Checkpoint. 

The road was also a little dull. At night we couldn't see anything other than what ended up in our head torch beam and the occasional flashing light ahead of us. The flags showing us the way were lit up with glow sticks so easy to spot in the dark.

Basically it was this kind of path that we followed to the next Checkpoint. Sam had expressed her fears about the next stretch... the 16.5km, the longest stretch between checkpoints of the whole thing. I was trying not to think about it until we got to the Checkpoint prior to it... focus on one leg at a time.

It was monotonous and the pain in my feet was growing steadily but we made the next Checkpoint and headed to the aid station. There seemed to be no one attending but we then realised that they were dealing with someone who was pretty sick so we just helped ourselves to supplies, which they seemed grateful for when they came over and we said that we would sort ourselves out. 

There was no comfeel so we rapped some blue tape and basically cut lots of strips and covered our feet completely in the hope that it would prevent worsening of blisters and prevent any new ones. It was all we could do. We had 25km to go and it was 'do whatever it takes to get there'.

I suggested having a stop on the trail at some point in the next stretch to break it up. I figured the 24 hour plan B was now beyond us and frankly I had got to the point where I didn't much care. We had made good time to this point but if an extra stop got us to the finish then time be dammed. I was still keeping a small eye on the other women in the race... at least our category ranking was reasonable. Between 46 and 51 was where we had hovered in the female category so that wasn't bad.

At least for this next stretch we were off the gravel road... it was still dark but we wound up some fields following a line of glow sticks visible from a way away. 

The other problem... it had been a problem throughout really but was getting harder to negotiate, were the numerous stiles... mostly made of stone, they provided a very narrow opening to squeeze through and usually involved lifting legs up higher than they now wanted to go. Couple that with the steps up. and down where putting pressure on the feet was now pretty excruciating and each stile was a bigger hurdle than you would expect! And there seemed to be loads more on this stretch. Each one required an immense amount of effort and drained the meagre reserves we had left. 

We were of course going slower than previously and so each km dragged by. We reached about 85/86km and decided to stop... unfortunately the bank we sat down on has thistles and was not comfortable enough to lie down. We sat for around 10 minutes before dragging ourselves up and forwards. 

I think it was around this time that I said to Sam that basically all that was propelling us forwards now was our collective stubbornness. Sheer bloody mindedness. An unwillingness to give in to the pain and tiredness. 

We kept going, words at an absolute minimum, watching the light appear on the horizon. 

We stopped once more as the daylight came... a field between 2 stiles... people had caught up to us and inevitably enquired if we were ok. We said we were... there was no point listing the agonies we were going through, they knew, they had the same. 

The last Checkpoint eventually appeared. A cluster of hobbling zombies were sat or sprawled... their faces drawn, telling their story. 

Some looked worse than I felt which was a boost. The young and the older all brought to the same point, pain etched on faces carried by weary bodies. 

I didn't want to eat... I couldn't eat... so I grabbed a couple of gels from my bag and squeezed them into my mouth. Sam managed some sweets but that was about it. 

We had 9.5km to go. We would make it, I had been certain from halfway but now the enormity of what we had done and what we were about to finish got to me a bit. 

9.5 km... its nothing right. I set off in a buoyant mood. The reality of 9. 5km of pain not really appreciated.

As we set off a younger fitter looking guy, who I had seen hobbling around the rest stop, broke out into a jog past us. We looked at each other, nutter, I said to Sam. A few years further up we caught up to him, sat on a bench, head downwards... he tried to get up but sank bank down very quickly. He didn't look good. We stopped and asked if he was ok... im just really tired, think I fell asleep he said. 

I offered him a gel from my bag to which his face lit up and he looked like I had offered him a  teleport to the end! 

I told him to go ahead and rummage in my bag for the gel as I couldn't be arsed to take it off but after he retrieved my cap, spare socks and battery pack I gave up and took off my rucksack, found a gel and some dextrose tablets and handed them to the grateful young man. We wished him well, told him it wasn't far now and headed off. 

Shortly after Sam blurted out that she didn't think she was going to make it. 

'Course you are! We are so close.' I think that she just had to voice her head space... so I tried to be positive. Not far to go... look at how far we have come... one foot in front of the other and we will get there. I probably would have found this annoying, maybe she did too, though she didn't voice that!

We trudge on. All thoughts on the pain of each step. At some point Sam asked if I knew any jokes... not one came to my head... nope... no jokes 😂

We were also exhausted. No sleep, not even a 5 minute doze for either of us, coupled with pain and physical exhaustion, it was a long 9.5km. The road was easy, flat ish and no real obstacles other than the odd gate or stile. I don't remember much of it, my eyes were firmly on my feet. If I tried to look up, I ended up stumbling sideways. With about 4km to go I though I heard sounds, music but we could see nothing... perhaps I was hallucinating....

Then at around 3km, I spotted the Showground in the distance, so close yet so far. I pointed it out to Sam... close to tears. We had made it... the end was in sight!

But the last 3km were the longest 3km of my life. We circled round the Showground and eventually came to the finish line... it was pretty much deserted. The 2 day people had set off about an hour and a half ago and we approached the line with about 5 members of staff clapping us across the line. We got scanned in. We had done it! 

We had our medals placed over our heads and went to collect our finishers t shirts... got the obligatory photos.

We had finished in 25 hours 29 minutes. I was bloody chuffed! Okay so it wasn't the sub 24 I had been hoping for but it wasn't far away and I don't think I could have gone any faster especially in that last 25km.

My feet were shredded. 

We sat down to breakfast... I couldn't eat it all... a wave of fatigue hit me.

I spotted the guy I had given the gel to... I went up to congratulate him for making it... 

He held his hand out to me... 'you legend! You saved me!'

That right there was better than crossing the line myself 😜

We packed up, showered, and then contemplated the journey home. Setting off immediately as Sam felt good but soon realising that a nap might be in order, we pulled into a DFS car park and tried to sleep... I took my sleeping roll out of the car and stretched out on the tarmac. I was in so much pain that no position was comfortable so sleep evaded me but Sam got enough to continue driving so that was the important thing.

We had another sleep stop on the way back nd eventually arrived back at Sam's house where I then had to contemplate the drive home. Turns out you can drive in crocs and you can push down the clutch with just your little toe.

Fast forward a day... 

I took off the blue tape by soaking my feet in salt water. My legs and other muscles generally felt OK, surprisingly but my feet were a mess. 

My left foot had one toe with a massive blister and a very loose but not quite off toenail, along with another blister on the ball of my foot. very painful. My right foot was worse and I couldn't put weight on it without a shout of pain. Not pretty. But time will heal all that.

Funnily, the memories of the pain we went through has already faded. I am already rewriting the script with the memories of the views, the elation at crossing the line and perhaps most importantly for me, the feeling that I could not have done this with anyone other than Sam. There is no one else I'd rather have by my side when we are stumbling along in silence, pain and suffering. Very few people would contemplate entering the pain cave with me, only one I think would emerge out of the other side with me, still friends 😂

The pain Cave is a phrase used to describe intense suffering when doing something stupid of your own choosing. Somewhat masochistically, I enjoy the pain cave, I enjoy pitting myself against it and trying to prevail. It is somewhat addictive. When you have survived the pain cave once, you are plotting when to go back in... sometimes a few months later to be sure, but plotting nonetheless.

The addiction is to the feeling of victory above suffering, to overcoming the mental game, beating the walking gods (or cycling gods) at their own game and smiling at the end of it..

The suffering is worth every step. Comfort zone be dammed, there is more fun and lessons to be learnt outside of it. 

Many of you may know that Mike Peters died recently. A man who also smiled in the face of suffering and kicked Cancer's arse for many years. This walk for me was in memory of Mike... my friend and inspiration. 

If you have appreciated our efforts in the pain cave and wish to show that appreciation, please donate in Mike's memory using the following link

https://www.justgiving.com/page/onechallenge?utm_medium=FA&utm_source=CL

Love Hope Strength until next time.