Race Report:The Lap

Guest blog by Sam to start.....

My thoughts on ‘Our Lap 2022’

A huge thanks to Lydia for letting me join her on ‘The Lap’ and contribute to her blog. The ‘Lap’ was a 47.79mile (76.91km) jog, run, hike, crawl, climb ultra-Marathon in the stunning lake district. I will leave Lydia to tell you the whole story (as she does this so well), I will simply share some of my post event thoughts with you.

I loved ‘The Lap’, I hated ‘The Lap’, I would thoroughly recommend ‘The Lap’, but I will not be doing ‘The Lap’ again!
I’ve never felt so stiff, sore or determined to finish anything in my life
I promise to never roll my eyes again when I hear that a footballer has a groin strain
I found out that I prefer to climb up hills than down (how strange is that?)
At an age greater than 45 but less than 50, I discovered that I like running
It was amazing to see people of all ages, shapes, sizes and abilities take on this challenge
The support shown to every single entrant by the event organisers and volunteers was outstanding. They never doubted or judged anyone’s ability, they oozed belief that you could finish – it was infectious
Together Lydia and I experienced the value of silence, chit chat, laughter and re-assurance. We also shared several moments of delirium (mostly giggling at nothing and some inappropriate humour)
It’s amazing what you can climb with only the light from a head torch to guide you
Think before you volunteer to join Lydia on one of her adventures
Lambs are cute
The Lake District is stunning!

Well, there you have it, short and sweet and not to profound. A huge thanks to Lydia for finding the event, organising our trip, for driving, for putting up with me and for keeping me going. Dare I ask, what’s next Lydia?

😁 ☺ ☺

Massive thanks to Sam for her guest blog above….

This is my side of the story…

The Lap…

A beautiful 75K/47 mile, fully signposted trail ultra marathon, following some of the most stunning, runnable and best way-marked trails in The Lake District.

…

at least that is how it is publicised on their website and whilst none of the above was in any way lying, it doesn't tell the full story.

47.75 miles

19 hours 55 seconds (according to our timing, not official stats, they aren't up yet)

over 10 300 calories used

over 8100 ft climbed

109000 steps…

but even the stats don't reflect the whole story.. for that you will have to read on!

We had signed up over 6 months ago…

Sam had asked to join me and did not have her arm twisted, contrary to popular belief😜

and now it was here!

We had agonised over kit the night before, packed and unpacked and packed again and then gone to bed in a bit of a state of excitement and nerves rolled up in one.

0400, my alarm buzzed with insistance beside my ear. I sat bolt upright as if struck by lightning. Today was the day!

I am more than used to the day of starting a difficult challenge and dealing with the pre start nerves, but today was a world away from my usual solo start and I felt more nervous than usual. It took us half an hour to get up, gulp down a coffee and grab our kit.

Outside it was cool and slightly misty. We saw someone else who could have only been heading the same way as us, packing his kit in his car. It felt all too real to me at that moment.

As we got into the car, I told my legs not to worry, we were just going for a little stroll! I find it a good idea to lie to my legs, right up to the point that it becomes obvious that I have been lying to them 😂. Some of you may find it funny (as in weird) that I talk to my legs but when doing shit like this, my legs often seem to take on a life of their own, referred to in the 3rd person in my blogs… 'The legs didn't feel good today', 'The legs say no!'... and it seems like the most normal thing in the world to ease them into something CraZy by not revealing the full extent of the hurt that lies in their future!

The journey to the carpark at the YHA took less time than we had planned for, and we found ourselves bumping over to our grassy parking spot, directed by cheerful marshalls, a lot earlier than we had thought. We sat in the car for 5 minutes watching others arrive, some stuffing down porridge by their cars, others shouldering their very small packs and setting off to the start line.

We slowly got all we needed from the car, I didn't feel at all hungry but stuffed down a banana, knowing that I had to eat, rather than wanting to.

We walked the short distance to the YHA building and the startline, past the lake, shrouded in mist, with the water lapping gently against the shore, a quiet contrast to the campsite and the buzzing activity coming from the tents and their occupants.

It looked an idyllic place to camp and my mind jumped ahead to a time when I could bring my tent and my kayak and camp on the shores, perhaps with less people around. It was a brief interlude in the thoughts about the race ahead which had been buzzing around my head.

At the start line we were welcomed with big smiles and directed to drop our halfway bags, pick up a few free goodies and pointed towards the toilets in case race nerves got the better of us. We were caught up in the bustle as more racers arrived. The inevitable kit comparison started… 'look at his bag, its so small! much lighter than mine!' 'Look at her bag, it's massive! ' We also looked at some of the running poles that people were carrying, folded down really small, but ready to assist them up the hills. Too late for us to reconsider that choice!

It was strange for me to be at a startline of a challenge with so many people around, so much noise and chatter surrounding me. Normally, I stand at my self appointed line, taking a few deep breaths to steel myself for the days to come, alone with my thoughts and with no comparisons standing next to me. I set off with no fanfare or photos or encouragement from bystanders, only my own mutterings of 'you can do this'.

This was a massive contrast. We were gathered behind the line and then they asked for those that were racing for first to stand on the right and then everyone else pick a spot depending on whether you were intending to run, run and walk or only walk. And then suddenly the runners were off, almost sprinting out of the start gate like racehorses, to the sound of bagpipes!

The rest of us jogged out, slowing up in the inevitable crush as the path narrowed. The route took us past the car park and Sam, concerned that she had a nearly empty inhaler, asked to go and get her other one out of the car. So we veered off route, joking as we did to The Lap crew that we had had enough already and were going home!

Full inhaler safely in hand, we were plum last… which worked in our favour as we could now set our pace and not get swept along by the excitement and peer pressure. We started our dog trot pace and found ourselves overtaking people when the path allowed, which was great for our mental state. Instead of being passed by lots of faster people, we were the ones overtaking.! bonus.

The beginning of the route wound through the woods, narrow paths and bits where you had to clamber up and over stuff. This meant that we were jogging, then standing in a queue, then jogging again. I was certainly glad that this was how it was going as it meant we got rests in between the jogging.

I started noticing some of the other competitors, the ones that we were keeping pace with or those that were keeping pace with us. People stopped and adjusted kit or took off the thicker layer that had been required at the start and disappeared behind us only to re emerge when we stopped to strip layers.

I was getting really hot, even though the mist still was present and the air was cool around me. I stripped off my sweater and stuffed it in my bag, remembering to take a slurp of my electrolyted water whilst stopped. I knew that I would have to force myself to eat and drink as I rarely feel thirsty or hungry when exercising but know only too well the power of the bonk! (For all of you whose minds reside in the gutter, get out of there! The Bonk refers to the wall you hit figuratively when you run out of calories and energy)

My memory of the worst bits is already fading (my bad memory is why I keep doing stoopid stuff) but Sam reminded me that at about this point there was quite a nasty climb with lots of steps, up out of the woods. I was slow on the climb. My training runs had resulted in a small bit of fasciitis in my left heel, which was generally ok but when going up became quite uncomfortable, slightly painful and generally not ideal. Sam powered up the climb (or so it seemed to me😁) and this was the start of a pattern of the day. Sam ahead on the climbs, me ahead on the downhills (Sam had a strapped up Left knee). All this prompted a running joke, that between us, we made one good ultramarathon runner 🤣😜

At the top of the climb was a lovely ruin, no idea what it was or why it was there but in the still quiet, slightly misty morning, it loomed majestically in front of us.

Checkpoint 1 arrived quickly, or so it seemed to me. I had resolved before we started to try and only concentrate on the next checkpoint, a mental tick list to aim for throughout. At many points during the day it would have been all too easy to get overwhelmed by the distance and let it infect my headspace to detrimental effect. A high five between me and Sam and then we set about being as efficient as possible in refuelling and replenishing our water supplies. Our strategy from the beginning was to not linger too long at the checkpoints, not get sucked into sitting down for too long but keep moving and get back on route asap.

This first checkpoint was an unimportant one in my head. I felt good, my legs still hadn't twigged that our 'gentle stroll' was actually 47 miles and I still had plenty of water. We knew that the next checkpoint would be more important as it lay just before the 2 biggest hills, so we were going to spend a little longer there.

Loo break for Sam, grabbed some cheese, some bread, some mini cheddars and a cup of coke, stuffed it all down, shouldered the packs and were on our way. Efficient, to the point, exactly as planned!

The next leg to checkpoint 2 was 6.8 ish miles away and headed off in a direction away from the lake (which in fact we barely saw all day!)

There were many hills, mostly of not nice gradient up or down. I groaned on the uphills, Sam sighed before the downhills. We dog trotted wherever we could on the flatter or slightly up and down bits. If the gradient increased too much, either up or down, we slowed to walking but kept a good pace. We were going well and my headspace was good.

All this time we were following little blue and white arrows. We had little to no need for my GPX with the route on. My eyes were constantly scanning for the next arrow….On the gates (more about them later), on trees, on walls, the arrows and blue ribbons marking our route were ever present and It became almost addictive.. like following the yellow brick road.

The fields around us were green and bursting with life. The wild garlic was in abundance, though it seems that neither me or sam associated what we were smelling with garlic until a gentleman behind us commented on the garlic. After that, it was all I could smell. The lambs (so cute) were frollicking in the fields, though having seen the film 'Black Sheep' I am still convinced that they are all plotting to kill us and warned Sam to be careful of the cute little lambs😂 (Just a hint of the delusion to come).

There were a couple of nasty ups (its all a bit jumbled in my memory) in this section but I was still feeling ok (the fasciitis notwithstanding). My heel hurt when going up but it was bearable and could be managed ok. We chatted about what was coming up, our strategy for the next checkpoint, pointed out arrows, jogged along when we could and celebrated when we could jog and talk simultaneously.

Parts of the route were boggy and required some careful stepping to avoid total foot immersion. There were bits where fallen trees had to be ducked under or worked around but generally in this bit, the paths were reasonable to good.

I was chuffed that we were managing to stick to our plan and somewhat surprised by the pace we were keeping up. At times I felt on top of the world. We were exceeding my expectations. However given that I always try to think of the worst case scenario, it didn't take much!

Somewhere around the second checkpoint there was a particularly nasty up but my mind was focused on the next checkpoint and the prep required there for the next stage which I considered to be the Crux of the whole thing. Having studied a map beforehand, I had in my head that if I could get up and over the 2 peaks in the 3rd section, then I would finish. So the importance of checkpoint 2 was right up there. When we arrived, we removed our packs and filled up with water. I scanned the food available… nothing really tempted me. My stomach felt like it would not digest solid food and so I opted for the SIS gels that I had in my pack. Not everyone likes gels and some people I know positively hate them, but over the years of suffering, I have learnt to like them and even to look forward to them. Placebo effect or not, I feel better after a gel, even when I have hit rock bottom and for me the gels are easier to digest than food, which seems to just sit in my stomach making me feel not great. Over the years I have tried many different brands and SIS are my go to brand (no i'm not being sponsored by them). They are the only ones my tastebuds will accept! The Lap was sponsored by mountain fuel and although some of the gels were available, I decided to stick with the ones I have used before.

A mention about the weather…

Before the race, myself and Sam had decided on what our collective weather ideals were… not sunny, good cloud cover but no rain (more Sam's condition than mine, I don't mind a bit of drizzle). Whilst the start of the race had conformed, it was now becoming uncomfortably hot, the sun was breaking through and starting to beat down. We thought about sun cream but for some reason didn't follow through with the thought.

Aside from the lack of suncream application, we navigated the second checkpoint well and at speed, leaving behind some of the racers that had passed us earlier with our efficiency. That felt good. Whilst this, for us, wasn't really about 'racing' there was still the spirit of competition in us and for me certainly, it was a bit of a mental boost to pass people in the pit stop if not out on track 😂.

Out of the checkpoint and towards the crux, the path wound slowly upwards. And then the turn to the right… to be faced by what seemed like a wall! As far as we could see the path stretched upwards… racers dotted at varying intervals. There were some steps and the path was quite rocky in places. We stood staring up. I was mentally preparing myself for a portion of pain. I told my legs to shut up as they started shouting at me to turn round… go back…. you idiot… what are you doing to us!

They had finally realised the stroll was over 😂

We stood looking up until we realised the slope wouldn't get any less steep as we watched it and so with a few sighs we set on upwards. My fasciitis stabbed at my heel with every step but one foot kept going in front of the other, inexorably upwards. There were a few stops to 'look at the view' and look down at other racers following us up. Sam stretched out her lead above me which provided a focus point to head towards. The people behind provided a focus to stay ahead of and I measured my pace ever upwards.

I was very conscious of my heart rate. In training I do my best to keep my heart rate at just below my threshold as I know that if I step over that threshold it is detrimental to long term endurance. When my heart rate approached its peak, I stopped and took deep breaths. It hurt to breathe at times and several times I suppressed a coughing fit, vestiges of a presumed chest infection a month ago.

But I kept going upwards, slowly but surely. Happy in the knowledge that I was keeping going. The 'top' I had been aiming for wasn't actually the top on closer inspection but that didnt bother me. I was making progress and the top would come when it came.

I have climbed worse hills, faced greater tests and survived. On the Tour Divide I hauled my bike up a 6 mile avalanche chute…. It could always be worse!

I joined Sam at the top. She had sat down and was scoffing jelly tots! The view was unparalleled. Lake Windemere stretched out to the south below us and the sun glinted off the surface far below us. It had been worth the effort. At times on the way up, I thought I would explode in flames I was so hot. The sun was beating down and the failure to put on sunscreen at the 2nd checkpoint was making itself obvious, particularly on my left arm. I rectified that mistake, slurped down a gel, took a few pics of us standing on top of the peak, high fived Sam and then with a loud sigh from Sam we set off downwards. My favourite part!

The gel also kicked into effect as suddenly I was infused with energy and optimism. I recorded a quick video as there wasn't enough signal to go live. I wanted to record more but the demands of the course precluded it.

Nevertheless we wend our way down, skirted the edges of Ambleside and then faced the next test… What goes down must go back up… never has that rung more true! The next peak I didn't think was as bad as the first though still a tough test. Perhaps the gel was still working its magical effects on me but I felt almost deliriously happy… perhaps not struggling up the steep parts, my heel was reminding me it was there and the legs were wailing in protest over my latest deception (I told them there was only one peak) but it was the first time I allowed myself to think I might finish. I knew that I could get over this peak… one step at a time… I was enjoying the fresh air and the exercise and being alive. Sounds a bit over the top perhaps but that's how I felt for a few moments at least. The top eventually came as it was always going to and we celebrated another milestone in the race.

On the way down from here, we were walking with a couple of others and they asked about the stuff I had scrawled on my hands and arms… shut up legs, pain is weakness leaving the body, stupid enough to do it too stupid to quit and carpe diem. All these were little sayings I had picked up over the years and use as motivation when times got tough. I then told them about another favourite… Rule #5.

From the cyclist rule book….

If in doubt go back to Rule #5.

Rule #5 is 'Harden the fuck up'

It made me smile and them laugh and generally put a spring in my step all the way down the difficult descent. I have spoken a lot about the ups ( and will do about a few more) but the downs were in their own separate category of painful.

This one in particular (if memory proves correct) was rocky and steep with loose stones and smushed my toes down into my shoes making it particularly uncomfortable. I'm sure Sam will have a few choice words to say about this too… I don't think it was her favourite either. Still we got down and could finally celebrate conquering the crux of the race.

We tramped down to the halfway checkpoint. We did curse when we saw that we had to go up a slope to get into it😁. Once again we were welcomed with smiles and well dones and ushered in to pick up our halfway bags.

Then we set to, sorting ourselves out.

For me, it was about a change of a VERY sweaty top and socks that could stand up and walk away themselves. My feet had got wet in a bit of boggy ground, that I resolutely (and possibly stupidly) went straight through. The tape on my toes had got wet and slipped down, leaving my toes free to blister up on the last descent. Time to retape! I sat, cutting and sticking tape back round my toes where I could see blisters forming and protecting those that didn't have them yet.

Then to the food. We had been promised soup here and everyone who had done the race before raved about it. They weren't wrong. It was the best soup I had ever tasted and hit the spot completely. I allowed myself to sit down and quickly sent out a live fb video. I knew some people were following us and many people were cheering us on. and wanted to give them something to cheer about. We had got halfway, done (in my opinion pre race) the hardest half and I was looking forward to counting down the miles for the southward leg.

Despite allowing ourselves a little longer here, we still didn't faff and linger. We did what was necessary in an orderly fashion and were ready to go again in no time.

I ate more cheese and bread and packed my gels from my drop bag which then went back to be dropped off at the finish. And we set off again.

Our running days felt over and we settled into a good walking pace. Although the rolling paths weren't as harsh as some we had encountered before, we now had 22 miles in our legs.

Things that I had borne cheerfully before were starting to bug me. Mostly the gates that we encountered seemed to be getting harder to open as my body got more tired.

Gates… so many gates… all with different opening mechanisms so as the race went on and brain fade appeared, they became harder to work out how to open… or maybe that was just me! Some of the gates you had to pull up the mechanism to open it and these were the toughest of all in the latter stages of the race. Someone for a laff probably, had even put a gate at the top of stone steps which led up a wall, so not only did you have to lift your legs up steps but then figure out how to open the gate at the top!

I was fed up of gates by now but it wasn't the only frustration building😁 Several times the route took us up a completely necessary hill. We literally staggered up it and then got sent straight back down… no purpose to it, except to add to the suffering!

Although the hills weren't as big on this half of the race, they definitely weren't absent and several of them made themselves painfully present in the memory. Fairly short but pretty steep and draining on already drained legs body and mind there seemed no end in sight.

Of course by now we had slowed down and each mile was taking longer to complete.

We still kept up our spirits generally, although the groans of pain and achy bodies were more audible. I found myself giggling every now and again, sometimes about nothing in particular, sometimes about how hard it was to move!

Just before the 4th checkpoint, an excruciating stinging pain hit one of my toes and I knew exactly what had happened… (before you read on, you may regard this as TMI)

… a blister had burst causing agony for the next few steps which settled into a painful constant throbbing. My first thought as the pain hit, was shit… how the hell am I going to finish now…. then as the agony settled a bit… I concentrated on reaching the nearby checkpoint where I sat on a rock and contemplated what to do. My tape was in my halfway bag so it was going to have to be put up and shut up and I was steeling myself to do just that….

one of the kind checkpoint ladies offered a compeed plaster which I eventually gratefully accepted… my hesitation was more about taking off my sock and shoe.. but I soon realised that it was the best option I had. Once feet were sorted, we repeated what was now an automatic procedure. Refill water, grab food if you. could stomach it and don't sit down for long whatever you do. The staff at the checkpoints boosted morale and kept us going.

We now had only 5 miles to the next checkpoint and my foot felt ok/bearable. My mantra became 5 miles to the next, 8.8 to the one after, 2.3 to the finish!

I don't remember much about the route from the 4th to the 5th checkpoint, only awareness of every bodily ache and pain and a growing need for a toilet.

All the gels and water and coke had finally worked their way through the system. I concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other and hoped the miles would go quickly.

There were some nice views, the inevitable ups followed by the inevitable downs… a stone seat… I like photos of seats… the lambs were settling down for the evening and looked so cute in the fields curled up enjoying the last rays of sunshine. The birdsong which had been with us throughout the day providing a soundtrack for the route was dying down as the sun started to hit the tops of the distant hills.

I registered all this but my brain was firmly on the next checkpoint and my body's insistence that I needed to find a toilet.

The 5 miles went pretty slowly and it turned out that the second to last checkpoint had been moved a bit further away… not much… but enough to start confusing distances in our heads.

When we reached it, it was a water stop only, not a toilet in sight. Being a nurse has its bonuses, one of those being an enormous bladder so I stopped letting it bother me, filled up water, grabbed a last coke and we set off again. Slightly less than 8.8 miles to the next checkpoint and then only 2.3 to the finish. Not far now… not far now… not far now.

For me, the last 10 miles was simultaneously the most painful and despairing part and the most fun part all rolled up into one.

We stopped to pull an extra layer on as the sun setting had caused the temperature to drop considerably. We also pulled out our headtorches because soon it would be difficult to see the path…

We went into a forest and almost instantly it was nearly pitch black. We faced boggy ground, fallen trees, more mud than in a pig field and it was difficult to negotiate all the obstacles…. but it was fun! We joked that we had gone slowly so that we would be able to experience the race by headlamp and get the 'whole experience'. I also took the opportunity to dive into the bushes for a 'jungle wee' as our friend Harriet calls it! It felt good… it felt like I had ticked off every experience possible on this insane race. My headspace picked up for a bit.

In general though, both me and Sam retreated to our own little world of pain. Part of me wanted to say something to get us both out of our own little worlds but I couldn't spare the energy to think of anything witty to say. Sometimes it is every man for himself… and this was one of those times. Me and Sam have done enough stupid things in each others company to know that saying nothing was ok with the other one. Every now and again one of us would pipe up with an 'you ok?' yup… you? and all was good.

At times in this stretch I was fighting thoughts of just sitting down and quitting. My devil on my shoulder was telling me how easy it would be to just sit down and quit… or maybe it was the angel that said that. The devil was saying… 'just a bit more suffering will make this truly epic.. type b fun… keep going' .

I was pretty certain that I would never quit so near to the finish and perhaps it was funny that the thoughts were popping up now rather than when we had so many miles to go… but my body was aching all over, muscles I dont think its possible to have were aching, my feet were extremely sore, I was coughing a lot now and my chest felt quite tight on every up… in short I was a bit broken physically and my headspace was following. I knew Sam was also struggling with groin strain… I have had that before and know how difficult it makes every step so I was pretty impressed with how she kept going. Her head torch had also stopped working properly… the light was bright but just wouldn't stay on and so she was forced into continually pressing the button to switch it on. I tried to light her path as well as mine but it was difficult when we were also trying to spot the arrows and not trip up. I would have thrown the damn thing in the bushes, but I think we were both glad she didn't when we reached the final sting in the tail!

We were going pretty slowly now in comparison to earlier and 10 miles seemed so far in the state I was in.

I shook myself out of it at some point and a bit of delirious laughter came back to us.

We caught up again with two women who we had bumped into on and off throughout the day but now we stuck together for a bit, providing a bit of conversation and a few more smiles at our collective situation.

We had been going for a long time and still a way from the checkpoint, when we hit what felt like the mother of all hills. Sharply up and never ending it hit hard… the two women we were walking with shot off (at least that is how it felt to me) and ascended at a pretty impressive speed whilst I coughed and spluttered my way up.

It was so steep and soul destroying and with the confusion about the mileage, I became convinced that we had missed the last checkpoint. That had to be the sting in the tail! It couldn't be worse than that. It occurred to me that perhaps where we saw the ambulance in a layby was where the last checkpoint had been. Which meant we only had 2.3 miles to go. Sam was less than convinced as by her milage count we still had a couple of miles to go. But how could that hill not have been the sting in the tail.

It didn't occur to me to check my GPX track till later… so I had managed to nearly convince everyone as much as I was convinced. It was only a mile or so later when I was checking the GPX for direction that I zoomed out and saw the checkpoint… a mile or so further! oops sorry guys! 😬

Still it had provided a bit of a spring in my step when I had thought we were nearly there!

We finally saw the last checkpoint, with the usual brilliant welcome and encouragement. It made us feel a little emotional to be honest, to have such support. Of course we had the knowledge that the sting in the tail was still to come but we were reassured that it wasn't as bad as what we had just crawled over. So we said thank you and set off…. only 2.3 miles to go!! We were going to finish… we were going to get there in under 20 hours… beyond all expectations!

But my head had jumped a bit ahead as we still had to negotiate the final test.

The uphill actually was ok and I thought they had hyped up the sting waay to much.

The two women stopped at the top to rearrange something and me and Sam pressed onwards, through the dark. We could hear music filtering up from the YHA below and it felt like we were almost done, just the downhill to go… easy right?

Errrr… NOPE!

We approached what felt like the edge of a cliff… strewn with fallen trees, wet slippy rocks and tree routes. I almost wished for a climbing rope for security it felt that unsafe.! I started down with Sam clickong her torch back on every 2 seconds to see her next step. We edged down… so slowly, using trees as brakes when we started to slide or foot purchase was uncertain, which was most of the time!

It was hairy, yet for me at least, somewhat fun… it turned an incredible challenge into an epic adventure, where life and limb felt like it was in peril… and i'm not exaggerating! It would have been a tricky descent in daylight, it the dark it was full of surprises and not all good ones!

At one point on the descent into madness, we came across a fallen tree at just the wrong height. It was a bit low to duck under and a bit high to climb over, so we both opted for different measures. I went for the sit on my arse in the mud and shuffle under, though it turned out that there were some prickly leaves underneath my arse which was less than pleasant. Sam ended up spread eagled over the tree which made me crease up into a fit of giggles…. always laughter somewhere in a situation!

We slid and slipped down the remainder of the descent and eagerly started towards the sounds from the YHA. Sam suggested that we start to run but as I wasn't sure exactly how much further it was, I hesitated. Just as well as we walked round bend after bend in the woods even after we had passed through the YHA entrance!

Finally we saw lights and the finish line and I choked up with emotion as we grinned at each other and broke out into a jog trot for the final 80 yards (or so)

We crossed the line together to the sound of clapping from the crew that was waiting up for the later finishers. It was about 1am and we had done it!!

We took the obligatory pictures and were then directed towards picking up our half way bags and into the YHA building to be given food. We took the stairs to the 1st floor and sat and stared at our plates of food… suddenly absolutely exhausted.

19 hours and 55 seconds of sheer effort, stubbornness, joy, despair, elation, pain, suffering, comradeship and adventure.

It had been worth it!

I will leave the main story there but would also like to pick out a few moments that I couldn't remember where they came in the race timeline…

The high five with a random kid out walking with his dad

The moment we thought a tree stump was a cow sitting in the middle of the trail

The moment where we compared how we felt to being like our grandparents (they are all dead), our black humour coming to the fore

All the times that complete strangers, not part of the race, clapped us and said well done and we ran past

And finally the time when I was telling one gentleman about the words I scribbled on my hands and he said that it was him that had posted the 'stupid enough to do this, too stupid to quit' on the fb page which provided me with inspiration. We high fived that!

Fast forward to the next day, the memories of the pain of the worst bits was already fading and left us talking about the bits we loved the best or how ridiculous the last descent was or us in fits of giggles as we struggled to get up from a sitting position.

The drive home was punctuated by painful episodes of struggling out of the car at service stations and hobbling like 90 year olds to find food and drink to replace all that we had lost during the race.

Would I do The Lap again?

Ask me in a week when I can walk without limping or stand up without groaning in pain.

It was without doubt an exceptionally well organised race with excellent crew and I would recommend it to anyone attempting their first ultra..

As for future plans Sam… so there is this adventure race.. where you run.. and bike.. and kayak to checkpoints…………… 😁😂

Fight the Fear

Embrace the Randomness

Above all…

Go With The CraZy!