The adventure specialists

Steph's 100km Fellsman 2022 race

Taking Chances, Weathering Setbacks

I honestly didn’t think I could ever top the surprise and satisfaction of finishing my 80-mile Yorkshire Top 10 last year. The fun and flow I experienced on it changed my whole perspective of myself, and I finally conceded to being both a caver and a runner. A seed of confidence had been sown and I decided to set my sights on a late summer Bob Graham. Well, that didn’t go to plan and my determination to get faster on lakes downhills resulted in 3 spectacular tumbles, 1 hospital admission, a delayed proposal from Mike cause I was so battered after my fall and 3 hefty scars on my otherwise battered cavers knees. Jesus if those things could talk social services would lock me up! LOL

I wrote off my summers ambitions but was determined not to let it beat me, I thought, whilst eating my body weight in lakes ice cream. I set my sights on one of my favourite routes, the Fellsman, a tough but stunner of a 60 miler that traverses the best limestone in the country.  So, from the 1st of January I got my running mojo back and was determined to lose the stone I’d put back on (that never happened!).

Training you say

The training started amazingly well with a cracker of a traverse of the Cheviot on New Years Day, a 20 miler with a lot more shuffling than I was expecting. The momentum was set, and we spent the Xmas hols doing long walks with increasing amounts of running. Now, folks for those of you who don’t know me, I’m a chancer of a caver who strayed into fell running because I couldn’t keep up with my 6ft 6” tall, lakes born, partner. I’m slow but I’m a stubborn (sometimes feisty) little brat who through lots of expedition caving (check out Ario Caves Project) has an unexplainable fondness for prolonged journeys and suffering. My lack of a training plan usually starts with longer distance hikes that incrementally involve increasing miles of running. I have no idea if that makes sense, but I enjoy it that way, and I don’t take this stuff serious enough to substitute enjoyment for performance.

It was all going grand except for what I now believe to be long covid. For the first time in my life my lungs couldn’t keep up with my legs and my chest was cruel bad. My recovery from this was to be very slow and accompanied unusually low energy levels. I was running similar mileage to last year but just couldn’t maintain the longer runs. This was baffling me, all this hard work and I couldn’t really run over 15miles. By March last year I’d done two Yorkshire three peak runs and my only attempt at the Y3P’s this time I had to cut short as I had an insatiable need to go to bed. It was really strange, but I needed to listen to my body and so my holiday in Mallorca was accented by my watch constantly telling me I was dropping out of my hard earned Superior, then detraining to being unproductive. It was soul destroying but I stayed true to my body, and I believe that the 3 weeks off running saved my immune system and ultimately improved my fitness. My watch however has never been so close to death by crushing.

April was now upon me, and my training had not gone to my inordinately high standards. Well not running distance wise but in the background, I had consistently been going to my PT class, with Tomi of TnT fitness, and this is what I believe was the crux of my success this year. Jill Eccleston, thank you soooo much for dragging my ass to PT it made all the difference in the world to my professional and personal life! Mwah.

What time to go for?

D-day was now looming and it was time to set my goal, but how does someone who seldom races decide on a time? In 2016, I didn’t get a place on the 25 mile Yorkshire 3 Peaks race so I did the 60 mile Fellsman instead (caver logic that), it took me 26 hours, and the next year I did it with a chest infection (really naughty I know) in 19.5 hours, then I did the 118 mile MRT challenger the following Jan in just shy of 42hrs, then I was broken and put on 2.5 stone the following two years. So what to go with? I knew the person to ask, Sabs. I knew she believed in me, had run with me plenty, but she was a good friend and wouldn’t blow smoke up my ass. She told me to forget times and just run listen to my body, but I wasn’t havin any of that wise shite, my anxious brain wanted a number for crying out load! She took a logical approach and thought if I averaged 3.6mph on my 80miler whilst fully supported then about 18 hours with a full pack would be a worthy aim. It was fair but I wanted to do it faster, but….. ‘remember Steph you’ve not managed a run over 18 miles in the two months running up to this’. I took the pressure off and just decided to run free and go with the flow, honestly not minding if I blew up and had to DNF. This is a flippin amazing place to start, so I slept like a log the night before and woke up as excited as a child to see where the day would take me.

The moment of truth

The run started off steady with the added boost of passing loads of people whilst moving slower along the Ingleborough race line. The legs felt strong but my heart rate was much higher than I’d have liked. My poor Irish body cannot take the heat or too much sun. I remember meeting my hero Karen Nash on the swine tail and thinking shit Steph, you’re clearly going too fast but caught up in all the excitement I decided to just go for it and had a great run down to the Hill Inn only to have the wind taken out of my sails when the lovely checkpoint volunteers didn’t have my special needs food. This shook me a little as my tank was quite empty and I knew the yummy biscuits on offer would make me feel really ill. But I had no choice. Flustered I set off, stuffing biscuits in my gob and praying they got it sorted before Kingsdale. As I was running along something didn’t feel right, like something was missing but I scolded myself for being so anxious and ran on, but by the time I’d got to Philpin barn the penny had dropped. F3c&, Sabs’ poles I left them at the last CP. ‘Oh Jesus really Steph, how can you have done that, …..feck it, I’ll get em later, ……No!, their not yours to leave behind!!’, so I ran back up hill passing loads of folk and what seemed like loads of women.

Feather head

I was mortified at my muppetry, sweating and gasping with anger, frustration and the over exertion of running uphill. My blood pressure was through the roof, - it was time to make a choice, let this derail my whole day or re-adjust my expectations and make the best of it. So I slowed down, caught my breath, and it was lovely to catch up with another lady runner, a Fellsman newbee, and then fellow Spine Family Fiona Lynch. Soothed by the lilt of my native [Irish] tongue I took it steady up Whernside but still got to the top feeling sick and woozy. This was only to be made worse by the announcement at the summit that 163 had to wait to speak to race control as they couldn’t find my food anywhere. WTF I thought, I can’t believe this is happening to me and it was made worse by the understandable frustration of the marshal who didn’t appreciate my urgency to keep moving along. “I’ll get Mike to talk to ye”, I shouted as I ran away in a flurry of frustration. How I didn’t snot myself running down those steps off Whernside I have no idea (remember my knees are more scar than skin). I was pegging it down hill on technical ground, folk stepping aside to let me past whilst I was f-ing & blinding down the phone to Mike. My heart rate waving in the red zone so I couldn’t run the flats like I’d hoped. To add to the drama I went over on my ankle proper style, face planting into the thankfully soft tussocks descending into Kingsdale. Quick I thought, get up and keep running, don’t let the pain register but for Christ’s sake Steph, be careful, you’re hypermobile afterall!

Hot, hot, hot, steep, steep, steep

There was still no food at Kingsdale, but the team were super kind to me and reassured me that they’d spoken to Mike and were getting it sorted. It was really hot, my fate out of my hands so I took it real steady up Gragareth and was ashamedly relieved to find that we were all struggling in the heat. I belched and farted my way along to Great Coum, passed a few lads and was lifted by the joy of running free downhill to Dent where I met Mike and Tom. My food had arrived and miraculously I had averaged 4.1mph so I motored on after thanking Mike, my reliable hero as always 😊

The race is just beginning

The race was back on and after eating some food I was on flying form. It was incredible the boost it gave me as I plodded steadily and efficiently with far less suffering than anticipated. It was great to catch up with Tom, he’s a good friend, savage craic and the freedom of leap frogging each other was quite liberating. I was delighted that he was having such a good run. Boosted by the passing of a lass on the Craven Way I moved with remarkable ease up the dreaded Blea Moor and passed fellow Spiner Gary Chapman, who was getting a leg stretch in before his Cape Wrath in a couple of weeks. I pegged it down to Stonehouses and found loads of women at the checkpoint, then something happened that I’d never experienced before.

I started racing, like proper racing, and not just one person and not any random folk I was near, but proper good runners. The game was on as I wasted no time at the CP (checkpoint) and walked and ate while setting off up Arten Gill. This was where I started to catch the two lasses in front who were storming it up the hill and something rather peculiar happened. I didn’t run after them despite my strong desire to catch them, instead a super competitive and calculated part of me decided it was too early to race proper and I held myself back, taking it well easy, and out of nowhere the thought came to me, I’ll have ye on the downhill. Never in my life have I had the cheek to think like that but somewhere inside I took the gamble and it paid off. I left them for dead on the decent and astonishingly caught up with the incredible Kendra, who I knew of from winning the women’s winter challenger in grim conditions. It was amazing to see her, but shit, this meant I must have been overcooking it, having delusions of grandeur beyond my station, and despite feeling chipper like a collie dog, I didn’t pass her. Instead, I let her mark the way and this gave me the headspace to mentally prepare for the next CP and beyond. When she spotted me behind her at Redshaw she motored on ahead whilst I was being serenaded by the amazing Carmine on his accordion. What a special moment I now wish I’d video’d.

Catching up with old friends

At this point Aidan, a lovely lad I was grouped with at Redshaw in 2016 had caught up with me. It was so lovely to see him and us being there still running strong at a CP we got grouped at before was a poignant reminder of how far we’d both come, a vast improvement on our 26hr fellsman. I was surprisingly happy for the company as up to now I was loving the freedom of running on my own and not having anything to think about but the beauty of nature and the euphoria of moving with ease in the mountains. In fact, having him there helped me through my first wave of tiredness and before we knew it, we were up Dodd Fell via a different line to everyone else and somehow passing Kendra. When I got to the top not long before her the Marshals told me I was in 3rd place and just like that I was gone like a dog after a ball. I didn’t think for a second I could hold that place, but hell it could be fun for a while. Strangely I simultaneously found myself pointing out my line to her and gratefully she followed close behind with Aidan before I went knee deep into a bog hole. Catching me up I found myself following her alternative line over to the road and was internally livid with myself for not sticking to my plan as we took a slightly longer route. This did allow us to run together for a bit and it was lovely to catch up with her on our way to Fleet Moss CP.

And just like that she’s gone

Now I was well stoked at this point, because (for a fleeting moment only, I know) I was faster than someone really amazing on the uphill, and we were keeping up with each other on the flat, but when she sped through the checkpoint I decided to stick to my guns. I changed layers, refuelled and headed down the road at a speed that didn’t thrash my legs (I don’t do road running, yuck!). I am so proud of my discipline in the face of such childlike distracting fun, she would of wiped the floor with me if I’d tried to keep up with her.

By now, it was windy, cold and raining, I turned around only to realise that I ran off having completely forgotten about poor Aiden. Thankfully he caught me up on the down, his jolly positivity carrying me through another lull in energy and after the boost of seeing Mike at Yockenthwaite we found ourselves catching Kendra on the up again. This was another new for me, straddling the tension between wanting to catch up with this lovely lass I admired, my innate default to be submissive to those I see as better than me (running wise) and experiencing this all new urge to race someone. I was also aware that she might have been doing to me what I had done to those lasses back at Great Knoutberry, letting me head off in front on the up, following my line and then running off on the flat. This was slightly irritating me so I took it handy on the up and tried to break away from her on Middle Tongue but it was futile on such tough ground, so I waited till Hell’s Teeth (Hells gap officially) and I cautiously let rip on the down, only to enter Cray CP with stars and birds circling my head, ‘shit, I thought, I need some sugar quick or I’m going to keel over’. I fumbled through the necessary, the signs of fatigue starting to show, and in my rush to catch her I didn’t put on waterproof bottoms. She’d left me for dead, AGAIN!

The art of attrition

Jesus this woman was busting my tits, but it was enthralling rather than stressful, and I was somewhat reassured that even if she broke away for good it was cause she ran such a flippin awesome race, and wasn’t it such a privilege to have chased for her for so long. I ate loads on the flat coming up to Buckden Pike, was heartened by the compliments of a fellow racer and again I caught her on the up. She seemed happy to see me, we had a giggle, did some route finding together and once the dying light descended upon us my cavers feet pulled away. On the summit I met Joe of NAV4 who was volunteering, stuck my airpods in, cranked up the tunes and was elated to be running so well and to be feeling so happy. I was determined to now keep my 3rd place. She stayed hot on my heels, but behind. Christ, for anyone outside our tiny world it would have made amazing watching, and all the meanwhile the two lasses I’d passed before we’re eagerly gaining upon us both. What fantastic racing 🥰, oblivious to the details I still remembered seeing the girls come into checkpoints just behind me with the same discipline as I had, therefore strong and determined to easily catch any of us across the forthcoming 15 miles. I passed through Park Rash like a formula 1 and headed into the thick mist and rain up Great Whernside knowing this was where the crux of the race was yet to play out.

I was in 3rd place, I really really didn’t want to lose this and keeping it meant staying super focused and playing it safe. The weather was atrocious now and I couldn’t make out the path up the hill so I decided to slow down and trade speed for accuracy, praying that my caving and spine experience would sail me through just a little faster than those behind. What I didn’t know as I was making that decision was a) how close the pair of lasses (who’d now passed kendra) were behind me and b) how close I was to Clare the lass in 2nd place. She looked so powerful anytime I seen her I assumed she was miles ahead and anyways coming close to 2nd place was as ridiculous a thought as sprinting past the Browlee brothers.

The bog of doom

The decent off great Whernside was quite challenging. I was on my own and teetering on the edge of being cold. I didn’t want to stop for obvious reasons so kept the balance between running fast enough to keep warm but not so fast as to wander off my line in the xero vis and deep bog holes. I knew making a mistake here and getting stuck knee deep in a bog hole on my own would ruin more than my placing. But not to worry no matter what might of happened, I wasn’t getting rescued! Im mountain rescue myself and this was my neighbouring teams patch, a lot of em being friends so I’d never live it down 😆

I kept saying to myself, ‘Steph, don’t let your guard down, keep your eye on the ball’ and thankfully I made it to Capplestone Gate, tired, wired but safe. I stuffed my face and relished in the newfound freedom of being able to run properly again. The end was nigh and I thoroughly enjoyed my run down to Threshfield, belting out the tunes, grinning like a Cheshire cat, and laughing out loud to myself about the incredible and unexpected experience thus far.

If you could bottle this feeling…

I couldn’t believe it. I made it. I smashed what was a logically cheeky aim of less than 17 hours. I was so incredibly chuffed to be able to run right up to the end with no injuries or marked suffering, and what was the most unexpectedly fun and enthralling bit was racing folk. I came 3rd place in the women’s race, 40th out of 206 folk overall and in a time of 15hrs and 38mins. Don’t ask me where that came from? I’m a caver so clearly not normal but be inspired by it. I have plenty of strengths, I trained hard, I’m stubborn and I’ve loads of transferable skills from expedition caving and being a mountain guide, but this will have been as much a shock to many others as it was to me. So what does it all mean? What can be gleaned from this that has benefits beyond the ego?

Well, firstly be inspired to question the ways in which you too might be underestimating yourself, especially as a woman. To really push your limits and remember if you’re not failing you’re not really trying. Miracles happen when your prepared to put your ego aside and really give something a go.

Thank you 😊

I would like to thank a few folk, as I am only where I am for standing on the shoulders of giants. Firstly Mike, my partner in everything, you are my most steadfast rock and my biggest advocate, Jill & Sabs for getting me back running again after 2 really hard years, Becca of eye bex sports therapy who keeps my body tip top, Tomi of TnT fitness who I pay to cripple me every Wed (this was my secret weapon), and Petzl and LaSportiva who give me free kit for my caving adventures that I was grateful to use on this. And finally, the extraordinary women out there who prove to us everyday through example what we are really capable of. Thank you for your inspiration.    

Mwah Steph 😊