In which I try really hard to wrap up this whole thing so I can move on with my life. Jk, I will be happily reliving this trip until the end of days.
The next section was reportedly the most boring part of the run, across the Vale of York. I was not too upset about getting this section done at night, which was lucky as I was destined to cross almost the entire thing under the cover of darkness. After another sleep I awoke to the sad news that Chris had pulled out of the race due his ankle being roughly the size of a tennis ball. I was sad for him, but I am sure he will be back to complete it one day as, over the past few days, he had come across as a determined, strong runner. I was also told that Steve had left an hour or so ahead of me. Apparently he hadn't been able to sleep so had decided to set off. This was all the motivation I needed to get myself moving. After filling up on hot food and (more) tea, off I trotted. And I really do mean trotted. I wasn't about to win any prizes for speed, but the next 8km or so until I caught up with Steve were done mostly at a run. After nearly 200km I was more than a little impressed at myself. Less impressive was my ability to navigate across fields in the dark. At one point I found myself on the wrong side of a hedge and had to scramble through a (pre-existing!) hole to get back to the footpath. Luckily, most of the way was fairly obvious and within an hour and a half I had caught up with Steve.
The next 20km were spent walking with Steve, trying to avoid (and for the most part succeeding) getting stuck in the middle of fields, and talking about Steve's incredibly interesting life working for a church in London. At this point Steve had taken over Chris's role as Runner With Near Debilitating Injury, and you could tell he was struggling. But his inner strength was impressive and he was able to keep on ploughing forward until nearly dawn. I hope that our conversation helped to keep his mind off the pain. It certainly helped me to get through the night. Unfortunately (for me, less so I think for Steve), just before dawn the tiredness from his missed sleep caught up with him. Luckily there was a convenient picnic table for him to sit at, and knowing that there were other runners surely not too far behind us, I left him to sleep on the side of the trail.
Having walked for most of the last 30km I was feeling ready to run again. The sun was peaking over the horizon. The way was flat and easy to follow. I knew there was a petrol station coming up soon where a coffee and a toilet should be found. Life was good. Off I trotted. The following few kilometres seemed to go quite quickly, although I do accept that by this point my sense of time was well and truly warped. Bought the coffee I'd been looking forward to, made us of the toilet facilities (probably much to the disgust of the other customers) and plopped myself down on the forecourt to sort out some sock and trainer issues. Feet were still in remarkably good shape all things considered.
The road crossing at Ingleby Cross was not anywhere near as stressful as I'd imagined. I was feeling quite fresh at this point, with my cup of coffee and the optimism of a new day. Also, there was some kind of road works happening and one of the lanes was closed. That helped too. Plodded through the village drinking coffee and eating snacks, then started the climb up to the North York Moors. This was quite a beautiful section up through some wooded areas, before popping out onto the moors to some truly spectacular views. On the climb up I also met Richard Beard, whose wife I had met at the café back in Reeth.
Once up on the moors the path to Lordstones was easy to follow and I found that, once again, my legs were being surprisingly cooperative about this whole running thing. I was having a lovely time, and just as I was coming down the final slope towards the aid station at Lordstones a familiar looking couple and a dog appeared, coming towards me. Mum and Jonathan had come out to meet me! At the time I don't think I did a very good job of articulating how pleased I was to see them, but it was wonderful to see some familiar faces, even if very briefly. And even if I did turn down Mum's offer of suncream because, "that would be cheating", just seeing them after a night of running was a fantastic motivation boost.
Lordstones saw me working through my now familiar routine of tea, chips, more hot food, four hour nap. This time I also enjoyed being complemented on my feet. A tiny blister on my little toe needed to be taped and the medic helping me was amazed at what good condition my feet were in generally. I guess being used to being permanently moist (mmmm!) in the sweaty Thai climate was good training for long distance running. Who knew?
Post nap it was off across the top of the North York Moors. It was mid-afternoon (I think) at this point and I was really hoping to make it off the moors before dark. That meant I would have to get moving sharpish. There were a couple of short steep climbs at the beginning of this section, but I felt remarkably strong at this point and seemed to be moving well particularly on the downhills. I walked and talked with a hiker when I first left Lordstones. He was following the Cleveland Way, an 109 mile (175km) route across the North York Moors and along the coast. I had seen signs for this regularly since before Lordstones. It was nice to talk to someone who was actually doing it. I also got attacked by a grouse. I had no idea those little birds could be so territorial until one flew at my face as I ran past. I walked past all the grouse I spotted after that. Until then I'd always been pretty anti-grouse shooting. Now, I'm less certain.
The road to the Lion Inn meandered it's way across the moor. I alternated between walking and running mostly to stave off boredom. My legs were still feeling strong and this was not a very hilly section so it was easy to run. I got to the Lion Inn a while before dark, passing a signpost that my parents had kindly left a message for me on in mud. Always so thoughtful. Unfortunately, the Lion Inn was not as close to the edge of the moor as I'd thought, and on closer inspection of the map there was still quite a way to go to get off the moor. As dusk started to fall I started, for the first time in the whole race, to get a bit despondent. I had run along the road and was about to turn off onto paths again when in the distance I thought I saw three people walking. It was beginning to get dark, and while it would have been possible that they were hikers looking for somewhere to wild camp, it seemed unlikely that they would still be moving this late. At this point I was not looking forward to running through the night on my own, so honestly, I pegged it. Probably the fastest I'd run the whole race. Actually, it can't have been that fast because it did take me a while to catch them. I also almost gave myself a shin splint doing so. I guess my legs were more tired than I thought.
The people I met were Shaneen and Steve, who (I believe, I am sorry if I have remembered this wrong) were running the race as a couple, and Andrew who had come over from Spain to run. I talked with the three of them for a while as we walked off the moor. I remember feeling like I wanted to move a bit faster, but also not wanting to leave these wonderful people who were helping to keep me sane and awake. Eventually we all arrived in the village of Glaisdale where tiredness overcame me. Shaneen, Steve and myself all found ourselves in the toilets of the (tiny) train station. They had come prepared and took out sleeping bags and a ground sheet to sit on (again, details may not be totally accurate, but they were definitely ready for this eventuality), whereas muggins here didn't have anything. I tried sitting on my running pack so I wasn't directly on the cold floor, but that wasn't super comfortable. Eventually, after about half an hour or trying to get some sleep I gave up and decided to move on, leaving Shaneen and Steve to enjoy what I hope was a more enjoyable nap.
I ran through a bit of woodland and along a dirt road under the stars to Grosmont, where tiredness again overcame me and I had to sit on a bench by the bridge for a moment. Actually, probably longer than a moment. This was the point where I believe I finally turned on my phone's internet so I could send some messages to friends. This is one of those times when friends in different time zones really helped. Having found those messages, a quick update on how I was feeling, "My legs and everything are fine. Just my feet are a bit achey and I'm really really tired." Nicole provided much need encouragement, while Natalia pointed out that in 5km there was a village with a duck. Off I went to find the duck (spoiler alert, I didn't. I think it may have been a symbol for a wetland area?).
Once I had not found the duck it was time for the next challenge:
Natalia: In 4km you have old may beck and in 5km you have new may beck.
Please tell us the difference between the two
The next 5km were far from my favourite part of the journey. I imagine that during the day this area was lovely, but at night it was through woodland where there were what felt like millions of paths going in different directions. At some point I overtook another runner without even seeing them. I had to turn back on myself multiple times and at one point scrambled partway up a bank before realising I'd gone totally the wrong way. Eventually though I was able to deliver the following:
Old May Beck - lives in a wood. Very confusing. Didn't like her attitude. New May Beck - more modern. Has a road. Has sheep
After confirming that Natalia would not be visiting Old May Beck anytime soon, I was reliably informed that I had 12km left and I could "do this in [my] sleep". Also that, "The last 5km are near the sea and you'll be pumped that you're near the end", "So really, you only have 7km to power through". With a "Holy moly" added in by Nicole for good measure, I was on my way. I was definitely going to finish. Except then came some more bogs. So many, damn bogs. I think these were worse than the ones at Nine Standards for a few important reasons: 1) it wasn't so cold so they weren't frozen and therefore were a lot wetter; 2) I was on my own so falling in water was a lot more demotivating; 3) I was significantly more tired; 4) I was at a point where I really just wanted it to be over so I could have a proper sleep (there's a point like this towards the end of every race no matter how much you enjoy it); 5) "sprinting" to catch the group earlier had caught up with me and I felt like I had a shin splint forming. So, between jogging/plodding between bogs I finally caved and did what I hate doing - I popped a painkiller. Worked a charm though. By the time I finally escaped the bogs and hit the road to go through the last village before the sea my shin was feeling ok. I could run!
As predicted by my two wise friends, I hit the shore at almost exactly sunrise. What perfect timing! The route cut through a caravan site right before getting onto the cliffs where I saw an Irish runner who I'm pretty sure was mid-hallucination. To be honest, I had my doubts about leaving him. The edge of a cliff didn't seem a great place to be having hallucinations, but it became obvious that my presence wasn't helpful (or possibly even acknowledged as real), so I plodded on at a slightly faster pace. Despite having travelled almost 300km at this point, somehow my legs found it in them to run the whole way along the rolling hills of the coastpath. I guess the views helped quite a lot, the painkillers played their part for sure, and the knowledge that 5km really is less than an hour. So damn close!
Finally the footpath turned away from the sea, inland towards Robin Hood's Bay. A small group of volunteers were waiting at the top of the hill and ran down with me to the finish line on the beach. I am more than a little impressed that I was able to run down that hill, I guess relief played a big roll there. Mum, Jonathan and Trevor (the dog) were all there to meet me. The pebble I'd picked up was no longer in my pack, presumably it was somewhere along the route feeling a bit out of place. Luckily the tide was not too far out, so I didn't have to go far to dip my toes in the sea. And that was it. Done. We (slowly) walked back up the hill to get a cup of tea and a sandwich, before driving to some friends of my parents where I (after a long shower mostly due to the very white sheets on their beds) fell fast asleep for a solid few hours. What a polite guest!
So that was it. 300(ish)km (190miles) run in just under four days. It was an incredible adventure and honestly one of the most fun races I have ever done. When I started it was with the assumption that I will be unlikely to come back and do it again, but to be quite honest if I am in the UK at the beginning of April again I will definitely be back. It would also be nice to volunteer someday. The volunteers were such a great, friendly, funny group of people, it would be a pleasure to be part of their team. The organisers and everyone working on the race deserve all the thanks in the world. Well, maybe all the thanks except for the following...
If you have read this far I hope that the ending of this acts as as big of an anti-climax as the ending of most races and adventures I have been on. But before I do go, one last quick note. From 100km onwards, at every aid station there was a receipt printed out with all the messages of support runners had gotten from friends and family. I had posted about the run online and told basically everyone I met in the months leading up to it about it, but I had really not expected the support I got. At every aid station I got a whole list of messages, some of which were heartfelt, many of which were funny, all of which helped to get me up and back out the door. I probably shouldn't have left this until the final paragraph, by which point I'm sure you've all given up reading, but thank you to everyone for the support along the way. In the dead of night, in the middle of a field or dodging a bog or windswept on the moor, every single message meant the absolute world. Thank you!
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