Where to start this one? Back in April when I ran my first? Or back in January where Anglesey marathon was cancelled? No let’s start on the Friday, the day when I woke up and realised I was in trouble. I had contracted the noravirus from work and this meant the rest of my day would be in bed playing the worst patient ever for poor Nikki. I will spare you the gory details of this virus but have a quick check under sickness and diarrhoea to get the jist of it.
This meant that my marathon 13 in 13 was in real trouble. After all the toeing and throwing of arranging transport and accommodation, my race partner Mat Simister coming then not coming and then coming again plus becoming very sick on the Friday, would I finally succumb to the dreaded illness and gain my first DNS. However, on Saturday morning after a day of bed rest I got up and walked the dog to the Congleton park run, I couldn't see any Striders there, just a load of strange looking Santas and the Queen of France draped over by a Jimmy Savile look alike.
On returning home, I felt as if I might manage the trip after all, so with Matt informed and duly arriving at my house at 6pm we set off on our way. First job was to carb load and there's no where better than Pizza Hut apparently. After several aborted attempts on route we finally managed to find one in Middlesbrough just a couple of miles from our bed and breakfast. I had a small pizza and a coke; the bill came to £45 so no guessing what Mat had.
Anyhow despite there being a party on in the hotel, I opted to go to bed for an early night. I soon got to sleep but this was not to remain the case. Firstly the wind, and no not Mat, but the gale force winds coming through the closed window. This wind resulted in our door rattling like a set of teeth in the Antarctic marathon throughout the night. No sooner had we got use to that when next door decided to flush their loo which resulted in a sound akin to a jumbo taking off in our room. Then just to add further insult to the wounds, next door decided to get amorous to make me realise that 2 hours sleep would be more than enough to run a tough marathon!!!
So off to the start line we went, in to the scout hut and waited our instructions from the Hardmoors staff. Mat opted to buy yet another bit of equipment (an ultra vest) whilst I mingled and met lots of my newly acquired online friends.
Soon we were ready to go, and with Mr Hardmoors (John Steele) giving a shout off we went. The race began in strong winds and consisted of a steep climb at the start. Soon I could see Mat running off in to the distance and settled in to my own goals. At this point and with only about 2 miles gone, I knew I was in trouble. I was struggling big time, a day of real bad illness and a lack of sleep over the past 72 hours had taken its toll. For the first time in any race, I had decided that I would have to retire. I agreed to run to the first checkpoint and see about getting back. The first CP was in the middle of nowhere and a quick chat with the guy suggested that I might be better to run to CP 2 at 4.5 miles. So on the way there I saw this mountain, this was Roseberry topping itself, I was almost dead and now really struggling but just thought "I will run up to the topping so I can say I done it, and then back to the CP to retire". I reached the summit of Roseberry and the view was lovely, however, just to give readers an idea, you could not stand and admire for long as you simply would of been blown off as the wind was that strong.
The wind was a killer string cold and brutal and the terrain was really exposed, at this point I truly felt like crying and probably did, but being a man, I would never admit that would I. On arriving at CP4 I decided enough was enough, I went around the back of the support vehicle and started being sick. Given some doughnuts and a few jelly babies as well as a glass of coke, I thought about carrying on to the next CP and giving up there. Although there were other small manned CPs on the route the next major one was at 23.5 miles, getting there was going to be tough very tough but I would try. I began moving with pain in my knee and a sick feeling remaining in my stomach, another runner ran with me to keep me going and I found this very helpful but yet again we were to be faced with moorland but on a positive note I had now perfected the art of being sick and running at the same time. Hilly moorland wet and muddy and with nothing to see for miles around. I thanked the guy for running with me but told him to head on and I would keep moving slowly but surely. He was rather concerned as I was being sick at regular intervals but having explained to him that I had all the correct equipment in my bag he agreed to continue. I reached the final checkpoint swaying from side to side and in desperate pain from my knee and stomach. On arrival the marshal said I had only 4 miles to go and the next mile was on the road, but I knew that this was a Hardmoors event and that would mean it would be more like 8 miles than 4.
At this point though I thought even if I was forced to walk, I could still avoid a DNF and opted to carry on moving so off I went. So off I went and soon I was off the road and running across more moorland, and probably the worst moorland yet. Tough wet cold and extremely windy was the remaining order for the day but after another 4 miles of this, I saw woodland. This woodland was Guisborough woods and I knew this would mean the last struggle. However, it wasn't to be the last struggle, just the beginning of another.
As I came up a hill I came across 4 young lads about to move some of the route marking tape, they saw me and made out they were just messing. However, when I reached the top of another big climb I saw some tape, unfortunately the tape went in two directions, I took a 50/50 guess and guessed wrong. I was now running in completely the wrong direction; with over 29 miles already completed I was now running away from the finish following tape that had been placed by some mischievous youths. By the time I checked my map and realised what had happened, I was in dark cold wet and windy woods with darkness falling. I saw a man walking his dog, after giving me a lecture about how to pronounce Guisborough he walked me about 2 further miles back to the course.
Eventually after about a 4 mile detour I found the path back and began running the 1/2 mile back to the club house. I arrived back to a mat waiting and a round of applause from those already finished.
I reflected on what I had achieved, not the 13 in 13 but the sheer brutality of the run I had just completed.
Out of all the races I had completed previously, and this includes some very tough ones, this had tested me. Not just because of how hard the terrain and weather was but because 2 days prior I was in my sick bed and I had had so little sleep. Sometimes we test ourselves, this was one of those times, a time whereby I had wanted to give up and even raised the question, but every time I tried something inside said NO keep going PUSH PUSH PUSH. I tested myself to the limit of what was available within my resistance, I had been sick, disorientated, cold, wet, hungry, lost, battered by wind but I had managed it.
I've ran events before whereby I have simply been tested, but this one taught me more about myself than I ever knew previously. But of course it did, after all it was a Hardmoors event, it's not meant to be easy. Mileage covered was 33.65 miles time taken 7 hours 15, although unlike many, I reached all the checkpoints. And for some strange reason I decided it was time to test myself in the Hardmoors 55 in March...
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Paul N.
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