Digested read: Last saturday, I hurtled round Hathersage. I say ‘hurtled’ but what I actually mean is I walked, but for 20 miles (ish), and you know what, it was lovely! Corker of an event with fabulous views and the option of eating your body weight in cake (vegan options available). Pathologically friendly organisers, cheery marshals, good parking, guaranteed sunshine* and you can either run or walk depending on your preferences – though you do need to decide in advance. What’s not to like? Fun** guaranteed! Miss it, miss out. You have been warned.
*maybe not that
**type two fun also available
Saturday 19th May 2018 will be immortalised in history due to event memorabilia. Quite right too, mementos of special events are to be treasured. I went home after this one with one of these:
Whilst I’d be the first to concede orange isn’t really my colour, I still consider this vestment infinitely more wearable than the alternative event’s souvenir clothing options.
Apart from anything else, I don’t know where you’d be able to pin your race number? There is a bikini option available as well to be fair, but I doubt that it would provide the same level of support as a proper sports bra, so that’s a definite ‘no’ from me. I’m sure the merchandise marketers will be devastated to hear this. Still, I care little for their feelings, I knew where I’d rather be.
So, on this auspicious day t’was the Hathersage Hurtle. It’s only the second time this even has taken place, so I reckon I can be forgiven for being a bit vague about what I’d signed up for in advance. I signed up for it back in February sometime, blooming ages ago, without particularly concentrating. In the way that many of us do sign up for events in the midst of winter, fondly imagining by the time they come round we will have trained to a peak of fitness that was previously beyond our wildest imaginings. ‘Oh that’s ages away’ I must have thought, ‘I’ll have smashed the London marathon by then’ I must have elaborated, ‘recovered from it too! Yep, go me and a 20 mile trail run with 2,500 foot of ascent. What could possibly go wrong? It need hold no fear for me.‘ What actually happened was I completely forgot I entered. I did get around London, but it was very hot, and afterwards my shins were very ouchy (which for the record might not be an official medical term, but most certainly should be). Consequently, I’d only really done a parkrun in the weeks that followed, and then when I vaguely registered that I had entered this Hathersage Turtle thingamajig, I initially fondly imagined it would be just a nice little trail trot round some picturesque paths somewhere, 4 miles tops. I nearly had heart failure when a bit of research told me that I’d actually signed up for this:
The Hathersage Hurtle is an exciting new event in the Hope Valley, covering 20 miles and 2,500 feet of ascent, a challenging course that you can run or walk. It will start and finish in Hathersage with walkers setting off before a mass start for the runners at 10am. There will behot drinks available at the start and lovely home-baked cakes at the finish.
Ooops. Then again, there was a walking option. I decided running wasn’t really on the cards for me, ouchy shins and all, so got in touch with the organisers, who for the record are absolutely lovely. Well the one who wrote to me was, I suppose I should treat that as illustrative evidence not necessarily conclusive proof that they all are. … anyway, she basically told me that London was all well and good, but this event would have better views and more cake, plus, no problem with joining the walkers if I wished. Hurrah, that’s what I’d do then. Plus, I’d get my t-shirt. That’s the thing about knowing which events to sign up to, it helps if you have sufficient insight to understand what motivates you. Failing that, it helps if the organisers use their skill and judgement to lay on the most populist lowest common denominator to draw participants in, which increasingly – I’m glad to say – has been shown to be cake. The only downside of all this was that the event takes place on a Saturday, so that would mean sacrificing parkrun, but hey ho, parkrun is here to stay, and I can get my fix again next week. Bring it on.
The day dawned, glorious sunshine. It was going to be a scorcher. It was a bit weird going to a run event as a walker, but good weird. Zero pressure, in fact, I was a bit too chilled about it, and on the morning suddenly realised I’d not packed up my running belt. I had no idea about water stations, or kit. I was expecting it to be hot out there, but equally, it’s exposed and conditions can change quickly. At woodrun on Thursday, where I joined runners for coffee without having done the run bit first, we were talking about risks on the fells. Only a couple of weeks ago a Polish runner died doing a recce for the Bob Graham, despite being an experienced runner who’d set off with a companion, but they’d got separated. I wasn’t expecting this scenario to unfold on Stanage Edge, but I did think it was only fair to respect the kit requirements. So I filled up my water bottles, stuck in some naked bars, dug out a whistle, and dredged out my windproof jacket just in case. So equipped I headed off in time to register ahead of the 8.00 a.m. walking start.
Oh wow. Even the drive over to Hathersage lifted my spirits. It was just breath-taking scenery along the way. What with all my London Marathon training (have I mentioned at all that I did that this year? Oh I have. Really?) I’ve been concentrating on flatter routes, specifically the Monsal Trail. I’ve missed being out in the peaks proper. Yes, it’s a challenge dragging my weary carcass up them there hills, but the views that reward you are truly spectacular. Not going to lie though, it is a lot easier driving up to the high points than it is making your way up on foot. This was just taken en route to the meet up point:
I got a bit lost on the way, as the instructions had only given a grid reference, and not a post code. I used the sat nav and the postcode S32 1BA to get to the David Mellor Cutlery Factory instead, and arrived just about 7.15. – the event HQ was just adjacent. There were people milling about in high viz and a huge orange banner up proclaiming the event. The car park was in a field, still occupied by cows. Some marshals shooed them gently to the other end of the field, and then opened the gate to let me in – I was the first person to park up. The cows just ignored us, which was good. There have been a series of recent attacks on runners and walkers by cattle turned out in the Limb Valley which has made me a bit wary. I know they are protective of their young, but it’s not a great mix having aggressive cattle grazing where footpaths pass through. Still, no point in fretting about leg three of the Round Sheffield Run just yet, plenty of time for that later… These bovines were fine and dandy.
I sat in the car faffing for a bit, and soon a few other early birds rocked up. The two next to me were brandishing nordic walking poles, and they were clearly quite a boon, as they powered by me later on when the event was underway. After a bit I crossed over the road to register.
There were lots of marshals to assist you over the road. There wasn’t much traffic. I wistfully wished they’d had proper lollipop sticks for the occasion, but alas, that was too much to hope for. Maybe an innovation for next year. Not because it’s actually necessary, but because the notion pleases me. I’m thinking more giant actual lollipops a la Willie Wonker, rather than the traditional ‘lollipop lady’ offering, but either would do.
This event was incredibly well organised. There was an army of pathologically friendly marshals and helpers to get you registered. This involved having your name ticked off an alphabetical list, and being issued with a wrist band with inbuilt dibber oojamaflip. Then you could go to another marshal, who was responsible for issuing of t-shirts to those who had pre-ordered them. There were loads though, so you could buy one if you wanted to afterwards. The shirts weren’t technical, but they were unique. The back having been designed by a presumably local, child. ‘Keep running’ indeed!
It was all very efficient. There was a women’s changing room, and presumably a men’s too somewhere. There was no officially supervised bag drop, but you could leave your stuff in the changing area which I did. It didn’t look like anyone else had, but to be fair the car park was so near, if you were worried, you could have easily left things in your vehicle if you’d driven or been driven by your chauffeur if you are the sort of runner who has staff. Though I suppose logically, if in the latter category, your staff would watch your bag anyway? I don’t know. Look, just stop fretting about the bag issue, it was fine. There were also portaloos for those of us who require a precautionary pee, and with the walkers as there was a leisurely starting window (you could head off anytime between 8.00 and 9.00) there were no queues at this stage either which was a first. Later I think for the runners there was more of the traditional queuing. However, I always think that’s a grand opportunity to make new friends via idle running chit-chat, and part of the traditional build up to any event.
Putting on my number was a bit of a trauma. They were ENORMOUS. Trying to find a space to accommodate it what with my running belt and my jacket round my waist as well was a challenge. A few people, with higher IQs than me, thought to fold it down to size and my walking buddy for the day pinned it on her shorts, that was smart. I have no idea why they were so spectacularly super-sized, perhaps they are still experimenting with what is to be their USP for this event. Last year I understand it was a vintage tractor display en route in the form of the Annual Castlegate Tractor Run, but they weren’t able to pull that off again this year for some reason. I think seeing all those machines chugging by would have been splendid, but apparently it was less so for runners trying to manoeuvre around them. Light weights! Part of the joy of trail running is the encounters with the unexpected surely…
All sorted eventually, I figured I might as well head off at 8.00, which is when the walkers were officially allowed to start. By happy coincidence another injured smiley was also walking, so we agreed to pootle round together, by which I obviously mean ‘stride out purposefully’. I was a bit worried I’d hijacked her planned contemplative walk, but she seemed not to mind, and it was good fun having company on the way round. Walking this distance is very different from running it though. Apart from the very obvious ‘not being required to run’ element, the interactions along the way are different. When I run, I tend to find I strike up brief conversations with other similarly paced runners as we sort of leap-frog each other on the way round. (Just to be clear, I mean metaphorically as in shifting our positions relative to one another, not literally as in seeking a competitive advantage by bounding over their bent backs). This means that, in theory at least, you should never be stuck with a runner or they with you other than by choice. You can strategically sprint off, or, if that is beyond your physical capabilities, drop back and let them stream ahead to allow a tactful parting of the ways. Walking is different, because once you are with a walker of a similar pace, you are likely to stay with them throughout, depending on either your luck or judgement, you may find yourself in for a very long day.
Another friendly marshal (honestly, friendly marshals were ten a penny at this event, and that’s not even counting the cake wielding ones we encountered en route) mustered the walkers that were ready for off, and we after being dibbed out (which I nearly forgot to do which would have been a catastrophe as it’s a well-known fact that if you didn’t dib it didn’t happen) we were led across the road again and waved off on our way.
It was a very sedate start. Maybe because of this, I completely forgot to turn my tomtom on, until about a mile in, which was irritating, as it is another well-known fact that if a run/walk isn’t on Strava then it didn’t happen either. Oops. Walkers sort of drifted off whenever they wanted, which is quite unlike the mass start the runners had later. The photos for that looked fab!
It felt really odd walking. To be honest, initially I felt a bit of a fraud wearing a race number ‘just’ to walk. However, I got over that pretty quickly. It was really nice to just be able to walk and enjoy the views. Being amongst walkers was a very different experience. Many seem to do a lot of these long distance walking challenges and were kitted out with walking boots and backpacks as opposed to our rather lightweight running gear. Some had come from quite far afield to attend. I’m sure someone said they’d come from Wales, but maybe I imagined that. People did most definitely stride out. Some had donned their orange tee-shirts. There were a fair few couples holding hands. Well, I’m assuming they were couples, maybe they’d just got on really well after bumping into one another at registration and were just going to see how it went from there.
It was rather sweet, the amount of unashamed hand holding going on, don’t tend to see that at running events, unless it’s a trail race and a running club member has paused to try to haul a fellow runner out of a bog say, but that’s not really the same. Also, I think we all know that the first reaction to seeing a fellow runner face plant into a bog is to laugh and point and then maybe take a photo or two before proffering a hand of support. It’s what we runners expect, it’s fine, all part of the fun. You must have seen the belly laughs that go on when runners fall in the rivers at the Trunce say? They look like they are laughing and pointing, but they are doing so supportively and with affection. Honestly.
As always, I had no idea where we were. I did print off a map, but honestly, it wasn’t all that detailed, though it gave a general idea of the places we’d pass through.
Having a map with me was all very well, but I hadn’t brought my prescription glasses with me, so it was more cosmetic than practical assistance. Not to worry though, I basically outsourced navigation. By keeping other walkers in sight, we didn’t really have to navigate as such at all. There were marshals at key junctions, and on the rare occasions where we didn’t have anyone to follow because we’d stopped for a natter with marshals and lost sight of others ahead say, there were red and white ties to follow. I gather a few people did do unplanned detours, but one of those was due to someone deliberately laying a false trail. I’ve got caught out by that at my first ever fell race. Came in behind the sweeper at the Wingerworth Wobble! Oops. It happens. As a walker finding your way was fine, as a runner if you ended up on your own I’d say it was still probably fine. Which is good enough, you only really need to worry if you are in the lead I reckon, which has never happened in my universe.
It was a hot, hot day. This route is definitely lovely, but somehow achieves what should logically be impossible, it appears to be almost all uphill. True to terrain, we therefore immediately started onward and upward. I was very relieved not to be running. We were heading out just after 8.00 and it was already pretty warm, by the time runners left at 10.00 ish it would be a lot less fun in soaring temperatures. For we walkers though, this was ace. We could stop and admire the view, we could take pictures. Excellent.
Although we were but walking, we didn’t miss out on the official photographer. As my running buddy observed we tried to finesse our shot with mixed success, resulting in an image that was both hideous and awesome – I think that is fitting, as this is what much of running feels like to me as well. Others did rather better at nailing their race photo poses. I consider our effort to be very much work in progress. Can you guess which is which of these two offerings? One features more experienced photo posers, the other me and my Smiley compatriot…
I know – easy to tell the shots apart really because of the Smiley Vest! Outed. You get the idea though.
So we headed out, and we basically walked and talked. Topics of conversation were many and varied. Of particular interest to you as a fellow runner dear reader, was the one about missing toenails. I’ve never lost a toenail through running. I don’t care that apparently it doesn’t really hurt. The very idea horrifies me. However, I had a
rare moment of insight on our walk. Maybe I don’t lose toenails, because the arthritis in my feet means my toes don’t bend and flex properly. Thus, they can’t rub against my shoes the way ‘normal’ feet do. I wonder if this is true, or Lucy Logic, a phrase which encompasses things I believe to be true based on my subjective experience. Theoretically, I understand that these things may not be, but I will hang onto these views until I receive absolute evidence to the contrary. I believe most people have their own variants of this outlook, irrespective of whether or not they choose to ‘fess up to it. Another Lucy Logic view, I may yet be sucked into a vortex of my own self-perpetuating logic if this continues. Well, you have to go somehow.
It was so nice to be out and about, and without the angstyness of trying to run when the body protests. Our nordic walking friends powered past us at one point, despite being delayed at the start because one of them had left their dibber in the car. They were a good advert for trying these. I’m beginning to wonder if I ought to start to experiment with the now I have ouchy shins and a new pained knee to match.
To be perfectly honest, for me the main difference between walking at an event and running at an event, is that I got to do all the things I normally do: pause to admire the view; stop to chat to marshals; stop to take photos; stop because I’m tired; chit-chat to passers-by; chit-chat to other runners; stop because I’m having a drink – you get the idea – but whereas when in a running event I feel bad because I ‘shouldn’t’ do these things, when you are walking it’s considered completely legitimate. It’s basically a pass to enjoy yourself, and not feel like every step taken at a walk marks you out as a failure as a runner and therefore as a human being.
We got official stops too. Like when we got dibbed by marshals.
All the marshals were fantastic. Soooooooooooo friendly and encouraging. Granted, it probably helped that it was a gloriously sunny day, but I do think that either they were a product of some captive breeding programme whereby they’d been selectively chosen for friendly temperaments, or at the very least they all went through some sort of vigorous recruitment programme to check they could do jovial small talk, clapping, cheering, congenial laughter and directional pointing. Basically, all those I met would be great as marshals at junior parkrun, and I can give no greater compliment or vote of confidence in their skills than that. Thank you all.
They were indeed stationed at strategic points, let the records show extra blue arrows were in place to assist with navigation. These were a bit like the red arrows, only with less ability to fly and a bit quieter, but otherwise indistinguishable. Despite this large blue arrow, and the presence of two smiley marshals, me and my Smiley compatriot did try to head off down the hill and had to be called back and waved down the narrow path in the right direction. A good example of user error to be fair. It’s obvious now, but I could well imagine romping on down that hill had the marshals not been in place, despite the clear marking! I’m glad we were put back on track, because this particular shaded path led to the first feed station. It was indeed laden with more cakes than you could shake a stick at. Carefully labelled, and with vegan options too. From memory there were also bananas and of course, lots of water. It was amazing, like turning up at the cake table at a school fete. Loads of options. Granted, a bit more tray bake (think brownies and flapjacks) rather than multi-tiered iced ones, but certainly a few with sprinkles on top. You had to resist the temptation to consume your body weight in cake before moving on. I’ve never seen so much. Extraordinary. Top work Hathersage Hurtle bakers.
Taking note of some curious features en route, we walked and talked on. The next surprise was a check point with a Smiley in situ. She’d pretty much put together a bespoke pack of goodies. We could pick and choose – there were crisps there was fruit. We lingered and ate satsumas. Well, probably not actual satsumas, but some sort of sweet citrus fruit that was lovely. There was also a really nice dog. Took time to say hello to s/he too.
I didn’t really know where we were, but fortunately my walking mate was game to get out the map periodically, peruse it and report back to me. Is it bad that I giggled at the news we’d just been (in) Shatton at one point? Yep, probably, but hey ho, I’d never heard of it. We wandered over a bridge, some lovely marshals helped direct us over a road and waved us on, and then, oh good! More going up hill!
Honestly, because it was 20 miles, it’s all a bit of a blur. Don’t really know where I was when various photos were taken, but I do know that it all went quickly. There were some official ones of me and my buddy – photos were made available for free on the Hathersage Hurtle Facebook page after the event, and they were good too, not necessarily flattering of course, that would be too much to hope for, but taken by professionals who’d given up their time to do so, and some other injured runners who’d been out supporting on the way round and also captured the occasion. I love that. I love reliving events by browsing all the photos after the event. It’s probably a runners equivalent of watching daytime TV, but feels more justifiable somehow. Lucy Logic I daresay. This snap shows the number issue though, I could have learned from my partner had I but realised it at the time! Also, check out our jazz hands. I know, epic.
We were on a road section, going up hill when some of the lead runners started to storm past us. A few had the grace to look like they were really digging deep, but others looked fresh as anything, with lovely relaxed form as if they’d only just started out. I like watching faster runners, I don’t often get a chance to do so. We stopped to clap them on their way, and the overwhelming majority thanked us or at least nodded acknowledgement, it was all very friendly. One thing I did notice though, is how few of the runners I recognised. Normally there are many familiar faces from Sheffield parkruns or local races, but this event, maybe because of its distance, or maybe because it’s relatively new, or maybe because it’s a bit further out (not much though really) seemed to draw on a different area. There was good contingent of Porter Valley Plodders, a few Smilies of course, inevitably some Striders, but lots of other club represented that I didn’t recognise. Barnsley Harriers were there too. This club is well-known for being lovely. It’s a Lucy Logic thing again, but definitely FACT. There were a lot of runners not wearing club vests too, which was rather refreshing actually. I tried to snap some photos of runners flying past. They aren’t great, the photos I mean, not the runners, the runners were all exceedingly great, but I was showing willing.
After what seemed like near endless hot tarmac, we finally got to head out onto the moors and via a feed station positively groaning with cake, on and up to the first of the edges.
It was blooming lovely. I felt a bit sorry for the actual ‘proper’ runners who had no time to linger and debate which of the many and varied items of confectionery they wished to indulge in. I also felt quite excited, because this part of the route is so spectacular. Again, because we were walking not running, instead of feeling the pressure of a hill, it was just the challenge of going up in the knowledge that you’d be rewarded with stunning views ahead. What’s more, as walkers we’d be able to stop and admire them. Runners, even if they stopped, probably wouldn’t be able to see as their eyes would be stinging with the sweat that’s run off their fevered brows, and the exertion would have had their eyes bulging out of their sockets as well, so they’d have to shove them back in again before they could even begin to focus. I’ve decided I’m quite a convert to this walking malarkey, way less stressful! Some people opted to sit at the side of the roads to cheer runners by. I’m not sure if they actually knew participants, or were just soaking up the mood in the sun. Either is possible, both desirable.
So finally we were up top. How gorgeous was that!
We were just calculating when the first Smiley runners should be coming through, right on cue, one appeared. We distracted her to the point she stopped, but she was fairly sprinting until we interrupted. Go Smiley!
Other runners started coming through fast and furious. It’s a fantastic run route on Stanage Edge, it made me realise I really must make the effort to get out and explore it again. It’s technical enough to be fun boulder hoping without being terrifying, this can be a tricky balance in seeking trail routes hereabout in my experience.
It was extra fun when we espied people we knew, and even more fun, when I got one doing a star jump en route. Result! She’s not known as a running super star in these parts for nothing!
Excellent and effortless fell running technique there.
Onward we went, and eventually a bit of down to get to Burbage Bridge. Here there was an unofficial water station as some enterprising marshals had got out an extra-large water bottle to draw on. It was most welcome. This was back on familiar ground, so the miles passed quickly. It felt to me like we were nearly home, though to be honest we weren’t really.
So you emerge the far end of the path, cross a road, and then into some welcome shade skirting the Longshaw Estate and taking in Padley Gorge. Astonishingly, I’ve never actually done this path before. It was pretty heaving with picnickers and families splashing about in the water. It was green and glorious. I hope the litter got taken away afterwards though, there have been some grim posts showing the litter left after hot days in our local beauty spots. Sad but true. For me, one of the best things about the Hathersage Turtle – as I’ve decided to call the walk option, is that I began to appreciate how various parts of the area link up. I’ve done separate smash and grab walks from say Burbage, or Longshaw, or even Hathersage, but hadn’t appreciated how close they all are to each other. It was most educational. It was also astonishingly picturesque.
Stunning as it was, and nice as you might think it would be to go downhill, the mottled light effect through the trees, coupled with the gnarly tree roots, made for ankle breaking territory. Although some did come through pretty fast, rather more reeled it back a bit. We did see one runner take a tumble, though they seemed to get up again, not just a Chumbawamba tribute act but a way of living. Gorgeous out though.
Out again onto road, then off again past an abandoned, but very beautiful stone building.
Nope, can’t remember what it was called, even though there was a sign, and I made a conscious effort to try to remember. Can anyone explain why I can recall in infinite details moments of excruciating embarrassment at primary school, but can’t tell you what this mahoosive stone building is that I saw but a couple of days ago? Actually, maybe don’t explain why, I might not like what you have to say.
Anyways, past there, with its fine door, and then into more woodland, with the end of bluebells carpeting the floor, and sploshes of a beautiful white woodland flower interspersed amongst them. This route takes in everything. We emerged into a field with some fairly nonplussed looking sheep. I think the expression was nonplussed, to be honest I find sheep expressions quite hard to read. They can be quite enigmatic, don’t you agree?
Pretty much the end in sight now! We saw one runner seated with a foil blanket round them, she looked OK, but obviously wasn’t carrying on. A marshal/ medic was sitting alongside murmuring soothing words, so no extra help was needed. Just a bit of road, and suddenly we were back where we’d started, having had a lovely time walking round in one ginormous 20 mile(ish) – slightly under in fact – circle. This is a lot more fun and a lot less pointless than I am perhaps making it sound! I paused to say hello to a run director from junior parkrun who was there supporting her partner, go him. Also, took the opportunity for a Boris hello, because you can’t not really. The thing is, I don’t consider myself a ‘dog’ person as such, but I do know one or two canines I hold in high esteem. Obviously Tilly is top dog, but Boris is a fine pooch too. Not just puppy love.
Hilariously, as we entered the football field event HQ, we did a sort of emergency stop at the lined red and white taped finish funnel. I don’t know what was going through our minds, but I think it was because we were walking not running, it didn’t feel right to go into it, so we got thoroughly confused about where to finish and ended up wandering over to the run director/ finish timer, who was mortified to have missed us coming in… erm, think I might know how that happened. Gutted to have missed out on a sprint finish. Oh well, there’s always next year…
All done, there were lots of options. More cake, in case you weren’t already caked out as well as flaked out. Tea/ coffee for participants, water, obviously, ice cream for sale. Also there were burgers, including veggie options and even beer! It was lovely and sunny, and it had a sort of festival feel. It was lovely. I had water, and coffee and then bought an ice cream, and we sat and watched other runners coming in. We were wandering where our smiley runner friends were, as we’d expected them to overtake us on the way round, but they never showed. On the plus side though, this meant we got to cheer them in. Hurrah! One scooped up one of her offspring for an emotional run in, isn’t that lovely?
They came in looking really strong! They’d clearly romped round effortlessly!
Only they hadn’t. Debrief people, debrief!
Long story short, the heat had taken its toll. Still, lessons were learned, maybe don’t try electrolytes for the first time on race day, and also, it’s true, sometimes you will feel better after throwing up your entire stomach contents on Stanage Edge, but that doesn’t mean it’s necessarily the best idea to press on. I think it was tough out there. I empathised. London marathon (did I mention I did that at all? Oh I did already? OK) was crazily hot with no water for miles and miles, and that did mightily impact on the fun quotient of the day. Even so, they got round, but I sensed a sentiment of ‘unfinished business’ for some. The thing about running is, well you know, it’s complicated. We were unanimous in our praise for organisation, friendly marshals, stunning locations. Think with the heat though, the walkers had type one fun and the runners would be experiencing type two. It happens. Lots of smiley faces in the post run chill zone though. Happy people.
It was nice sitting and chatting, and watching the runners come in. At one point the run director came over to check out everyone was OK and was sharing thoughts about the day. Apparently they got a bit caught out with the dibbers, because they hadn’t anticipated that some of the people who headed out with the walkers were intending to run/walk, and so they got to the first check point ahead of when expected and before the marshals were in place. I can completely understand that. The run director was most accommodating about this, and I got the impression they might even add this in as an option for next year which, from a selfish point of view would be great. This is quite a tough course, very tough, I don’t know that I’d ever be fit enough to properly run it, so a nice chilled run/walk option would be grand. Having said that, the 7 hour cut off time is generous. Walking it with my Smiley walk and talk buddy took about 6 hours 20 and we were pretty leisurely to be fair. Mind you, there’s always that angst in my head anyway, what if I don’t make the cut off. Leaves me fretting. Oh course elevation and route hang on, it’s here. For the record, that’s a lot of climb.
There was an extra loud cheer for the final finisher, and also a rather fine alpkit spot prize! The third finishing female got an ice-cream, this top was way better!
And that was that, event over.
So, in conclusion, this was a fantastically friendly, well organised and welcoming event. It was a tough course for runners, but surely worth the effort to take on the challenge of such spectacular routes. Personally, I was pleased I went for the walking option, and would thoroughly recommend it. It meant I got to take part despite my ouchy shins, so avoiding for the most part that fate worse than death, the Fear Of Missing Out. However, no question the runners look a bit more impressive in the photos, flying across the gritstone, mustering for the mass start and whooping through the finish. And it felt weird. So I would recommend it, like I said, but next time I’d love to try running – though if it was as hot as this year again then maybe not so much…
For some reason, I think this event went a bit under the radar. It could handle more entrants, and was so friendly and relaxed delivering also in bucket loads with both views and cake. In the case of the cake quite literally. There was no reminder email sent out, which might possibly have contributed to what seemed to me to be more than the usual number of DNS (no shows), but who knows. It is a long way, but the walk option makes it doable for a wider range of people. And walking was still a challenge. It is still a long way and with a lot of up. I found to my cost that my residual fitness levels post the marathon were not as high as I might have wished. Definitely some stiffness the next day, but also that warm glow of satisfaction for having got out and done it, plus I had a good night’s sleep for the first time in months. Can’t put a price on that!
So time to depart, the sun still shining and the mood still high! First to park and one of last two to leave. I do like to get my monies worth at an event clearly.
Oh you want to know the results. Yawn, why are people always so interested in these I wonder. For me it really isn’t about the times, it is about the experience, the people you meet, the micro adventures en route and for this event in particular the astonishing views, super friendly volunteers and astounding quantities of cake! But if you do want to know – maybe to encourage you that this is an inclusive event that embraces the super-speedy at one end of the continuum but celebrates the slow and steadies at the other just as enthusiastically, the Hathersage Hurtle 2018 Results are here. Though to be on the safe side, I reckon they are more likely to exist in perpetuity on the Hathersage Hurtle’s own website, so maybe check in there too. Even so, blooming impressive runner to finish in first place with 2 hours 21 minutes 34 seconds, and bravo to the final finisher walker who got their monies worth for time on the trails in 7 hours, 10 minutes and 38 seconds. What’s more, there was still cake left at the finish line for them too. So maybe, if you are thinking about it, this will encourage you to sign up and take to the trails. See what their banner slogan is? Walk it, run it, love it! This means you!
Thanks to the amazing photographers who turned out on mass to supply loads of high quality and atmospheric photos which you can find under the relevant Hathersage Hurtle albums on the Hathersage Hurtle Facebook page. Thanks to (drum roll of support and expectation followed by sleeve rolling up because there are quite a few to acknowledge) by Phil Sproson Photography, Peak photography project Chris Nowell, Zaf Ali and everyone else who turned out with a camera, and shared their images with such excellence and grace. Love a good race photo, love a bad one too in fact, they are always a great way to relive events afterwards! I say that, but I’m not gonna lie, there are one or two that make me feel like I shouldn’t really venture out in daylight again ever, because it’s just too humiliating to be seen in public. But that’s ok, not long til the summer equinox, and thereafter it’s a well known fact that the nights are drawing in. See you again when the clocks change. I’ll look forward to it.
Thanks everyone, who put in the hard work to make it so! Really hope this gets to be an annual fixture, I’m sure it will, the runes look good…
Same time, same place next year? Would recommend. Be there, or miss out massively, which is the worst feeling in the world ever. This could be you…
So I headed home, and then just as my heart was lifted by the glory of the landscape ahead of me, it was crushed by the sight of not just litter but three, yes THREE discarded BBQ kits by the road side. It makes me so mad. I stopped to clear them up, well, they weren’t going to miraculously disappear otherwise, and it made me feel like I earned my Runners Against Rubbish badge (always a worry).
Why do people do this, and what is it with the fire thing. Especially heartbreaking given how we now know that fires all over the place have killed amphibians, ground nesting birds, all sorts. So depressing. What’s worse is that some fires have been started deliberately, though leaving one of these BBQ trays behind – let alone using them in the first place – seems criminally negligent to me. Check out the Longshaw Estate post about the impact of fire on the landscape and weep.
Gawd, I hate people sometimes, I really do. The damage we do.
Still, let’s not end on a downer. I don’t hate the Hathersage Hurtle people! Au contraire, they were collectively and individually lovely. This was a grand event, and whether you would be going for the Hathersage Turtle option at a more measured pace, or the Hathersage Hurt which requires you to hurl yourself ever upwards to get round as fast as you can, you are sure of a great adventure. Plus, there will definitely be views and cake, I think should cover the most frequently asked questions.
Keep an eye on the Hathersage Hurtle facebook page for more information, so as soon as we have a date you can save the day.
Fun will be had, I promise. It might of course be type two fun, but none the worse for that I’m sure!
See you there!