Digested read: did the Hathersage Hurtle again. It was long. It was fun. I reached my capacity in cake consumption.
Undigested read:
Brace yourself. It’s a long one.
Provocative aren’t they? These Hathersage Hurtle pictorial teasers. All this awaits you. The lure of the peaks, yours for the taking, if you’ll just head off from Hathersage round in a big circle for 20 miles and crack on up and over the 2,800 feet of ascent.
The event blah de blah on the Hathersage Hurtle website describes it thus:
The Hathersage Hurtle is an exciting event in the Hope Valley, covering 20 miles and 2,800 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 be hot drinks available at the start and lovely home-baked cakes at the finish.
and the strava profile looks like this:
The thing is, it didn’t take much persuasion to get me to enter when the bookings went live way, way back in the depths of time. I took part in the Hathersage Hurtle last year, and it was fantastic fun. Fabulous scenery of course, more cake than you could shake a stick at (I’ve just realised, I have absolutely no real idea what that phrase refers to, a google interlude may follow)
and, best of all, super friendly and inclusive. Yep, naturally I’d want to come back and do it all again. Might even go for a walk run strategy this year. What the heck, I’ll properly train. I’ll run the whole thing, I’ll manoeuvre over boulders with agility and confidence of a mountain goat, I’ll scamper up the ascents without breaking a sweat let alone a stride, my descents will exude the grace of an ethereal being, flowing effortlessly down vertiginous drops, what’s more, I shall have flattering race photos to document the occasion at the end. It’ll be grand, what could possibly go wrong and what’s not to like? What an opportunity! I will join hundreds of others on the day who get to do something amazing just by dint of signing up and taking part. Life is great, and the Hathersage Hurtle can once again be the gateway to the peaks and get me out into that fabulous landscape right on the doorstep of Sheffield. You’ve got to want to dive in and explore when you keep being fed with glimpses of possibility and promise like this photo – one of many that kept popping up on the Hathersage Hurtle Facebook page. If you’ve ever reaped the benefits of forest bathing, well, you should know that that experience can be turbo charged when you find yourself leaning into the wind and looking out from the top of Stannage Edge. The scramble to the top of is an inherent part of the experience. A day out in the peaks is never a wasted day, rather a rich seam of micro-adventures and awesomeness. Yay! Bring it on!
That was the feeling on entering. Which, on reflection, I probably did sitting on the sofa clutching a mug of tea, possibly eating toast as I did so. It’s ages away… it’ll be fine.
However, in the interests of full disclosure, as the date came closer for this year, I found that life, the universe and everything had derailed a lot of things, including running training, or indeed any exercise very much at all, I had a bit of a gulp and reality check about my experiences on the 2018 event. Now, don’t get me wrong, I did really enjoy it. But, it does mean I knew what I’d signed up to. Specifically, it turns out, 20 miles is actually a really long way, and 2,800 feet is actually quite a lot of ascent. 777 metres of ascent according to my friend’s Strava of the route (which I know isn’t a direct mathematical conversion but Strava never lies). Point is, you need to respect them there hills. Don’t be drawn in by the old ‘it’s just an uphill flat section‘ and definitely don’t buy the well intended but misguided comments from those ‘supporting’ en route who cheerily declare ‘all down hill from here!’ as they point the route ahead which looks suspiciously like it might be heading upwards… You might benignly decide these are well meant motivational phrases intended to encourage you onward. That might be true. Indeed it probably is. However, you should be aware that I can say from direct personal experience that I do hold a sneaking suspicion that some only feel confident enough to say this to you because they judge – correctly – that once you have confirmed just how misleading their guidance was, it’s too late to do anything about it. Be honest, who’s going to retrace their steps 5 miles just to remonstrate with them about the accuracy of their advice on the terrain and topography ahead because then they’d have to hoik yourself up those ascents and repeat those 5 miles all over again. Not going to happen. Then again, they could probably have another dibs at the feed stations if they did so, so not an entirely pointless endeavour… Point is, those hills are pretty unforgiving on the untrained calf muscles. What’s more, when you do finally get to the sections from where it is indeed ‘all down hill‘ if not from here, then at least for a fair old bit, you find that actually going down hill can be hard on the legs too… I think signs along the lines of these are possibly the way forward. It’s all about managing expectations.
Now don’t get me wrong, it’s a great route, but it is tough, and whereas last year I’d done a fair bit of distance running and preparation ahead of the Hurtle, this year I just hadn’t. Oops. I do love the route, and it was such a positive experience last time round, but I was having a few second thoughts about rocking up and trying to blag it on so little training. Time to withdraw, maybe defer – do they allow that? Don’t know, that would clearly be the most sensible.
But here’s the thing. FOMO. Fear of missing out. It’s powerful. Also, it slowly dawned on me, that, as previously reference, you never regret a day in the peaks. I might be a DNF – do not finish, but even then, probably nobody would care really (in a good way) and there’d still be cake, probably. The real deciding factor though was this woman:
Yep, that would be Nicky Spinks. Fresh from an attempt at the Barkley Marathons (now entering that is genuinely hard to see as a rational choice, not even type 2 fun surely?). I read that the weekend of the Hurtle Nicky Spinks was/is attempting a Double Paddy Buckley Round. In case dear reader it has slipped your mind,
The Paddy Buckley Round is a gruelling 61-mile circuit of 47 mountain peaks in Snowdonia (North Wales), that includes approximately 28,000ft of ascent (a fraction less than the height of Mount Everest from sea level). It was first completed by Wendy Dodds in 1982 and the current record is 17hrs 42mins, set by Tim Higginbottom 10 years ago. Although there is no official time limit set, contenders generally aim to do it in under 24 … If Nicky is to become the first person to complete a Double Paddy Buckley Round she will need to summit all 47 peaks twice (including two visits to Snowdon, the highest mountain in Wales at 3,560ft), cover a total distance of 122 miles and ascend approximately 56,000ft (almost twice the height of Mount Everest from sea level).
I couldn’t even stay awake for 48 hours, let alone climb Everest twice in that time. I mean, she has to tackle this hill, twice.
Anyway, it sort of put in perspective my own self-indulgent angstiness. Granted, it isn’t a fool proof logic, I am not Nicky Spinks (in case you were wondering or confused about this matter in any way). However, she does inspire me. And I do wear inov-8 shoes so that makes us practically interchangeable and indistinguishable from one another. (Though I can’t lie, I’m quite relieved that her sponsors didn’t mix us up and pick me up and cart me off to the start of the Paddy Buckley and then look at me expectantly waiting for me to sprint off just after someone said ‘go‘!) She can’t have replicated doing this challenge in her training, it would break her. My, possibly misguided, logic, tells me if she can take on that seemingly impossible, never previously achieved feat then maybe I can do more than I realise. I’m over thinking it. If I go, I’ll end the day with a great sense of achievement even if that is only consuming my own body weight in cake on the way round. It’s just a long walk really, in a spectacular location, with support, and friendly marshals and, yes, cake.
After all, longer endurance events are, it is said by some, – basically about mental resilience and correct fuelling. That is, ultra running in particular, is essentially an eating competition, according to Sunny Blende, who it turns out is a sports nutritionist and not a type of coffee at all. Strange but true. She gave this
definition of an ultramarathon, “An eating and drinking contest, with a little exercise and scenery thrown in.”
Maybe it’s indeed true that ultra marathons are easier than you think... therefore, 20 miles is but a stroll in the hills by comparison. Take it slow, take in the view. All good.
I’m up for that. Besides, I’m only walking it, that’s just one foot in front of another, and endlessly repeat. There are limits obviously, but there was a bit of me that thought if I don’t try I won’t know, I’m not actually injured, just embarrassingly unfit. I am tenacious, and I’ve not been out for ages, so if I treat the event like basically a day out and a picnic I can probably get around, and even if I don’t it’s not life and death is it. A missed parkrun opportunity granted, but there are other parkruns coming around again each Saturday, I’d have to wait another year for another Hurtle, and suffer the pain of seeing everyone else posting about how fab their adventures were, and muster the good grace to post appropriately admiring and supportive comments through a veil of tears of frustration as an inner voice screams in my head that ‘that should’ve been me!’ What the hell…. I’ll just do it.
Or possibly not. But I would turn up, and I would start, can’t say fairer than that. If I don’t make it round, at least I know there will be lots of cake for comfort eating purposes back at the base afterwards. They think of everything at this event, they really do. Attention to detail is one of its many selling points…
Ok then. Eek. I’m in. I was looking forward to the weekend ahead now. All good indeed.
That’s what these clangers are doing, looking forward to the weekend ahead. I bloody love the clangers, times were simpler back then when the Clangers were new to tv. Imagine that? The test card didn’t rock though, some things are better now. Not Trump obvs, and climate change for starters – but I don’t look back fondly at that scary melting clown thingamajig, made me shudder, and having to wait 15 minutes for the TV to warm up after you turned it on. I know, I’m back doing my oral history talk aren’t I. I’m definitely ageing fast.
Just the little matter of getting organised. The event sent good instructions out by email. A few tweaks on last year. They set up a car sharing database which is a great idea, although I didn’t take advantage of it because I was clueless about my times and likelihood of completing and didn’t want the stress of worrying about someone waiting around for me on top of everything else. They were cutting down on plastic, so you needed to bring your own cup for water stations. Grand idea, and I was already sorted on this, having secured one of those collapsible cup thingies after doing Dig Deep carrying round a ceramic mug with me for 30 miles after only realising at the last minute that I needed something. Honestly, I had soooooooooooooo much ballast in my back pack for that event a mug chucked in alongside the kitchen sink and satellite transmitter in case of emergency, was the least of my concerns, but clearly not ideal. Shoes, easy, always my inov-8.
The morning of the event. Slathered my feet with vaseline, debated endlessly over what top to wear. Long sleeve or short sleeve. I mean I’ll get hot with my pack and going up hill and everything, definitely short-sleeved. But then again, can be cold up there – opening window and sticking arm out there was a distinct nip in the air. Long sleeves that’s my default. Wear that. … But I got so hot just doing parkrun last Saturday. OK, go with short sleeve, that’s the default, that’s what everyone else will be wearing, and you have stuffed you long sleeve rain jacket in just in case, so that’s your back up. Short sleeved it was, phew, always better when a decision is made. Went with my purple volunteering one from parkrun as it has good associations.
Porridge consumed, running vest packed, shoes on. Hang on a minute. What new horror is this? Definite hole in the linings at the back of each shoe, right on the heel, the fabric has given way and there is a teasing glimpse of the white plastic edge within like seeing a bone protruding from through the skin after a compound fracture. Yes, I have seen that, and it’s not a pretty sight and it did make me heave a bit. Same here. I know from bitter previous experience that once that plastic is fully emerged, it’s edge on the heel is like a shard of glass sawing away at your achilles, you have to hope it satisfies itself with just drawing blood and doesn’t go the whole hog and severe your tendon. Oh crappity, crap crap. Haven’t really got other suitable alternatives, I mean it is a fairly roady off-road course, but I do want a bit of traction on the sections that are more technical. My Irocks are amazing for grip but have zero cushioning, so too uncomfortable to wear for the long road bits, more the go to shoe when your life depends on it because of slippery stones and bog. I’d risk my parkclaws. I chucked some compeed blister plasters in my backpack as an afterthought, really though that was classic hope over experience. I’d have zero chance of getting them to stick on my vaseline slathered tootsies. Oh well, too late now, que sera sera…
Off and out the house. Lovely morning, what a day. I headed off towards Hathersage, one of my favourite drives. The route took me down Ringinglow Road and out along Fiddlers Elbow which passes between Burbage and Stannage, both edges included in the Hathersage Hurtle route. How lovely they looked in the mist, ageless and mystical. Hang on a minute, mist. That’s going to be cold and damp up there. Oh crappity crap crap all over again. I should have gone with long sleeves. What was I thinking? Of course it will be cold up there, and I’ll be out for hours I’m so slow, days quite possibly. I did consider turning back for my long sleeved top, but decided against it. I would have had time, but I was sort of committed to my journey now. Too much of a faff. Made me think those arm bandagey things might be a good idea though, all eventualities covered, plus, easy fancy dress costume if you ever want to have a base layer for you mummy costume otherwise created entirely out of toilet paper. Case in point, these mummy creations would have had greater arm mobility if they’d had separately clad arms. Also, top tip, maybe best not to get someone else to wrap the dressings round you or you will indeed end up trussed up and unable to move, winding up (pun intended) desiccated and indeed mummified over time. All completely avoidable, if you’d gone with the running sleeve option and used the loo paper for body wrapping purposes only.
Not sure why you would wear running sleeves and not bother with a top though. That’s curious. Fortunately I have found a whole article on why to wear arm sleeves when running, that takes in UV protection, warmth and making it easier for your running friends to spot you if you go for something especially eye-catchingly ludicrous, particularly when paired with matching clashing calf sleeves too. Good point, well made. I don’t have any though, and am put off by one description of them as ‘a bit like wearing old fashioned thick tights on your arms‘ not a strap line written by a top notch advertising exec I suspect, though it resonates truth. Handy to know. Maybe I should save myself the bother of picking a colour off the internet, and just get busy with a pair of pinking shears and some of the scrunched up, semi-decomposed old tights that are a legacy from office work days, and are probably to be found stuffed down the back of my drawers somewhere, if I bother to excavate. Project for another day. I’m busy crocheting a blanket at the moment (long story) and it’s a close call whether or not it will be finished before I die, so we’ll have to see. Turns out, craft activities aren’t my forte either…
I arrived, stupidly early. The site was all set up though, and high vis marshals aplenty were in situ. Big signs directed you to the car-parking field, which still had sheep in it, and the first impression – as last year – was that this was a fantastically well organised event.
After a bit of faffing, I pottered over the road to the event HQ. It was a hive of activity, even though it was only just 7.15 a.m.. There was a registration tent, loads of portaloos (big tick) promising looking coffee and cake areas, section for children to explore caving and all sorts really.
I hung back a bit whilst the marshals were getting organised, and then joined the registration queue once a few more people had appeared. It was very well set up, you gave your name and were then issued with a watch – like tag which they scanned to register your arrival. I don’t know whether I have particularly sensitive hearing or am just of a nervous disposition, triggered into hyper vigilance because I knew I’d not prepared adequately for the day ahead, but, it was THE LOUDEST BLEEP IN THE KNOWN UNIVERSE EVER. Blimey, there’d be no wondering whether or not your tag had scanned in this event. I’m surprised the scanning marshals hadn’t been issued with safety ear protecting headphones. Maybe that will be one of the tweaks for next year. Oh, I should say about the photos I’m using in this post. Basically, some are mine, and some are from the various expert photographers out and about on the day – who I’ve credited at the end. It’s not too hard to fathom which is which. Basically, if it’s a well-framed, in focus shot, perfectly capturing a characterful face, stunning expansive landscaoe or encapsulating some quintessential atmospheric moment that communicates the very essence of the day, then it is probably not one of my mine. If it’s a slightly blurred snapshot that has inadvertently captured someone in the background in a stage of undress, then it’s probably mine – but not always.
Next stop, tee-shirt gathering. I had pre-ordered one, which was good, as I couldn’t remember whether or not I had, so it was nice surprise. I couldn’t remember what size I had ordered though. There were a few extras for sale on the day, so once they’d put aside the pre-ordered ones, those who came early enough could swap for one of the extras up to a certain point.
I really liked the tee-shirts this year! They were a technical fabric, and looked like this:
Last year they were cotton and looked like this:
Now, don’t misunderstand me. Last year’s t-shirt had a certain idiosyncratic charm, but, setting aside the fact that orange isn’t really my colour, it’s design meant that really it was so special, that it was one I opted to save to wear only for very special occasions. Indeed, occasions so exceptional, I have yet been able to wear it at all. This year’s offer being technical fabric, a more forgiving colour and with a fab design was more my thing. Of course, I hadn’t seen any photos of me wearing it at that point, and wasn’t aware of just how unfortunate the combination of my body shape, choice of bra and the mushroomy colour would look captured by the camera. I’d like to say the pics of me are particularly unflattering, but of course I may have to face up to the horrific realisation I do actually look like that. Running vests don’t help, they are designed for, if not the absolutely flat chested runner, at very least androgynous ones. All that squishing of boobs into a letter box shape is especially unforgiving for pretty much any female runner. Note to self. Never go out in public again wearing a running vest, or if you must, do so only in the hours of darkness. Despite this, the top was comfy enough I decided to wear it there and then, embracing the t-shirt over the long sleeve option, and as there was (astonishingly) no full length mirror on hand in which I could check my appearance before heading out on the trails, I had t-shirt on and number pinned and was none the wiser. Probably for the best.
Oh, whilst I was waiting for the start, I checked out some of the pictures school children had come up with to create posters for the event. Epic.
I still had some time to amble about and have a precautionary pee in the changing room block. This wasn’t entirely a good move, as the loo didn’t have a lock. What it did have though, was that ‘who gives a crap‘ toilet paper that I keep seeing advertised and have been vaguely thinking of buying, but I’m not quite sure about. Not because it’s 100% recycled, I’m sure they aren’t recycling used toilet paper to make it… well pretty sure – but because that’s a lot of toilet paper if it isn’t up to standard. Consequently, I inspected the rolls quite carefully, only to have some poor other punter inadvertently burst in on me mid inspection. She was mortified, I was fine, I have way more humiliating experiences to draw on than that. She looked a bit traumatised, and when I explained about the lock being broken, headed off to the portaloos to avoid being subject to the same levels of exposure I presume.
there was time to make new friends, and enjoy the general ambience. The official photographer was busy taking group shots and risking life and limb to do so. I failed to get a snap of him doing a comedic stumble backwards over a low wall which culminated in a fairly spectacular somersault. His preservation instincts kicked in, and his camera was held aloft in safety throughout, like you sometimes see when people fall over holding a pint, but spill not a drop. Impressive. I wonder if professional photographers do training in that, or whether it is just a gift?
I hooked up with two companionable women who were also walking, and we agreed we start together but feel free to separate when it felt right to do so. It’s too far a distance to commit to doing it alongside someone else in my view, unless you have compelling reasons to do so, like, oh I don’t know, you like each other and wish to spend quality time together. You need to be confident you share the same pace though otherwise I think it’s a recipe for frustration. One person feeling dragged along, the other feeling held back over 20 miles might not end prettily. I feel this particularly acutely, as I’m always telling people I’m slow, and they always say ‘that’s fine’ and then they always either try to hurry me or worse still offer patronising reassurance along the lines of ‘don’t you worry, I’m feeling injured / hungover/ really pathetic today so I don’t mind staying with you!’ Top tip people, that never goes down well and is not supportive, but au contraire dispiritingly undermining. I have lost count of how many times I’ve gone home in tears from events where people have done that. Didn’t happen today though I’m glad to report, and it was indeed really nice to start out together with a couple of awesome and interesting women.
There was a bit of a briefing, not sure if the event director was taking on liquid pre or post briefing, but you do need to keep your vocal chords well lubricated to perform properly in that role, and they would have been up from stupid o’clock getting everything ready so 8.00 a.m. was probably practically supper time for the organising team:
and then off! A fairly sedate start, as we all waited patiently to be bleeped LOUDLY through the gate
You do warm up pretty quickly, so you know what, the t-shirt option was fine. The route was really well marked. I was a bit unsure on that point, because last year I just trotted along with someone else (which worked well, because it was negotiated) and didn’t really notice the signage one way or the other. You start by crossing the road, and it’s an uphill through fields, the photographer already in position to snap walkers heading out at first, and then later the runners, who start en mass at 10.00. Walkers can begin anytime between 8.00 and 9.00. All very civilised.
You start up the hill, and quite quickly you can look back and admire the view, and then you get onto more obviously pathy part, and then tarmac, and then, I’m not gonna lie, an almost 3 mile climb upwards. It was great that the weather was so much cooler than last year, but I think you’d have to have put in some serious hill training to sprint up that incline the whole way – though judging by the times of the first few runners who finished, they must have done just that, but then again, they are probably super human. My photos inevitably don’t do the scenery justice, but they will give you the general idea.
We walked and talked and tried to blag a piggy back from faster walkers passing us – or was that just me? It was amazing hearing about what other participants had done, running wise or life wise. One had worked in international aid in conflict zones. Rwanda and the Congo I think. It was great sharing stories. One of the things I really like about running events (yes, I’m counting this as one) is that it reminds me of travelling in a way. In that I mean, you meet people fleetingly, possibly only once – though it’s amazing too how familiar faces will keep popping up again at events if you but choose to look. Anyway, what this means, is that sometimes you cut to the chase and have more intense, interesting and even personal conversations than you’d perhaps ever risk having with someone you might work alongside and see everyday. I think it’s something to do with the productive cocktail of firstly, sharing an experience; secondly being with people who realistically you might never see again so there is no jeopardy if the conversation goes awry and thirdly the compression of time – there isn’t the time to build a relationship as such, so you may as well just get in there! There is also something inherently therapeutic and open about walking alongside someone in step that is conducive to talking. It’s not potentially confrontational like a face to face exchange, and not impossible like if you are running and can’t spare the breath.
So, for the record, my conversations throughout today included the following illustrative but not exhaustive topics: global inequalities; nature of identity; qualities of endurance runners; the scenery; best place to get a coffee in Nether Edge; aphantasia (the inability to conjure images in your minds eye); synesthesia (the phenomenon of e.g. tasting words or associating colours with numbers); the difficulty (inability) to read analogue clock faces which is apparently a form of dyscalculia; community theatre; complexity of global aid; burn out in the work place; nature of trauma; experiences of travel; difficulty of getting running kit to fit; self-confidence; the frustration of trying to help individuals when actually what is needed it societal/ political change or even revolution; self-consciousness; multi-faceted nature of homelessness and poverty; other running events; cake choices; why we run – timely article on ‘what does running do to your brain‘ here;
mental health; the weather; safety implications of running wearing nail varnish. No really, but I’ll come to that in time. Favourite Sheffield trail race – the Round Sheffield Run; Red Bull Steeplechase experiences; gardening blogs; wildlife ponds; Nicky Spinks; Jasmin Paris; and littering. I didn’t talk about Brexit with anyone. I mean, you don’t want to push things that far… and anyway, I can’t walk and weep. It was much like having radio 4 on all day to be honest, but without the torture of ‘just a minute’ – surely that’s long past its ‘best broadcast before’ date? One of the great advantages of being at a slower pace is that you can walk and talk, the faster runners are epic, but I’m guessing they don’t chit chat the whole way round, missing out on those random interactions as well as the full repertoire of cake choices at the feed stations, another great loss…
The photographer had relocated to the top of a hill by the time we got there. I had already previously contracted with my new best friends forever – or until our paces were no longer compatible – that unflattering photos wouldn’t make this blog post, unless their comedic element outweighed the impulse to censor. Case in point, here I am with my temporary besties, working on, if not our running technique exactly, then our ‘seen the photographer’ one. Good work! By the way I never said, if you are reading this 766, and need a place to stay pre Round Sheffield Run, message me, I’ve lots of room!
They really are unforgiving those running vests are they not?
We weren’t the only people who saw the photographer out there though, there are some classics, here are just a few of my favourites from the day, also look out for inadvertent undressing person in the background shot, just to show it isn’t only me:
Actually, on reflection, I reckon those two in their orangey yellow tops hadn’t seen the photographer at all, but went round the whole route like that from the look of things… oh well, still great photos. And they look like they are having a lovely time, maybe that running style could yet catch on. Plus, levitating for the most part has got to be kinder on the knees hasn’t it? We can all learn from that. Might give it a go for next time.
So onward and upward as the saying goes. As I find myself falling further and further to the back, one bonus is that you get the glorious sight of the line of runners and walkers streaming ahead like a line of bunting. All very picturesque.
Reet nice views along the way, I kept being distracted by them, and stopping to take pictures, consequently we three who’d started off together naturally separated as our different hill strategies kicked in. Two of the trio striding up rather more purposely than the third, ehem:
Nonplussed sheep observed our progress. Did I already tell you that one of the junior parkrunners who takes part in the Graves junior parkrun is convinced the black and white lambs in the animal park are actually baby pandas? Wouldn’t that be great!
Marshals were at strategic intervals to bleep you by. There is a map somewhere that marks all the check points, but I really don’t see how you’d miss them, as they tended to be positioned where paths were narrow and there was only one route, like at a gate or just before a feed station say.
By this stage in the game, the walkers were strung out, and the runners had yet to lap us, It was a long and lonely road, but in a good way. This path is very familiar from my Dig Deep recces, and I was glad to see a familiar face en route too.
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You get some good views up here. The Hope Cement Works may not exactly be a thing of beauty, but it is a landmark in it’s own right, and curious to see it from this vantage point.
Views aside, it is a bit of a trudge this road. The surface has quite loose chippings in places too, so although after a stretch of up you do get a descent, you’d need to be quite careful running down it. I did a bit of a jog, but wasn’t overly confident. Oh yes, and also not overly motivated to do so. Eventually, as the road curves, a marshal is on hand to direct you into a tree lined path to the right, it was nice to get a change of scenery. I like the way a pink arrow on the road seemingly identifies the marshal for you, in case the wearing of a luminous vest was an insufficient clue!
I picked up some new walking companions along the way for a bit here, and that was fine. It was interesting doing this route a year on, when there’s actually been some rain, and the landscape looked lush and green. Last year it was scorched and brown, quite depressing really, a relief to see it recovered and verdant. With this couple I discussed relocating to Sheffield and new and pleasing eateries that are popping up all over. Why have I not yet been to the cutlery works. Need to moving it back up my ‘to do’ list.
Where was I?
Oh yes, en route of the Hathersage Hurtle. Emerging from the paths, there was a little cheer squad proferring high fives, and then it was across the road to the first of the feed stations.
There was an abundance of cake. Vegan options also available, also bananas and bear gums and water in jugs. It worked well with the no plastics rule. You could buy a collapsible cup at the start if you didn’t have one with you by the way, and it looked like most walkers and probably runners too, were carrying their own hydration packs as well for the most part. I had a sort of fruit cake but with bits of ginger in it. Yum. I probably didn’t really require it for refuelling purposes at this point, but rude not too, and also, opportunism kicking in. Why wouldn’t I?
More leapfrogging (not literally) of walkers, and the start of speculation as to when we might be passed by the runners. I also picked up a new bit of event terminology from some fellow participants when discussing the the pleasing proliferation of marshals on the course. ‘Oh the custards!’ What? ‘or lemonades‘, this it seems is their terminology of choice for the marshals in their yellow high viz. I can see what they are doing there, and I quite like it in a way. Mind you, as I was mulling this over later, after our paths had once again diverged, I couldn’t help thinking those aren’t quite accurate colour chart wise, maybe pineapple cubes would be more representative. Do you remember them?
A friend of mind used to sometimes by them from the newsagent on the way to junior school – surprised she had any teeth left at all, maybe she doesn’t now – in a little white paper bag full of the cuboid rocks for 1d. She’d share them out occasionally at morning break, and the cubes would scrape the roof off the inside of your mouth, and the shock of the concentrated sugar would make your teeth vibrate. My, we knew how to make our own entertainment back then. Colour wise though, basically fluorescent. They were probably infused with uranium radium to achieve that intensity of colour. I wonder if you can still get them, or if, not unreasonably, they’ve been withdrawn from sale to minors on account of being basically a concentration of toxins, now available only on request in a brown paper bag from under the counter. Only thing more destructive to the teeth and roof of the mouth than them was pear drops. I can feel my mouth beginning to disintegrate just at the memory of consuming them. Pineapple cubes were – possibly still are – the oral equivalent of stepping on a lego brick in bare feet. I have no idea what possessed us to attempt to consume them. Children are clearly more resilient than you might expect. Anyways, whether the marshals were custards, lemonades, pineapples or hi-vis heroes, they were all fab.
Incidentally, that reminds me, I’ve been meaning to ask was PPAP a thing over here? The Pen Pineapple Apple Pen song? When I was teaching in Cambodia, my students were completely obsessed by the hilarity of it. They would therefore probably implode with explosive laughter if I was to refer to a marshal as a pineapple. You don’t know it? Consider yourself blessed, a lucky escape… What, you are intrigued? You want to know more you say? Do you know what an ear worm is? Well, just saying, if you click on this link and watch the PPAP video you will be pursued with this as the inner soundtrack in your head from hereon-in. I really wouldn’t…
I’m guessing you just couldn’t help yourself. I’m so very sorry. Have to say though, contributory negligence, if you won’t abide by the health and safety warnings there’s little I can do to save you from yourself. I do understand the temptation though, and it is bizarre. Travel is all about cultural exchange isn’t it. I’d never have encountered this song had I not been working in Cambodia. Strange but true. For the record, that wasn’t the most significant element of cultural exchange, but it was the most relevant here.
So the Thornhill path section heading towards Yorkshire Bridge. I was alone with my thoughts for this section. Admiring the wild flowers, and mulling things over.
Highlights, in chronological order included the following:
A tractor! I like to think this was laid on especially for me by way of compensation for the disappointment of this year’s Hathersage Hurtle failing once again to clash with the vintage tractor run.
I paused to let it pass, and turn down the lane ahead of me. Bad move, turns out, tractor fumes aren’t the best to walk behind. I should have hitched a ride instead. Nevertheless, I have a soft spot for tractors so all good.
Then there was a reappearance of the cheer squad, who seemingly had teleported from their previous position to this new spot. They were looking out for another participant with whom I must have been currently in step, I parasitised the ginormous high five inflatable, obvs. I think on a run route any proffered high five is fair game. Also, every high five received boosts you for the mile that follows, guaranteed. Excellent work with the cow bells there too. Respect.
Nice views:
Next exciting sighting, was some of the event team, mustered all together at a marshal point. Now, I don’t want to create dissent, but, in the interests of transparency, I will admit to taking advantage of the fact that we’d had got acquainted earlier on. I like to think this is best thought of not as shameless nepotism, but proactive networking. Sometimes you have to just make your own luck! I paused to be scanned, and then to my delight, based on this most tenuous of relationships, I was able to secure preferential treatment in relation to their dispensing of gummy bears. I was offered my pick from a brand new pack of sugar fixes, instead of having to run the proverbial gauntlet of the jelly baby container being made available to the rest of the walking and running hoi polloi, awash as it was with sweat, phlegm and an assortment of running related bodily fluids added by the many sticky hands of runners that had been diving into the mix before I arrived. Same principle as contaminated ice cubes in pubs I suppose, best not to think too much about that to be fair. I felt blessed indeed. It also gave me first dibs on the colour choices. Thank you lovely event team. All about who you know sometimes! … of course it may have been a coincidence of timing and them being mid replenishing of stock, but why let the truth get in the way of a good story eh?
Here they are snapped together, this wasn’t the only photographer I papped en route incidentally, keep your eyes peeled for the other one later.
Aren’t they clever to line up so well in height order, I wonder if that happens instinctively. The familial version of Ant and Dec, whereby identification by the casual observer is aided by everyone always standing in the same place. Mind you, I still don’t know which is which from Ant and Dec, it’s not noticeably disadvantaged me in life to date, but it’s not game over yet, so who knows… I may yet come to rue the day. The way things are going it may well be that being able to correctly identify TV celebrities becomes a necessary life survival skill in future, perhaps after all it is not a case of ‘if’ but ‘when’. Shudders. And I thought the mandatory ‘popular culture’ questions in pub quizzes was torture enough. Enough of Ant and Dec, we are wasting time, we’ll never complete the route if we keep getting distracted.
So waved on my way, the next stretch took me down to Yorkshire Bridge. You cross that, and then after a bit of an uphill, friendly marshals guide you across the road and then you get the long, long slog up New Road.
Now, the good thing about going up New Road, is that you start to get the teasing view of Stannage Edge ahead. It is however I think one of the toughest sections of the hurtle, because I find tarmac hard on the legs, and that road just goes on an on. Never mind, views were great, and I was able to distract myself by trying to spot an online acquaintance with red hair, who would have set off behind me, but was run/walking so would catch up and overtake at some point. This meant, I basically propositioned all female redheads, who, it turns out, are like buses. Because I did literally have three turn up at once. Two were not my target, but the third saw me first and we were able to get the obligatory selfie before she strode on off ahead.
It’s great when things work out. I had a similarly magical experience at Sheffield Half this year, I was only spectating, but did manage to finally meet in person a fellow runner who I’ve been communicating with online for a while after finding we were both running the London Marathon in 2018. I was giddy with excitement to meet in the flesh. (Companionable virtual wave just for you, if you are reading now – that was indeed a grand moment – next time, let’s see if we can manage an actual coffee as well as a catch up eh. Your parkrun or mine?).
And then, amazingly, the front runner came through! He was romping up that hill with an even stride, seemingly barely breaking a sweat. He was significantly ahead of all the other runners, and looking strong. I wondered if he’d be able to maintain that pace and length of lead. Spoiler alert, he did, and what’s more, was snapped looking effortless in his running along the route, amazing running.
The next runner to pass was a woman, and again, so far up the field, and looking so fresh, that, to my eternal shame, I thought she must be a run / walker. She just looked so relaxed. If I’d known she was lead woman and ended up coming in second finisher and first female I’d have given her a mahoosive cheer, and set off a load of party poppers were it not for the fact that a) I didn’t have any with me and b) I wouldn’t want to litter our beautiful hills. Fantastic running though.
I enjoyed the views:
and I made more new transient friends. Now, I now you shouldn’t really have favourites, but I have a special place in my heart for this trio, who actually stopped for a picnic on a bench on the way round, just at the point when the trickle of runners coming through had become a stream. Classic.
as they chomped on their sandwiches, runners hurtled by:
Check out the Dark Peak Fell Runner’s vest in action there, another record was being set by a DPFR elsewhere today…
I tried to get a few atmospheric shots of the stream of runners ahead. I know, I know, you need super human vision to spot them, but please do try to remember it’s the thought that counts, and sometimes, you really do just have to be there to experience things for yourself. Think of this as but a teaser to encourage you to enter yourself next year if you haven’t already done so. Yep, those microscopic dots, they are actual runners. I will concede that if I had the memory space in my blog that would allow me to upload a higher resolution picture then my claim might be more convincing, but I don’t, so you’ll just have to take it on trust. Or not. Up to you.
Here are more random pics, because it’s just a place I can share them really, good in parts. I cheered club runners with shirts I recognised, and I can confirm, that it remains true that Barnsley Harrier runners are particularly friendly and likely to respond positively to random shout outs from along the way. I mean, obviously Smiley Paces runners are the best, but we know one another, so that’s a given!
New Road goes up and up, but eventually goes down, and takes you to Dennis Knoll, the second feed station and the dusty incline that takes you finally up to the Edge. It was at this last section of the road that I was blessed with my most treasured memory of the entire day. I glimpsed the Event Director from Graves Junior parkrun, being dragged around at full speed, compelled methinks, to keep stride for stride with his running buddies for the day. I don’t think I mispeak if I observe he definitely wasn’t having type 1 fun at that moment. Seeing me, he cried out ‘save me Lucy, save me‘ as he swept on by, his desperate call for an intervention being carried off in the breeze. He barely paused for long enough to scan his tag let alone face plant into the cake table at the feed station as he ran on through. Well, his type 2 fun, was my type 1, hilarious. Gift of a memory. This is what happens to runners when their competitive instincts kick in, fabulous running yes, but maybe not 100% fun within each moment. I applaud it, but don’t imagine myself ever embracing such run strategies myself. There is probably quite a strong correlation between my inability to push myself to my limits and my ever slowing event speeds. Oh well, each to their own. Great running though Graves junior friend, and you gave me a good laugh for which I thank you!
Whilst hard core runners sped on by, I was happy to pause at the feed station and take it all in. It was a nice social spot, and I notices here, as elsewhere en route there was a lot of child labour support which was good to see. I picked up another chunk of fruit cake the size of my head, which was a case of my eyes being bigger than my stomach. Turns out I quite like fruit cake, I didn’t know I did.
Even though this is a fair old up hill stretch, it felt like a relief to finally be approaching the edge. The sun had come out, so it was hot, and the route was pretty social. I had a slight panic on seeing this sign, just a bit on from the feed station:
Wait, what? This is the official start of the Hathersage Hurtle? What were those previous 10 miles about then? I know you can’t always get parked up close to a start line, but I’m pretty confident they could have done a bit better that that? Oh hang on. A vague memory formulated in my minds eye – because I don’t have aphantasia I was able to do that – something in an email. Something about a designated Strava section to test speed across that chunk of the course. Well, good luck to them. They picked a brutal part of the course to make people run up. And many did. Go them. Respect. A fair number of other participants took the strategic power walk option, saving their energy for the fun, flat bounce across boulders at the top of Stannage Edge.
Once again, I feel the need to point out those are not soldier ants in search of new territories, but tiny runners. Not really small of course, but far away. You follow yes?
I even started to see some familiar faces on the course about this point. That was fun, even though I was only walking, one of the real joys of this event is that it mixes together the runners and walkers in a companionable way, and that makes it quite social. If you want to go for it as fast as you can, you are able to do so, but there is space too for more interactions along the way if you choose to have them. Top sightings included my Smiley Buddy who I always seem to meet whenever I go out running in this part of the world, whatever day of the week or time of day. She must be there all the time, like a heather sprite, scampering about, there can be no inch of that terrain across which she has not run! Go you! Well met Smiley, well met indeed.
Also on this section, I was spotted by, and duly spotted in return, an off-duty, on-running photographer. Normally, he’s the other side of a telephoto lens – not in a creepy sense, lurking behind a tree (as far as I’m aware) but at a vantage point to snap runners at local events. Nice to get exchange a cheery wave before he too disappeared up and over the horizon. Hope you had a grand run. How could you not?
I think this is my favourite part of the course, well it’s one of my favourite places, so it would be. I just love that you can see so far, and that the landscape is so spectacular. Usually, when I’m on this path I see no-one other than my ubiquitous smiley buddy who pops up everywhere, heather sprite smiley – but today obviously it was like a commuter belt. Walkers and runners taking part in the Hurtle adding to the boulderers, rock climbers, solo runners and independent walkers, dog walkers all making the most of a glorious day. Just as I got to the top of the edge, I espied the red heads I’d talked to earlier, paused for a picnic too.
There aren’t many events that facilitate the picnicking on the way round option. Way to go Hathersage Hurtlers! I guess, the only way to improve on that would be to have a bespoke butler service on request, whereby you are met at the top with a white table clothed spread with the contents of a wicker basket and with champagne in a bucket of ice on hand to revive you before you complete the hurtle circuit. Lest you think this might impede athletic performance, I’ll have you know that in 1908 athletes used Champagne as an energy drink to get them round the London Marathon (apparently). Here is a picture of a competitor Dorando Pietri being helped across the finish line while holding a cork in his hand according to the caption in the article. Splendid!
Mind you, they also imbibed rat poison on the way round, so I think I’d draw selectively on the history of nutrition for running if I were you…
For a badly needed boost, a number of competitors turned to unlikely, but common-at-the-time sources: brandy, glasses of bubbly, and strychnine (best known now as rat poison). … Wild as it may seem today, people once believed alcohol and strychnine cocktails were performance enhancers. The drinks were doled out like Gatorade or energy gels to endurance athletes.
so now we know. And I thought energy gels were toxic. Actually, I think they are, I strongly suspect strychnine would be easier to keep down for me at least. Also, much more decorative packaging don’t you agree?
At last, on the edge. Love it up there. My though, it was heaving up there. You have to pick your own route, but there’s lots of space. I suppose it’s vaguely technical, but I’m relatively sure footed along this section because it’s so familiar. It’s also beautiful, no wonder so many people were wearing broad smiles along with their running gear.
Somewhere along this edge I picked up a new temporary best buddy, who shall be known as kiltman. He was great companion, full of good stories. He’d done some seriously hard core stuff, including completing the Red Bull Steeplechase when it was held in the peak district. Just 500 start and then only a certain number are allowed to continue on through each of three checkpoints so only 40 get to the end of the 21 mile course. It’s brutal. I marshalled it once, and nearly collapsed with exhaustion just walking up to the marshal point, got a very nice hoody out of it though, so well worth the exertion. Despite his obvious ability, he seemed happy to chill and go slow and soak up the atmosphere. In fact, he said he likes sometimes to start at the back and pick off and pick up people as he passes. The event photos suggest he made loads of friends on the way round!
He litter picked as we went, and also sported an awareness raising sign to check yourself for cancer. All very public spirited, but that isn’t his unique selling point as a hurtle companion, no sorreeeeey. What made our shared time together especially epic was one particular anecdote. Now this is where, dear reader, if you’ve stuck with me for the long run (or walk in my case) you are rewarded with the reason why nail varnish can be a safety hazard on a long run. I believe the wait is well worth it, and I flatter myself that I’m not often wrong about these things. Well, not in my world anyway. Self-delusion is my friend. Don’t disillusion me, everyone needs a friend.
So the story went something like this. He was doing some hard core, overnight challenge in the Lake District, and that necessitated using a head torch. Personally, I’ve never really got the hang of using a head torch off-road, possibly I need more practice, but it’s something about the way it makes tree roots and boulders cast huge shadows that makes me struggle to read the ground properly and I’m scared of falling. Well, turns out, that’s not the only hazard they create. So kilt-man was wearing some glow in the dark nail varnish for this particular run, and as it was pitch dark, he suddenly thought it would be good to check out how effective that was, so as he was running along he held up his finger nails in front of him to check them out, lost concentration and basically face planted as far as I can gather. Amazingly, he wasn’t hurt, though he was soaked, but the worst of it all was that it didn’t even work. Turns out, you have to sort of solar charge the nail varnish in sunlight for a few hours first. Well, we all know now. Point is, best race accident ever. Can you imagine the incident report on Mountain Rescue’s Facebook page if they had been called out to rescue him? I think it would have had a certain terseness in its account. Anyway, bet they don’t cover that eventuality on the fell runners first aid courses! Maybe they should… Thank you Kilt man, epic companion and great running tale.
More pics. More familiar faces. Motivational markings in the sand. All good. Kilt lacked stretch for the descents apparently.
We said goodbye at the Fiddler’s Elbow/ Burbage Edge check point, I was waaaay slower than him, and coincidentally, we both saw people we knew there so it was a natural separation.
I saw my woodrun buddies, who’ve I’ve not seen in yonks, mainly because I’m not really running, it was nice to see some familiar friendly faces. I even went in for a hug, realising too late that I probably wasn’t all that fragrant. I don’t worry so much hugging other runners, we are mutually sweaty and dust covered, they looked a bit more freshly washed. Still, they are runners themselves, and so forgiving. Good to have a brief hello before heading off again. We even bagsied another smiley, plus – though I didn’t know it yet, another online acquaintance. Everyone (who was/is anyone) was out and about today!
On I trotted, taking more snaps along the way. The view is quite distracting. Unwittingly, I see I was in the presence of the seen-a-photographer stick man. One of my favourite photos of the day, sort of makes him look like he’s doing a hop skip and a jump a la wee willie winky or something. In a good way, it’s a compliment not an insult just to be clear. I think it was him… There were some fluffy and relaxed cows too
no pandas though. I’ve told you about the junior parkrunner who is firm in his belief that the black and white lambs in the animal park are baby pandas previously I think. I’d like to live in that world. One where baby pandas can be seen gamboling in Graves park. To be fair, I’d rather there were loads out in the wilds of China where they should be, but I’m sure you know what I mean…
Best thing on this stretch though, was seeing this stupendous Smiley duo, who clearly just had a blast the whole way round. There isn’t a single photo of them all day where they aren’t radiating joy. They are batteries of concentrated energy, energising and enthusing all they encountered along the way I’m sure! Love these guys!
Then a bit further along, another best bit, this route was full of them. Found another online friend I’ve not previously met. Turns out, I also caught them at the feed station too, but didn’t make the connection. Epic. We walked and talked for a wee while until it was obvious their natural pace was significantly speedier than mine, and we parted company at the next feed station, which came round quickly. No worries, we’ll reconvene at the Round Sheffield Run I’m sure! Thanks for saying hello.
This was another laden feed station, with smiling marshals to refuel and rehydrate you before sending you on your way. Across the road and down through Padley Gorge.
Last year, this event was on the day of a heat wave, and this whole section was thick with families having picnics or splashing about in the water. This time round, the section was pretty much deserted. The temperature started to drop and I suddenly started to feel a bit of a chill, some spots of rain came, but not far to go now. I’ve only ever come to this section as part of a run, I really should come back and explore properly some time, it’s very, very picturesque.
Unfortunately, my camera battery then died on me. Well, I had been snapping away with abandon, so it’s not really a surprise. I declare this to be a shame, as this part of the route is so very different from what has come before. You descend through woodland glades through carpets of bluebells, past the weird stump into which passers by have stuck squillions of coins, past the little path leading up to Longshaw where you can see an ice cream van calling to you from the road side. You of course, may consider this to be something of a blessing, as I’m aware I do go on, and if a picture is worth a thousand words, well, you’ll never get your life back to do with as you will if I keep on adding them to this post and you feel somehow obligated to finish what you started. If you are still with me now, I salute your tenacity. Sorry if it has led you to feel consumed with regret, we are however nearly at the end now. …. just don’t kid yourself into thinking you’ve avoided them completely though, I have other sources you know. Like this one. Bluebells, nice.
Idyllic even.
There is a tree rooty, quite dark section that follows. I was tiring now. And on my own for the most part of this section. I started to wonder if I had gone wrong as there were few yellow strips to mark the way (biodegradable plastic by the way, in case you were horrified by the sight of them, and I’m sure they get removed anyway). There wasn’t anywhere you could have gone wrong, so I think it was just fatigue creeping in. Also, I was having a knicker admin issue. A bit of adjustment was needed. Plus, perhaps I’d overdone it at the last feed station but I’d got a bit of a stitch. Well, I say a stitch, but I think we all know it was actually trapped wind. The thing is, you think a route is isolated, but they never are quite enough for you to throw caution to the wind by purging your own.
It was good to see another Graves junior regular! Yay, who paused for a brief hello before sprinting off. I knew she had another couple of friends coming up behind, so that was good. Nice bit of needed reassurance as I ploughed on. Definitely feeling properly cold now.
Pleased my blister had not come to pass, but wishing my flatulence would. I did some knicker adjustments along the way, but seemed to make things worse. Oh no, chaffing was becoming a real possibility, and with less than a parkrun to go, so harsh!
At some point, not sure where to be fair. You emerge onto the last section which is a gentle grassy downward incline, that then flattens out, and it is in fact invitingly runnable unless you have become preoccupied with knicker chaffing and trapped wind. A few runners did still pass me in this section, many actually pausing to ask if I was ok. I appreciated that, but it was a little disconcerting, as I was actually feeling fine – well apart from the aforementioned issues – and it is a worry if I was moving as if injured to the point of requiring outside assistance!
Right to the end marshals offered applause and encouragement, and then before you know it, you are back emerging from the path just next to the finish, and it’s round the corner and down the finish funnel that sweeps round the field, past the beer tents and to a flying finish! Even though it was a bit cooler by now, and I was amongst the last trickle of finishers, there were still cheers for me coming in, and you get swept up into the welcome of the team, who do a final scan, remove your electronic tag and thrust you towards more coffee and cake. Job done!
There was a finish photographer who got some classic finish pics of people working their last few metres home. Excellent 🙂 Don’t know who 165 is, but he clearly doesn’t believe in letting youngsters win, fabulous sprint from both there. Also like the umbrella hat, genius. It’s good to come prepared. Plus check out the flip flop runner – worked for him! Impressive!
Some emotional pair hugs, group hugs and reunions at the end – those post run endorphins doing their bit.
Plenty had finished before me and been milling and chilling and had their prizes and been and gone by the time I got back. However, I can report there was still an abundance of cake, and some really, really good vegan burgers. Only £3 and with a good kick to them. There was a beer tent too, and straw bales to sit on. Jolly nice. There had also been quite a lot of activities laid on for any young people, to keep them entertained if they were having to hang around whilst one of their parents was running say. In fact, I gather they mainly just ran riot in the field, rather than particularly using the lovingly put together activities, but to be fair, that’s what the hurtlers were out doing all day, romping round in a great big circle for no particular reason, and having a ball working off all that excess energy. Everyone was happy!
It was a good atmosphere, and I sat and chatted for a wee while with my Graves junior pal as we chomped on our burgers together and debriefed about our hurtling experiences of the day. All good.
I didn’t find out until later, but the results were phenomenal, with three women in the top six finishers and some stonking times. How fast? Just wow! No wonder everyone was astonished.
The Hathersage Hurtle Facebook page reported that:
Absolutely fantastic results at the Hurtle this year – in first place was Dave Archer with a staggering time of 2.14.24, and in second place, also the first woman, was Zanthe Wray with an awesome 2.29.03
Bravo. Fantastic performances indeed.
So debrief concluded and vegan burgers consumed, legs started to seize up. Time to go home. Before doing so, me and my junior parkrun companion went to say thanks and congratons to the organisers. It had been another great day. I also mentioned how much I liked the design of the t-shirt and was told the person who came up with it was in fact there, in a blue top under her hi-vis. Great, I’ll seek them out. Question. Do you have any idea how many marshals were wearing blue under their pineapple? Answer. A great many. I did however seek her out eventually, because it is a good design. I think they plan to keep it for next year, but maybe change the colours each time. Watch this space. Thanks said, I waved goodbye only to be offered yet more cake. ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like to take any away with you‘ the marshal asked. It was then I uttered a phrase I never thought to speak ‘you know what, that’s incredibly kind, but I think I’ve actually reached capacity with cake now. Thank you though‘. Because I had! Who knew.
I hadn’t quite got rigor mortis, but my body felt like it was working towards that, so I sort of unfolded myself sufficiently to stagger back to the car park where junior marshals were doing awesome work waving us off home.
Thank you fine Hathersage Hurtle team, I’m loving your work. I still hope to actually run it one year, but I may have to think again about wearing my running vest to do so… perhaps fancy dress is the way forward. Thinking about it, it almost always is! Why didn’t I think of that before.
It just remains to say thanks to the many photographers who gave of their time at the event, specifically to Phil Sproson Photography, also Lisa Daniels, Rachel Rennie Photography and Chris Dainton, all of whom gave their services all day for free and have shared some fabulous photos from which I’ve borrowed freely for this blog post. If you want to have a browse yourself you’ll find them here:
- The Feel Good Field – photographed by Chris Dainton
- Walkers, The Start, The Finish – photographed by Phil Sproson Photography / Let’s Go Peak District
- Shatton Moor – photographed by Chris Dainton
- Thornhill Trail – photographed by Lisa Daniels Photography
- Upper Burbage – photographed by Rachel Rennie Photography / Let’s Go Peak Districtthere are a few more photos to come and all will be shared to the Hathersage Hurtle Facebook page so, keep checking back there.
there are squillions to browse through! You didn’t have anything else in particular planned did you? That’s lucky.
Here are some of the tired but happy Hathersage Hurtle people. They rock!
Oh, wait you want to know about Nicky Spinks before I go? You don’t know already? She only blooming did it, the 122-mile Double Paddy Buckley Round. Not only is that epic and awesome and amazing and all of those things, but I love that she finished it wearing her Dark Peak Fell Runners vest. And I thought I couldn’t love her any more… Read all about it here. Ooh, and is that one of her crew sporting a Dig Deep tee-shirt? I’ve got one of those, and I wear inov-8 parkclaws for trail running so basically that means I practically did the double Paddy Buckley challenge too! No wonder I’m a bit stiff negotiating the stairs this morning, the morning after the day before. We are so blooming lucky in Sheffield, Dig Deep, Hathersage Hurtle, the landscape opens up ahead of us, we have but to rush in!
Oh, and another thing, if you want to read my other posts about the Hathersage Hurtle, click here – you’ll need to scroll back for earlier entries. But you know what would be even better? Enter it yourself next year and find out first hand what a fun factory it is. If you can’t wait that long, there’s always Dig Deep… or, you know what, you could just pull on your running shoes and head out on your own, what’s to lose?
See you out there on them there hills!
🙂
Running Scared 