This is my first attempt at a race report, so I hope you enjoy it. 

When doing an ultra-marathon, the pre-race day prep is important. Rachel and I hit the road to St John’s of Dalry, in search of a service station with a burger king en route for a bit of carb loading. We found one just past Carlisle, being someone who doesn’t eat fast food all that often, I was surprised to find the choice of a TRIPLE XL bacon cheeseburger! Who knew they did a triple burger? You could even add more burgers! What is the best burger to bun ratio? How many should I have ordered? These are questions I will be pondering for some time to come.

Next stop was collecting my race number, and then finally to our hotel in Castle Douglas for a cheeky pint before bed.

Raceday was an early one, up at 4am, cup of tea and a couple Pain au chocolat to start the day, because it was too early for the hotel to make me breakfast. Before you knew it, we were off at 6am on what was going to be a long adventure in some of the most beautiful countryside that the UK has to offer. YAY ME!

To Checkpoint 1 – Stronpatrick (8 miles)
With the race started it was difficult to gauge a good pace due to both 50mile runners and the 100mile runners having the same bib numbers, which was a bit annoying. It was however quite an uneventful 8 miles, if I am honest, to this checkpoint. Just settling into the race trying not to go too fast too early and wondering how much the sun was going to burn me and my very pale skin, later. It did bring a panicked message from Rachel and Paul Brunger thinking I missed a turn close to the checkpoint. This was very reminiscent of me going wrong on St Cuthbert’s Way, where I went 1.5miles in the wrong direction. No such issues this time, it’s just the GB ultra team for the giggles put the checkpoint 400m past the turn which would become a bit of a theme.

To Checkpoint 2 – Sanquahar Town Hall (26 miles)
The sun was out, and it was starting to take its toll and I needed to find a way to cool down. approaching the check point I crossed into another runner coming from a shop with a Calippo.  I was canny jealous if I am honest, but also equally too lazy to get one myself.  Super wife Rachel was just round the corner with an ice soaked DVRC buff for my neck. I did eat a few ice cubes but all I could think about was how nice that prick’s Calippo would have been.

To Checkpoint 3 – Wanlockhead (34 miles)
At this point the field was starting to spread out and with no one to talk to it was time for the choons! To create my playlist for the day I asked some friends for song suggestions. The song I loved the most during this period was Magenta Mountain by King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard (what a band name). This came on whilst running in a picturesque valley.

I did have an ironic moment of running the last mile into Wanlockhead, without any water, listening to Dry County by Bon Jovi. I did contemplate jumping into the streams near the village at this point, but thought better of it. My friend’s son also picked the song “Crab Rave” by Noisestorm, there was discussions after about this monstrosity making my playlist.
 
This was also the end of the section I hadn’t had a chance to recce prior to the race, and for me where the race really began. With the temperature still rising and zero shade ahead, I grabbed a third water bottle along with my running poles as I knew water would be an issue.

To Checkpoint 4 – Bigger on A702 (40 miles)
After leaving Wanlockhead, you have the highest point in the race – Lowther Hill and its giant Golf Ball. Though this is a long climb, it is far from the worst, with the steepest of climbs coming shortly after. It was in this section I picked up the 1st of my Kists*just after the steep climb hidden in a random wooden toy cart. I felt like a millionaire picking up my shiny coin.

To Checkpoint 5 – Moffat Rugby Club (54 miles)
This section started off well, when having tried to quick turnaround in the check point, I left my polls behind. Having thought about leaving them I made the decision to do a quick U-turn costing me a couple minutes to go get them. The marshals were worried for a moment, until I sheepishly admitted I’d forgotten my poles like an idiot.

At this point in the race the sun was everyone’s worst enemy. Having that third water bottle and iced buff was really helping. Having passed several runners at different points lying down in some shade to try and cool down, highlighted the struggle we were all facing.

Even with the extra bottle I was still running out of water, lucky for me another runner’s crew was waiting at Earshaig Forest just before the run down to Beattock and topped up one of my bottles to get me through the last 6 miles into the checkpoint and the halfway point of the race. 

I chose this checkpoint as a reset place, so it was a change of top and socks along with a mugshot and the cold tea I made at 4:30am for good measure. With it getting dark and a big climb ahead the 3rd water bottle was dropped, and road shoes added as there was a long road section to come. I also grabbed an extra torch battery just in case (hello foreshadowing). 

To Checkpoint 6 – Boston Memorial Hall (71 miles?)
I got lucky when I left Moffat, I just happened to leave with a lovely lass named Charlie and we decided since it was going to get dark and we were both going at the same pace, we would stick together for a while.

The climbs out of Moffat were long but manageable and we were making steady progress. The top of Croff head was something else, however, with the wind really picking up, to the point we were both almost blown off our feet. Once we dropped into a valley at around 22:45 the weather eased with perfect timing to add on jackets and headtorches for the cold night ahead. Within a mile of running, I knew something was up as my headtorch wasn’t that bright, it then did the dreaded light blink to say it was going to die…FFS. Good thing I grabbed that spare battery yeah?….oh hold on it turns out that battery also didn’t charge properly and lasted about 20mins. I then had to root out the spare torch from the bottom of my bag. People may complain about mandatory kit lists in races, but this is why you need them!

As we continue through the dark and over a tiny bridge, I was able to pick up a second kist and became a double millionaire. We were then off to Potburn and the creepy abandoned caravan which freaked me out during my recce and was even worse in the dark and could easily have been out of some horror movie. As you would we picked up the to road from hell, with both of us shouting “where is the f*cking checkpoint” every few minutes whilst also trying not to stand on the thousands of dead frogs on the road. Honestly, horror movie stuff. 

Boston Memorial Hall was supposed to be 71 miles it turned out to be 74! You also need to run an extra mile past the turning to St Mary’s loch to get to it. This wasn’t pleasant doing in the day, and more so in pitch black with 70 miles in your legs.

At the checkpoint I got pestered into eating some hot pasta and drinking hot tea at the hall. This immediately had me overheating and was then spewed. Delightful. Give me a warm mug shot and day-old cold tea any day.

To Checkpoint 7 Traquair (89 miles)
DVRC legend Paul Brunger joined me at this point to push me for the next 30 odd miles to finish. To summarise my time with Paul; he talked at me quite a lot, but I don’t think I had the mental capacity to hold a solid conversation. I remember him talking about beer, taking small steps uphill because its “more efficient,” trying to convince me to do a back yard ultra, along with sharing insults from my running wife Claire Knox, about how I was taking too long. There was also a lot of “shall we start pootling.” Normally followed by me cursing under my breath then starting to run. 

Having left the hall, it was clear Charlie was in trouble as was she struggling to eat. Her husband had agreed to meet us in 6 miles at St Mary’s loch. I was able to pick up some pace going down the hill to the loch, but it was clear she wasn’t able to continue, and she was picked up at the loch. Though I never got the chance to tell her in person, I am so grateful to have run with her through the night and I am sure better days are ahead when she attempts the full 215-mile race across Scotland.

Having left St Mary’s Loch, we were approaching sunrise and the heavens opened, still in my road shoes – this was not good, but the rising sun was just the lift I needed. The rain however would eventually take its toll on the soles of my feet, and we needed to get super wife to meet us on the roadside near the checkpoint, as no crew were allowed.
 
It was only 3 weeks earlier I recce’d from the loch, so my memory was quite fresh about this section, not fresh enough though as my 3rd and final kist was in this section, only a couple of miles after where I thought it was. (Sorry for making you look in the middle of nowhere Paul, but you got a coin and can be in the millionaire club)

We finally hit the checkpoint in a field and with super wife a mile down the road at the village hall, it was an in and out job (oo-er!). Tailwind refilled and away we go, but only after Paul ate some salted potatoes.

 To Checkpoint 8 – Fairnliee Hut (98miles)**
 After reaching the village hall in Traquair, Rachel was waiting with my pitstop seat so my soaking shoes and socks could be changed. This was the first sight I had of them since Moffat and the soaking feet miles hadn’t helped giving me blisters on the soles of both feet. Looking back feet management is an area I need to work on.

My feet will heal and with approximately 36miles, this would become a future John problem. Present John had a race to finish.

We had plenty of climbs to which I think shocked Paul a little, on one of the climbs towards the three Brethren, Paul offered to hold my polls whilst I ate some Hola Hoops. The next thing I see is him trying them out powering up the hill with them. I needed my “Boyz” and he was nicking off with them! I was struggling at this point and Paul, like a true champ kept me entertained, with me attempting to climb on top of the Three Brethren Trig point, at Claire Knox’s request, and then sending a picture to her threatening to stop my watch at 99.99 miles. This gave me a good laugh and took my mind off the hurt. Paul didn’t know it, but I did get a little teary after this point with everything hurting, but on reflection this was down to me knowing 100miles was in the bag and nothing would stop me from finishing.

Having worked our way down through the hills, “pootling” where possible over the jagged stones, then crossing a bridge to the hut, and the waiting super wife. 

**This was 102miles in for me at this point not the advertised 98.

Bottles were filled, socks changed, and teeth brushed and off we went. Yes, I did say teeth were brushed; I don’t know why had this urge to brush them, but it felt so good!

Checkpoint 9 – Langlee community centre (106miles) and Finish.
Leaving the hut, we only had around 7 miles to go. We had a long climb past a farm and a few unkind Stiles to climb, but this was the final push and at a minimum I needed to walk with purpose, and pootle where possible. The sun was also making an appearance again and it was getting hot. My feet were done, but Paul had one final trick up his sleeve to motivate me to the finish. With only 2 miles left he informed me we were being hunted down by another runner! In my head I was thinking he was bullshitting me to run, but I wasn’t going to take any risks…

Having climbed the stairs toward the community centre (at the marshal’s request, Claire Knox, there was no cheating!), Paul ushered me to the finish, with me giving a thank you as I passed. Super wife was just over the finish line, and it was amazing to get to the finish and see her. The amount of support and work she had done before, during, and even after the race is immeasurable. I am so thankful for her support.

I finally crossed the line at 13:08 and finished time 31:08:02. This was enough to have me finish 6th overall and 4th male.

On a sidenote, I stopped my watch with 1% battery left which worked out quite lucky, and there was someone chasing me down towards the finish.

Big thank you Rachel and Paul, along with everyone who supported me.

For those who like stats, here are some of the notable lines from my Garmin:

• Total Distance – 108.6 miles
• Elevation – 17,470 feet
• Total Steps – 210,538
• Fastest mile – 7:54
• Average pace – 17:12
• Max temperature – 31c

*kists = A kist is an individually sculptured container a few paces from the path and inside the container can be found Waymerks Coins

Once again, we made the annual pilgrimage from Prudhoe train station, to the sleepy Northumberland village of Ovington, for the Tynedale Harriers Pie & Peas 10k. It’s a 10k road race, where you get pie and peas at the end… what’s not to love?!

Another tremendous turn out from the best running club in the world™️ – especially for those who were only a few days into Chevy Chase or Triathlon recoveries. Cough, Chris/Megan/Ian, cough…

On day we were lead home by Grant Ramsden, sneaking inside the magical 40 minute mark, in 39:50, for the ladies, Bex Hewitson was first home in 41:04.

Even more enjoyable was the category results; with Bex finishing first in her category, joined by Sue Urwin and Kirsty Robson who were also first in their categories. Jill Lee and Theresa Owens who were both second in their categories, with Sarah Reay third in her category! Amazing return from all ladies!

Also claiming PBs on the day were Megan Williams (still apparently recovering from Chevy legs – imagine what that time could’ve been when in peak condition!) and Lindsey Dover – nothing better than beating yourself and your own previous best!

And Sally Ann Greenwell ran on her birthday… and brought cakes! A delightful pudding after the pie and peas main course!

Full results from the night can be found here: Tynedale 10k results

Probably the most enjoyable aspect of Wednesday was the way that almost all of the club members stayed to cheer on each other finishing – as Megan said, “we might not be the biggest club, but we’re certainly the loudest” – not wrong.

This time last week, Claire Walton was running the marathon in Edinburgh in memory of her partner, and our dearly departed captain, Andrew Callcott. Joined on her training over the last few months by a few of our other members, Claire was running to raise money for MacMillan – she has already smashed her target of £300 and her current total stands at £915.

If you’d like to donate to Claire’s ongoing total and push her towards one thousand pounds, you can do on her JustGiving page.

Another favourite on the race calendar – despite that massive hill, we put out an incredibly strong roster of 8 mixed teams. Particularly impressive when you consider there were 50 teams in total.

We prepared ourselves at the start/finish area with a mix of nerves and excitement – the Steelworks veterans sharing insights on how bad the hill was, tactics for attacking it and strategies for not blowing up on first bit “there’s two more hills after that first one” – how right they were.

Setting off on the first leg for each our teams were:

• Chris Hewitson
• Ian Maddison
• Matthew Scott
• Claire Thompson
• Charlotte Bowes
• Eleanor Shotton
• Duncan Marshall
• Andrew Walton

With all eight getting teams off to a flying start, in what was probably perfect running conditions, not too hot, not too cold, and barely a breath of wind to complain about!

Leg two saw our initial 8 head over the finish line, to release the next from their teams as they crossed over – really well managed by the Blackhill Bounders team. Second leg runners were:

• Bex Hewitson
• Simon Hutchinson
• Al Rook
• Claire Knox
• Vanessa Armstrong
• Alex Fiddes
• Jill Lee
• Megan Williams

The final leg change overs saw the last push for the finish, with anchor runners:

• Paul Brunger
• Vicky Parker
• Laura Peacock
• Rob Peacock
• John Kirby
• Terry Owens
• Lauren Smith
• Sally Ann Greenwell

Tremendous efforts from all 24 of our runners and brilliant to see so many other club members and committee out supporting on the course to cheer everyone on.

With the final results processed, our 1st team home were team 1; finishing in a brilliant 4th place overall – coming in at 40:26, only 1min 14 behind third placed Crook. Paul was the joint 4th fastest individual, with Bex coming home as 7th quickest female.

Brilliant efforts and finishes from all of our other teams saw:

Team 3 – Matthew, Al and Laura in 20th in 45:24

Team 4 – Claire, Claire and Rob in 29th in 49:34

Team 5 were hot in their heels in 30th – Charlotte, Vanessa and John, in 49:39

Team 7 – Duncan, Jill and Lauren in 32nd, in 50:12

Team 6 – Eleanor, Alex and Terry in 37th, in 51:49

Team 8 hot on their heels in 38th – Andrew, Megan and Sally Ann, in 51:51

Team 2 rounding out the DVRC squad in 50th with Ian, Simon and Vicky in 1:00:17

In having 8 full teams, we were amongst the biggest clubs represented on the night, and it really shows the strength we have to provide the maximum number allowed – and still have reserves who could’ve formed another 2 full teams between them!

We’re super proud of the efforts of everyone representing the club on the night – we’ll be back next year with the experience of this! Megan and her team even managed to walk away with a prize from the quiz during the presentations.

Full results can be downloaded from the links below

Next stop, Pier to Pier on Sunday…

You’ll remember a few weeks ago when we had our three person relay team – taking the middle leg over that weekend was Matthew Scott… Now the dust has settled, Matthew has written a first-hand account of his day to share with you.

After being bounced by DVRC pals into doing my first ultra – the weird and wonderful Jedburgh Three Peaks – I knew it was only a matter of time before I’d be bounced into my second. This time, it was the allure of the Pennine Journey. Having concluded a little earlier that the 52mi option was probably a little too soon for my little legs, the open call to be part of the DVRC relay team was too hard to resist. 40mi from Greenhead to Dufton, over challenging but not awful terrain, seemed a good next step in my quest to run 50mi before the end of 2023.

And so it came to pass that I found myself sitting in Greenhead Village Hall at 2.30am on the night/morning of the race, trying to resist eating all of the sweets that the checkpoint volunteers encouraged me to ‘help yourself to’. I was joined shortly afterwards by our Arch Enemies for the day, the actually-very-canny relay team from Swaledale Runners. We had a bit of a chat, and soon realised that our respective first leggers – going through the night from Blanchland to Greenhead – were running together. I also soon realised they had taken a somewhat relaxed approach to recce’ing the course, and it therefore seemed natural that my fellow second legger and I should set off together. I’d recced most of the route, and therefore had only a mildly bad, as opposed to wildly inaccurate, idea of where I was going. Soon enough, our club captain John Kirby and his Swaledale companion arrived, and we were putting on our headtorches and heading out the door. We departed together, although I clocked immediately the ease with which my fellow second legger seemed to be moving (more on that soon).

We plodged across Blenkinsopp Common, which had been absolutely atrocious on my recce, but which had dried up (a bit) and was also covered in a touch of frost. As a result, it was only my feet and ankles that were drenched after a couple of hundred yards. My knees followed shortly afterwards as we failed to navigate effectively round what turned out to be a pond, and from then on it was wet legs all the way home. But we made good progress, chatting as we went and helping each other find the least bad lines and the stiles that marked the way through the dark. Soon we were off the common and moving towards the sunrise through a couple of farms and some fields, catching up with the doomed-to-retire yet hugely admirable early leader of the 112mi race. It was at this point that – as I suspected – my compatriot made his move, easing away like a Dalek going up a staircase as I struggled up a little incline to the road into Lambley. Fortunately for me he then made a wrong turn, continuing up the Pennine Way instead of turning left, so we were back together as we came past Lambley viaduct and onto the mercifully firm gravel of the South Tyne Trail.

Here we (or more accurately I) contemplated exchanging a Chia Charge bar for some eggs that were advertised on an honesty box basis at the side of the track, wondering if someone could do me poached eggs on toast at the next checkpoint. I was eggless though as we came into Slaggyford checkpoint, ably managed by the Ramsden clan of DVRC. We joked that the medics parked outside would soon be rescuing us from somewhere further south and headed back out onto the trail, which soon gave way to a nice narrow path along the river and some more fields. Soon, my compatriot made his second move, and this one stuck. In fact, he got away so quickly that my attempts to shout good luck to him didn’t seem to be heard in the wind, and I settled in for what I knew would likely be a solitary few miles west up to over Alston, before the descent back down into the start of the 52mi race at 8am. Later I learned that he’s a proper, proper runner, which is fitting, considering he was also a proper, proper inspirational companion for the 15mi or so we were together. Thanks Steve, if you’re reading this, for the company and the shared miles, and I’m pleased you weren’t too quick for me to see you at Dufton once we were done.

Departing Alston onto the bit of the course I knew best was welcome, but it’s also where my legs started to complain a bit. On reflection, we’d been going a little bit too fast for my ‘ultra pace’ over some pretty rough ground, and as a result, the complaints started early. I really like this part of the world though, and it’s only 4mi or so between Alston and Garrigill, so I was able to zone out a bit and enjoy the steadily improving weather. On arriving in Garrigill, I got into the checkpoint just as the tail end of the 52mi runners were leaving, giving me people to chase up and over the long climb to the shoulder of Cross Fell. In the checkpoint, I ate sausage rolls, swiss roll, biscuits, and a couple of snide Milky Way bars before filling up my water bottles and getting ready to head out again. Joining me there was our club captain, fresh from his first leg after a nap in his car, and who would incredibly spend the next 15 hours following his teammates from checkpoint to checkpoint to make sure we were alright.

On leaving the checkpoint, I used the sum total of eight years of university education in a geography department to declare to myself “it’s f*****g hot.” Flaming hot indeed. The sun had risen and you’d have been forgiven for thinking it was the height of summer – in Greece. I abandoned a warm layer with our club captain, searched in vain for some suncream, and ended up putting my hat on to try and minimise the coming burn. Luckily, the climb up Cross Fell in the clear morning was so beautiful all thoughts of sunburn were erased from my mind. Jokes aside, this is why I love doing this, the moments where a landscape unfolds in front of you and you are just overcome with awe that such a landscape can even exist. It severs you from the worries and stress of day-to-day life, and makes you realise (or remember) just how moving being in the world actually is. Weeks later, I still find myself daydreaming about those long, slow miles up to Cross Fell, longing to re-experience the childlike wonder I felt going up.

Anyway, that’s enough of that. My legs were struggling now, and the rough undulation of the early climb prevented me from getting into any kind of rhythm. I was worried – briefly – that I might be tanking too early, but the combination of the incredible views and the sugar I’d thrown down my neck at Garrigill soon started to help. As I approached the top of the climb I felt, dare I say it, good, and started moving through the backmarkers of the 52mi race. At almost 800m up, right on top of the shoulder of Cross Fell, I thought to myself give me five of these over one of the Cheviot any day, and as we dipped over the crest the bumps of the Lake District loomed on the horizon, with the Eden Valley revealing itself below. Doing better than expected and still taken by the surroundings, I started down the other side of Cross Fell feeling like Finlay Wild, but Garmin reliably informs me that I didn’t come anywhere close to the sub nine-minute mile I’d achieved somewhere on the South Tyne Trail. And I paid for it. At the bottom, my knees – in complete shock at what I’d just forced them to absorb – joined a union and noisily picketed me for the rest of the day. 

The remaining 8mi or so was a bit of a slog, moving at what felt like an okay pace but unable to sustain it for long before my knees balloted my muscles for wider industrial inaction. Not even consuming what I refer to as the ‘big lad’ – a 40p 500kcal flapjack from B&M Bargains – helped much.  Happily, there were enough little inclines and so many places to get the nav wrong that I was stopping plenty, and I continued to rumble through some of the 52mi backmarkers, exclaiming ‘we are simultaneously 2^nd and last in the relay’ to forced laughs and bemused stares as I went. I pushed as much as I could though, and soon I was heading into Dufton and – just as soon – heading out of Dufton, following the GPX on my watch and having failed to realise where I was. My tour of Dufton complete, I arrived at the checkpoint and finish line for leg two, where Francesca Best took over the baton and headed off towards High Cup Nick. I sat, a little sore, dazed, and happy, as more 52mi runners came into the checkpoint. I’d finished in just under eight and a half hours, well inside my initial stretch target of nine hours. The endlessly caring Kirsty Robson ensured I had a cuppa and some biscuits, and a little later my dad appeared with a change of shoes, socks, and some foot cream, as well as my dog, upset that I’d left his eyeline for more than 15 seconds, as usual.

Fran brought us home with a brilliant third leg, and Claire Knox and Marc Runkee were soon finished in the 52mi race too, far too swift for me to have had any chance of catching up with them. As I started to cramp up as my dad drove me back to Greenhead to collect my car, I reflected back a bit. I joined DVRC in around April 2022, having never had the courage to join a running club before. I messaged the page and immediately got an invite to come along that night. I was already signed up for the Chevy Chase with a friend, but at the last minute she got Covid and couldn’t make it. I lined up for my first ever fell race feeling very scared and doubting myself, but all the DVRC team there persuaded me I could do it, even making sure I got in the mandatory group photo despite ruining it by not having a club vest yet. I even still remember the first time I met John, a couple of weeks before Chevy on a Tuesday evening, where I told him I’d signed up and he ran a couple of laps of a Chopwell loop with me to ‘see where you’re at’. ‘You’ll be fine’, I remember him saying, and he was also on hand with some sage words on the Chevy start line that, to my detriment, I only partially followed. He later persuaded me to sign up for Jedburgh, and this time I did listen to his words on pacing and fuelling and had a great, largely pain free day out.

Ultimately, then, this is the account of a nervous average runner joining a running club because it happened to be based in a place he liked, and finding endless support and encouragement to do things that scared him a bit. It strikes me now that this is the main (but certainly not only) reason I find DVRC great – no matter where you start, the leaders help you take the baby steps towards the next challenge or scary goal, whether that’s your first ultra, your first fell race, or your first full loop of Chopwell Woods. To the growing alarm of my fiancée, I am starting to identify and believe in myself as long-distance runner, and feel like I’m not far away from trying to ‘race’ longer races instead of just trying to survive. This is in no small part down to the support of the club over the past year. I never thought I’d have the guts or ability to run an ultra, but now I can’t wait to do more.

So cheers to you all at DVRC, you little belters, and I’ll see you on the start line of the next one with my block of Soreen and my Nutella. You know it’s the fuel of champions.

So there you have it – fancy it next year?!

The second event in the 2022 DVRC Grand Prix calendar saw some of us head off to Haweswater reservoir in the valley of Mardale, Cumbria in the Lake District. The Haweswater Half Marathon follows an out and back course from Bampton village, passing along the shores of Haweswater in a remote and dramatic mountain valley. To say we were lucky with the weather is an understatement, spring definitely sprung, nature’s way of saying let’s party or, in our case run as fast as you can!!!

First back for DVRC was Adam Malloy pushed on and closely followed by Grant Ramsden. Next came Marc “I hate running fast” Runkee and John “I’m spectating no I’m running slow I mean fast” Kirby. Justin “great day apart from the running” Turner came along followed by our first lady Claire “Captain” Knox who may have been denied a sub-1:50 by 1 pesky second but glamorized the dry-robe look perfectly. Next in was me, the first F50 and boy did I feel it. Lisa Gilbert and Rob Bradshaw came through the finish line together as did Mollie Tose and Ethan Robson. Kudos to PICU nurse Mollie doing her first ever half marathon straight after a night-shift and full of cold. Beth Ramsden, Eric “Pedalling Squares” Murphy and Claire Appleton closely followed thereafter and joined us for the best cup of tea you’ll ever have courtesy of the wonderful Eden volunteers.

We were all cheered and supported by our very own Andrew Callcott and I’m certain every one of us was chuffed to bits to see him at the corner at the finish line. One thing this race report cannot go without is a mention to the truly inspirational Kayleigh Ovington who finished in last place but I reckon deserved to be the winner. Kayleigh has cerebal palsy and proves you can achieve anything if you work hard and push. I know she inspired me to keep fighting the pain when I passed her lovely smiling face on the way back up. The hilly course certainly lived up to expectations, especially at mile 10 when a few of us started to break and swear (a lot) but it was truly an exhilarating run in unique surroundings and definitely provided us all with a good amount of well-earned endorphins to hit the week with. Who’s looking forward to our next Grand Prix event – the Pie and Pea 5k Trail Durham on 6th April?