Well, it's taken a while to get over The 100 (two weeks, to be exact). My legs and all the running bits of me seemed to get better much quicker than last year, but I've been totally tired and feeling a bit unwell until today, and I've been feeling quite low. Still, I suppose that your body and mind must have some kind of reaction to doing a long event like that. Feeling more back to normal now, and therefore it feels like time for another trilogy...
The Start
The Start
After a final, final, final kit check, it was time to leave (sigh) the comfort of our holiday cottage and a delicious breakfast (thanks Mum!), and embark on the first leg of the journey, which fortunately was to be by car. There were an army of butterflies fluttering about my stomach. I wish they'd sit still for heavens sake, or at least lend me some of their wing power, I've got 100 miles to do.
Nice to see some familiar faces - Alan, Tara, Gary - at the start. I tried unsuccessfully to drink some coffee and eat some toast and jam, but The Butterflies weren't having any of it. At 11.50 am The Bell rang, and we all trotted outside to the start area. After a safety briefing in which a wide range of potential dangers were mentioned, including (but not limited to) bush fires on the moors, adders (adders!!!), dehydration, getting too hot, getting too cold, and disqualification for not having the right kit (The Butterflies did a flutter), we were asked if anyone had any questions. Why? Would be an obvious one. But I felt now was not the right moment to ask this, out loud at least.
To Checkpoint 1 at Easthorpe: 4.5 miles, 520 ft up, 340 ft down
Phew, that's it, it's started! I'm so glad to be started, and just to be jogging along, instead of worrying about it. I really don't know what I was worrying about back there, I'm completely fine, and everything is going to be OK. Everyone has said that your first hundred is the worst, and that was over with last year's event, so this year is going to be much better. I can even remember all of the route from the recce so far! Everyone else must be feeling the same, as the nervous atmosphere before the start has evaporated, and everyone is relaxing into their rhythm. Ahhhh. It's good to be here! And it's not even raining yet!
Oh. The rain has started. Well, we got a mile in at least before getting wet. It's quite nice actually, quite cooling. And there's some thunder rumbling around in the background, which The Butterflies must be scared of, as they seem to have gone. It wasn't even that bad, and stopped in a few minutes. Don't know what all the fuss was about. Everywhere looks much greener than it did a couple of months ago on the recce. But, should we become complacent, a sign reminded us that the bog is never far away....
Despite being in a car park, the first checkpoint set the impossibly high standards of the LDWA catering, with tables groaning under the weight of pies, homemade cheese straws, liquorice allsorts....and we'd only had to run 4.5 miles to get here. This was brilliant. I'll probably even put on weight in the the next 95 miles.
To Checkpoint 2 Hovingham: 5.7 miles, 370 ft up, 610 ft down
No problems on this bit. Nice views (nothing like a good view to take your mind off your current situation), first of all back towards Castle Howard, and then later over the North York Moors. Although, if you look closely, they do look quite high up (but let's ignore that fact). A few more miles through the woods. There aren't even any bogs left now, this is going to be a breeze! Up a hill, and then a wonderful view of Hovingham on a nice long downhill into the checkpoint. Another great checkpoint. Although I was actually feeling a bit sick, come to think of it. Why was I not hoovering up the delicious food? Bit odd. Oh well - ever onward.
To Checkpoint 3 Wombleton: 8.5 miles, 430 ft up, 370 ft down
A quick stop at the legendary Wombleton general store for some chocolate coated coffee beans (which if I was in charge of the Essential Kit List...would definitely be on there). Managed to navigate the confusing section through the fields that we got lost in on the recce (gosh, I feel so well prepared for this!). Through Stonebridge, which seemed just as pretty as last time. Climbing the next hill, I looked back. A familiar site of dark clouds gathering awaited. If I'm not mistaken, this is exactly where it started raining on the recce. I raced the clouds to the top of the hill. They won.
A quick stop at the legendary Wombleton general store for some chocolate coated coffee beans (which if I was in charge of the Essential Kit List...would definitely be on there). Managed to navigate the confusing section through the fields that we got lost in on the recce (gosh, I feel so well prepared for this!). Through Stonebridge, which seemed just as pretty as last time. Climbing the next hill, I looked back. A familiar site of dark clouds gathering awaited. If I'm not mistaken, this is exactly where it started raining on the recce. I raced the clouds to the top of the hill. They won.
Thunder! And lightening! Very very frightening. Passing quite a few walkers now. Nice to say hi and exchange good wishes with other clearly unhinged people embarking cheerfully on the same journey, marching confidently ahead as the thunder crashed and the lightening stuck down into the nearby fields. The storm came just in time to be honest. Firstly, my engine had been getting quite close to overheating back there, plus there was the added excitement of possibly betting hit by the lightening - a sure incentive to skip ever faster and more nimbly along the country lanes. We arrived, soaked but unscathed, at Wombleton checkpoint, which was so busy, it had run out of sandwiches. Fear not though! The ever capable LDWA were on the case, and in less time than it took to eat an apple (which strangely enough, a walker had mentioned he would like, and a marshal magically materialised not one apple, but a whole sack) fresh plates of sandwiches started appearing from the kitchen. I still wasn't feeling very well to be honest. I sat down in the sunshine on the grass outside the village hall and nibbled the sandwich, but I just felt sick. And also deeply annoyed by this fact.
To Checkpoint 4 Hutton-le-Hole: 6.3 miles, 710 ft up, 550 ft down
Still, worse things have happened, and we must continue, nothing was achieved by sitting around eating sandwiches. Was it? I'm sure things have been. But, a mere 19 miles into the event, I recognised that now was too early to start having arguments with myself. Anyway, excitingly, the next section included the initial inspiration for the A to Z of route description words. I was glad to discover that other than the addition of a compass bearing, the original genius of instruction 4.6 had remained marvellously unchanged "continue generally ahead through a number of small fields".
Thus instructed, we continued in the general direction of Hutton-le-Hole. We stayed in a B & B here at the end of the first day of the recce, and the logic of stopping to sleep at the end of a days running was becoming ever more apparent to me. But enough of that, these thoughts are unhelpful in the current situation. And anyway, more pressing matters were at hand, as here was to be The Kit Check! The Butterflies swooped. A large queue of people was snaking out of the hall. Who were all these people?? In the nicest possible sense, of course, but how had we all ended up here at once? And what were they checking in there? Were we having to dress in full emergency gear and stand under a shower to check the waterproof-ness? Was I going to have put my waterproof trousers on after years of carrying them around in the bottom of my rucksack? And why couldn't I go into the checkpoint before the kit check? So many questions. So many. And I needed some tea.
I passed the kit check (which consisted of a record number of items...waterproof jacket, waterproof trousers, compass, whistle, survival bag, demonstration of working torch). The Butterflies, having had a final party in my stomach as my kit was checked, no longer had purpose, and fluttered off into the gathering dusk. Meanwhile, I had a big cup of tea, in my new collapsible mug, and ran (almost literally) into the guy who I ran the first few hours of last years Dorset Hundred with.
Still, worse things have happened, and we must continue, nothing was achieved by sitting around eating sandwiches. Was it? I'm sure things have been. But, a mere 19 miles into the event, I recognised that now was too early to start having arguments with myself. Anyway, excitingly, the next section included the initial inspiration for the A to Z of route description words. I was glad to discover that other than the addition of a compass bearing, the original genius of instruction 4.6 had remained marvellously unchanged "continue generally ahead through a number of small fields".
Thus instructed, we continued in the general direction of Hutton-le-Hole. We stayed in a B & B here at the end of the first day of the recce, and the logic of stopping to sleep at the end of a days running was becoming ever more apparent to me. But enough of that, these thoughts are unhelpful in the current situation. And anyway, more pressing matters were at hand, as here was to be The Kit Check! The Butterflies swooped. A large queue of people was snaking out of the hall. Who were all these people?? In the nicest possible sense, of course, but how had we all ended up here at once? And what were they checking in there? Were we having to dress in full emergency gear and stand under a shower to check the waterproof-ness? Was I going to have put my waterproof trousers on after years of carrying them around in the bottom of my rucksack? And why couldn't I go into the checkpoint before the kit check? So many questions. So many. And I needed some tea.
I passed the kit check (which consisted of a record number of items...waterproof jacket, waterproof trousers, compass, whistle, survival bag, demonstration of working torch). The Butterflies, having had a final party in my stomach as my kit was checked, no longer had purpose, and fluttered off into the gathering dusk. Meanwhile, I had a big cup of tea, in my new collapsible mug, and ran (almost literally) into the guy who I ran the first few hours of last years Dorset Hundred with.
To Checkpoint 5 Rosedale: 6.8 miles, 840 ft up, 710 ft down
Met up with my cousin Sammy, who has recently finished the South West Coastal Path, but irritatingly doesn't even look slightly tired despite of this. We were approaching Rosedale, which despite it's idyllic name, I distinctly remembered as being a low point from the recce. The checkpoint was busy. I sat down and managed to drink a mug of soup. I felt like pants. But on the plus side, other people were starting to look like I felt, so that gave me comfort (despite making me an awful person).
Met up with my cousin Sammy, who has recently finished the South West Coastal Path, but irritatingly doesn't even look slightly tired despite of this. We were approaching Rosedale, which despite it's idyllic name, I distinctly remembered as being a low point from the recce. The checkpoint was busy. I sat down and managed to drink a mug of soup. I felt like pants. But on the plus side, other people were starting to look like I felt, so that gave me comfort (despite making me an awful person).
To Checkpoint 6 Botton: 8.0 miles, 1380 ft up, 1130 ft down
Now the hills were really getting started. Just in time for dusk as well. Sob. The big hill up to the Lion Inn Blakely (that's Blakely not bakery - another sob) was back. I remembered this from the recce - how could I forget? The long drag went on and on. And on. Up over the moors. It was quite atmospheric now, if nothing else.
I played a game with the light. How long could I see before stopping to get my head torch out? Andrew had started to pull back a bit. There was a "technical" bit down a rocky gully in now what was pretty much the dark. Side to side, over on ankles, hands and knees. Andrew still seemed to be having some trouble. I hoped he was OK. Still, we managed a jog into Botton. Home of The Famous Botton Cheese! Which was specially cast one year ago in The Botton Creamery ready for the NYM 100!
Managed to eat the cheese and the Botton fruit cake, slowly. I was determined to - as this has been my first aim of the event, to get to the Botton Cheese at 40 miles. Anyway, it was delicious. Managed some more soup as well (soup is my new lifesaver). And a cup of tea (when you're feeling really rubbish - having two lifesavers lined up is always good). Despite feeling pants we'd made it to 40 miles in a little over 10 hours, which was well within my plan, so at least we seemed to be moving well.
I finally lost my game with the light, and dug my torch out of my rucksack, aimed it in the direction of the darkness, straightened myself up, and prepared to face The Night Section.....
Now the hills were really getting started. Just in time for dusk as well. Sob. The big hill up to the Lion Inn Blakely (that's Blakely not bakery - another sob) was back. I remembered this from the recce - how could I forget? The long drag went on and on. And on. Up over the moors. It was quite atmospheric now, if nothing else.
I played a game with the light. How long could I see before stopping to get my head torch out? Andrew had started to pull back a bit. There was a "technical" bit down a rocky gully in now what was pretty much the dark. Side to side, over on ankles, hands and knees. Andrew still seemed to be having some trouble. I hoped he was OK. Still, we managed a jog into Botton. Home of The Famous Botton Cheese! Which was specially cast one year ago in The Botton Creamery ready for the NYM 100!
Managed to eat the cheese and the Botton fruit cake, slowly. I was determined to - as this has been my first aim of the event, to get to the Botton Cheese at 40 miles. Anyway, it was delicious. Managed some more soup as well (soup is my new lifesaver). And a cup of tea (when you're feeling really rubbish - having two lifesavers lined up is always good). Despite feeling pants we'd made it to 40 miles in a little over 10 hours, which was well within my plan, so at least we seemed to be moving well.
I finally lost my game with the light, and dug my torch out of my rucksack, aimed it in the direction of the darkness, straightened myself up, and prepared to face The Night Section.....
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