Day 2
I woke up early and listened to the rain hitting my tent,
trying to work out how stiff my legs were. Despite having a warm comfy bed less
than 20 miles away I had decided to spend the night camping out with everyone
else in order to gain some experience of sleeping cocooned in a sleeping bag
with limited space to move. Other than wanting to continue to feel part of the
event and not disappear off and come back when it was convenient, I thought it
would be a good learning experience, managing recovery with more limited means
than back at home.
Having waited for the rain to stop crawled out of my tent I
went about sorting myself for the day ahead, getting fluids and food down me
and the obligatory visit to the little boys room. I was ready at the start well
before 8 am, the earliest start time, with several other eager runners, several
of whom I had met during the previous day. We were all ready to get under way
and start up the rather steep and scary looking hill we had heard about from
the previous year, and seen people going up the previous day.
I was pleasantly surprised at the state of my legs – there
seemed to be no obvious niggles, and while stiff, they weren't excessively so
and certainly felt like they could keep going another day, though 37 miles
gives plenty of time for things to go wrong! I was especially pleased as I was
a little worried that I had gone a little fast the first day, and the fact that
I didn't feel anywhere near broken helped buoy my confidence. The first climb certainly woke the kegs up but it gave a
good excuse to walk early in and gave us something to bond over as we struggled
up the heather covered slope. Once at the top it was a nice gentle bimble down
the path onto the road towards Newborough with little ascent and I found a
comfortable rhythm that felt maintainable with my tired legs, having a nice
chat with a lady I had got talking to after the first pit stop at Lanercost the
previous day. Curiously, the fact that they felt tired from the outset didn’t
really bother me too much – it was expected and didn’t get any worse over the
first few miles and so I sort of forgot about it and kept going.
The next stage of the trail took us over Whinnie Hill and
down the path behind the house that I grew up in – it was quite a nostalgic
experience running down through fields I used to go sledging in and then along
the route by the Tyne to Hexham where we used to go on cycle rides when I was
small. For me it added a nice personal touch to the experience, which certainly
helped.
I made it into the Hexham pit stop
by the rowing club at the end of the third stage (13 miles) in about 2 hrs 8
mins , a bit faster than expected, but then there had been a lot of downhill to
help things along. My mum and dad and their friend Sue were waiting to give me
a cheer on which gave a bit of a boost, along with the other people at the pit
stop clapping people in.
I quickly got my fluid and food down me and then carried on,
over the Tyne and on towards Corbridge along a road I have been down countless
times in a car and which was surprisingly flatter and shorter than I had remembered
it to be. Just before Corbridge the markers directed us down onto the side of
the Tyne, a nice change from pounding the roads. We then went up through
Corbridge and proceeded to climb a long hill, longer than I remember it being
which was quite mentally exhausting but I was pleased with my efforts, running
a significant proportion. It was about this time that I started to regularly
find myself around a very friendly pair called Dave and Norman, who I would end
up running right to the end with. As there weren't many people around us at
this point in the race, and sometimes fair distances between marshals it was
nice to have people in sight. There was also another nice bloke running close
by (who for some reason I never actually introduced myself to) who I had been running
with on and off from half way through the third stage on the way to Hexham.
When the route took us back down by the Tyne I had a few
miles where the others were behind me along a quite flat road. Although there
had been no obvious alternative routes I could take I began to become paranoid
after a little while that I had gone the wrong way – there had been a couple of
instances earlier in the day where I had managed to miss signs through lack of
concentration and Dave and Norman had had to correct me. Fortunately however
I came across some course arrows directing me down on to the river bank and I
was thoroughly relieved – I knew I couldn't have been far off (I knew the
course followed the river at this point) but with those few miles to myself I
had had far too much time to over think things! The section along the river
involved some nice slidy mud and tall undergrowth which provided a nice change,
with a particularly interesting bit with a steep slippery downhill to cross a
rocky shallow bit of river. In retrospect that was fun, but with my tired legs
I was fairly sure I was going to flying down the slippery slope into a crumpled
heap onto the stones below. Fortunately I managed to maintain a little bit of
dignity!
I ran the vast majority of that 4th stage mentally
ticking off the familiar railways stops into Newcastle as I went (Stocksfield,
Prudhoe, Wylam… etc.) in a rhythm that didn't seem too hard to maintain until
we were a mile or two from the final pit stop. At this point (crossing the
impressive disused railway bridge at Wylam) the couple of miles I knew were
left to the pit stop began to seem never ending, though I did have Dave and
Norman in the distance up front to help drag me a long.
Eventually that slog into Newburn was over, and I made it
into the pit stop tent just in time to avoid being drenched in a heavy downpour.
I was greeted by a comforting sweet smell of toasting waffles – some of the
marshals had put a couple of waffles in front of the jet heater in the tent
which I thought was a great idea, unfortunately I couldn't stomach one at that
point and I grabbed a banana and headed off munching as I went.
At this point my nameless friend I had been running near all
day gained a second wind and disappeared, with what must have been an
impressive surge of energy. I wasn't in any state to be doing anything remotely
similar! I did at least know that as a minimum I could walk the last 7 miles to
the end, achieving my aim of completing the race. What I didn't know was how
much I could persuade myself to run!
Dave and Norman had set off a couple of minutes before me
and they quickly came into view around a corner up ahead. I caught them up and
we set off into Newcastle together. Strangely it wasn't much more painful to
run than it was to walk, and although I knew I would get to the end
significantly quicker if I carried on running it was very very tempting to
walk. I am hugely grateful to Dave and Norman for keeping me running over those
last 7 miles, it would have been so much more difficult to manage the same pace without them.
We got down onto the quayside and kept expectantly looking
out for a first glimpse of the bridges as we rounded the curve in the river.
There were the odd small turns we had to make round obstacles on the quay which
under normal circumstances would have been easy, however by this point rather
being able to dart round them it was more like maneuvering a small oil tanker…
The legs were very tired by this stage!
Eventually the first bridge came into
sight and the thrill I had been waiting for started to build. As we approached
the first bridge we passed a couple walking down the quay and the gentleman
asked where we had run from. At the reply ‘Carlisle’ he responded ‘Bloody
Idiots!’. It was a great comic moment, and as he had uttered it in a strong Geordie
accent it felt entirely in keeping with the location and experience.
I have loved the view the bridges over the Tyne between
Gateshead and Newcastle for as long as I can remember. Running under them,
counting down to the Millennium Bridge and the finish, absolutely exhausted and
emotional was an amazing experience. There were no crowds or spectators apart
from a few at the very finish, but that didn't matter, the rush was better even
than the end of the Great North Run where there are thousands of people lining
the seafront. Despite being more knackered than I can remember, I
ran under the Tyne Bridge and found some energy to pick up the pace which,
helped by the man in front, turned into a (sort of) sprint over the Millennium
Bridge and into the finish. 69 miles, 12 hours 25 minutes and 23 miles over two
days, and my first ultramarathon over!
 |
| A thoroughly knackered and pretty red Tom! |
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