Feet In The Clouds (The American is humbled...)

[Eventually I will get around to the point of this blog, which is a book review of Richard Askwith's Feet In The Clouds:  A Tale Of Fell-Running And Obsession.  But I still digress....]

Incidentally, my team name at the Open5 Adventure race last Sunday was "The American".   I get a lot of strange glances when I first open speak out on the trails, with the inevitable "You're not from around here, are you?" question following soon after.   But I have been amazed how quickly I have been welcomed since arriving in the UK, into the triathlon and running communities. 

So, although the language barrier is normally not an issue (at least, not much of an issue!), culturally the gap can be quite small and a mile wide, at the same time.  I think much of it revolves around our differing concepts of history.  For example, the stone house I am living in right now was built in 1740, making it older than the country I was born in!   Every rock and hill and trail have thousands of years of events worn into them, and the remembering of those events seems quite important to the folks here.  Even fell-running, which is young compared to the span of history in these isles, has deep roots in the hills that dot all over the country, and quite a controversial history, at that.  Mr. Askwith covers all of the sides of the issues, and perhaps, armed with this knowledge, I will prevent myself from sticking my proverbial "American" foot into my mouth.

But it was quite a shock for me to arrive in the UK and find the running conditions so....so....nasty!   I came to ultrarunning via German Volksmarching paths, which for the most part are 3 feet wide, nicely graded, never too steep, well-marked, and nicely maintained by the locals.  I think there is even a rule that the trails on a volksmarch can't be too "dangerous", or the insurance, included as part of the $5 event entry fee, wouldn't cover them. I'm not positive, though...somebody check on that....  So, what a change to come here and find rocky descents, boggy moors, positively, utterly atrocious weather, and no trail markers.  Do you feel my pain, here?

Anyway, what really hit home in the reading of Feet In The Clouds, was that the local fell runners really take pride in these horrible conditions, and revel in them.  Conditions which, anywhere else I've lived, would have been a reason to stay indoors and read a book, are fine enough here to put on shorts and go for a run up the nearest peak.  In short, it all makes me feel quite humbled.   But what really comes through as I read this book, is the deep love that the locals have for their mountains.   Oddly enough, despite the torturous weather and trails, I am starting to understand the feeling.  

After all, it's not really pouring outside, it's just kind of a light rain. 
And the temperature, well, at least it's above freezing.  
And yes, my feet are wet, but I've seen the bogs much deeper than they are now.  
Sure, the fog is getting a bit thicker, but I can still see my feet, at least.
Yes, this ascent is steep, but the ice has melted off, and you should see this really vertical trail I know about....

Did I really ever review this book?   I guess you'll just have to read it yourself!  It gave a great historical perspective on UK trail running, and was quite inspiring, as well as humorous.  The book did made the Bob Graham Round sound even harder than I had previously thought, though.   Am I thinking of doing a BG round someday?  Um....

Feet In The Clouds (The suspense is building...)

So far in this blog, I've been limiting myself to race reviews and other writing-newsworthy events.  Since my training consists mostly of runs to work and back, plus some gym time, even I could run out of interesting things to say about seeing the same 3 miles over and over again.  Although I do still enjoy running them.

But enough about that.  This particular blog is supposed to a glorified book review, after all.  But it doesn't start quite yet.  I came home one evening from work to find a program called "Sand Marathon" on TV.   It followed a Brit as he attempted to complete the Marathon Des Sables in Morrocco.   I had heard about this race, but seeing the racers come over the Saharan sand dunes, blisters and all, was fascinating.  I immediately thought about doing it (the heat shimmering across the TV screen must have addled my brain), but found out 1) That it's really expensive to enter, 2) That there's a waiting list years long to get in !?!?, and 3) That you have to carry all your food, and water is rationed.   Ouch.  But it still sounds fun.  Definitely on the bucket list for me.

In the course of my research about the race, I came across a book about it.  I haven't read that one yet.  But, in the way of Amazon searches, that book led me to another, led me to another... and in a few days, 4 books on crazy running events showed up at my door. 

At about the same time, a few emails went floating around about a winter completion of the Bob Graham round.  For those of you outside the UK, the BG round, as it is known, is a circle of 42 peaks in the Lakes District of England, some 60ish miles with 27,000 feet of climbing.  First done by who else, Bob Graham, back in 1932, it must be completed in 24 hours or less.  It's big.  It's scary.  And for some reason, it also sounds appealing.   The appeal of a Bob Graham is that it can be done anytime, there is no entry fee, and the Lakes district is only two hours away.

So the first book I started reading was the one called Feet In The Clouds: A Tale Of Fell-Running And Obsession, by Richard Askwith.   It is somewhat about the Bob Graham, and mainly about Fell-Running.  By the first chapter, I was hooked.   The author has a wry, witty, cynical style that is exactly what I aspire to emulate (but often fall short of).    It was written just a few years ago, hence the main characters are, well, still out running!  The fell-running circuit is a small one, so I'm finding out, to my surprise, that some of my new friends are famous, and that there is a lot of history going around.

To be continued...(I need to finish reading the book first!)

Open5 Adventure Race, North York Moors, 9 Jan 2010

I just did my first Adventure Race!

Ok, it wasn't point-to-point, I didn't have a team, and there was no sleep deprivation involved. 

But... I did come in 4th in the Women's Solo division!!!  Considering I was on a rented mountain bike wearing my running shoes with no toe clips, I was VERY happy with my score.

To explain:  The Open5 Adventure series are 5 hour events (hences the 5 in the name) where entrants get to run, then bike (or vice versa) their way to as many controls points as possible without getting back late and incurring time penalties.  

At check-in, I was handed a waterproof map, with run points on one side (OS 1:25000 map) and bike points printed on the other side (OS 1:50000 map).   After some fiddling, I got my race numbers attached to the front of my bike and myself, and worked out how to zip-tie on my newly purchased map board on the bike handlebars.   The I spent a rather frantic bit of time trying to make sense of the maps and decide which paths to take to get to the most points. 

It was an absolutely perfectly sunny day out (sshhh, don't tell anyone, I don't want you all to think that there's ever nice weather here).   In the wintertime, sunny weather and freezing temperatures seem to go well together, and we were all shivering as we arranged our gear and stripped down to race clothing.  In my rant about horrible UK weather in my previous blog, I seem to have missed a few key problems, namely ice and snow.  In late May during the running of the annual hundred miler, I guess these aren't normally big issues.  Today, they were.  More about that later.

After ditching my bike and helmet against a tree in the transition area, I was ready to start the run.   Unlike a traditional race, where everyone starts together and does the same course, the start window was an hour long, so when I felt ready, I walked to the gate and puched my dibbler.   Affixed to my wrist, the dibbler would record each checkpoint I visited, along with times and total points.   It beeped and I was off!  At least, until I was handed a list of the control point descriptions (how to find them) and how much they were worth.  A couple of marked points were bogus and worth nothing, and other controls were worth between 5 points up to 35 points.  My planned route immediately changed, as I crossed off the bogus points and rerouted. 

Right about then, the sun rose high enough to feel the tiniest bit warm, and I set off onto the Clevand Way trail to the first checkpoint.  There were still sections of snow on the trail, which ran along a high ridge, and the strong winds blew coldly from the west.  The first control was attached to bench, and then I dropped down into the forest on the steep descent to the valley.   In the shelter of the trees, it felt much warmer, and I doffed hat and gloves and loosened my waterproof smock as much as I could.   Around a frozen lake, across a muddy, frozen cow pasture, and back into the forest.   After finding a point over a small stream junction, the next one led me straight up a steep round hilltop.  For 35 points, it was worth it!  Although everyone was choosing their own route, there seemed to be someone around most of the checkpoints, and I used them to help find the tiny streamers, sometimes well-hidden behind trees.   I skipped a few points that I deemed too far away, and in two hours made my way back to the transition to start the bike. 

My first thought on starting the mountain bike leg was...."when was the last time I rode a mountain bike"?   I couldn't come up with a good answer, which means many years ago, which means I have no skills, so I took it nice and slow.   After a couple of miles of roads, the checkpoints led me back onto the Cleveland Way via a field path.  It was alternately frozen, muddy, and snow-covered, and I spent a good portion of it doing what is known as "Hike-A-Bike", in other words, walking and pushing the mud-covered thing.  The wheels were already weighed down with pounds of mud, and in the snow I could walk faster than I could ride.  It was a frustrating section to reach a couple of points, including one that was located at the bottom of a steep pasture.  The grass made for a quick bumpy ride down, leaning back as far as I could, and then everyone had to push their bikes back up.  (The rules state that you must be within 100 meters of your bike, therefore I couldn't just leave it at the top of the hill and run down.)

Once I reached a normal road again, I determined to find only the points where no trails were required.  Happily for me, there were a couple like that, and although steep hills were involved, at least they were paved.  The hidden danger here, as I found out, was that the tiny roads were still partly icy from recent bad weather. More "Hike-A-Bike" was required, but at least my wheels flung off most of the mud.  I did a mental cringe as mud splattered everywhere, coating my bike, clothing, and my new Nathan race backpack.   It was white when I started....maybe white isn't a good color for adventure racing?

With time counting down, I went for one last point.  It was across another half-frozen pasture trail, including a locked gate where we had to lift our bikes over it both ways.  Mud flew everywhere again (poor white backpack), and with 45 minutes left, I headed for home.  It took much longer than I expected, uphill and into the wind, and I arrived with just 10 minutes to spare. 

After downloading my dibbler, I was estatic to see a total of 380 points, which wasn't too far below the winning woman, my new friend Karen, who had told me about this race series in the first place.  Definitely gonna try to get to more of these events.  I like the level of navigation planning, thinking, rerouting, and decision-making needed to succeed at this type of competition.  I'm not fast, but maybe I can make up for the slowness by being smart.  Hmmm....

No photos for you this time (I was busy racing, after all), but check for photos on Open Adventure's website.

Housman Hundred entry confirmation!

YAY!  My LDWA Housman Hundred mile entry has been accepted!  As the race filled up in less than a week, I'm glad I had the form mailed in before the opening date.  Now I'm starting to get a bit scared, as this will be 40 miles farther than I've ever trodden before...and I remember how sore I was after just <gasp!> 60 miles.   I could barely drag myself into the finish hall and take off my shoes. 

And, given that this is England, the 100 miles won't be a nice graded path with sunshine and perfect weather.  More likely, it will probably include bogs, muddy cow pastures, stream crossings, scratchy heather, hidden rocks, fells, moors, many hilltop trig points, countless stile crossings of various designs meant to trip up tired legs, and more than a few steep climbs.   I'm sure that my feet will be soaked within a few miles, and damp through to the finish.  It will probably rain on our endless parade through the Shropshire countryside, and we will stolidly recite A.E. Housman poems under our breath, as we wipe water out of our eyes and plod ever onwards.  It could be windy as well, attempting to blow us off of our hilltop quests, which we will counteract by weighing ourselves down with the long list of required kit.   This includes but isn't limited to:  route description, map, compass, whistle, flashlight with spare batteries, mug, survival bag, first aid kit, mobile phone, waterproof top and bottom, fleece, and long pants (if shorts are worn), plus emergency food and drink.  I'm sure with all this junk, we'll need a large backpack to carry it in as well.  Night will fall on us once, or twice, depending on the speed of the slow crawl we are reduced to by the final miles.  In the light of our headlamps, we can expect to miss tiny trail junctions, and trackless moors will lead us astray.  Fog will descend at the worst time, in the dead of night, and our feet and legs will want nothing more than to sink down into the damp heather for a brief nap.

Luckily, the nine months I've now lived in this country have prepared me somewhat for such conditions.  I am lucky to live close enough to be able to walk or run to work every day, and that motivation to step out so often, has probably earned me more miles this year than all of my running races. Whereas for most of my races, there was actually decent weather (for the UK, anyway), my walks to work gave me a little bit of everything.  I don't think I've seen a warm (really warm, not just lukewarm!) sunny day since arriving, unless you count a week's escape to the Canary Islands.   But I have seen rain, fog, wind, snow, ice, cool, cold, and downright freezing conditions.   Arriving in the spring, it seemed like endless summer light for a while, but these last few winter months have accquainted me with the moon and the stars again, but how!   Still, I am amazed how many times I have walked without using my headlamp in complete darkness (plus one or more of the weather conditions listed above), and arrived without incident.  (Yes, mom, I wore a reflective jacket to warn the infrequent traffic.)  I was happy to see the shortest day of the year come and go, and on that day had a lovely walk to work while watching the beginning of the lunar eclipse.  Proof that it doesn't rain here every day.

Still, it's probably going to take something more than a few daily undulating miles of pavement to get me ready for a 100 mile trail race.   Hence my motivation for the Three Peaks walk on New Year's Eve.   Although it's still a bit early...the 100 miles won't arrive for almost 5 months.  So if between now and then, you see me out on the trails, point me towards the steepest fells (you know the ones, with the rain clouds hovering over them), and give me a push!

I'll leave you with some motivation, from the namesake of this year's Hundred, A.E. Houseman.

White in the moon the long road lies,

The moon stands blank above;

White in the moon the long road lies

That leads me from my love.

Still hangs the hedge without a gust,

Still, still the shadows stay:

My feet upon the moonlit dust

Pursue the ceaseless way.

The world is round, so travellers tell,

And straight though reach the track,

Trudge on, trudge on, 'twill all be well,

The way will guide one back.

But ere the circle homeward hies

Far, far must it remove:

White in the moon the long road lies

That leads me from my love.

Yorkshire Dales 3 Peaks, 25 mi, New Year's Eve 2010

Pen-y-Ghent

Why?  To ring out the old year in ultrarunning style, to finally see a famous trail in my area, and to begin the preparation for next year's big challenge, the Houseman Hundred.  The 3 Peaks Walk is an an end-of-year's tradition for the West Yorkshire LDWA group.  Although severe weather can sometimes hamper a finish (last year's walk was cut short due to waist-high snow drifts), it is the attempt that counts...and the bragging rights, and the well-earned year-end pint in the pub afterwards.   Well, "that American girl from Iowa", as the club seems to know me, got really lucky with this year's weather.  The  frigid temperatures (the coldest December in 120 years!) had lifted several days ago, melting most of the ice-covered paths.   So there were just a couple of slippery spots instead of a continous ice-skating rink. 

 

Pen-y-Ghent Trig Point

 We started in darkness, and ended that way as well.    But our first peak, Pen-y-Ghent, was fully visible as daylight emerged, and I wondered aloud <sshhhh> if the sun would even come out.   It was calm and the temperature was a few degrees above freezing.   Most of us were overdressed, and by the end of an hour, we were sweating and standing atop the summit of Pen-y-Ghent.  Which was bathed not in sunlight but in fog, alas.  A gentle wind was blowing up at the Trig point, so as we all touched it, a few layers went back on for the descent. 


Ribblehead Viaduct

Next came a very long slog across the valley towards Ribblehead Viaduct and Whernside.   Some of the bogs were still frozen, but most were green and squishy again.   The melting conditions had most of us wearing light trainers, and my feet first felt the freezing seep of water at mile 6 of our journey.  Yes, I keep track of such things :)   Brrr, was that water COLD!   The first soaking is always the worst, and after that I <mostly> stopped dodging bogs.   We had one dog along for the walk, and he continually ran circles around the group...I'm sure he ended up covering 2-3 times the distance we did, seemingly always energetic...what a trooper!



Finally arriving at the viaduct, which was nice to view in person rather than from a car window, we began the ascent to Whernside. The trail up to the tallest peak in the Yorkshire Dales at 2415 ft (although I was informed that title is sometimes still contested), wound us around the edge of a ridgetop.  Too bad the views were obscured by the thick fog.  I felt bad this, until hearing that another women in the group had summitted Whernside 5 times, always in fog.   At the trig point, the wind was blowing coldly, and my fingers started to numb when I took my gloves off to dig in my pack for a hot thermos of tea and some snacks.  The tea wasn't very warm anymore, either, and we didn't linger long. 
  


 

Whernside Tri Point

Now past the halfway point, we all started to feel the call of the finish, and marched like horses heading back to the barn.  Too bad that there was another mountain in the way!  It was a quick down and up to get us across to the 3rd peak, although I stopped to take pictures mid-way of the the neat limestone rocks, which are quite extensive, now that I have looked at the satellite picture of our route.  I will have to come back someday to play on them, in summer.  



Once past the rocks, there was a has a flagstoned path leading straight up the fells to the start of the real climb. Ingleborough, which turns out to be only a few feet shorter than Whernside, certainly felt much harder, as the trail wound straight up the side of the cliff, with a frozen waterfall beside us.  Once on the plateau, we were socked in thick fog, and I could barely keep the guy in front of me in sight, to make it to the trig point.  Without the rest of the group, I'm sure I would still be lost up there (or I would have had to dig out my map and compass and attempt to blaze my own descent).   Our jackets were flapping in the stiff wind, and all 28 of us stayed tightly bunched to keep from being separated in the fog.  Our summit stop was even shorter this time.





 It was only 4 miles back to the car park after descending out of the fog, and the trail was easy to follow as the group finally spread out at quite a quick pace.   A true walking group, I was chided several times for running through them (in jest, I hope!?!), but now with a light jog, I was still barely keeping up.   We passed another intriguing group of limestone rocks, but darkness was coming quickly, and the final section stretched longer and longer.   It was full dark by the time we  finished, but out eyes had adjusted to the failing light, and no one resorted to a headlamp.   Most of the group was headed to a Youth Hostel to celebrate New Year's Eve (I hope you had fun, everyone!), but I was content to be on my way home to a hot shower, celebratory pizza, and an American football game.

See the rest of my photos HERE

Christmas Lunch Group Walk, Nidderdale LDWA 15 mi. 5 Dec 2010

For my first LDWA Group Walk, I chose one close to home, as I wanted to get to know some of the trails around my neighborhood.  As it turned out, I got to know the trails in a different sort of weather than normal, as they were all covered in about 8 inches of snow!   About 17 of us met up at the Birstwith village pub, and set off.  It was cold but clear and sunny, so with layers of mittens and scarves we stayed warm enough.  Plowing through the deep snow slowed us down a little bit, so it was almost three hours before we reached the halfway point and a tea stop.  I was absurdly grateful to stop, sink down onto a snowbank, and munch on a biscuit.  Our group leader, Adrian, shared around slices of Stollen as well.   Luckily the tea in my thermos had stayed warm, and when we set off again I felt energetic again.

We did a fair share of trail breaking, as we crossed a few untouched fields of snow with a hard crust on top.  But most of our trails were somewhat hard packed, and the scenery was just beautiful.   I get the feeling that snow doesn't stay on the ground too long in this area, so it was nice to see the world look clean and white and fresh.  

Normally I am a runner, at least until I get tired and have to walk up a hill or something.  But it was enjoyable to take a slower pace for the day, enjoy the change in scenery, and chat with the folks in the group.   And we all were happy to get back around to the pub at the finish, to warm up, change into dry clothing, and enjoy a delicious meal. 

I was most gratified to find out the best part of snow hiking comes at the end. When I finally got back to the house, my boots weren't covered in dirt and mud, and my socks were actually dry!

See my other November 2010 snow pictures here

Photo courtesy of Adrian

Photo courtesy of Adrian

Photo courtesy of Adrian

Photo courtesy of Adrian

Photo courtesy of Adrian



Photo courtesy of Stuart

Photo courtesy of Stuart

Photo courtesy of Stuart

Photo courtesy of Stuart

Photo courtesy of Stuart

Photo courtesy of Stuart

Reservoir Runners, Thursdays at 9 a.m.

Since I keep referring to the Reservoir Runners in my blog, I figure the RR deserve a mention here.  Some months ago, as I was trying to figure out which LDWA club I geographically belonged to, I emailed a couple to inquire.   One of the club leaders replied affirmatively, and knew someone else, who knew someone else, who put me in contact with a group of runners that met at a reservoir near me for a weekly run.  Adrian told me to show up with a flask of tea on a Thursday and be ready to run.   I wasn't sure that the two things necessarily belonged together, but "when in England", right?

Well, since my schedule sometimes allows me to escape on a Thursday morning at 9 a.m., I've made it out to the weekly run a few times now, and enjoy it immensely.   Quite low-key, we meet at the car park between Fewston and Swinsty reservoirs, set off promptly at 9 a.m., and run around both reservoirs, for a total of 6.4 miles...but who's measuring?   There are always a few walkers as well, who head around the smaller reservoir, letting both groups arrive back together again within an hour. 

Photo taken by Andy

Then we crowd around a picnic table, which is starting to seem smaller and smaller as the group size grows!  With hot beverages poured from our flasks, and various biscuits shared around the table, we catch up with the lastest race reports and goings-on.  Given that we run in all sorts of weather, it can be pleasant to sit around outside, or quite dreadful.  My last run there was during the first snowstorm of the year, and as we sat sipping our hot beverages afterwards, the table and biscuits got coated with a heavy dusting of snow! 

I must confess that I am by far the slowest of all the runners who show up, and if I get any slower, the tea and biscuits might well be gone by the time I reach the picnic table!   Since the members of the Reservoir Runners read like a who's who of British fell runners, I supposed I shouldn't feel so bad....there seems to be an age group champion for every possible division showing up regularily.  I suppose normally I wouldn't be allowed to join such an elite grouping, but was given special exceptions due to being an American.  Or, perhaps I am just attempting to garner sympathy from the lady in charge of the handicap times?

Photo taken by Andy

Occasionally, instead of heading off together, we set up a handicap, where I invariably get to set off first (yay!), but still finish close to last (ouch).   A nine-minute head start doesn't seem like quite enough, Wendy...I think closer to 15 would be better!  Of course, not a few of us are trying to invent aches and pains and convey them pathically enough, to be granted a better handicap.   Given that the prize for the last handicap we ran was a giant corgette, it's definitely a race everyone wants to win....

All joking aside, the path around the reservoirs is wide and easy to follow, and the views are beautiful.  I'm lucky to have such a lovely place close to home, and a group of runners to share it with.   Now, Wendy, about that next handicap race...you see, I'm still hurting a little from those extra miles on the Rotherham...I daresay that I'll need to drop to a walk in spots, and that's really going to slow down my finish times..............

Photo taken by Andy

Photo taken by Andy

Photo taken by Andy

Photo taken by Andy

Photo taken by Andy

Add caption

Add caption

Photo taken by Andy

Photo taken by Andy

Photo taken by Andy

Photo taken by Andy