The Bullock Smithy

BS Race Report by Lee.

In the week leading up to the race I felt really up for it. Last year was also my introduction to the mad world of ultra long distance running and looking back on the second half of the event I remember it as a real mental marathon. It was probably the cameraderie and the collective focus that dragged me around. This time I felt that we were better placed, better trained and (some of us) better prepared.
While we were congregating on the Devonshire Park field, posing for photos, waiting for the announcements and the ring of the anvil there definitely seemed to be a buzz amongst the other competitors and spectators that Stockport had put out a really good side this year. I can't speak for anyone else but at that point I'll readily admit to feeling a little pressure. 

Once the anvil chorus was struck and we were heading out of the hedge onto London Road I was immediately conscious that the group had fragmented. I was running with Sally and we were musing on how we'd all become so strung out in the initial mile or so.

We headed over a couple of fields, crossing a golf course and through a tunnel that passes under the old coal mining incline. We passed one member of our group who knows the route well and I remember thinking "Uh - oh who was going to steer me now?" Privately I reckoned I probably knew about 80% of the planned route but I've only managed one major recce over the summer months and was concerned that if I became separated from the lead pack that I may potentially take a wrong turning (see below). I moved up towards the leading runners and concentrated on keeping them in sight as we headed up a long incline toward the first check point at Bowstones.

I managed to catch two other members of our group just before the check point that we reached in about 42 minutes. I remember thinking then that this was perhaps a little fast early on in the race but we all felt as fresh as an Eric (one of our team mates who notoriously always feels fantastic) and in any case there was a good downhill section toward Furness Vale where we could recover! The slog up to Chinley Churn is always a joy (not) but not too bad when broken up with walking breaks on the steeper climbs. Although I seem to remember now that walking was not an option for Paul and the lead group marvelled as he floated effortlessly up to check point number 2.

We happily managed to traverse the downhill hell that is the drop off from the shoulder of Mt. Famine (sliced my hand open here last year) and up toward the next check point at Edale Cross despite the almost out-of-body pain experience of involuntary massaging the sore spot of my right Plantar fasciitis with a triangular rock on the way up. Eric had dropped back a little here and Paul had gone on but waited for me at the check point and we made our away down Jacobs ladder and on towards Edale. Yes Paul, we went awry here for the first (but not the last!) time by taking the slightly longer road route instead of cutting across the fields and the railway bridge but we were moving quite well so I don't think it cost us too much time. 

My plan of keeping hydrated by drinking plenty of fluid mixed with nuun tablets had, by now started to backfire spectacularly as never having tried them before, I started to get stomach ache and felt increasingly dizzy. Maybe my system just isn't accustomed to exercising with that level of sodium in my gut but I felt I couldn't drink another drop of it and seriously considered soldiering onward to Castleton and then jacking it in.

I glugged about a litre of orange juice at the check point and jogged on the road towards the path up to Hollins Cross. Eric had arrived at the check point just as Paul and I were leaving so he was still well in touch. Paul and I were 4th and 5th at this point and I knew Paul was holding himself back as he thought I knew the way. There seemed to be more flags as the drop down off the ridge seemed to go better than last year although I need to work on my lower leg strength as downhills were costing me too much time and effort trying to stay upright.

We made the checkpoint slightly earlier than I'd planned at 3:15pm and my wife arrived a couple of minutes later with supplies. She had anticipated that I might struggle and had brought a couple of lucozade sport bottles, fantastic! We regrouped with Eric and made our way up the grassy slope next to Cave Dale. Mental note here, take a straight route up this hill in future and not diagonally as it's much harder, especially on the ankles. The next couple of checkpoints were routine with no mishaps apart from another wrong turn at Millers Dale where Paul and I had another unlooked-for foray this time through a dry riverbed and woodland. We were joined for the duration of the race just after Chelmorton by Eric and on the way down to Earl Sterndale made the decision that the three of us would stick together. Grabbing handfuls of crisps and jam butties we left the check point just after 6:30pm.

Again, there were no real problems encountered on the way to Brand Top. Delighted and very grateful to see a couple of the coaches from Stockport Harriers here as I'd previously remarked how we needed a club lookout at Brand Top as it's approx two-thirds of the way around. Our coach told us to keep straight on and the three of us really started to get excited about posting a competitive time when ... ......................it all went spectacularly WRONG!

(Are you still here???) ...Instead of going left at the bridge across Black Clough and, at my insistence, we turned right and up to another bridge arriving at a spot that none of us recognised. I remember that on the last recce we turned right at the second bridge and so compounding an already bad situation by insisted again that this must be way and as we'd only done this in the dark we'd not recognise the place anyway. Paul and Eric rightly said that we'd gone wrong as we suddenly found ourselves on a tarmac path heading up a steep hill so I tried to rescue the situation by bringing out the gps phone but the damn thing wouldn't connect to anything at the bottom of a deep valley in the middle of nowhere. We decided to head up an even steeper path toward a farm house so we might get a better look at the lie of the land and see the direction where the Cat & Fiddle road lay but after trespassing through somebody’s back garden we heard the voices from another farmhouse about a hundred yards away from where we were thinking that they perhaps were trying to rescue our predicament we made our way down another clough and up another steep track to the house where about twenty inebriated blokes were trying to form an archway for us to run through. I suppose I should've seen the funny side of this but I was now in no mood for a mickey take and so I gruffly asked if they knew the way to the A537 and quite clearly they didn't.

It was a wrench to decline their kind offer of free beers and a map but we headed off in a direction our inner compasses told us might be right and after another mad scramble down a boggy, tussocky, rocky, fern-strewn field we were delighted to be staring over a hundred foot drop into the River Dane. Amazingly we managed to pick our way down this slope and across the river before a haul up to another farmhouse. We trespassed through their backyard and then caught a glimpse of other Stockport Harriers.making their way across the fields towards the ladder crossing the A537. Dejected, the three of us sat on the barrier at the road and agreed that we'd blown our ten hour target (well, diplomatically at least Paul and Eric didn't openly blame me) and decided that we'd form up with the others to become another Stockport juggernaut and press on to the finish!

We were glad that we managed to put the stony stumble up to and from Cumberland Cottage behind us whilst there was still light in the sky and after a quick stop to don headtorches, change clothes etc midway en route to Walker Barn we were off again. I don't know about the others but I felt that plod up the long road hill this year seemed worse than doing Charity Lane. Not sure if I'll go that way again next time.

The last few miles, as they were last year, are just a case of ticking them off, one by one with, in my case sore, bruised feet and mashed quads but I certainly felt a lot stronger up Towers Road and up to the finish. Actually it was a big positive to come in again with friends and the icing on the cake was to witness Sally bettering her own already impressive record. For me that was the best performance of the entire race. Well done to everyone this year, supports and fellow competitors alike. I'm already looking forward to righting the wrongs next year. Sub 9:30 anyone?