Finding the edges
The first thing I noticed, parked up at Wooler war memorial, was the three OMM stickers on the car in front. Whoever was in there was obviously the real deal. People who do the OMM are a different breed. Nothing like starting a big day with a slice of humble pie.
I was there because the ever changing landscape of quarantine and corona has seen me miss out on two ultras this year; I’d decided to make use of my training.
The Cheviots are my local hills. They’re home to the Chevy Chase, possibly my favourite race, and the High Fells of Hedgehope, which featured the most hostile weather I’ve ran in.
They’re also home to The McWilliams Round, which comes in three flavours. The short, clocking in at 32 miles (yes, that’s the short one!), the long, at 43 miles, and the ultra which is both of them back to back. I settled on the long one and marked up my trusty OS map.
The round starts and ends at the war memorial in the centre of Wooler. I tapped the button on my watch and was half way down the stairs before wondering if I’d started with my hand on the memorial railings or not. I turned around, touched it, and headed off again. Like the doors of the Moot Hall, little details matter.
Leg one takes you along the high street and out of the town towards the west, taking you over Humbleton Hill and skirting Harehope Hill before heading up onto White Law.
Yeavering Bell is next up and I was careful to touch both tops, ascending the west most one before dashing back east and ‘tying the bow’ by cutting back across on myself. The views north are spectacular and pockets of early morning mist hadn’t yet cleared on the horizon.
The views north are spectacular and pockets of early morning mist hadn’t yet cleared on the horizon.
After this came the first thing I’d dreaded – fuelling. I’d ordered my usual Maurten Caffeinated gels last week and the shop delivered the wrong ones. My exchange wasn’t processed in time leaving me with a pocket full of whatever they had in store – sickly sweet stuff from SIS and High5. Reader, it was as awful as you’d expect.
From Yeavering Bell you pick off some of the hill tops on the north east flank of the College Valley, with Easter Tor, Wester Tor and Hare Law in quick succession. Swarms of flying ants marked the tops of these last three, along with crowds of Cheviot Goats.
I’m not sure any animal is as unaware of it’s own power as the humble Cheviot Goat. Hard as nails, resistant to all kinds of weather, and with horns almost two feet long, and what happens when you get close? They run. It’s a relief really, because if they blocked the path I’m not sure I’d go head to head with one.
I’m not sure any animal is as unaware of it’s own power as the humble Cheviot Goat.
A butterfly played scout as I came off Wester Tor, flying about a yard in front of me for ages, red wings flapping away, quick enough to stay ahead but not deviating from the path. The Cheviots are nothing if not full of wildlife.
Cutting east towards Commonburn House the sounds of a grouse shoot reverberated across the landscape. Shouting, yelling, and lots of shooting. From Commonburn you head south to Broadstruther and then pick up the Hawsen Burn down into Harthope Valley.
By this point I was melting. While the weather forecast had promised clouds, the sun was searing hot. I passed the biggest adder I’ve seen in the hills, having a much better time of the heat than I was, and exhausted my soft flasks before I made it to the valley. Luckily I’d left a drop bag hidden in the bracken and was able to fill up again and drink plenty. I even managed a mini pork pie.
I’d made much better time than expected over leg one, but leg two was going to be the tough part…
I’d made much better time than expected over leg one, but leg two was going to be the tough part with the two biggest peaks of the day and a massive amount of bog. I made consistent pace with a steady push up Cheviot. It was nice to see the runner I’d seen in Wooler up on top and, as someone who’d done the round before, he gave some encouragement before I set off along the pennine way to Cairn Hill.
The section from Cairn Hill over to Comb Fell marks the half way point of the round and, if you’ve read some of my lockdown adventures, you’ll know I call it the place that dreams go to die. Comb Fell is endless peat bogs and you never know if your next step will be solid ground or knee deep clag. I surprised myself with a good push through this section and summited Hedgehope Hill relieved that the bogs hadn’t broken me.
The mental focus, however, hadn’t managed to mask the pain that was now in both legs. Not a sharp pain, more a consistent dull weightiness that made every step feel like a tough effort. The heat was relentless and I was starting to feel pretty unpleasant from the gels – I’ve no idea how anyone takes them, they’re perfectly vile.
The mental focus, however, hadn’t managed to mask the pain that was now in both legs.
I met another runner at the top of Hedgeope and we ran together as far as Long Crags, which was great for taking my mind off things and giving a morale boost.
From Long Crags it’s a quick dash around Housey Crags and back into the valley to my drop bag – a big relief as I was out of water again. I refilled the flasks, downed a half a litre or so, and headed on, feeling like I’d broken the back of this beast.
I quickly crested Cold Law and then rejoined the road along to the small bridge over the burn at Langlee. The pain was persistent but it didn’t feel unmanageable and I knew I could drop my pace by three minutes a mile and still finish within the time limit.
I set off up to Brands Hill and then everything changed. I became hyper-conscious of the fact that with more than a marathon done, there was still a half marathon to go. I struggled to keep pushing and what should’ve been an easy incline became an Everest. Whatever strength I was relying on had drained away. I looked at my watch with about 20k left and decided I had nothing left to give.
There was no dramatic fall, no collapsing unable to go further, it just beat me in the mind. I couldn’t persuade my legs that another few hours was a good plan. In an instant I was heading back down the hill towards Carey Burn, a three mile walk back to Wooler in store.
There was no dramatic fall, no collapsing unable to go further, it just beat me in the mind.
Even trudging back with my head hung low, I covered the miles back to Wooler at the pace that would’ve been required to finish. I don’t think I was physically done, it just broke my will. I didn’t want to suffer any more and it seemed rational to quit. I finished up with 52.5km run and 2,300 metres of vert.
Looking back now, I have my regrets. I’ve pored over maps, looked at my pace, and I believe I would’ve finished if I’d kept going. A race would’ve kept me pushing, or a fellow runner to tell me to keep my chin up, but on a hillside with no other souls in sight I faced my limits and backed away. I’m pleased with what was, until the point I gave up, a well paced effort, and disappointed that I wasn’t all I had hoped I would be.
There’s a quote from Aussie ultra runner John Foden that says, “I shan’t wish you luck because if you’ve trained properly, you won’t need luck. And if you haven’t trained properly, then luck will be of no use.”
I don’t know if it is quite that clear cut though. I’ve trained hard all summer but many little things didn’t go my way. Having the wrong gels delivered left me feeling grim all the way. Unexpected clear skies meant what should’ve been a cloudy run was pursued under the mid-day sun. I could’ve used a bit of luck.
On the trudge back into Wooler, I decided it was time to lay some dreams to rest. That my body simply isn’t cut out to run long distances. That the Bob Graham round will never happen. I was at peace, having found the edge of my possible.
As I trudged back into Wooler I was at peace, having found the edge of my possible.
Twenty four hours later it’s a different picture. It’s probably the end of my ultra running attempts for the year, but I’m planning on making it out of 2020, which means there’s always 2021.
I’m not saying I will go for it again but… there’s enough things I could have improved to get round. I was physically capable but gave up just to stop the pain. That can change. I just need to come back stronger, better prepared, more willing to persevere.
It’s also just possible that the old adage is true, “If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together.”