For a below average gardener, I’m quite obsessed with my clematis. I bought it the year I moved in and every winter it dies back so thoroughly that I assume it is finished. Surely nothing good can come back from the spindly dry sticks I’m left with? And every spring, around about Easter, it surprises me with a resurrection. It’s in raging bloom at the moment, assaulting the dullness of the shed with bright purple flowers. What I love about it is that it doesn’t bloom based on just one season. It’s established itself in the soil. It’s grown a big root network. So every year is more than just a bit of sunshine and water, its the cumulative affect of years of growth. And this gives me hope. Specifically, this gives me hope for the Bob Graham Round. I’ve had one of those seasons where things don’t necessarily go... View Article
I was washing pots when it happened. A good bit of craic round a campsite sink. Them telling me how tired they were, me encouraging them that there wasn’t far to go. And so they asked me whether I’d done it before. I hesitated a moment before telling them I’d done most of it, but didn’t finish. They asked where I stopped and, on hearing Kinlochleven, looked at me with something approaching pity. “Why would you stop with only one day left? Were you injured? In too much pain?” The whole adventure flashed before my eyes. The dusky run to Drymen, Loch Lomond by moonlight, the long slog across Rannoch Moor and the struggle over the Devil’s Staircase. The seemingly infinite sense of possibility. Milngavie to Kinlochleven in one spontaneous run, rinsing out my body in the pursuit of a twenty-four hour completion. I shrugged and gave a wan smile.... View Article
November 26, 2022,
by Pete
I don’t like razor wire. It looks really sharp. I realise this is the point but still, it’s not my favourite. So when you’re squeezing through a gate at the exit from an airforce base at the highest point in the Valencia region, hands frozen and struggling to stay upright in the wind, razor wire is the last thing you want to negotiate. But that was later, of course, and we’ll get there. That must have been almost seven and a half hours after the fireworks illuminated the skies above the small town of Finestrat. A few hundred runners burst from the plaza, headtorches illuminating the streets as they headed for the hills. A tension pulls at us; not wanting to go off too fast but dreading the bottleneck if you start slow. Ultra Trail Costa Blanca had began. Moments later we’re single file, a thread of illumination weaving its... View Article
October 14, 2022,
by Pete
“The earth,” wrote Antoine de Saint Exupéry in his classic fell running memoir, Wind, Sand and Stars, “teaches us more about ourselves than all the books in the world, because it is resistant to us. Self-discovery comes when man measures himself against an obstacle.” Okay, so maybe the book was about flying not fell running, but the sentiment fits. The Langdale Horseshoe is a classic fell race; runner against a collection of all that the Lakeland fells can throw against them. It’s got everything from scrambling to fast runnable sections, river crossings to waist deep bogs. And it’s ran in October, because fell runners are daft in the head. Why go into the mountains on a nice day when you could go up in whatever Autumn is throwing at you? Last time I ran this race I was recovering from flu and my body just didn’t want to go. It’s... View Article
September 22, 2022,
by Pete
About once a year or so, I conduct a highly scientific experiment: which is stronger, my body or granite? I never plan when this experiment is going to happen but I know immediately when it does. 4km into the Ring of Steall last weekend, granite extended its lead to three nil. I’m hoping it’s a best of three kind of competition and we can call it quits now. I’d taken my running poles moments earlier to help push up Sgurr an Iubhair but they’d spent most of their time clutched redundantly in one hand while I navigated bogs and stone. I got my toe on the edge of a big rock and then, without hands to pull-up, I slipped off it and my shin bounced down the granite edge. A hand steadied my rear. A marshal quipped that the person behind and I were now an item. I just wondered... View Article
September 14, 2022,
by Pete
If you’re not from Newcastle or South Shields, it might be hard to understand how big a place the Great North Run occupies in the collective consciousness. It doesn’t matter where I’ve travelled to race, or how far those races have been, for many people here the question is always; ‘are you doing the Great North Run?’ After route changes due to coronavirus restrictions in 2021, the world’s biggest half marathon returned to the traditional route this year. You start on the central motorway in Newcastle and you run to the sea in South Shields. Given I live near the start and was born near the finish, it always feels a little like coming home. I know how I should pace a race but on a fast road race like this, I just don’t want to. I’d rather fail spectacularly knowing I gave it 110% than pace myself around to... View Article
I’d never considered Poland for a mountain running break before. There’s a degree of familiarity with the famous running destinations in the Alps or Pyrenees but as soon as I saw the promotional video for Tatra Sky Marathon, I knew that it looked like something special. The evening we arrived in Koscielisko I saw the sun set paint firey hues behind the towering, cross topped, presence of Giewont and it’s neighbour Kopa Kondracka. I may not be in good shape but whatever my legs chose to do, nature had given us an incredible theatre to run in. The race started close to Zakopane and the atmosphere was electric well before the seven am start time. Runners thronged together under the starting arches and listened to the race briefing. Only two words were translated for me: snakes and bears. Right then. Let’s be having it. Four trombita’s sounded the start and... View Article
There’s a saying, often attributed to Disraeli, that there’s three types of lies; lies, damned lies, and statistics. I can’t tell you if Disraeli ever said such a thing, but I can tell you it’s been true in my running. After being frustrated on my Bob Graham attempt in May, I wasted no time getting running again. I was back out within a couple of days. That next weekend I set a target to take a Strava crown on a four mile segment I’d been eyeing up and did so comfortably. The weekend after that was the Trail Pursuit half marathon, which last minute route changes had turned into a 15 mile technical fell run. Bad news for people who paid in good faith for an accessible trail, good news for gluttons for punishment like myself. All seemed to be going to plan until a frustrating outing at Blencathra Fell... View Article
It was supposed to end in champagne, not five minutes of dry retching by the side of a b-road. I wanted to tell you all how it felt to dash up to Moot Hall, surrounded by friends. Whether I’d managed a jog up the hallowed steps or had crawled on my knees. But instead, it’s time for a different tale. For the day before an attempt on a lifetime ambition, you’d think Friday would’ve been stressful but a strange calm had descended. I was neither scared nor excessively psyched, just very matter of fact. I would run 66 miles over 42 peaks because I’ve trained myself to do just that. I bought supplies, had a short nap, and chatted to my support team as they rolled in. By five to eleven I was stood at Moot Hall chatting to another round going the same time. A photo opportunity, an extra... View Article
Don’t set out to impress. It’s childish, for one thing. Bloody childish. And for another, it will get you into trouble. Because when you’re out of the slips at quicker than flat 5k pb pace running up a lakeland fell, you’ll realise you’ve once again went off too hard. I glance around. What am I doing in fifth? This is lunacy. I’m not even performing at a level where I always accept the sobriquet of ‘fell runner’ so sitting in fifth in a race in the Lakes? Absurd. Sort your life out, Jobes. But also. Also, what if all of the Bob Graham training has transformed me into being half decent at this? Only way to find out is to push harder. At the mile mark I’d lost a few places but was still top ten and, having mocked Prefontaine last blog, I decided to employ another of his maxims:... View Article
