Wasdale Horseshoe Race Report (2017): Fiona’s story.
This was my third time entering this event and I can only imagine the resigned sigh emitted by the RD when my application form arrived in the post. A totally unprepared and naive attempt at this race in 2015 saw me complete, only because another runner (Thank you Jim P) practically dragged me round the second half of the course. 2016, feeling more prepared and fitter than the previous year ended in disaster when I slipped on the way to Pillar and cleverly landed on my head. Not only did this result in stitches and concussion more mortifyingly, I cost 3 other runners (thank you Luigi, Paul and Eddie) their race as they helped my off the mountains (an adventure in itself and we were in good company with nearly 40 runners DNF that year). So 2017 rolls round and while I have run a few races and had a few goals this year, my main aim was to complete the horseshoe, without maiming myself, getting lost or costing another runner their race. You could argue that if any of these are a possibility, then you may have bitten off more than you could chew and I would agree. If I had a time machine I would have gone back to July 2015 and given my overconfident self a kick in the proverbial and locked my 2016 self under the stairs the morning of the race! But 2017 was a different kettle of fish. I focused on getting those navigational skills up to a competent level with thanks to my team mate and friend, very patient Lisa Carter. On the summit of Hellvellyn on one of our tutorials she diagnosed me with fell Tourette’s as I declared every lake I saw to be ‘Windermere’! More training runs in the Lake District helped get ready for the big climbs and an actual recce of the race route with some club mates meant when driving up the night before the race I didn’t experience my usual fear and dread of the race (again signs that I was severely out of my depth). The night before the race was a very pleasant one, weather was good as was visibility. I took a post-dinner trot up to Lingmell gate and took in the views. This year was going to be different I hoped.
Race Day
Woke to a gorgeous morning and collected my race number early. Team mate Lisa had volunteered to marshal and help at the event so it was good to have a friendly face to chat to. It was much busier than usual as the event had sold out presumably because it is a championship race this year. Mauro Rotondi, another Radcliffe AC member who took part in the race arrived and along with a few other running buddies the pre-race hours flew pleasantly by, and before we knew it we were standing in the starting field ready for the off. A few minutes after that we were walking out of the starting field to the new starting line back at the bridge near the carpark. I got my first jitters of the day then thinking it’s not a good omen if I mess up getting to the start line. Following the safety briefing and the usual low key ‘go’ we were off shuffling down the track, past the climbing club hut, through the old starting field and on our way towards our first climb. It was a hot day and my west of Ireland blood began to rebel against what it considered to be a tad on the warm side as the gradient steepened. I like this climb, its straight forward stomping with a number of false summits but there’s nothing complicated about it and you know you have a nice boggy flat reprieve at the top. Don’t get me wrong, if you had passed me at this point (and many did) I looked like I was sucking lemons but trust me, inside I was having a party! On the flat I glanced at my watch and was surprised to see how long it had taken me to ascend so I put a bit of pace in and picked off a few runners and gained some distance. The checkpoint is always further away than you think but I managed to make the cut off with about 10 minutes to spare. I realised that the heat was taking more out of me than I thought so a gel and a slurp of water helped me get going and tackled the boggy bracken covered descent. An incorrect line taken here (3rd year in a row) meant I went down the gully but managed to correct myself veer left and find the correct line and pick up some time. Once in the valley it’s a reasonably easy run over to Greendale for a welcome cup of water, a quick photo with my team mate and a ‘hello’ to Lisa who was helping out with the water station.
Mauro and I ran together for a while chatting about recent races although my mind was on the cut off and the fact that I didn’t have the cushion I would have liked at this point. It was comforting to see some familiar faces on this section as I knew if I was keeping up with them that pace wise I was doing OK. Sections of the ascent to Seat Allen remind me of Mordor, boggy and a bit miserable and never ending but this year the astounding views at the summit have made me feel something akin to affection for this lump. I didn’t know you could see the Isle of Man so clearly from here and my phone buzzing in my backpack told me I was now on the Isle of Man Network. Seat Allen to Pots of Ashness was straightforward and then contouring round to Windy Gap thankfully uneventful but slow going as again my Celtic blood began to remind me I grew up in sideways rain and greyness! Gable taunted us from a distance and for the first time ever I could see the ‘horseshoe’ of the race. Conditions couldn’t be more different to previous races. I reached Pillar and asked the marshals how much time was left to the cut off. 10 minutes. Add that to the Gable cut off and I thought I was back into the comfortable zone again. I don’t know if that inadvertently made me a bit complacent but by the time I was going round Kirk fell with a nice bunch of other ladies from Todmorden, Wharfedale, Pudsey and Bramley suddenly we only had 35 minutes to reach the checkpoint! I began to panic a bit and was cross with myself for being in this position. I was also concerned that Mauro who was behind me on the approach to Pillar seemed to be out of sight. Our little pack picked the pace up, having gotten this far not wanting to lose out for the sake of a couple of minutes. Covering ground at a good rate now we took a pretty vertical and straight line up to the summit as there was no time to waste zig- zagging on the tourist path. There was franticness at this point as everyone was acutely aware that if we missed the 4:30 cut off, it was game over. With a whole 4 minutes something we summited and you could be forgiven for thinking we had won the race at that point we were so relieved. I really didn’t envy the marshal’s job of having to tell people that they had missed the cut off shortly after.
2 more sections to go now in my mind. The ascent to Scafell Pike and then getting the correct line to Lingmell. If I could do that I would be a very happy bunny. It was trouble free down to Styhead. The heat began to build again and Sprinkling Tarn looked extremely inviting. We resisted the temptation to jump in for a swim and contented ourselves with splashing water from the becks on our heads. Some amazing people offered us water and jelly babies on the approach to Esk hause. From Esk Hause to Scafell Pike my legs began to seize a bit so I eased off the pace towards the summit. Stop/starting has always been a weak point for me as I find it hard to get going again and my negotiation of boulder fields needs a lot of work (2018 goal) so it was slow going. I had an arbitrary of time of 6hours 30min as a finishing time based on absolutely nothing other than it was a round number and if I managed to finish I wouldn’t care either way. I also didn’t want to land on my head this close to finishing. My pack began to pull away from me although I still had them in sight. A quick hello and thank you to the marshals at Scafell and then just the job of finding my way to Lingmell gate. Thankfully the Gods of weather didn’t let me down and visibility was crystal clear so it was a straight forward section. It was a lovely feeling to hand my second last counter to the marshal at the gate. Then I remembered it’s not a gate. It’s a flipping stile. I hate stiles. Stiles are made for people with longer legs. Us hobbits need a rope to get over them! But over I went and I like to think I Laura Ingalls-ed my way down the mountain although in reality I suspect it was more akin to Quasimodo running from the bells. I crossed the line to have my counter taken by Lisa (was there a job she didn’t do that day!?) and be greeted by Mauro who had unfortunately been timed out by minutes at Gable. He will be back next year!
My finishing time was 6:30:32 so not exactly record breaking (1st man Carl Bell finished in an eye watering 3:40 and former Radcliffe AC member and current Black Coombe runner, Anna Lupton was first lady in a sprint finish to the line in 4:41) but you couldn’t wipe the smile of my face I was so happy. I did what I set out to do. A few shameless selfies with Joss Naylor and a chat with Wendy Dodds at the end ‘Maybe when you are my age you will break 6:30’ had me giggling. There was a lovely atmosphere as there always is following a fell race with people sharing their stories and tales of the day and planning their next adventures. Unfortunately I couldn’t stay too long as real life and my 9 year old’s birthday sleep over required a quickish exit and trip back down the M6 (FYI: terrible planning!). A race like Wasdale is a major test for a lowland runner like me. But if it wasn’t for this race I wouldn’t have forced myself out of my comfort zone, learnt a few new skills and made lots of new friends along the way. I’ve a lot to thank it for. Will I be back in 2018? That is a good question!
Thank you to Richard Eastman for letting me run again this year and to all his wonderful marshals and volunteers. See you on the fells soon.