Spine Flare Race 2019 – 108 miles (178km) from Edale to Hardraw Part 1 – Before the race It has taken me more than 6 months to write this report... and in fact, it has taken me more than six months to recover from this race – a race that has given me so much but also has also taken so much out of me. After this race, my season was practically over, I was mentally and physically drained, DNF’d another race and finally took a bit of a break from training. However, with the winter race being on, I am thinking back to the Pennine Way with so many fond memories, and I wish I was there... Here is my report from our summer adventure. I started writing it back in June when my memory was still fresh but then didn’t finish it until today. The Spine Race has haunted me for a while now. Every year in January, I join in a group of people who practise “dot watching” - following the brave runners who tackle the entire length of the Pennine Way, from Edale in the Peak District to Kirk Yetholm in Scotland, via the online tracker. The Spine ultramarathon series comprises four races: In winter: The Spine Race – 268 miles Spine Challenger – 108 miles In summer: Spine Fusion – 268 miles Spine Flare – 108 miles After watching the race unfold in January 2018, I convinced Paddy that we should do the Spine Challenger, the 108 mile winter race, the following year. It will be fun, I said. We have a whole year to prepare. We can do it.... so we signed up as soon as the registration opened and did not think twice about it. In the following months, we did a few more races and also ran on the trails in the UK quite regularly, including on the Pennine Way. I struggled with the technical bits and I was always a bit wary of the weather and how exposed the terrain is. After my DNF in the Snowdonia 50 miler in Junen2018, it became clear that the winter race was probably a bit too hard for me. Luckily, the organisers of the Spine race let us transfer our entry to the summer version, the Spine Flare. It would still be hard, 108 miles on technical terrain, but at least it would not be in the snow. We went to the Peak District a few times to train on the Pennine Way. It was often quite frustrating for me, stumbling along on the technical downhills, trying not to fall, with Paddy having to wait for me at the bottom of each hill. I was not very confident. I did not really want to do the Spine anymore, I felt like it would be too hard for me... In April, we did the Seenländer Ultra with 146km, which restored my confidence, and I decided that I would give the Spine Flare a try. With 60 hours, the time limit was pretty lenient and we could just treat it as a long weekend of hiking on the Pennine Way. I tried not to think too much about it and just concentrated on my recovery from the Seenländer Ultra. Luckily, Paddy was a bit more concerned with the race and reminded me to get the mandatory kit and organised our stay there. I did lots of uphill hiking and downhill running, concentrated on spending time on my feet rather than kilometres, and it seemed to pay off. We did a 30km run over the hills of the Thuringian forest, which turned out to be my longest training run for the race, three weeks before. In the week after that, which was supposed to be my peak week of training, I developed a sharp pain in my left forefoot and had to pause because I feared that it was a stress fracture. I saw a few doctors for it and finally, on the Tuesday before the race, had an MRI scan that confirmed that it was in fact not a stress fracture but an inflammation in my foot. However, the doc said that I could run the race if I was pain free. I got a new pair of shoes, new insoles and tested the foot on a short 3km run, my first run in 3 weeks. It felt fine. The race was on. I had never felt so underprepared before a race. With three days to go, I finally started getting serious about it and put together all the mandatory and additional kit that I would need to carry: Mandatory kit:
Additional kit:
I somehow managed to pack it all in my restricted Ryanair luggage and flew from Frankfurt to Manchester on the Thursday before the race. I was wearing my shiny new Hoka Speedgoats on the flight and felt a bit odd amidst all the business people on the plane. Paddy and I spent Thursday night in Manchester. On Friday, we tried to sleep as long as possible, then went to Tesco to get all the food we would need for our drop bags and during the race. It looked a bit like we were shopping for a kids birthday party. Instant porridge oats, instant noodles, crisps, crackers, jelly babies, Alpro vanilla custard, bananas, bread, peanut butter, nuts, crackers and, most importantly, coke. With the car full of gear and food, we then set off to Edale, not without stopping at a pub before to get some more food into our bellies. The strategy of trying to eat as much as possible the day before a long race had paid off in the past, and I knew I would have more energy if I ate as much as I could. I had been to Edale a few times before, knowing that one day I would be back for the Spine Race. This was the day. I got quite excited as we entered the parking lot and saw the banners for the race in front of the community house, were the registration and briefing took place. Yippie... We got our race numbers and had our kit checked by the race officials. It was all approved. The briefing was quite detailed and, again, I felt very underprepared as I hadn’t really looked much at the race course or the rules. A mistake that I would have to pay for later... Basically, the race is mainly self-supported. There were only two checkpoints in our race, CP 1 at Hebden Bridge after about 73 km and CP 1.5 at Malham Tarn. CP2 at Hardraw was the finish line for our race, the short version, while those doing the long race would continue for much, much longer after that. Paddy asked the organiser if we would get a warm meal at every checkpoint and they said yes. We were relieved because we would not have to carry all the food all the time then. Since the weather was supposed to be quite hot on the Saturday, they also said that they would set up some additional water stops along the course, which good to know. I was relieved because it meant that if my foot acted up and I had to stop early, I did not have to go all the way to CP 1. After the briefing, we headed to our hotel for some more food and an early night’s sleep. I was very nervous now and felt a bit stressed by everything but managed to sleep well. The race started at 8am the next morning so we did not have to get up before 6 am, which is a rare luxury in ultra races. Part 2 – Edale to CP 1, Hebden Bridge I felt very good when I woke up, fresh and ready to go. Back in Edale, we got our GPS trackers taped to our backpacks, so that the race organisers and people back home could follow us and see where we were on the course, which gave us a safe feeling. The tracker also had an emergency button for alerting the rescue services in the event of an emergency but the organisers pointed out that if we pressed that button, it meant that our race was over. It was already quite warm when we lined up at the start. I was not sure how warm it would be up on the hills, so I decided for a t-shirt and knee-long running tights. The weather was supposed to stay nice until Sunday afternoon but in the UK you can never be sure. We planned to reach the first checkpoint before it got dark so that we could change into warmer clothes for the night there. Then the race started. The first metres over grass felt quite wobbly with the heavy backpacks on our backs and the field being close together but it soon got better. I knew these first kilometres from a previous run. We ran on a lovely grassy path out of Edale, towards the first big climb of the race, Jacob’s Ladder, leading up to Kinder Scout. Climbing up the rocky steps of Jacob’s Ladder made me feel quite hill. The sun was burning down and I had clearly eaten too much. My legs felt weak too. Not a good sign when you are less than 5km into a 173km race. I told Paddy not to wait for me and to keep going. We had not really decided if we would run together or not, but at this stage, I just wanted to go at my own pace without holding him back. We said that we might wait for each other at CP1 so that we could run together through the night but made it dependent on how close we were together. Then I was on my own. I was quite out of breath when I reached the top of Kinder Scout, I felt hot and a bit nauseous but it soon got better. There was a nice breeze up there. I chatted to a guy from Yorkshire, Richard, who was going at the same pace, for a while. He told me that the terrain was the most technical on the first 15 miles and that it would get easier after that. I was very relieved to hear that. On the first technical downhill, I rolled my ankle a bit. Luckily it was not too bad. A lot of people passed me there but I did not mind. It was still early in the race and I had no idea how long it would take me to finish. The average finishing time in the previous races was around 44 hours. Considering that time frame, the race had not even really started at this point. We ran on stone plates through the moor for a while, then crossed the road on Snake Pass, where they had set up a water station. My water bladder and bottle were still full so I went straight through. In the distance I could see Paddy climbing up the hill in front of me but he was too far away for me to reach him. s I met a woman here, Harriet, who was doing the long race, and stayed with her for a while. She was moving really well over the technical terrain and I tried hard to keep up with her. We hiked over a narrow, technical path along the edge of a hill, the views were spectacular and it was a gorgeous day but I had to concentrate hard on the path in front of me. One wrong step and I would faceplant on that path. The wounds from my last fall 3 weeks ago had just healed and I had promised Kati not to come back with any new scars 😉 I don’t remember much of the next section, I was running / walking on my own most of the time, concentrating on the path in front of me and trying not to fall or do anything stupid. It was very hot and I drank a lot. My stomach felt better and I could eat, my legs were no longer feeling weak and my foot did not hurt. Good times... I had packed some small salt packages that you get in fast food restaurants and took one after a while because of the heat. I remembered how good it had been to get some salt in the Seenländer Ultra and I wanted to prevent my legs from cramping. It seemed to work. After a while, we reached a lovely little valley, which I remembered from a little hike Paddy and I had done on a Sunday in March, before he was dropping me off at the airport in Manchester. It was nice seeing the area in the green of summer, it looked less dark and wild than it had in March. I also knew that there was a big climb waiting at the end of the valley, so I took a bite of my energy bar before it started. It was a long, long climb, even longer than I had imagined it. I saw Paddy in the distance again but he was too far away. Once we reached the top, the path went along the edge of a hill again. The views were spectacular but I did not dare to look down into the abyss on my right. It was a long way down. After that, the path became more runnable again. I did not know how many miles we were in but I assumed that the first tricky 15 miles were over now. Again, we ran on stone plates over a moor area and I passed a few people there. It felt good. I actually couldn’t believe how good I felt. My legs seemed to have liked the three weeks of rest. Also, it was much easier than the Seenländer because we did not have to navigate much at this stage, really. The field was still close together and the route was quite straight forward. The landscape and the varying terrain made it much easier mentally, too. I met a woman from Worcester, who was going really well, and talked to her for a while, until we crossed a road and reached the next water stop (as I am writing this report, she is doing the long winter race!). I saw Paddy running off in the distance but took my time to refill my water bottles and then walked a bit while eating a pack of crisps. It was a lovely section of the path, a beautiful valley, the terrain was fairly easy, the sun was shining. I let it roll.... I was now behind Paddy, I saw him a few times in the distance but was never close enough to catch up with him. The field of the runners had now spread out. I was practically on my own, within sight of others in front of and behind me but the distance between us seemed to increase. The sun was shining as we crossed another moor, and there was no cloud in the sky but luckily there was a fresh breeze that kept us cool. It was a quite easy section until the next water stop, where I finally caught up with Paddy, who had taken off his shoes and was in the process of ripping off parts of his insoles. I did not know if that was a good idea but I did not question it. He told me to keep going and so I did. He caught up with me a few minutes later. It got quite hot now, and the water stops did not have enough water to fill up all of our bottles so we got a bit thirsty here. Then there was a woman in a van at the side of the road who was really kind and gave us some water and lemonade, which we shared with Christian, another runner that had caught up with us. He was doing the long race and was carrying a big backpack. The lemonade was really nice, I had needed the sugar. I could feel that I was getting a bit tired now and was looking forward to the first checkpoint. The idea of having a warm meal sounded very good. At five o clock, I opened the sacred can of coke that I had been carrying with me all day. I had to be careful with coke in this race. There was no coke available at the water stops and I did not want to carry too much. But this can of coke was pure bliss. Sugar and caffeine worked wonders. We calculated that we had done a bit more than 50 km at that point. It seemed like a long, long time since we had started the race but we were still feeling good. Before the race, we had wondered why it was a relatively slow race, with the course record being 23 hours for the 108 miles and the average finishing time being around 44 hours. It was probably a mixture of the type of terrain we were running on, the fact that it was mostly self-supported and you had to carry a lot of stuff but also the whole nature and feeling of the race. Nobody was in a hurry, nobody seemed overly competitive, people were walking a lot especially those doing the long race. With hindsight, going slow was a very good thing to do considering the length of the race and what was still awaiting us. There was another water stop where the race organisers themselves handed out water from a van next to a pub, which was sadly closed. We had fantasized about getting a cool drink from the bar and washing our faces in the bathroom but that had to wait until the first checkpoint now. From there, it was only 11 miles to Hebden Bridge, checkpoint 1 - a 3 hour walk, according to one of the organiser guys. We calculated that we would make it there within about 12 hours, which was quite good. The next stretch was a flat fire road. I had to leave Paddy behind because he had some stomach issues but we said that we would see each other again in the checkpoint at the latest. We did not even get that far, about half an hour later I saw him coming over the hill behind me again and waited for him to catch up. We ran down into a valley, across a cow field, and then back up again on the other side. It was hot and muggy, and the grass and other plants were really high in some places, which made it tricky to get through. I was now getting a bit low on energy and really looking forward to the checkpoint. We kept guessing how long it would be. It must be up there, we said. It must be around that corner... it must be down that hill. Of course it was always a much longer way. After what seemed like an eternity, we finally saw the first signs for CP1 in Hebden. We had to go down a very long, steep and slippery hill to a community centre that served as checkpoint 1. It almost felt like crossing the finish line already. People were cheering for us and we each had a personal assistant greeting us with our drop bags. We had to “check in” and were then moved into a small room next to the kitchen, where we could get stuff from our drop bags, some hot food (lentil soup), tea and coffee, and take a shower and get changed. Getting a shower in the middle of a race sounds weird: This is something I learned in the Hexenstieg Ultra last year though. It can be really helpful and refreshing to take a shower and change clothes. You almost feel like a new person. A medic came and asked if our feet etc. were ok. We had some more food and repacked our equipment from the drop bags. I did not pack all of the food that I had in the drop bag because checkpoint 1.5 was only 42km away and we would get our drop bags there anyways. Or so I thought... About 1.5 hours later, Paddy and I were ready to get going again. Our bellies were full of hot food and coffee, we had changed into long sleeves and were ready for the night. It was a good feeling. I had also taken my softshell jacket, which was quite heavy but had helped massively in previous races. I was not sure how cold the night would get here. Part 3 – Ceckpoint 1 to Checkpoint 1.5 - Malham Tarn We climbed up and crossed a moor as the sun was setting. It was a beautiful evening, clear skies, away from civilisation, the only sounds coming from the baby lambs in the fields next to us, the frogs and the birds. We took out our head lamps after a while and kept moving, slowly but steadily, running where it was possible and walking the rest. It was trickier to run in the dark because we did not really see the ground and there were random holes here and there. We crossed a bridge over a reservoir and then also noticed that there were many, many little frogs on the path. One jumped against my leg. It was very odd. Christian, whom we met earlier, was always close to us too at this point but we did not see any other runners. I knew that there would be another water point set up by a local triathlon club not far after CP 1 but we were not sure where exactly that was. We passed a few houses and I kept looking for the water stop but it never came. Eventually, we left the village again, climbing up to Ickornshaw Moor. I saw a car parked next to the path in the middle of nowhere and found that weird. Shortly after that, we saw a light in the distance coming towards us. I thought it was a runner that had gotten lost or a random person walking at night but it turned out to be a member of that triathlon club with a walkie talkie. He greeted us and said that the aid station was 400 m up the path and asked if we wanted vegan / vegetarian / regular bacon sandwiches, then forwarded our order to the guys at the checkpoint through his walkie talkie. It was very surreal but also very nice. They had set up a mobile kitchen in the middle of the moor, with a light chain as decoration. We got some nice arm chairs and a blanket, vegan bacon sandwiches and coffee. It was beautiful. What a lovely bunch of people who sacrificed their night of sleep to prepare food in the middle of the night in the middle of the moor for some crazy runners. After a cup of tea, sandwich and some encouraging words, we continued our way through the dark night, across the moor. I was very glad not to be running along at this point. Finding the path was very hard here, and we stepped into the bog more than once. It seemed to be never ending. Moving forward was very difficult at this point. We had to climb over a dodgy bridge and after a while reached a more runnable path. Together with Christian, who had passed us again, we reached an improvised water stop in a village. A few containers with water, some cookies and wine gums on a table in front of a pub. It was in the middle of the night and no other soul seemed to be around. I didn’t want to spend too much time there and urged Paddy to keep going. Soon, as we were climbing up another hill out of the village, we could see the first light of the day again... the second day in this race. It was a magical moment, being out there in the early hours of the morning, up on a hill with only sheep as company. It was so quiet and peaceful... Well, it could have been peaceful if my stomach had not decided to act up. The lentil soup was bothering me quite a bit. Paddy showed great patience, waiting for me while I had to disappear behind a bush more than once. I don’t remember much of the next part of the race, it is all a bit of a blurry. We somehow had miscalculated how far we had to go and thought the next checkpoint was only 20 km away at this point (it was 50 km in reality). So we kept running, thinking we would be there soon. Running got a bit harder here, my stomach was still acting up and my softshell jacket was really heavy. I had it tied around my waist, which did not help my stomach either. Quite a few runners passed us here, which I found a bit annoying, but I could not move any faster. Finally, we reached a village. We thought that it was surely the place of the next checkpoint. A guy passed us and we asked him how far it was to the checkpoint. He said something about 15 km. I could not believe my ears... Surely he must have been wrong. I wanted to sit down and cry, while Paddy had a little breakdown too. He sat down in the middle of the sidewalk, tearing off his shoes and said that he could not go on with his blisters. I became a bit worried... Christian appeared again and said that there would be a shop down the road and advised us to get some supplies. He confirmed that the next check point was still quite a bit away. I now had a little mental breakdown too... So I decided to leave Paddy behind (because he was still sitting on the sidewalk with no intentions to keep moving and I lost my patience). We were in the race for more than 24 hours at this point... so my nerves were a bit raw. Not my proudest moment. I ran for about 1 mile, then came to my senses and turned around. I could not leave Paddy behind. He didn’t seem to care much that I was back (clearly fighting his own demons), so I went to the small Coop in the village and bought some supplies. The people in the store looked at me strangely as I wandered through the shop like a zombie, wondering what I should buy. I think I got some coke and crisps. Then we were finally ready to continue. A bit further ahead, we met Lindley from the race organisation team. After speaking to him, it became clear that our tired brains had simply made a calculation error. The distance between checkpoint 1 and checkpoint 1.5 was not 50 km but around 70 km. We were not moving as slowly as we had thought we were... that was a huge relief. Our spirits lifted a bit as we trotted on. We crossed a huge field with cows in it but they didn’t care. It was a lovely sunny day again and the landscape was really pretty. I enjoyed running again, for a while at least. A few miles later, we reached the village of Malham. We stopped at a small shop for an ice lolly and coke, then had to climb up an endless amount of steps (400), up to Malham Cove. I lost my nerves a bit again because Paddy kept following another runner, who clearly went the wrong way, while my GPS device said it was the other way. I tried to tell them, but they would not listen (MEN!!). So we had to scramble over the hill until we were on the right track again. Needless to say, my mood was not the best after that. But the spectacular landscape of Malham Cove made up for it. We saw a few other runners here who were in a different 100 mile race. They looked just as tired as I felt, as we greeted each other with a silent, understanding nod. Soon, Malham Tarn, CP 1.5 appeared on the horizon. It was located on the grounds of a big old estate, next to a lake. We could see it from the distance and I could not wait to get there. I was getting cold, hungry, and I was very much looking forward to all the goodies in my drop bag. Part 4 – CP 1.5 Malham Tarn to the Finish in Hardraw Alas, reality hit us hard when we reached the Malham Tarn. There were no drop bags. We learned that we would only get them at the finish line again... I don’t know how we had missed that crucial information, but it felt like a punch in the guts. For a few minutes, I thought that was it. I had to stop the race. I only had half a pack of crumbled crisps in my bag and a bit of coke, clearly not enough for the hours that we still had to go. However, the Spine family is truly special. The checkpoint was run by John, a tall local man with a wild grey beard and sparkling eyes, who made sure that we could keep going. He gave us coffee and noodles (“do you want CURRY OR PRAWN?”) and even some spare batteries for my headtorch. He also said that if we made it to the next village, Horton-in-Ribblesdale, in time, we could go to the pub or a café there and stock up on food. He looked me in the eyes and said: “I tell you what you should have there – MEAT PIES” - I didn’t dare to tell him that I was vegan. Another very kind runner gave us some muesli bars that his wife had baked for him. He assured us that he had more than enough in his bag. I was really touched by the kindness of all the people there and we were lucky to be able to continue the race despite our mistake. Before we left, however, we had the medics have a look at our feet. Paddy’s blisters were quite bad and I had noticed a few sore spots too. They taped up our feet and it was heaven – we didn’t notice anything afterwards. After a while, we were ready to get going again. The weather was now turning, the wind was cold and I was glad that I still had my softshell jacket. We would soon have to climb Pen-y-Ghent, a mountain of about 700m , that is part of the famous Yorkshire Three Peaks round and looks quite majestic. I had gone up Pen-y-Ghent twice before and I knew that it was not easy (since I am scared of heights) and even involved some scrambling. It was very exposed too so I was anxious to get there before the rain hit us. The wind was getting quite strong at this point, and the dark clouds were getting closer. It looked quite threatening as we were approaching Pen-y-Ghent. I was a bit worried so I was in a hurry to get it done... Paddy stayed behind to put on his jacket but told me to get going, so I did. It was quite easy at first, steep, but manageable, until I reached the scrambling bit. The wind was really strong up there, which did not really help my fear of heights. But my bouldering practice seemed to pay off, I put my poles aside, concentrated on where to put my hand and feet, considered each step in advance... and was up there in no time. Phew... I was really glad to have made it before the rain started because the slippery stones would have been no fun. Paddy soon caught up with me and we were ready to get off the mountain again. Paddy seemed to have some issues so I went ahead why he was fumbling with his clothes and backpack. This was quite rare – usually he is the one waiting for me at the bottom of a steep descent, but this time, it was the other way around. I sat down on a stone, waiting for him. I got a bit worried because I could not see him anymore. What if he had had a fall? But a few minutes later, he appeared from around the corner again and we were ready to get further down, into the village of Horton-in-Ribblesdale. It was at this point that I realised that we would finish it. It was only about 30 km to go now and we had plenty of time... more than that. The rest would be a walk in the park. Of course, the Pennine Way proved me wrong again. It should never be underestimated and it is certainly never a walk in the park. In Horton, we were lucky enough to make it to a small café just minutes before it closed. We were really hungry. Paddy got himself two slices of cake while I was scanning the shelves for something vegan. Luckily, they had packages of crisps and bars of sugary coconut stuff that were vegan friendly, so we bought these, and some coke, before heading off again. There was also a small water station in the village itself. We chatted to the race marshals there for a bit and then cracked on. It was ok for a while. But after the effect of the sugar wore off, I somehow fell into a hole of misery. My injured foot started to hurt from the stones on the rough path, the wind was very loud, and I was suddenly feeling very, very sorry for myself. With hindsight, it was no wonder. I had been awake and moving for more than 30 hours at this point, the weather was changing and soon it would be dark again. I had a little cry while trudging through the wind, sobbing and cursing myself and this race. The only thing that helped was the sugar from the coconut candy. A little while later, I felt better again and my spirits lifted. We were nearly there. Less than 30 km to go. We climbed up a hill again and had some fantastic views. However, we also saw that the bad weather front was now really close. The wind was getting horrible (for me as a German person at least) . It was now Paddy’s turn to have a little meltdown as we were climbing up higher and higher. I forgot what it was about but it was the first time that I actually heard him yell. If you want to see if your relationship is strong enough, do a 100 mile race together. The harder, the better. ;) The climb seemed endless. It was a fairly smooth path now, with some tarmac sections even, but it was constantly going upwards and the headwind was getting stronger and stronger. We had to stop, shaking from the cold, to put on all the clothes we had. I was wearing my rain trousers over my tights, gloves, a hat, my softshell jacket over a long-sleeved shirt and my rain jacket over that. It was June but temperatures dropped rapidly. We later learned that it was down to 4 degrees Celsius that night. It was a never-ending fight against the elements. Soon after we had put on our rain gear, the rain started. It was windy, raining, and we couldn’t hear what we were saying anymore. My foot was hurting, the path was getting trickier again, and it was getting dark now. We were up high on a hill, truly exposed. The only thing that kept me going was the thought that the finish line was close. We spent a few hours trudging through the wind and rain up there. I felt like I was losing it a bit at this point. Paddy was losing it too – I caught him yelling at his phone because the alarm rang. It had been ringing for a while. I asked him why he didn’t switch it off instead of yelling at it. Needless to say, we both needed rest at this point. But the end seemed to never come. Finally, we could see some lights down in the valley below us. This must be it, we thought. The finish line must be somewhere down there. But first we had to get off that hill, which was not easy. We got a bit lost in the bog here and Paddy stepped into a massive puddle, that was more like a little pond. Luckily, he didn’t get stuck. We somewhere made it down. My feet were now completely soaked too but I did not care too much. We would be there soon. We finally reached a road that lead into the village. We saw two people coming into our direction – the last person we had seen was in Horton hours before so we thought it must be race officials. But it was just two very drunk teenagers stumbling home to one of the farm houses there. They were only wearing t shirts and looked very young. If I hadn’t been so exhausted myself, I would have worried about them being out there drunk with hardly any clothes in this weather. But at this point, I just assumed they were nearly home. Like us. Nearly there. Alas, the finish line was not in Hawes, the village we had just reached, but a few kilometres away, in Hardraw. We stumbled through the village trying to find the right path, having another drunk guy shouting flirty phrases at Paddy, having to cross another field with two young bulls in it, until we were out of the village again. Where was this finish line? It seemed to never come. Paddy started to doubt my navigation skills and the GPS device and insisted that we were wrong and had to go another way. I had no nerves for discussions at this point and just followed the GPS track. We were trudging along a muddy path in silence, too exhausted to talk, too exhausted to be happy about having nearly made it, when we finally saw two head torches appear in the distance, coming towards us. This time, it was no drunk teenagers. This was it! These people were actual race officials, welcoming us and leading us to the finish line! We had made it!! 39.5 hours after we had started this race in Edale, what seemed like a lifetime ago, we crossed the finish line in Hardraw. I was still shell-shocked from the battle against the elements over the last few hours and could not say much. But I was very very much relieved. Part 5 – The aftermath Very kind people helped us take off our shoes and backpacks. They offered us food immediately but I needed to take a hot shower first and I really, really had the urge to brush my teeth. What a race. What an adventure. Of course, there was no hot water left in the showers so I gritted my teeth and took a cold one, brushed my teeth, put on some real clothes. Put on my shiny new medal. We had done it. What an amazing feeling. About 20 minutes afterwards, Richard, with whom I had run a bit very early in the race, arrived too. He was in good spirits, while his companion looked quite shattered. The wonderful kind Spine people gave us shepherd's pie (vegan!) and tea, looked at our feet and cared for us more than I have ever experienced in any other race before. We got a bunk bed in the hostel that served as CP 2 for those doing the whole distance and as finish line for us but I could not sleep. I was still too excited... I went downstairs again and spend a few hours watching other people finish the race, while others, those who did the real thing, the full distance, headed out into the night again, among them Christian, whom we had met earlier in the race. He seemed in good spirits. They were all incredibly brave. A few hours later, somebody gave us a lift to the train station and we went back into civilization again. Back into the real world... This was it. Our summer Spine experience. It was the hardest but also the best race that I have ever done. Jasmin Paris wrote in her recent blog post about her Spine Race in 2018 that one morning, when she saw the sun rise over hills, she knew that this moment would stay with her forever. And it is like that. It is not about times, it is not about which place you get in the end. It is about the adventure, about things you would not experience, see and feel otherwise. This is why I am doing these races. You put yourself out there and you come back as a different person. The memories of these races will stay with me for the rest of my life. One of the first things Paddy did after we crossed the finish line was swear that he would never ever in his life do anything like this again. I wholeheartedly agreed. It was too hard. As I said in the beginning, it took me a long time to recover from it. I was awake for about 50 hours until I finally managed to sleep after the race. In the weeks afterwards, I was still often extremely tired and incredibly hungry. Physically, I seemed to recover normally but mentally, it took much longer. After a couple of weeks, I really missed running in the English countryside so I signed up for another 100 mile race, the Cotswold Way Century, which I DNFd after about 95 km. My head was just not in it, I did not have the mental strength to pull through another night of wind and rain again. But now... more than 6 months later... I’m sitting at home, dot watching the winter Spine, the real deal... the fire has come back. And there is a little voice in my head saying maybe... maybe I could give it a try next year. | Below: Eating noodles at Malham Tarn: |