What a Grey Day (Hardmoors Goathland Marathon)

Hardmoor's Goathland Marathon 12/11/2016

The day between Armictice Day and Remenbrance Sunday, found me getting up early to get to Goathland, in the middle of the NYMoors for Registration at 8 am.

It was a wet foggy journey and the Met office forecast implied that that was going to be the weather of the day.

Registration was at Goathland Village Hall, this is a Small race due to limited parking in the village. I parked and walked to the village hall, I walked with Mike from RRs who was running too. It may be a small field but we filled the village hall. I met up with Claire, Kim and Simon. I'd missed Jonno as he had gone marshaling.

It was good to see Gill and Alison, we met at the first of the HM 7 marathons, this is number 6 in the series.

We lined up outside, it was still raining but not too misty, it was windy though. Most people were well wrapped up. We didn't have long to wait. Watch started, we were off.

There were a couple of dogs running too.

The race started and we ran down the road and turned past Jonno towards Mallyan Spout, I ran quite quick here, knowing that the narrow paths and steep steps would create bottle necks. The trail was wet but if was warm in the gully.

A constant stream of runners negotiated the slippery wet rocks and we passed the waterfall, Mallyan Spout, the recent wet weather making a good show.

We climbed out of the gorge and into the mist, a trail of multi-coloured runners winding their way up to the road before heading onto the moor. The mist was now thick fog, the route that I should have known suddenly seemed unfamiliar. I got to Checkpoint 1 before I knew it. At this point there was still a steady stream of people wading through the muddy, slippy heather trails up to Simon Howe. The downhill section next separated the line of runners as they ran into the headwind and they were engulfed in the fog.

It's easy to feel disorientated in such conditions, looking at the ground in front and losing sight of the people ahead, and the acrid smell of burnt heather seemed to hang in the air.

Occasionally I would be passed by a runner and I would try to keep them in sight, there were 4 of us that reached Wardle Rigg at 8.5 miles after surviving the puddles of uncertain depth. I got a drink and some jelly babies and sett off on the pleasant forest track, but as the ground became uneven the other 3 passed, more confident on the descents. We ran alongside the railway on the lovely track. We crossed the track and ran into the pinewood, running on soft needles avoiding roots and mud patches. We emerged from the wood to clamber over a now slippery stile turning to start the ascent of the part of the course I most dreaded. A steep slippery grass and mud bank. It was tough going, my Brooks Cascadias gripped well, only my balance and confidence were problems, but with relief I stumbled through the gate and back onto open moor. I was third out of the 4 that self up the bank. A man in a yellow coat was disappearing into the mist as I caught up with Andy, who had made short work of the dreaded bank. Andy let me pass and I led the way through more muddy, boggy, slippy heather trails. After a few minutes I could see no trace of the man in the yellow coat, I looked back and Andy and the other man had disappeared. There were occasional clearings in the fog and at one point I thought it was going to lift as I looked into the valley and admired the Autumn colours.

But the fog would close back in around me like a cloak of silence, dulling my senses, but strangely there was still the ever present headwind. With the tough going underfoot I used the mass of footprints as signposts as the distance between the yellow tapes was too far to be seen in the current conditions. Suddenly, out of the mist I saw figures, I thought I was catching up, but the figures were coming towards me, then there were more, a group of men out walking, stood aside for me, saying "well done" as I jogged past and their voices soon diminished as once more I was alone. I had no idea where I was or how far to the turn that would take me uphill towards the next checkpoint. I jogged on, weaving round the worst puddles of unknown depth as my feet slid on the mud.

The mist lifted again and the tower was on my right, ah! I thought, not far now, the track widened and bord to the left and I ran with more confidence knowing I was on the right track.

Soon I could vaguely see fluorescent jackets through the greyness. They didn't want numbers, just smilingly sent me on my way. I turned left and ascended a steep hill. As I reached the top I stepped out amongst the sheep to keep the wall to my right. There is food at the end of this wall I thought. Then suddenly I was turned off route by 2 marshals, "Towards that man" as they pointed to my right. No food, had they changed it? The man was Jon Steele putting out more yellow tape. At the bottom of the hill there was a man taking numbers he sent me up the hill, not quite back on myself as I could see othe runners coming from a different direction. I was confused, but I followed the track, to food., had a drink and a Jaffa cake and set off round the hill back down to the marshal with 2 other runners close behind. I made it back to the marshal and back onto the route I had expected. It was nice to have voices behind as the couple chatted. Eventually I thought I could see a showdown in the mist ahead. I eventually caught up with a lady runner. 

I felt that the Hole of Horcum was on my left, there were a few people walking towards us as the four of us reached the stile and finally I could hear cars. I looked left and there was the road, almost at the Hole Of Horcum checkpoint. This had a cut off of 4 hours. I led the way along the path, steadying myself on the well trodden muddy path as the photographers emerged out of the thick fog.

Mathew Daniel Nelson took the next 3 pictures at hole of Horcum

At Hole of Horcum checkpoint there was a 4 hour cutoff the marshal informed us that there were about 22 people behind us and we were half an hour inside the cut off. I grabbed some peanuts and a drink of cola and ran on. I ran confidently down the lane. A marshal reminded me about the gate so as I ran I scoured the left side of the road for the gate which was above eye level. I clambered up and passed through. Now came a series of gates and fields. As I closed the gates I realised, once again I was alone in a silent grey world.
I followed in the footsteps of those that had passed before. through he bracken'

The bracken was like copper against the green and brown earth.

The path was often lost in puddles and soft ground. I worked my way past the cross and towards where Fylingdales should be.

The woods to my right had been removed and reminded me of the pictures I have seen of battle fields in the Great War, it was barren with the occasional skeletal tree.

I worked my way across the soft boggy wet ground without losing a shoe, only sinking once to my knee. I crossed a track and could make out a fence to my left and could hear a buzz/hum of machinery as I passed the invisible Fylingdales.
I finally got off the soft ground onto a solid track, as I turned right I saw there was someone behind, a lady in a purple jacket. I ran on, not wanting to be passed. After a short sharp hill the track was riddled with puddles. not wanting a Vicar of Dibley occurrence I weaved around their murky depths. I looked back and the runner was gone, but there was no one ahead either. It was a long lonely journey but I ran onward thinking trying to think through the route. nothing was familiar and yellow ribbon was always a welcome sight. Eventually I saw shadows ahead, four of them, then they disappeared. I ran a bit harder and eventually caught up and passed 4 men who didn't look like they were enjoying themselves. I passed them on route to the second cross. Then I saw other runners. It was lovely to see other people after so long alone.
I followed the runners down into the next wet boggy section. the fog started to lift revealing other runners in the distance. The route was again tough, picking my way through the boggy bits and crossing the beck. It was only knee deep this year. I clambered out and ran on.
I was glad to see the last feed and check point. The lovely marshal refilled my bottle as I quaffed some cola and ate a mini caramel shortbread before I crossed the road for the last section.
I could see other Ripon Runners Kim and Simon ahead, they were running well as we crossed the railway and they faded away into the fog as we climbed to Simon Howe again.
As I arrived at Simon Howe, the marshals Mark and (sorry don't know your name) were cheerful and encouraging. they had probably the highest and longest marshal point.
I turned for home with their encouragement ringing in my ears. I had planned a fast descent but the paths were slippy,sloppy ankle turners. I slowed and took it steady, running around stubborn sheep and finally descending to the road as the light faded.
The way was blocked by a flock of sheep being herded. I ran round and headed for Goathland. I crossed the road and ran along the road, but had to run on the uneven slabbed pavement as I was dazzled by the headlights of cars (probably runners heading home).
The fog cleared and I ran through the village, crossed the road and through the gate to the Village Hall. Alison and Gill were there cheering me in as I turned to go in the door. 24 I told the ladies at the desk, there it was done, watch stopped 28.54 miles in 6 hours and 40 minutes and 7 seconds according to my watch. I was given a lovely red tshirt and medal.
I sat down and my body gave up. A lovely lady made me a coffee and I removed my sodden trainers. I couldn't move. Jon got up to announce some category winners. Kim had won FV50. That was a well earned trophy. I had a hot crumpet and the kind lady found me a bag for my trainers.
I had worked my hardest out there. mentally and physically I was now drained but the volunteers looked after me. I went and chatted to Kim and Simon once I felt I could move again. My back had seized. It eased a bit and I got cleaned up, had another coffee and some cakes before setting off home.
I set off to clear skys but just after Hole of Hokum I hit fog so dense I could barely see a few yards. It was like that all the way to Pickering and most of the way to Helmsley. From there it was patchy to Sutton Bank and then again the skies cleared to light my way home.
Thank you so much to all the volunteers, the marshals, the people who market the route, the people doing kit check and registration, the timekeepers and the ladies doing refreshments.
Also thanks to Jon and Shirley whose work is never done.