2023 Summer Spine Race Report - Part 2

I stepped out of the toilets in Dufton just after 6pm on day three of the Summer Spine Race. Down the road I found Rob sitting on a camping chair chatting to some Spine crew. We talked as I topped up both soft flasks with water and popped half an electrolyte tablet in each. What had tasted like a pleasant orange-cherry flavour on day one had somehow become faintly meaty on the palate, like slurping warm gravy. Assuring myself that it was my sleep deprived taste buds, rather than the drink itself, I continued to sip undeterred. It had got me this far, after all.

I did briefly consider asking Rob if we should run the next section together, given that I didn’t know any of the route from here and had heard horror stories about Cross Fell. But I was enjoying the rhythm of running solo and then having lots of social interaction at checkpoints, so I resolved to continue in that way. We wished one another the best and I proceeded though the village and out the other side to skirt round Dufton Pike before ascending Knock Fell, now entirely dependant on the little red line on my Coros watch for navigation.

Despite being curious about what was happening on the course ahead of me, I made the firm decision not to look at the race tracker. I thought I would be more motivated to keep moving through the night if I pretended someone else was just over the brow of the next hill.

“We’re running to Alston” I told myself as I climbed Cross Fell (the highest point in England outside of the Lakes). It wasn’t Cross Fell, it was great Dunn Fell. When the next descent turned into another climb I was confident that this was, in fact, Cross Fell. I wasn’t, it was Little Dunn Fell. The pitfalls of not knowing the course now apparent to me, I resolved to just keep follow that red line.

I remember it being late at night when I finally got to the summit of Cross Fell. Looking back, though, it was only 8pm in the evening, so it must have been quite claggy. Apparently I passed right by some giant golf ball things. Didn’t see them.

It’s difficult to find any sort of path on the initial, technical, descent from Cross Fell, but it soon opens up into a wide, runnable trail where I found my rhythm again. I’d continued my tactic of imagining people on the course ahead of me. Little did I expect to actually see them. Two figures whose red attire was illuminated by the evening sun against the rocky backdrop (yes, it must have still been light). It was Jenny and Laura.

Seeing that they were having a low moment, I approached tentatively. As we said hello they confirmed that sleep deprivation and foot issues were taking their toll. Knowing all too well I would see them both at Alston (these two weren’t messing about) I continued down the trail through heavy rainfall and onto a long stretch of tarmac road leading to the valley below. When my watch told me I’d done a mile with a 10 something, I had a word with myself and dialled it back.

A lot happens in Alston

Arriving into CP4 just after sundown was a stroke of good fortune as I could use the hours of darkness to get some sleep and be out again by 3am to run into the dawn. After a few portions of lasagnes, a cup of tea and lots of squash, I cautiously asked to chat to a medic. As the only runner in the checkpoint I had the attention of the whole room, which was lovely until I had to ask the two enthusiastic medics about how to best deal with severe chafing in a rather personal place. Cue people looking down at their phones. After being told it was best to “air it”, I was relieved to find that I had been allocated a room to myself.

The shower that followed has to go down as one of my race highlights. Not only was it the first shower I had had in 3 days, but it was setting for my most vivid hallucinations. As I washed my arms I saw my freckles form themselves into smiley face emojis. First just one, then my whole arm plastered in penny sized grins like the world’s worst tattoo. I touched one to see if it were real (I knew it wasn’t) and it turned to a sad face. I was having interactive hallucinations! I played this game for a few minutes, laughing out loud and generally being grateful for this whole crazy experience.

After a 1.5 hour sleep, with chafing suitable aired, I arose to greet Rob heading to the showers. Downstairs I wasn’t surprised to see Jenny already awake and having her feet taped. What a pro. Despite arriving at Alston about an hour behind me, she would leave on the next leg as I was still getting my things together. She was ruthlessly efficient at checkpoints. Laura also emerged from sleep saying she was struggling with her feet but looked super focussed. The two accused me of illicit drug taking on account of the speed at which I had passed them the evening before. Apart from the meaty electrolytes, I was clean.

I had begun to develop some small blisters around the edge of my heals and one of the medics did a cracking job of draining and taping them. For the first time in the race I opted for waterproof Dexshell socks with Injinji liners on account of the field sections ahead, where I imagined the long grass would be saturated. It was at this stage that my head torch was returned to me. The gentleman who had transported it up from Middleton also offered to return Paul’s head torch back down the course. This was above and beyond, both in terms of race logistics and general kindness.

I then had a lovely moment when Rachel, one of the volunteers, said hello. I remember Rachel well from my first Spine Challenger two years earlier. At the finish line Rachel had taken off my shoes and socks and put my feet in a tub of warm soapy water. You don’t forget the experience of someone washing your horrible, horrible feet. There is a story in the bible where Jesus washed his disciples feet, despite their protests. For the first time I had understood how they felt. I can’t think of a more humble, kind, beautiful thing you can do to serve another person. It was good to be able to thank Rachel as I recalled the story.

To The Wall

During kit check I got cramp in my right thumb which locked in position across my palm which I assume was brought on by three and a half days of running with poles. Out on the sodden trails it wasn’t too long before I caught up with Jenny who was now the leading female runner. For the rest of this day I assumed she was right behind me and used this as motivation to keep running wherever possible. I found that playing these little mind games with myself was a really helpful way of staying in the moment and keeping on the move.

By my calculations I was now in 5th place, which was a real delight to me and way beyond my expectations. I resolved to try and enjoy the remainder of the race and if I could retain the position it would be a bonus.

The sunrise heralded a return of the oppressive heat that had tested me on day two. Coming up from Greenhead I found a tap to fill my two soft flasks and a coffee cart where I bought a refrigerated coke The cold sugar hit was very welcome but it wasn’t enough to keep my cool as I slogged up and down the undulating route of Hadrian’s wall. My foot placement was getting a little sloppy and I stubbed my toe on a the downhill section. The initial trip wasn’t too bad but momentum pushed me along and the more my tired legs tried to fight it, the faster I was flailing forwards until I succumbed and reluctantly performed a full Jürgen Klinsmann. Thankfully I was on a grass section and my recently filled soft flasks, one of which exploded, cushioned my fall. No more mistakes like that, Phil.

No time for photos at Sycamore Gap, though a passing word or two with some of the tourists gave me a boost.

After turning north and departing the wall, the scene became like something from a disaster movie. Apparently the forest had been destroyed by a storm a few years ago. Honestly I could have done with the shade that these felled timbers had once offered, but instead I was exposed to the full effect of the sun and I was regretting my sock choice, which had been so effective earlier in the day. After marching on like a zombie for a few miles, it was a welcome relief to be handed a cold can of lemonade and a slice of lemon cake at Horneystead Farm.

The last 5 miles from there to CP5 Bellingham were some of my least favourite of the week. The accumulation of the heat, the increasingly painful chafage, and the general fatigue were beginning to get the better of me. For the first time in the race I was getting frustrated, “Oh, come on!” I shouted at my watch which was counting down the miles too slowly. I hobbled into the checkpoint where I ate sausage stew; had another quick shower, in an attempt to deal with the chafing; took a short nap and had my feet expertly taped. At some point in this process I spotted another runner, Michael Hyde, who I hadn’t seen at any point in the race before now.

The final push

10 yards out of the checkpoint I realised my shorts were on inside out. I rectified that without much dignity before walking the first mile out of Bellingham with a can of ginger ale in hand, struggling with my feet and wincing in discomfort despite the liberal amounts of Vaseline I had applied to areas I won’t discuss.

With only 40 miles left to go, this is the point where I thought about myself in a race context for the first time. My previous mental games were just to keep me moving, but now I surprised myself by thinking seriously about 4th position. I resolved that my feet and undercarriage - the latter of which was unbearably painful by now - were going to hurt if I was moving slow or fast so I might as well give it a go. I made a deal with myself to push hard for the next 12 miles to CP5.5 to see if I could be in contention.

After a climb through the village I cut across a few miles of farmland before a long section of open moors. Breathing heavily for the first time in 3 days, I was making steady progress. For motivation I imagined what my friends and family were saying at home as they watched my dot. I’m a little embarrassed to say that I narrated my own commentary, à la Will Roberts, as I climbed the sharp incline to skirt the eastern edge of Kielder Forest before following the wide woodland path down to CP5.5 at Blakehopeburnhaugh, where I sank two cups of squash and filled my water before continuing on my way.

It was at this point that I had a cheeky look at my WhatsApp messages because I needed to let Abby know what time I would finish so she could meet me at the end. This proved problematic as I didn’t want to think about the finish line just yet, but I sent my best case and worst case estimates. With WhatsApp open, I checked in on a few group messages.

Sure enough as darkness fell on Ogre Hill I caught up with Michael and spoke with him for the first time. He was looking strong to me but admitted, “I’m just going to march it in from there”. I think he was underselling himself as he continued to progress really well from here. Looking back, I’d closed a 5 mile gap over the distance of 17 miles since Bellingham. I felt ok, but had I overdone it?

Drama

Now in pitch darkness I arrived at a manned mountain hut with no intention of stopping. “Is this Hut 1?” I asked the figureless head torch outside as I approached. “Yes, there are a couple of people inside, feel free to go in”. “Thanks but I’m going to keep moving” I responded before continuing on. “A couple of people?!” I repeated back to myself as it slowly dawned on me what she had said. It occurred to me all of a sudden that I might be in 2nd place. Surely not?!

A bolt of adrenalin. A childish glee. Over a long section of Pennine Way slabs I ran as hard as I had done in the whole race. Pumping my arms and legs I felt as though I was sprinting (though my GPS data tells me otherwise). After 45 minutes or so I stopped breathless, turned off my head torch and turned round hoping to see nothing but pitch darkness. A head torch in pursuit. I turned and continued on at pace. Honestly, it was the most fun I had in the whole race, but after an hour of running like this, I knew I was spent. “Hey, are you Phil? said Pete Mortimer enthusiastically as he sidled up to me. Pete explained that he had been buddying up with Rory, who was suffering with shin sprints, but had agreed he would press on if another runner came past. Pete looked as fresh as a daisy. I knew there was no racing left in me, but it had been really fun while it lasted. Pete bounded up the hill and I settled my pace to continue on my own through the dark towards the final hurdle.

The Cheviot

I was surprised to see so many farm houses up here in such an isolated spot. I was more surprised still when I was soon running along streets with dimly lit shops, houses, office blocks and apartments lining both sides of the trail. When I turned to inspect them, there was nothing but darkness. It was now Wednesday night and the four hours of sleep I’d had since Sunday morning were not enough to facilitate full brain function. I focussed all my residual mental capacity on following my GPS.

I checked the remaining distance - 10.5 miles to go. I put my head down and marched purposefully up the stepped ascent for at least a mile or so. I checked the remaining distance - 10.4 miles to go. Frustration. This process went on for what felt like hours. I was in a time warp. I’m fairly sure I spent some of this section asleep on my feet with my eyes open. In a lucid moment I had the bright idea of posting this monstrosity to instagram.

When I finally reached the left turn to begin the descent to Hut 2, the sun was indeed beginning to rise. This tricky descent had been waymarked with little red flags. It’s hard to describe how comforting these little flags were after a tough night. I thought about the kindness of the people who had put them all the way up here in this lonely place, just to help me get back to civilisation.

I was welcomed warmly at Hut 2 and was offered coffee and some water to make my Firepot Porridge (sugar required to make it palatable). Only 6 miles to go. The two lovely guys at the hut told me it takes most people 3 hours. This was a helpful reminder as my tired mind had calculated that 6 miles is less than an hour - which it is in “normal life”

I spent the last 6 miles thinking about seeing Abby at the finish line and beginning to process my experience. I had spent most of my time on the trail alone, but had thoroughly enjoyed the interactions with those runners and volunteers I met along the way. I had experienced kindness and felt truly grateful for that. This had been everything I hoped for in an adventure. The day of running from Middleton to Alston was as close to perfect as I could hope to experience. The heavy lows had provided the sort of mental and physical challenge that I wanted to endure when I signed up to the Summer Spine. I think this final section explains why lots of people appear calm and relaxed at this finish line. As I jogged along I had time to compose myself, ready to leave this unusual bubble I had happily existed in for four days.

The long road to Kirk Yetholm is a stinker, though.

As I crested the hill into the village and turned to the right I immediately picked Abby out of the crowd as she jumped and waved. Because it was only 6am, the welcome was a beautifully muted round of applause and lots of smiling faces. I passed under the Montane banners and made a small diversion to get a good hug from Abby before fist bumping the famous wall of the Border Hotel.

As Kevin presented my medal and asked me questions about the race it was slowly dawning on me what had happened. I had not only completed the Summer Spine Race, I had finished on the podium! 3rd place with a time of 94 hours, 12 minutes and 19 seconds. This was so far above my expectations and I was genuinely delighted.

Abby and I stayed in Kirk Yetholm for the next two days, chatting with the volunteers and clapping fellow runners over the line, including some of those I had met along the way. It was the perfect way to end this amazing experience.

Abby made huge sacrifices over the last year to help me do this silly thing. She carried extra load for the family so I could train, recce and faff. The biggest hardship she endures is patiently listening to me talking about running. She is incredible.

Next up. Winter.