Where Does It End? – The Spine Race 2022
Where does it end? The Spine Race 2022.
I was moving well, at a good speed considering I was way over one hundred miles in. I felt good all the way to the Tan Hill Inn, which was illuminated through the cold air in the distance upon my approach. The route felt different to when I had done it before as so much does when navigating in the dark. I was a bit nervous about the stretch of bogs I knew wait ahead over Sleightholme Moor. I tried to not get too comfortable and rest for too long by the fire at Tan Hill. I’d done this stretch of intense bogs before in the summer of 2019, but the summer is along way away from the winter conditions and the dark, the endless dark. “ Keep to the white poles and you should be fine “ she said “we haven’t lost anyone….yet”. Comforting words from the marshal before I left. The “high ground” of ankle and knee deep bogs signalled by long white sticks that are spaced every fifteen hundred meters bring a strange kind of salvation, they become beacons of hope and bring confidence that everything is going ok during this stretch of the Pennine Way which surely has to be one of the bleakest and loneliest and to a degree, dangerous. My ankle had been quite painful the previous days and my feet, like everyone else’s were aching, wet and tired beyond anything like before as I sloppily trudged my way across the Moor. I’d teamed up with a guy called Sean from Tan Hill who was moving at a very strong pace. He was ex military, marine I think. I could tell he had the right mindset and strength to go all the way. Me a “rockstar” in the eyes of some but currently a waiting musician and part time electrician again (due to the financial impact of the pandemic) and the ex marine battled on through the wind, bogs and darkness. My tired mind started to play tricks on me. I kept thinking and seeing out of the corner of my eye what I thought were houses but every time I looked to my left it was just darkness and swaying bushes of thistle and bog reeds under a draining head torch light. We were kind of joined by three other spine participants who had caught us up about six miles into this stretch. I said hello but received nothing back, which I found kind of strange. We all kind of moved on together but in completely separate headspaces. After chatting with Sean about things along the way, which really helps as sometimes you need anything to take your mind off the forever moving and monotony of the constant moving ground beneath your feet I found the three other Runners a bit of a bad vibe, they wouldn’t speak or try to engage with me or Sean, which really didn’t help my slipping mindset and everything started to get on top of me. Sean was moving forwards at a pace I couldn’t stay with which was fine, I get it when you have to stick to what feels comfortable so I was falling behind but for some reason due to my extreme tiredness I started to panic. I don’t really know why, I suppose it was because my brain after four days and around 3 hours sleep didn’t really know what was going on. The darkness was laying on me like a thick heavy blanket of gloom, the weight of my pack and my ankle and feet swollen and hurting was causing me to stumble along. My head torch was fading but I couldn’t bring my self to change the battery as I just kept thinking it would be light soon as it was coming up to 6.30am. In my tired state I lost where I was going and fell into a knee-deep bog cracking my shin on the edge of a slab that was there to avoid this kind of thing happening. It really hurt and made me feel angry and agitated. This stretch of the course was relentless and when it’s relentless of pretty much nothing to see but your own feet for hours on end it really starts to get heavy. I slowly pushed on feeling like my race was coming to an end. In the back of my mind I was thinking abut the next stretch of the course, the climbs to Cross Fell are extreme and the thought of doing this again in the ever- long dark, snow and fog brought a tired fear to my already exhausted brain. Finally the stretch of Moor and the endless bogs came to an end as I hobbled into a farm along a tarmac path which hurt more to walk on than the wet soft moors. I passed the other three participants not saying a word to them in my drained state. I came to a road, a road I thought, and a road means accessibility, which means I could quit and get picked up and sadly that’s what I did. I was again now with Sean and I told him I was done, I said I felt ok but he sat with me for a while which I thought was very kind, we both spoke about quitting and spoke about selling all the equipment you need to do multi day events etc etc. You say things to make yourself feel better when you’re in that kind of state; it’s like a cushion to soften the blow of quitting. I said to Sean he had the strength to carry on and could definitely finish this race, which I’m pleased to say he did. As I sat there leant against a dry stonewall in the winter dawn many things went through my mind, my kids, my wife, my parents, my job, the pandemic, why do I do these races? My life. I was at peace when I was sat waiting for race HQ to come and pick me up. I watched the red sun rise above the winter land in the distance and was glad it was over.
I’ll be honest here; the days that followed my quitting the Spine Race weren’t good at all. I fell into a depressed slump. Tears of regret and the junkie type craving of still wanting to be back on the course getting through it hung around like a mosquito bite I couldn’t help but scratch. On reflection I think maybe I should have finished the 4 miles to Middleton in Teasdale and re grouped, re charged, slept a little bit and reset to try the next leg. I had time in the bag. But this is all hindsight, at the time I did what I thought was best for me and maybe it was as we are always learning about ourselves and multi day events like The Spine Race bring so much to your mind, soul and heart. I learnt a lot again from this race. Having already completed the course in the summer of 2019 and finishing strongly coming 11th place I know I can do this course, but as I said the winter brings so many different elements that I think it’s almost fair to say its like a different race. Night-time navigation and winter conditions slow everything down and the extra weight of the backpack all bring in factors that make it so much harder. This race this time around was another experience like no other. There were moments of pure happiness and exercising a demon along the Cam High road was a beautiful moment for me (see spine race 2019 blog for details) and moments of cold emptiness, trying to sleep along the course isn’t for me, it just made me cold and agitated, where as fifteen minute power naps do work. Also I totally get everyone is running their own race and must believe in my own strengths a bit more and think it’s ok to be alone sometimes along the course and to stick to my own pace at all times.
At the time of quitting I always say never again, but it doesn’t seem to take long before I lose the word never and am left with…again.
I am Dave Pen.
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