13 Valleys 2026

Pre-race

A string of DNFs

Last year's 13 Valley became my first DNF in any race, at just 30 miles into the race. The cause was not a new one - I've repeatedly encountered the same problem with my right knee during races, typically within the first 30-40 miles. This played out similarly at the Arc of Attrition in January, and though I attempted to hobble onwards, I had to concede at 46 miles. In between those, I suffered an unrelated failure at the Warrington Way 40-miler, where my day unravelled with an adductor injury, no doubt caused by running an entirely unrehearsed, speedy pace, due to the opportunity of flat terrain. I finally broke the unhappy streak at the Ultra Trail Snowdonia 100M - though knee problems were playing out, a slow pace caused by fuelling dramas seemed to avoid that ending my race. After a speedy, short local race, the Wincle Trout, I was back doing ultra distance again at the Beacons Way 100km, where several over-enthusiastic technical descents ensured a repetition of the usual knee issues, and a DNF at 62km/38 miles.

Months of strength training and single-leg work don't seem to have cured the issue, at least not yet. If anything, the knee has felt generally worse; rather than just causing problems on race day, I've felt discomfort that has reduced my confidence that the knee is capable of the sorts of things I'm asking of it. Yet my sole ultra-distance finish in the past year, at the UTS, had sowed a seed of confidence - with the right management, my knee can manage the distance, just maybe not with the exuberant descents and enthusiastic leaping over technical terrain that I'd like.

Back at the familiar start line in Keswick

Preparations

As seems to be the case with every race, I failed to come up with a good training plan to see me through the summer, and peaking for this event. I had two months, following the Beacons Way, to train. This was eroded at either end by recovery and the need to taper. Just to ensure no meaningful training block would be possible, I was undertaking the Bullock Smithy hike at the start of September, after which yet more recovery would be needed, blending in to some sort of taper. I didn't really train, I carried my endurance strength with me, and threw in a few speed sessions and a couple of long runs. There wasn't much scope to work on my knee.

Approaching 13 Valleys for the fourth time, I was feeling quite casual about it all. I had confidence in my endurance ability, and the logistics for this one were well-known. I had all the kit I needed. Even so, it was careless of me to leave my preparations until the last couple of days, when I should be focused on rest and relaxation. I've read some good advice around pre-race rest, and believe that a solid week of 9-10 hour sleeps would be optimal. I'd had nothing of the sort, and so would be arriving on the back foot. On top of that, my knee had been feeling uncomfortable in a worrying way.

Race day

So late were the preparations that the final packing of my bag was happening on race morning. I had a logistics plan, but hadn't walked through it with Claire, my lone supporter for the weekend - we'd have to do that while travelling. We took turns driving so that I'd have a chance to make my preparations.

We arrived in Keswick at 1330hrs. I sped through kit check and registration. The rush had been unnecessary - I found myself with hours to burn until the 1800 start time. It left plenty of time to eat, chat to friends, and start panicking.

I had a very vague plan - hold back the pace in the early stages. I knew I needed to protect my knee. I believed that my speedy starts were hurting my overall times, so I hoped that a focus on good fuelling and a moderated early pace would set me up for a much quicker second half of the race. Having said that, I was also resigned to this likely being a slower effort, and my target was simply to finish. I really didn't want another DNF. Also, this race could be my ninth finish at the 100-mile distance, a step closer to my target of ten.

Leg 1: Keswick - Honister Pass

Friday 1800hrs, 0 miles

I joined my friend Chris at the start line. Where I normally disappear into my own thoughts for the first couple of hours, having someone to run with and chat to would help stop me pushing too hard out of the blocks. We kept it steady as the pack exited Keswick, along the trails under Cat Bells, and worked its way along the terraces through Borrowdale. The trail was still busy with competitors as we continued under High Spy, and at some point I drifted ahead of Chris. I was starting to lock in to the challenge as the night fell. Where others were delaying a pause to put on their head torches, I seamlessly swapped my headwear and mounted my torch as I ran - experience had taught me to have these accessible, and how I'd stash my cap. It was fully dark by the time we ascended the road and then trail to Honister Slate Mine, which I took at a brisk hike - this was part of my plan to protect my knee, avoiding running where there was no gain to be had.

Derwent Water, from under Cat Bells

Borrowdale, under High Spy

Leg 2: Honister Pass - Wasdale

Friday 2001hrs, 9.5 miles

At the event village, before the race, my face had been appearing on the big screen in the rolling video - they'd captured me here at Honister, filling my bottles. I received no such attention from cameras this evening. After seeing Claire at the entrance, I efficiently did my refills and took a couple more minutes than most to ensure that I'd eaten sufficiently. When I was ready to get moving, my poles came out, and I began the ascent up the old tramway.

Descending the scrappy path through Dubs Quarry brought a few challenges but when things got technical, approaching the waterfalls, the fun began. I really tried not to get carried away, thinking of my knee, but skipping down very rocky and awkward paths is one of my favourite types of running. As usual, I started passing many less confident runners, who were struggling with the combination of the darkness and the challenging footing. The path doubled back onto the loose rocks under Fleetwith Pike, and I'd found my rhythm. Eventually, the path started levelling, along Warnscale Bottom, and I picked up a steady jog. I worried that even that relatively restrained bit of descending would take its toll, but all was good so far.

At Gatesgarth, the end of Buttermere, I passed Claire again, and said goodbye for the night; she wouldn't be following to the west side of the Langdale fells, so the next time I would see her, all being well, would be early morning at Coniston. I knuckled down to ascend Scarth Gap Pass, making good use of my poles. Others around me were going pretty enthusiastically. I tried to show restraint, using a heart rate alert on my watch to tell me when I was doing too much. After a while, everyone's pace steadied as it was a long and challenging climb - it felt longer than when I'd done it in daylight recently.

I was feeling pretty strong as I packed my poles away, passing the marshalls at Scarth Gap. I reminded myself to take it steady - these descents were where my early enthusiasm had aggravated my knee last year. As I continued my steady descent, I unexpectedly heard some soul music playing in the valley. I figured someone had a stereo playing at the YHA lodge in the valley. As I neared, I realised it was live music, being performed by a band. As I approached the lodge, I was greeted with "Ain't No Mountain High Enough", in the most surreal of experiences in a remote valley, in the night. They were pretty good, too. I pause momentarily, and then pressed on into the darkness, initially picking up the wrong path.

From Scarth Gap ascent, looking back at the runners descending to Warnscale Bottom

Surprise soul band at Black Sail

The climb over Black Sail Pass felt tough; it was longer than I recalled, and steep. Despite the recent wet weather, it wasn't sodden as I've known it to be in previous visits. My feet were staying mostly dry. I could still hear the distant music loudly and clearly until I crossed over the hill.

I kept the pace easy as I headed down to Wasdale. I recalled making a lot of overtakes last year, but this time the overtakes were only where people had slowed to a walk. I was happy holding an easy jog.

Leg 3: Wasdale - Eskdale

Friday 2236hrs, 18 miles

I arrived at the checkpoint feeling strong. I recalled my comment to a volunteer, at this point on a previous race, that I felt like I'd run 80 miles; today, the moderated pace and attention to eating meant I still felt fine. I took the time to assemble some cheese and crisp sandwiches, which went down well. No sitting or foot maintenance required this time so after a few minutes, I set off.

Somehow, tarmac stretches always expose the challenge distance-running places on the legs. I picked up the road section down to the head of Wast Water, and my legs felt heavier. No doubt, a contributing factor was that this was bedtime, something my body seem to be gently reminding me of. I knew I'd pushed too hard on this section last year, so this time I just kept it steady. Eskdale Moor was slightly wetter than last year, but nothing like 2023. I couldn't keep my feet fully dry, but neither were they sodden. I creatively used my poles for vaulting the minor bogs, and just kept moving. It seemed easier to hold the route this time, where previously I'd found myself drifting off the path across the moorland.

Leg 4: Eskdale - Coniston

Saturday 0013hrs, 24 miles

I felt weary as I plodded down the short stretch of road to the checkpoint, and was starting to feel the effects of dehydration and a lack of fuel. I nevertheless felt composed and purposeful, and decided to invest time getting some calories in. A few hot food options were available, and I chose curried noodles. I also had some rice pudding and a cup of tea. I wanted to be fully prepared for the next section, knowing it was where my race had fallen apart last year.

As I worked my way round Gill Force waterfall and tracked along the Esk, I was feeling stronger again. The diversion around the Penny Hill property was a late change last year, but this time was well-signed as the new route. As I headed to the foot of Kepple Crag, my mind was very much focused on last year - it was on this ascent that my knee started causing major problems. The first milestone would be to pass that same point where I stopped to take Paracetamol.

It was a tough bit of climbing, as ever, but I felt mildly elated to pass the point of doom, and walked/jogged along the awkward path through the foliage. I knew this to be an awkward technical section, and in a few miles I'd reach Dunnerdale Forest, which sat in my mind as a horribly awkward and long trail that I'd struggled to complete.

Tonight, the trails didn't seem as long or difficult, because I was moving ok, running wherever I could. A section of awkward land had benefited from a new trail that was being constructed, speeding up the effort further. It didn't seem long at all before I was descending the fire roads. I passed a bench at Birks, where last year I'd been evaluating the possibility of resting to help my knee (but choosing not to, as I was cold). I almost didn't notice when I passed the point, joining the road at Great Wood, where I'd DNF'd last year and taken a lift back to Coniston. I didn't even slow, and held a jog for the 1.5 miles on tarmac until picking up the trail that led to Walna Scar Road (the rocky trail over the hills to Coniston).

A new confidence was building; if I could get over Walna Scar, I could make it to the Coniston checkpoint. If was still running there, it would feel like I had a shot at finishing. I was just over 30 miles in, so with a huge distance still to go, but based on previous failures, getting beyond 40 miles without problems was absolutely key. Walna Scar was a tough, long climb, and I took it very gently down the rocky top part of the descent. As the path got smoother, I managed an easy jog. I reached the tarmac, which was a long and dull descent to the village, but felt elated as I twisted through the streets and down to the boating club. My knee didn't feel amazing, but it didn't hurt either.

Leg 5: Coniston - Wray Castle

Saturday 0424hrs, 38 miles

It might be tempting to consider this distance to be almost nearing half way, on a hundred mile race. This race, however, nudges over 115 miles, making this point more like one third distance. Unlike every previous race, I had the map screen on my watch configured to show distance covered. I've always felt it better to count off the big climbs and the checkpoints, as indicators of progress, rather than miles - knowing quite how far you still have to go can be very intimidating. I found that it didn't bother me, though; I wasn't fixating on the remaining distance, it was just another piece of info I could use if I needed.

As I sat in the checkpoint eating, Claire indicated to me that I wasn't far off my 2024 pace, which I'd considered a decent effort. I wasn't trying to hang on to that, although hopeful that a stronger showing in the second half might see me overtake it. After about 15 minutes, Chris arrived at the checkpoint. He was pleased to have caught me, and was looking strong. It gave me a little nudge to get moving, so I packed up ready to leave. I hadn't needed to give much attention to my feet, which were holding up well, but I patched a developing blister on the inside of my heel.

The moon was incredibly bright as dawn approached. I felt tired as I worked my way over Monk Coniston Moor, and up to Hawkshead Hall, the woodland and fire trails looking notably similar to Grizedale Forest, which was just a couple of miles away. I recalled how things had started derailing at this point in my ultimately successful 2024 race, with knee troubles, and I'd had to stop and take a sleep in the woods. I assumed that the fact I was still moving well today meant I'd just gained about 30 minutes on 2024 timings, putting me back on track. Today, unlike every previous 100M, I had no plan to sleep. Not that I thought I didn't need it, I just hadn't thought of anywhere suitable to lie down. I hoped that I'd be ok without, like most runners, and could just sleep in night two.

I was still moving well when I reached the shore of Windermere. I anticipated the fairly dull plod along the water's edge - a beautiful spot, but I was tired and it was a grey morning. I forced myself to keep jogging, even pushing enthusiastically up the climb to the castle.

Early morning at Windermere

Checkpoint at Wray Castle

Wray Castle

Leg 6: Wray Castle - Stickle Barn

Saturday 0713hrs, 47 miles

I'd remained wary of my knee, which felt weak all the way to Coniston, like it might relapse into pain at any time. The next leg to Wray had been on easy trails, and my knee had been less bothered. It seemed that my effort to protect it on the difficult stuff was working. My spirits were lifting, with the arrival of morning, and reaching a substantial distance, although it took a feed at the Wray checkpoint to properly bring my mood up. Many runners looked quite settled into their breakfast stop, but I didn't feel inclined to stay long. I shovelled some food and drink in, although the croissant pieces were notably missing this year. I got moving, once again in a gap on my own - this is how I tend to prefer to race, especially when tired and not feeling sociable.

The paths and roads were quiet as I passed through Skelwith Fold, but by the time I reached the waterfall, I began to see a few walkers. Along the shores of Elterwater, some folk out for a run gave me encouragement and asked, "how far to go?". I replied "a long way", which I knew to be true since I wasn't at half way, but I couldn't muster the energy for a calculation. Claire and our dog greeted me on the trail near Elterwater village, but I didn't stop - she'd be joining me at Stickle Barn shortly. The dull trails along the floor of the valley, to get to Lanty Slees, frustrated me. They felt longer than ever, and I really wanted to reach the checkpoint. My low mood and irritability gave a clear indication that my fuelling wasn't quite as good as it should have been.

Looking back at Wray

Sticklebarn

Elterwater

Leg 7: Stickle Barn - Rosthwaite

Saturday 0919hrs, 55 miles

I saw Claire driving past, as I neared the checkpoint, but she was still parking up when I arrived. Annoyingly, a change in checkpoint rules meant should couldn't come in with me, so she stood out in the rain, which had now closed in. I had to hobble out with my food to chat with her, and couldn't have any assistance with my food or foot care. It took me a while to sort myself out. I was feeling pretty tired. 

I was lacking energy as I pulled myself out of the checkpoint and up the rocky path over Stickle Ghyll. I then picked up the Cumbria Way, which continued all the way to the end of the Langdale valley. It was proving hard to hold a jog, confirming both my tiredness and the inadequacy of my recent fuelling efforts. I started the climb up Rossett Gill, going only slightly quicker than some inexperienced-looking walkers, taking on the difficult ascent. I observed their choice of clothing and minimal equipment, and pondered what a difficult hike they were attempting in what were now quite challenging conditions - raining quite heavily, and gusty winds building. They abandoned before reaching the top, which reassured me.

After crossing near to Rosset Pike, I descended to Angle Tarn. My recollection was that I'd shortly drop down to Styhead Tarn and begin the descent down the valley to Borrowdale. This turned out not to be the case as this was a 3-mile up and down section, passing below Esk Pike, Allen Crags and Great End. I know the area well, yet it seemed so much longer, and there were climbs where I didn't remember there being climbs. The wind and rain became frustrating; I repeatedly removed my hood, but then found myself putting it up again as another load of drizzle arrived. The number of walkers on the trail was growing, and they seemed unable to leave space for a runner to get passed. I grumbled under my breath at each group, wishing I had the mountains to myself. I was really grumpy, and I knew what that meant.

The rock fields along Styhead Gill, and the rocky descent to Stockley Bridge are amongst my favourite trails, both for the technical effort required, and the stunning surroundings. They just about held my interest today, but I was desperately in need of food and so my mood was low. I found myself frustrated that another runner, whose poles I'd struggled to avoid in an earlier overtake, was closing in on me. I used this frustration to propel me down the valley to Seatoller, making sure they were falling away in the distance behind me.

Heading towards the end of the Langdale valley

Looking back down the Langdale valley from Rossett Gill

Stockley Bridge, near Seathwaite

Leg 8: Rosthwaite - Grasmere

Saturday 1344hrs, 65 miles

I arrived at the checkpoint, where one of the volunteers called out "it's you again!". He was to recognise me, but wrongly thought I'd been here last year; in fact, it was two years since I'd been at this checkpoint. We had indeed met on my first two 13 Valleys races. The other volunteers in the village hall made sure I got what I needed, which included soup, sandwiches, a cup of tea and some rice pudding. I needed a decent refuelling stop to recover my mood. Nevertheless, I felt the need to get back out in clear air for the long climb over Greenup Edge, so left before other runners in the hall showed signs of packing up.

I mustered some enthusiasm along the valley before embarking on the ascent at Greenup Gill. I'd passed some other runners, who were surprised at my enthusiasm. It proved harder to maintain it as the climb went on; I was slowing down. A combination of drowsiness from sleep loss and an increasing problem of dehydration was making my pace on the climb ponderous - I was struggling. I got passed by a couple of people near the top, as I trudged along the flags.

After crossing over Greenup Edge, I was weirdly disappointed that the route had been slightly modified to side-step a ridiculous swampy section at Birks, instead following the flagged path around it. Previously, I'd guided runners on the vague and difficult route over the marshland, but there was no need today. I felt that the route had been sanitised a bit too much. It was a long trot down to Grasmere. Upon reaching the roads, I was at least aware that I still had a mile to go, which avoided disappointment. What I'd missed was that the checkpoint had moved from the centre of the village to the sports club at the far side. This extra meandering along the trails was annoying, especially as I didn't know when it would end. I hoped that Claire had figured out where she should be.

Entertaining terrain, coming off Grasmere Common

Leg 9: Grasmere - Troutbeck

Saturday 1719hrs, 74 miles

I'd arrived at Rosthwaite, the previous checkpoint, 43 minutes down on my 2024 time. I arrived at Grasmere just 1 minute behind. I hadn't felt quick on that section, but presumably a combination of checkpoint efficiency and keeping good momentum had seen me make up a load of time.

The new checkpoint rules brought extra frustration at this checkpoint, where I had access to my drop bag and the opportunity for a sleep. Claire waited outside while I struggled to organise my kit, as I ate some hot food. There wasn't enough space on the table, and I was struggling to swap things between my bags, not helped by feeling drowsy. I took a long time cleaning myself up and getting changed. Eventually, I headed for a sleep, but all the provided tents were full, so I put some earplugs in and lay down in the corner of the room with the bags. I tried for 20 minutes, but barely fell asleep.

As I faffed around trying to refill my drop bag and my pack, I made some errors. I thought I'd swapped the battery from my torch, so discarded the used battery into my drop bag, but it was actually the charged one. I couldn't find the pouch with my cables in, but determined it didn't matter - I had the torch batteries I needed, and I had the charge pack to recharge my phone - it would be fine. It had been a very long stop, much more so as a result of the lack of space and assistance. My feet felt really swollen and sore as I left the checkpoint, and my right ankle was hurting. From previous races, I knew that kind of ankle soreness was going to stick with me for the rest of the race.

On previous years, the section along Grasmere and Rydal waters to the Ambleside checkpoint was short. For 2025, they'd moved the Ambleside checkpoint to Troutbeck - this made a lot more sense, as it placed it closer to the ascent of High Street, a long and difficult section. I knew I'd lost plenty of time at Grasmere, so determined that, having had a rest and a good refuel, I'd make up some time. I tried to keep good momentum. Aside from a quick pause to put on my headtorch, I kept moving well. It was then I realised my error - I had ended up with a nearly flat battery in my torch, a charged one in my spare, but no other batteries and no lead to charge them from the chargepack. Whilst this battery had proved capable of lasting a full night last night, I couldn't be 100% confident that I'd fully charged the spare.

It was going ok as I reached Ambleside, but I didn't feel quick. I found myself alongside a bunch of other runners through the town, and had to convince some that there really wasn't an Ambleside checkpoint. I was confident with the route through the woods and over to Troutbeck, but I was slowing again. I was feeling really weary. I was relieved when, for once, the checkpoint appeared almost immediately after hitting the road.

A super-bright moon as I neared Rothay Park, Ambleside

Leg 10: Troutbeck - Hayeswater

Saturday 2102, 82 miles

I didn't want to spend long at this checkpoint. I forced some food down, and a cup of mushroom soup. I was about to leave when I realised that I was really quite drowsy. I thought I'd try another sleep: 5 minutes, then head straight out. I lay down on the hall floor with my pack on, and set an alarm. At least if it was that short, I should avoid getting cold.

I wasted no time after the alarm, and headed straight out. I was on my own as I cross over the road, and headed up to join the trail towards The Tongue. It was about 3.5 miles to the foot of the High Street ascent. I was going slow. Other runners were catching me as I passed under The Tongue and neared the ascent. Once on the steep grassy slope, I found people passing me with ease. I'm usually good at this stuff, so I knew something was wrong. I'd been eating, but I just couldn't fend off the tiredness.

It was fiercely steep for a while. The gradient eased a little, half way up to Thornthwaite Crag, but I was staggering around, unable to go in a straight line. My poles were just about keeping me upright. The other runners I'd been with had disappeared into the distance. I knew I was going really slowly.

Eventually, after a very long period of slow and difficult climbing, and with the winds blowing strongly, the rain firing down, and the visibility dropping, I spotted the monument at Thornthwaite Crag in fronto me. Some other runners were clambering on the rocks to bag the summit or take a picture; I just stumbled past. I had remembered the terrain wrongly; I thought there was more steep climbing to come, but it was just the steady ascent of the old Roman road (barely visible) - the highest point on the course at 810m (just shy of the 828m summit).

The weather was really closing in. The winds were strong, it was raining, and visibility had dropped to around 10m. I pondered my situation - the other runners had disappeared off ahead, I wasn't confident in my torch to last the night, this was a very high and exposed place, easy to lose the trail, and the weather was hostile. I saw a torch behind and made a decision: I needed to pair up with this runner.

I chatted to the runner, and he was happy for me to stay with him. I pulled up the OS map on my phone, so I could make sure of the expected terrain. I realised it was different to my recollection, and that we'd descend along an edge above Hayeswater until looping around The Knott, then we'd start the steep descent to the checkpoint. In my drowsy state, I had to work hard to stay with the other runner. I was incapable of chat, but tried to keep clacking my poles on rocks so he knew I was behind. The weather and terrain made it hard to run alongside or converse anyway.

Despite this being my third time in the race, as well as at least one recce of this bit of the route, it still seemed unfamiliar, and even nearing the checkpoint I was confused about the location of things. Finally, approaching the Filter House from a strange angle, we had to straddle the stone wall by some very awkward protruding stones - not friendly to tired legs. The checkpoint was warm, and I collapsed into a chair. That had been a very tough section. 

Leg 11: Hayeswater - Glenridding

Sunday 0120hrs, 91 miles

Despite being on my 2024 timings at Grasmere, I'd arrived at Hayeswater a full 2 hours behind those timings. I wasn't looking at the timings, but I instinctively knew; I'd been slow at Grasmere checkpoint, and my drowsy staggering up High Street had been as slow as it felt. This wasn't helped by the ponderous descent in bad conditions.

Earlier in the race, I'd determined that, if I reached Hayeswater, I'd be able to finish the race. There was still a significant distance to go, and the crossing of Sticks Pass, but High Street was the biggest challenge on the course, and one appearing late on; few people, having made it to Hayeswater, then DNF. I wasn't really thinking such positive thoughts at this point, I wasn't really thinking much at all.

My attempts at eating were inadequate, but I stuck around to try. The checkpoint had felt quite warm compared to previous years, as they had a heater running, although it was draughty. I nipped outside to empty my bottles, and immediately felt freezing and started shivering violently. I wrapped myself up in all my warm clothes, and asked a volunteer to empty my bottles instead. After a while sat refuelling, I headed out, still with all my warm layers on. I figured I'd peel them off as I warmed up, lower down towards Hartsop village.

Heading along the trails towards Patterdale, I ended up alongside some other runners. I wasn't really managing to chat, I was still in a groggy state, and barely keeping pace. I hadn't spotted a minor route change when planning, but realised it was different as I followed the directions on my watch. I realised Claire would be expecting me to appear at a different point on the road, so I called her. I stopped briefly to say hello and put my waterproof layers on, and lost sight of the other runners.

I was once again alone, plodding along the road to Glenridding. I continued to plod along at a ponderous pace. I tried to muster some resolve to catch the other runners, but it wasn't working. I reached the village, and turned off to start the long ascent up to the checkpoint, next door to Helvellyn YHA. It was a mile and a half from the village up to the checkpoint, but at this point it felt like ten miles. I hated that climb, walking up the tarmac through the sleeping houses, and then onwards on the featureless track. I was relieved when I entered the checkpoint. The other runners were there, and looked as knackered as I felt.

Leg 12: Glenridding - Threlkeld

Sunday 0406hrs, 97 miles

Pizza was on offer, so I took four slices. I tried a cup of tea, but their choice of teabags, along with choosing oat milk (better to avoid dairy, apparently), was just not doing it for me. I was trying not to succumb to the weariness, I just wanted to plough on, but the extent of my fatigue was making me incredibly slow.

I tailed the other runners out of the checkpoint, but they quickly disappeared off up the hill; I still had nothing to give. I was ponderously slow up the zig-zags, through the disused mine. Near the top, red lights were dotted along the side of the path, which felt surreal. I tracked around the quarry, and had a good vantage point to see ahead and behind. Nobody was even vaguely near me. I staggered onwards, really struggling to stay awake now. The path was exposed at points, and I was wobbling around, trying to make sure I didn't plant my pole off the side and go tumbling down the mountain. My eyes were rolling back in my head. My pace must have fallen off a cliff, as I endeavoured not to.

When I eventually reached the top of Sticks Pass, a marshall appeared and checked I was ok. I made some reassuring grunting noises, and tried to avoid conversation. I was fine, I told him, and plodded on. I knew the descent was tough; it would start gentle, but get progressively steeper, finishing with a quad-wrecking, toenail smashing, steep drop down the grass and mud. Daylight was appearing by the time I reached the steep bit. I was still alone, but feeling quite strong, so managed the difficult descent better than expected. I was still going slow, but the combination of daylight and the real challenge of staying upright brought a new focus.

I hadn't noticed that, at some point on that pass, I'd cleared 100 miles. Not that it mattered, I was still 15 miles from the finish, and at this point, that was a long way.

My energy once again evaporated when I hit the road at Thirlmere. It was a soulless plod to find the next trail. With the sun now up, albeit hidden in a cloud of grey, I thought it would be good to get some breakfast down. Sticking with the SIS gels, which I've found quite effective and easy to swallow, I grabbed out an orange flavour one. I got no more than a small sip through before I gagged. There was no way that was going down, so I squirted the rest on the floor.

I held no affection for the section along St John's Beck to Threlkeld, remembering it as a series of meandering fields, gardens and swamps. At this point, my brain was disintegrating. I was starting to hallucinate people in the trees, and was probably talking away to myself. I hadn't seen another runner since near the Glenridding checkpoint. I kept checking behind to see if anyone was approaching. I didn't really want to see anyone while I was in this state. I was stumbling along, with my eyes rolling in my head, struggling to stay awake. At one point, I stopped and instantly fell fully asleep on my feet. My brain sensed a strange motion, and I jolted awake as I was falling towards the ground, narrowly avoiding a face-plant.

At some point, I realised we'd taken a new route, which avoided the swamps of 2024. I felt somewhat disappointed, again, that the route had been sanitised. Having thought that, the new route over the fields was actually quite nice. I finally spotted another runner behind who had gained on me, so I used this as motivation to propel me forwards. My enjoyment of the fields was destroyed when the route rejoined on a road, for an extended period - my feet were really hurting now, and this didn't help.

I reached the road into Threlkeld. I recalled the former checkpoint location in the village, but knew that this time it was further up the hill at the Blencathra Centre. I didn't realise it was over a mile away, and such a big climb. It was really tough, especially as I expected it sooner. Plenty of people passing in cars or coming down on foot gave encouragement as I worked my way up, but I just wanted food, and a toilet.

Leg 13: Threlkeld - Keswick

Sunday 0920hrs, 108 miles

The volunteers were giving lots of encouragement. I grabbed a seat, elevated my sore feet (really sore now), and let them bring food and drinks to me. More peanut butter and jam sandwiches. A cup of (disgusting) tea. I wanted a proper recharge, then I'd get this done.

After I'd been sat for maybe 10 minutes, the runner who'd been gaining on me arrived. He was quick to refill his bottles, grab some food, and set off. I sensed that he had seen a chance to gain a place on this last section, with me sat there. It was just the little nudge I needed to get out, and get running. At this point, only finishing mattered, but it helped me to have the motivation to not lose another place. I set out with a simple resolve: I'd run everything, except the few small climbs, until the finish. This seemed ambitious at this point, but I'd woken up.

It took me around 10 minutes until I caught up with the other runner, but I passed him and another runner who were now just walking. I kept a brisk stride up the one climb at the end of the horseshoe between Knowe Crags and Lonscale Fell. Once on the rocky terrace path, I was jogging, regardless of whether it was rocky or not. I was moving really well, and feeling strong. I tracked around the bottom of Lonscale, closing in on the woods near Latrigg. I passed the runners I'd lost sight of much earlier at Glenridding. Everyone was walking now, but I was determined to run the full 7 miles to the finish.

From the path under Lonscale Fell, looking back over the Blencathra Centre

I felt good descending through the woods, all things considered. My feet were painfully swollen, but I was ignoring them. I had good mobility, and was holding my running form. Following the meandering route through the town, I was getting plenty of encouragement from folk out around the shops, making me feel heroic. The leading runners from one of the shorter races passed me at speed; I knew I wasn't racing them, but I also didn't want to cross the line with them - we needed our own moments. I arrived at Crow Park, just a minute or two from the finish, which remained out of sight, the other side of the mound. I picked up the pace, not to a sprint, but to a good speed. I still felt strong. I had a sprint if I wanted it, but no need now.

Somehow, I crossed the finish feeling stronger than on any 100-mile race I've done. I expected to be disappointed that, despite that strength, I was 2:10 behind my 2024 time, but I actually felt really pleased to manage another finish. After all the challenges this year, and a difficult race where I just couldn't shun the tiredness, I'd finished my 9th 100-mile race of 11 starts, and fully put to bed the string of DNFs that has blighted the last year. I'm still looking for a much speedier 100-mile effort that I feel I have the strength to achieve, but that has to come from good prep (especially sleep) and good racecraft - pacing and fuelling. 100-mile races are complicated beasts, so I'm happy to walk away with another finishers medal.

Finishing strong

• Distance: 191km / 118.7 miles (tracked)
• Elevation: 6,792m / 22,283 feet (tracked)
• Elapsed Time: 41:27:20 (official)
• Estimated calories: 17,004
• Position: 43rd
• Total finishers (within 46.5-hour cutoff): 84, of 204 starters (59% DNF)
• 13 Valleys Ultra homepage
• Race route