7 Valleys Race Report

113 km/4000m ascent

Saturday 27th September

I've been running for just five years and in that time, have been at each of the first three 13 Valleys Ultra events. In 2023 I ran the 5 valleys (my first ultra distance) and last year the 2 valleys as I was running Lakes in a Day a couple of weeks later. The jump from 55km to 110km in one year felt too great for me and Lakes in a Day with it's 85km was a perfect progression, besides which it was a route I wanted to run for a number of reasons. Then this year it was back for the 7 valleys and my first attempt at 100+km. I'm lucky enough to have the Lake District as my 'home trails' so this is a local event for me. But honestly the reason I keep coming back is because the routes are fantastic, the organisation is pretty impeccable, and for such a young event, the vibe and community is awesome.

The start line was at Ambleside, on the road down at Waterhead.  Andy dropped us off at 5.30am, a huge support particularly as he was going back up to Keswick to bring Miranda and Fabian back down for their 5 Valleys 8am start.  We went to the toilet, dumped our drop bags - shout out to the guy who said to his colleague 'please place the bags gently, this is not an airport' - did some last minute faff in a lit gazebo in the car park, which for me included taking my back-up head torch out which I had thought I may not need to set off with but it was still very dark and despite the likelihood of being surrounded by others until it was light, I decided to pop it on just in case, which proved a good move for going through the woods early on.  

Then it was the inevitable standing around waiting to get going.  Runners flowed off the buses that had brought them down from Keswick and having watched various vlogs from that morning now, the start line was much buzzier than I remember it.  I had clearly gone into my own little head space.  But I wasn’t alone of course, Richard was there and we waited patiently. The nerves and sick feeling I’d developed in the last few days had already subsided once I’d done kit check the day before.  Anticipation is the killer for me and heading to Keswick to start the process was close enough to actually starting for my body to chill out a bit. Stood on the start line, doing some warm ups, I felt relatively calm and ready to run. 6am came and went, the music started, the inspirational speech was given, and off we shuffled at 6.10am.

We were super careful not to get pulled along and said this out loud to each other as we gently jogged our way out of Ambleside.  Constantly reminding ourselves, and each other, ‘this is just the beginning’, ‘we’ve got a long way to go’, ‘keep the pace down’. This would be the furthest either of us had run.

Our standing around layer came off quickly (and efficiently thanks to being together) on the first slight incline and there we were, running along in shorts and t-shirts, in a softly lit world of quiet runners gently pacing off into the mountains as the sun came up.  I immediately felt the relief and joy of running.  The taper was harder than I thought it would be for this event.  I rested aggressively and ran just 2 x 5km in the two weeks before race day.  While physically this was exactly what I needed, mentally I had felt uneasy and agitated.  I realised as we turned off the brilliantly named Bog Lane, and a view of the Langdale Pikes opened up ahead of us, that it was not running, not being in that landscape, not being outside as much, for two weeks that had made me feel like that. I felt so, so happy to be there, so happy to be running. 

We quietly chatted through the first easy 12km of super runnable terrain until we got to Lanty Slee’s, 10 minutes ahead of schedule.  We were following a list of checkpoint times from a fantastic calculator a guy called Rowan had made and shared online, that was set to get us in to Keswick 20 hours after starting.  We were definitely using this as a guide more than a target, to help us monitor our pace, and 10 minutes up felt fine.  We wanted to pass this first check point but were instructed to ‘go in’ which we did and quickly topped up flasks then got on our way.  The valley path in Langdale is runnable but a bit annoying in parts, but we made relatively easy work of it and were soon crossing the bridge and starting our way up Rosset Ghyll.  I got some food in on the move on the early and gentle incline, then poles came out at the tree, as planned, and up, up and away we went.

Knowing the route well goes a long way.  Knowing exactly where the top of that climb is, that there’s another dip down to the tarn before climbing back out, another small dip and one more small climb before you actually reach the ‘crossroads’ at Esk Hause before you start descending all helps manage expectations - no dreaded false summits. It was in the middle here somewhere that Bethany, 1st place woman in the 13V, caught us up.  I checked in with her and she said she’d had a good night despite some stomach issues. We leapfrogged with her a bit until, maybe Troutbeck, until she eventually left us long behind. It’s a fantastic descent down to Borrowdale. This is when I remembered there was a ‘rest of the world’ as people were making there way up one of the main routes to Scafell Pike. It was an enjoyable descent but I was mindful to reel it in and not smash the quads so early in the race. Descent is my favourite so I can easily overcook it if not careful.

We’d planned to stop and pick up some food to eat on the move at Rosthwaite. I made a crisp sandwich, refilled flasks, had a pee and cracked on. We were less than 5 minutes here and still comfortably, but not massively, ahead of our guide times. It had always been the plan to fly through the early checkpoints as I knew I’d need longer at them later and I had plenty of food on me in addition to whatever I’d grabbed to go.  It’s then a 5ishk trot before the next climb.  I was trying to figure out how my legs felt on climb 2/4 of the day and decided they were fine and thinking about it wasn’t helpful and before long we topped out and were running the undulating slab path over the bogs up there.  The next descent was is a bit more technical than the first but kept us steady and we came down it at a pace we were happy with.  

We’d been chatting constantly about how happy we both were with pace and how nice it was that we were still together. We had agreed months earlier that we’d run our own race as Richard is stronger uphill and I’m usually faster downhill so we cancel each other out.  But over this long distance we both wanted to reel it in on our stronger areas to preserve energy so ended up moving perfectly together, and we were buzzing about it.

That said, I got a tiny bit of distance from Richard at the back end of the descent heading into Grasmere and ended up running and chatting a bit with Piers, another 13V runner.  He said he had barely eaten and was struggling as a result, although he looked and sounded strong to me.  He said he would try to eat at Gramsere, do the next big climb and see where he was at.  I gave him strict instructions not to DNF so was delighted to see him fly past us much later in the race and go on to take 14th in the mens race. 

At Grasmere I ate one of those amazing chocolate donut things, a couple of sweeties and surprised myself by getting on the flat coke so early.  I’ve only drunk that stuff in one run before and it was right at the end of Lakes in a Day after I’d totally crashed so it was my late in the day power juice plan.  But the body wants what the body wants and I downed half a soft flask and refilled again. Yuk.

I knew the run to Ambleside might feel hard as it’s very runnable and I now had two big climbs in my legs. It was ok and we took it slowly but the tarmac stretches really get to my feet and I was pleased to get back onto trail and have an excuse to hike as we pulled out of Ambleside and up to Troutbeck where our drop bags were waiting.

I had a full change of clothes, gloves, hats, everything, prepped in case the storm came in early, but it hadn’t and I was dry, so opted instead for just a change of socks and shoes which was a delight.  I changed from my La Sportivas which are fantastic with a nice close fit and perfect for technical, into my roomy, cushioned Hokas, and a pair of gorgeous, soft, cushioney socks. It felt incredible then and I remained happy with that choice right to the end.  I also swapped out my lighter Innov8 waterproof for my Columbia outdry which is bombproof.  I knew the rain could have come in earlier but figured if my lighter one wet through I just needed to make it here for the full change.  The plan was always to have the big boy in reserve for what we knew was coming.  Thank god. We were about 20 minutes here and then started off into the valley to make our way up, round the Tongue and up to Thornthwaite Beacon.  I was ready for this climb to feel really tough but it was actually not too bad.  I always find climbing the hardest part so I have a simple mantra; this feels hard because it’s hard and soon, it will stop being hard.  I know that once I’m going downhill again I feel fine. This really helps me mentally with what I find hard physically. It showered on and off along the valley but we could see the sky darkening and as we were coming up to the ridge line, it started to rain and we knew this time, it was the real deal.  We checked in with one another, yep, time to waterproof up.  Trousers and jacket both on.  The mistake here was not putting a warm layer on too.  We’d been in t-shirts the whole way so far but didn’t quite account for the fact that rain was coming, wind was coming, night was coming and we were gaining height…all at once.  By the time we reached the beacon I was getting cold, but I knew from here it was all very runnable along to High Street and down to the Filter House so set off to outrun the cold.  But Richard had slowed a little and I was getting ahead of him.  I slowed my pace but the cold was getting to me (I am really not good with the cold).  I had to carry on (I should have stopped and put something on).  I stopped and started, looking back to Richard, there was no way I’d run off without at least saying so, although I could wait at the Filter House? No, it was close in overall terms but too far to leave without saying anything, especially if he wasn't feeling good.  We think now he too was probably cold and hadn’t eaten enough at Troutebeck or on the climb.  It was the first ‘dip’ between us.  It was raining heavily and the wind was strong.  All bearable, as long as you were moving.  I had to keep moving. Eventually I dropped down the tiniest bit but it was enough to take the edge off the wind so I stopped to wait for Richard.  I looked back and thought about us running separately and felt an overwhelming sadness. I welled up and two things quickly happened in response.  I decided I didn’t want to run without him and I quickly shoved half a croissant in my mouth.  The feeling was real sadness but I had told myself that in response to ANY negative feeling, I would eat.  Richard came along and said he couldn’t keep my pace going down here, I said it was fine, he said thank you for waiting, I said don’t be silly, I want us to run together, he said me too, I said I want us to finish together, or maybe he said it, I don’t really know, but at some point in that run off High Street we decided we were staying together and if that meant waiting for each other at different points and taking longer overall, who cares, we wanted to run and finish together.

We followed the flags down to the river instead of going the route we know (that tracked a little higher to the mouth of the tarn, where we were certain we could cross safely through the water) and thank god we did because to my utter delight, the water was low enough to skip across the rocks and keep dry feet.  I’d been really worried about getting cold, wet feet so early on in this second half from that river crossing and going into the night.  It had been a real killer on LIAD last year. I had spare socks in my bag but still really didn’t want soaked through shoes after having literally just changed them at the last checkpoint.  I was giddy with joy and stood on the other side of the river throwing a big thumbs up back at Richard shouting ‘dry feet!’ into the wind.

As we ran down the path, the Filter House came into view, glowing red!  What a sight!  It was dusk now and it was so beautiful.  We scrambled over the bridge and wall and arrived to such a welcome.  Hot tea and warmed rice pudding with plenty of jolly Altra dudes chatting away and offering us everything. ‘Here have some chorizo, its so good’, ‘more tea?', ‘have you had a freddo?’. We were here for about 20 minutes as we geared up for night, swapping out caps for beanies, putting head torches on and extra layers.  The cold from the top hadn’t bedded in and our waterproofs were staying strong. While we were in there the sky truly opened.  I think that was probably the heaviest downpour of the day/night and we were sheltered from it through pure chance.  We headed out, ran nicely down the track, stopping only for a woman in a car heading up who looked slightly terrified.  The section to Glenridding was another which I knew would feel harder than it should. It wasn’t too bad but it was here that we started to really drop behind our guide time.  The bit that was really hard was the track up to the feed station. I know it well, but we usually drive up it to park (a wonderful perk of being a member of the Lake District Ski Club!) for a run around Helvellyn or snowboard on Raise, and it’s so slow driving that I always think about what a slog is to walk or run it. It is, and it was.

We finally fell into Bury Hostel and I was ready for pizza!  I still can’t believe I ate three pieces. It wasn't a good idea as from here my body started to take time to digest the food I was putting in and I wasn’t getting the quick release energy I needed despite all the sugar from more coke. The couple running this checkpoint (along with the other volunteers) were just so lovely.  I later found out they are the Race Director, Colin’s, parents! Another massive downpour came and went. We chatted with David and Dominic, two guys from Lewes, the latter of whom had never run in terrain like this before and by all accounts, was absolutely loving it. We spent too long here really, about 35 minutes, but eventually got on our way and psyched ourselves up for the last big climb.  Richard always says ‘its’s lower and shorter, it’ll be fine’ and I always say ‘you’re always surprised by how long it goes on for’ and both are true. I got really cold setting off from that (and the final) feedstation, and it made me nervous as I'd been warm inside and had my layers on. Richard talked me through it and said I'd warm up once the 'engine slowly restarted' and sure enough within 15 minutes it did and I had, and my mood reset. It was wet still and the clag really set in. I had been nervous about the ‘post-apocalyptic, lunar beach’ above the mines and getting scared up there alone.  We both said out loud how pleased we were to be together.  We didn’t see another headlight the whole way up to Sticks Pass and honestly if I’d been alone I just know I’d have really gone into my own head in a bad way.  It did go on a bit, as ever, but eventually I saw the most beautiful lights on the top of the pass!  They were enormous and bright and stood out in the dark, it was magical! I gasped out loud but as we got closer saw it was ‘just’ a string of fairy lights on a Nav4 tent.  With nothing for context it had looked to me like a giant light sculpture. But the fairy lights were still beautiful and seeing a safety team tent was really reassuring.  A head popped out and asked 'are you warm enough?' Yes thank you in response. Then 'take it easy going down'. Sage advice. We looked at each other and had a small congratulatory moment for finishing the fourth and final big ascent (with full knowledge of the sting in the tail to come) and set about the the ridiculously intense descent of the world’s biggest mudslide on rock.  Sticks Pass always requires some focus but I usually make relatively quick work of it. Not tonight!  We had to take such care and as we picked our way down, a string of runners consertina’d together as we all slowed, desperately trying to make forward progress without hitting the deck.  Some people went for a slide but I saw no major accidents thankfully.  Richard lost his footing at one point and I witnessed the most bizarre slide come ski on feet I’ve ever seen.  As the foot went and there was nothing he could do to stop the inevitable, I could see him make the split second decision to lean into it and actually ski it out, which he did, through the twists and turns of mud, surrounded by sharp rock, coming to a solid land on both feet. For the entirety of those, what, 5 seconds? I was shouting ‘oh my god oh my god oh my god!’ And when he landed and turned round to me, I just said ‘what the f**k was that?!’. We both laughed but quickly got back to the business of trying not to die.

It had stopped raining by now and as we reached the bottom, Richard said ‘I’m gong to take my over trousers off’.  I said ‘isn’t that a bit risky? It’s been off and on for hours'.  He said ‘no, it feels different, I think it’s done’.  Then we saw Andy!  We could’t believe he’d come all the way back down here to see us, at midnight, what a hero.  I chatted with Andy who informed me that Miranda, Fabian, Ashley and Adam had all finished the 5 valleys well and happy, while Richard went for a pee and to take of his trousers.  I looked up and saw the stars. He was right, of course he was.

From here it got slow, very slow.  Lots of walking and slow jogging along the trail next to the river, then around High Rigg and the new route skimming around Low Rigg. Changing the route to avoid the bogs was a very classy move for which I, and many others I’m sure, am eternally grateful!  We decided to, for the first time, put some music in our ears and try for a boost.  It worked brilliantly and I had a few km of elated power hiking. Richard seemed to slow over this section but I was happy in a power hike until we reached the road and I said ‘shall we see if we can run’. We did and that seemed to be when his mojo came back and it stayed back.  

I think it was a good move moving the feed station from Threlkheld to the Blencathra Centre overall but it felt like ridiculously hard work getting up there. I was minded to ignore the last feed station. I had plenty of everything, and was keen to just get on with it, but Richard said he had grit in his shoe and needed to sort it.  I did too and this was a good call. Be bothered!  So we went in.  It was a bit depressing in there.  The ‘downest’ of the feed stations it was missing a vibe that all the others had and at a place where everyone probably needed it most.  As we sat in there I felt like the vibe was pulling me down with it so once I'd sorted my shoes I just kept walking around picking at bits of food until we left.

The new feed station spat us out straight onto the Glenderaterra terrace which I had mentally prepped for ‘it will feel hellish but remember you love it! It’s beautiful! It’s runnable! It’s fun!’. Yeah ok.  I told myself all those things but my god it’s hard 20 hours in.  We could see the snake of head torches on both sides and those furthest away looked so very far away.  I pushed it out of mind and carried on but walked most of it. My body by now felt simultaneously strong walking but utterly unable to run.  And walking felt so slow! Doing the maths in my head was painful knowing we were literally going at walking pace, but I could’t go faster.  Was it here we saw a little mouse bouncing along the trail, making us both giggle? I don’t remember, but these moments of joy late in the race were everything. Finally (finally!) we began the long descent into Keswick, one I usually love because it’s fast.  I couldn’t have been slower if I tried and it went on forever.  Richard was strong now and happy.  He said it out loud ‘I feel so strong and happy!’.  In so many ways we swapped our typical patterns for each others in this run.  Usually I flag earlier on, struggling on big climbs, and then towards the end he’ll say I don’t know why you found that so hard when your absolutely fine now!’ And he’ll be strong throughout and tire right at the end.  Today it was the complete opposite way round. He took the lead and pulled me down the hill and as we came into Keswick it was relief.  I knew the extra loop around the Heads was coming, I’d done it in both the 2 and 5 valleys previously, and at this point I didn’t care, we’d done it and I knew it.  But just before we took that right, we heard two people cheering.  It was now nearly 5.30am, and we saw our friend and my cousin Ashley and Adam.  They’d both run the 5 valleys the day before, both first Ultras and massive achievements, and had set alarms through the night to track us and come and cheers us in! Another example of extraordinary friendship and support. We ran those last few metres and held hands as we crossed the finish line, just liked we’d planned to nearly 12 hours earlier, and then, it was over.

Somebody lovely put a medal round my neck and we collected our drop bags from inside Theatre by the Lake.  There was more race food and tea inside but all of that was the very last thing I wanted at that point and actually I wanted nothing. We stumbled home to our Airbnb with Ashley and Adam who insisted on carrying our drop bags (seriously guys you're too much), congratulating them on their race too. I sat down in the shower, fearful of standing on one leg to clean my feet, then rolled into bed for a whole hour of sleep as my legs went straight into repair mode and the pain kept me awake. I didn’t fight it as we had to leave the place by 10am anyway. So instead lay in bed with a cup of tea and thought to myself, running is bloody brilliant isn’t it.