Running the 2014 Lakeland 50 - a 2000 word short story

Running the 2014 Lakeland 50 - a 2000 word short story

The start line was aglow with excited runners - every one of them a kindred spirit who loves to run late into the night and fly across the moon and stars. When the start drum resounded, I was in a state of disbelief. I had dreamt about this moment for the past decade ever since I had read Dean Karnazes's autobiography, 'Ultra-marathon Man - Confessions of an All- Night Runner'. The 50-mile journey that lay ahead was immense - so golden rule number one; start off slowly and then slow down! However, the excitement in the air filled my limbs with a sense of vigour that I could not suppress. I felt as if I was flying along at a decent pace, breathing in the fresh Lake District air and feeling that sense of lightness in my heart and soul that has made me in to a dedicated runner for the past decade. Suddenly, we emerged into a beautiful Cumbrian village - the midday sun left the cottages awash with a golden glow that seemed to accentuate the smiling faces on people as they passed by. Sun-kissed, wizened farmers were savouring pints of ale and ploughman's sandwiches in the inviting pub gardens. The good will emanating from the village uplifted me to the core - we were showered with hearty applause, beaming smiles and heart felt encouragement. This support gave me 'wings on my heels', to quote the film ‘Chariots of Fire.’

 

Soon enough we left the village behind and our first Lakeland mountain beckoned; this stage in the Lakeland 50 is infamous for its unforgiving ascent. I love running up hills, therefore I was raring to go. However, this hill was like no other I had encountered. I had spent many spring nights running in to the Richmond Park trails with the London skyline below me, however this towering Lake District climb felt endless. Running up such an ascent felt untenable - I had to walk step after gruelling step, my bag weighing down heavily upon my back. Serious dehydration began to set in - I had never experienced anything quite like it. The crystal clear Lake District streams seemed irresistibly inviting - the sound of their cool, fresh water lapping against the rocks was calling out to me in a bid to leap in and rehydrate. However, I resisted this urge and continued to endure my dehydration with shaky legs and a hazy head.

 

After what felt like an eternity, I arrived at the mile-27 check point. I was all but spent, and with-drawing from the race felt like a very real possibility. I felt unbelievably thirsty, yet no amount of fluid had the desired effect of satiating my thirst. I slumped into a chair and struggled to hold myself upright. Even rummaging through my bag felt like an impossibly demanding task. However, I dug deep into my rucksack and found a packet of sodium tablets. These tablets would be my saviour. I eagerly dissolved a couple of these tablets in my flask and gulped from this new-found elixir of life. I rose from my seat and sought some much needed food - anything I could stomach. Peanut butter and jam sandwiches, custard creams, strawberry and banana smoothies, sweet tea, honey roasted peanuts and pasta were all on the menu. I was now rejuvenated and fortified for the next leg of my journey. It was time to regain forward momentum. I thought about one of my favourite Rocky Balboa moments; 'It ain't about how hard you hit - it’s about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward'. From this point onwards I knew I would never give up until I reached the finish line. 

 

I emerged in to the open air with the afternoon sun beating down upon the rocky, moon-like land scape. I was completely alone - there was not a single runner on the observable horizon. The sun began to set and its golden light gave the trail an ethereal silvery-golden quality. The evening sun embraced the sky - its rich light intensifying every nook and crevice, making everything more pronounced, defined and enriching - a bit like this moment in time. I spotted two lone runners on the horizon. I immediately perceived a sense of unity, togetherness and contentment emanating from this couple; two souls running the Lakeland 50, arm in arm, side by side. I discovered that this couple happened to be in their 70s, yet they were still light of foot, breathing the fresh air and exploring together. This couple exuded a golden glow, the expressions on their faces conveyed a thousand stories - like the chimney flutes at Hampton Court Palace (A palace near the River Thames where I did my training runs) awash in the evening sun, glowing red and orange, gazing out across the River Thames and dreaming of love, life and happiness. This couple explained how, many years ago, they had met while running the Lakeland 50, and they have continued to run across the Lake District together ever since. This life-affirming story uplifted me to the core and seemed to lift up along the side of this Lake District mountain.

 

The three of us floated up and down the Lakeland trails, we chatted freely and enjoyed sharing footsteps. "Just think, you're about to complete your first ultra- marathon. You've broken the back of it and you’ve passed mile-30. Just keep moving forward until you reach the finish line", exclaimed this gentleman. This man’s words lifted me out of uncertainty and restored me like the possibility of a brand new day when hope whispers in the distance. I thanked this inspiring couple and bid them farewell as I continued on my Lakeland 50 quest.

 

The night sky opened up and the stars seemed to put on a show especially for those of us running across the Lake District at night. The lakes shimmered with a silvery-glow as the moon and star light danced hand in hand on the water's surface. This silvery Lake seemed to resemble the chain-mail worn by Kenneth Brannagh his film adaptation of Shakespeare’s Henry V. My heart leapt with the sense of hope and determination that I always feel when listening to Kenneth Brannagh’s speech at the Battle of Agincourt. Suddenly, on the horizon, I saw a lone figure running elegantly. She wore an ethereal looking white cloak which flailed in the wind as she ran. This light-footed lady's cloak glimmered in the beam of my headlamp and looked like the wings of an angel or a comet gliding across the starry night sky. If this mysterious figure was in fact a comet, then I was going to reach for the stars and finish my first ultra-marathon.

 

Suddenly my phone beeped. Who could this be at this early hour of the morning? It was a text from my dear friend, Matthew. He had remembered when I was scheduled to finish and was eagerly checking in on the current state of affairs. I assured my  friend Matthew that although many long miles still lay ahead, I was savouring every moment. With Matthew's words resounding in my heart and the stars watching over me, I felt complete. 

 

The experience of running all-night under the starry night sky was truly magical. The contours of the mighty Lakeland mountains were faintly perceptible under the moon and star light. The fresh grass on the hills shimmered silvery-green like the wings of a thousand dragon flies come to share our joy at being out in the mountains with the stars overhad. Runner's headlamps - hundreds of them - appeared to be floating up and down the mountains. If I could slow down the passage of time, maybe this is how the black hole at the centre of the Milky Way galaxy would appear. The stars would gravitate towards the pull from this mighty black hole, just as the beams of light from the runner's headlamps were being drawn to the Lakeland 50 finish line. 

 

Many miles earlier I had shared footsteps with another Lakeland runner; a guy called Mark. I had spotted Mark on the horizon and caught up with him in order to introduce myself. "What got you in to this crazy idea?" Mark asked quizzically.

"Ten years ago, I read Dean Karnazes's autobiography and from that point onwards I always dreamt of running an ultra" I enthusiastically replied. 

"No way! It's Dean who got me in to all this!" Exclaimed Mark with fondness. Mark and I continued to enthuse over our favourite Dean Karnazes stories and ran side by side, carrying hope in our hearts.

 

Mark also explained that he was running the Lakeland 50 for his 9-year old son who had recently been diagnosed with a rare form of bone cancer. However, Mark's son was fighting the disease - Mark was determined to fight with him. I will never forget the following story that Mark shared with me. Earlier that day, Mark's brave son had completed the Lakeland 1; a one-mile lap across the lakes. Mark shared the joy he had felt when he saw his son smiling triumphantly and crossing the finish line. Mark had run many ultramarathons - many hundreds of miles - yet that single mile would forever remain the most poignant and meaningful. Mark and his brave son affirmed my faith in the human spirit - I felt truly privileged to put one foot in front of the other with this inspirational father. My thoughts still go out to Mark and his son.

 

I had been on my feet for more than 15 hours and now mile 40 of the Lakeland 50 beckoned. The Lake District mountains felt still and calm. The approaching dawn gave the night sky a purple-pink glow. The stars appeared more distant than before. It felt like gazing out to sea and seeing the crests of a thousand waves shining with blue, silver and turquoise hues. The moon had taken on that magical translucent quality that can only be found during this twilight hour. A steep ascent stood proudly before us. It seemed to be guarding the finish line. The mountainous climb that stood before us seemed almost vertical. We forged ahead and trudged forwards, every ounce of our will reaching for the summit. We crawled intently with our hands and feet submerged in the icy cold puddles. The blisters on my toes stung as if I was paddling in sea water and my hands felt cold and numb. One would think that such a situation would induce a state of misery, however this moment proved quite the opposite. At this moment my spirit felt renewed and I felt truly alive. I felt like Elliot and E.T, flying across the midnight forest. I felt like Lois and Clark, floating and dancing in the air next to an open French window with the New York skyline in the background.

 

Upon reaching the summit we glided across the final stretch of the Lakeland 50. The approaching dawn glowed with a fiery orange and move. I saw my brother's figure silhouetted in the morning sun - my friend, my hero, my inspiration. He placed his hand on my shoulder- I knew I was home.

 

Thank you to all the runners, volunteers and organisers who make the Lakeland 50/100 such a special event. Thank you also to the Lake District hills for being a part of Planet Earth.

Hope to see you all again soon for another run across the Lake District!

 

By Jack Crossley