The Cave Rescue Organisation (CRO) Ingleborough Challenge is their annual fundraising event. For the benefit of those who aren’t familiar with who the CRO are or what they do, here’s a synopsis:
They are a group of highly trained volunteers who provide cave and mountain rescue mainly in the region of the Three Peaks in the Yorkshire dales (Whernside, Ingleborough, and Pen-y-Ghent). They cover Kingsdale, Upper Dentdale, and their reach also extends to include areas of Cumbria and Lancashire. If you take a tumble atop of Ingleborough, chances are these folks are your knights in DWR-treated armour who will come and get you safely off the mountain and back to civilisation in one piece (hopefully).
The last two events had been cancelled due to the coronavirus pandemic, so it was vital that this year’s challenge was a success. The challenge caters for all abilities. You can walk it or run it. There are two distances to choose from: a 12-miler, aka The Clapham Circuit, or a more challenging marathon distance, taking in the plateaued gritstone summit of Yorkshire’s second highest peak, Ingleborough. It’s all very old school. Dot-watchers will be disappointed as it’s not chip-timed and there are no GPS trackers. What you do get are team members and volunteer marshals armed with pen and paper, jovial encouragement, and friendly banter. You also get a few ‘corner cutters’ (you know who you are!) but at the end of the day, it’s a fun run. A fundraiser, and it’s a good laugh. For those seeking a PB (aka ‘personal best’ for you non-running folk) or at the very least, bragging rights down the local, you know what they say? If it’s not on Strava, it didn’t happen!
Having completed a 47-miler just a week to the day prior to this event (you can read all about my exploits here), I wasn’t expecting too much from myself. I went for a very gentle RTR followed by a detour home via my usual trail running spot on the Wednesday, being mindful not to push it as I didn’t want to jeopardise my fitness for this marathon.
Since I started nerding-out on run metrics, I’ve been getting into the habit of setting myself targets in terms of average pace without exceeding a specific, self-determined heart rate. Taking into account stuff like elevation, gradient, descents, and obviously distance, I can then fashion some sort of plan with a predicted finish time. I enjoy this aspect as much as I enjoy the run itself. I find this all part of the fun because I like messing about with data despite my sub-par numeracy skills (thanks a bunch, dyscalculia). This fascination with running data was borne out of a desire to unpick a particularly frustrating conundrum: the frequent, sudden, and debilitating onset of severe cold-like symptoms that would put me in bed for a day or two; a phenomenon that would immediately occur upon completing a faster run. That’s a whole, separate article for another time, though.
As with The Lap, I devised myself target arrival times for each of the checkpoints and had those written on a piece of waterproof paper which I stuffed into my vest pocket along with my annotated OS printout map. I subscribe to the OS Maps service, and it is a fantastic resource. It’s half the price of a Netflix subscription if you pay monthly (considerably cheaper if you pay for the year upfront), and it allows to plot routes via the desktop version or mobile app. It’ll give you an elevation profile and clock your distance so it’s a great tool for planning a run. I print out my maps on waterproof paper so I can fold them to my specifications. I also carry a spare map (usually a Harvey map because they are small and waterproof), and I have the route downloaded to my phone via the OS Maps app. Sorted.
I arrived in good time all run-ready thanks to my pal dropping me off. No faffing about in motorbike gear. Plenty of time to register, sort out the positioning of my race number on my shorts (I’m very meticulous in my approach to this. The slightest deviation from near-perfect is enough to drive me to distraction) and mill about amongst the runners looking as socially awkward as I felt. The start was a short walk from the registration point, the latter of which was situated inside the CRO depot. It’s quite a challenging start as you run up a loosely cobbled bridleway through a tunnel. It’s too short to bother with a headtorch but long enough to be visually compromised if you don’t. The cobbles do a fine job of rolling you backwards as it’s hard to get a good, solid purchase on the ground. I walked this section.
A gentle, convoluted incline takes you up Long Lane, which lives up to its name. By the time I reached the point where the Pennine Bridleway intersects the Dales High Way, the field had thinned considerably. It was now time to break out the poles as the flagged route up Ingleborough unfurled before me. I totally understand the need to manage footpath erosion, particularly in high traffic areas, but I do not enjoy marching up a mountain on steps. It’s not easy on the knees, and it’s boring underfoot. The last upward push over the steep, jagged, fallen blocks of millstone grit to crest the plateau saw even more distance between runners. It’s easy to lose the path at this point, as it winds across the uneven ground, often obscured by loose rocks and sharp, vertical beds of thinly-laid rock. It was a clear morning so the added challenge of clag one normally finds at this altitude was absent. The familiar stone wind-break that marks the summit quickly came into view, occupied by the checkpoint team. I gave them my race number, jabbed the stone wall of the break with my finger, and made off for the descent.
The lack of low-level cloud and absence of rain meant I could get a fair clip going down, though there were quite a few walkers to dodge. I had no idea where I was in terms of hitting my checkpoint time goals. When my Garmin is in GPS mode, it doesn’t display the time. I didn’t really care at this point as I was enjoying myself absorbing the views, and revelling in the bemused good-will of ramblers. The weather couldn’t have been kinder. It was sunny, with a gentle breeze and on the cool side of warm. Just perfect. A far cry from the previous weekend’s ultra sweat-a-thon.
There’s a lovely trail at the foot of this route that takes you through the beautiful limestone pavement of Southerscales. I came a cropper here once. Too busy gawping at the view, I booted a rock and flew down the path head first, using my left side, mostly elbow, hip and knee, to slow my descent. I have the scar to prove it! Once bitten, twice shy. I kept a cautious eye on what was underfoot.
Next up is a cheeky little run following the contours around the base of Ingleborough. Passing Alum Pot brought happy memories of caving trips. One of the best views in the Yorkshire Dales is to be had from halfway down the main shaft of this fabulous pot hole, looking up. You follow the underground route of Dolly Tubs, and it brings you to this point. You are suddenly hit by the smell of damp earth and fresh foliage. Water vapour rises up the shaft as bright daylight scatters dancing sunbeams through the trees, framed by the rocky opening of the pot. Sometimes you catch a rainbow. It is a sight to truly behold. Merely describing it does it a disservice. You have to experience it. Put it on your bucket list and hop along to the resources page for recommendations of who might be able to take you there.
I was looking forward to getting into Horton-in-Ribblesdale. Primarily because it was the only checkpoint with a chop-time. I still had no idea what the time was, but I wasn’t concerned. There were quite a few folk behind me, and I felt like I was doing OK pace-wise. Horton is also home to my caving club hut and I was hoping I might see some familiar faces but alas, I didn’t. I did get a tad confused finding the checkpoint. The village was packed, and there was another running event happening just to add to the confusion, so people were running in all directions. I eventually found my way after asking someone, and then spotting the tell-tale wooden bridge. Despite looking forward to reaching this point, I was glad to find myself off the beaten track and in open space once again as the moors laid their spread of hardy grasses and limestone before me. Now I was starting to tire and my appreciation of the scenery was starting to wane along with my energy.
Yet again, I found myself facing my fears as I could see a bunch of quadrupeds of the bovine persuasion laying, yes, laying right across the path that followed the wall of the massive moorland field they were in. I stopped running and started walking towards them, hopefully a less threatening approach. Now in case you haven’t sussed it, I have a bit of a fear of cows. They are considerably bigger than me, and considerably more interested in me than I am of them. They are clever beasties and they seem to know if you’re nervous, and they will mess with you for their own amusement. At least that’s my experience. If I were a cow, I’d probably do the same. As I got closer, it became quite obvious that these were young bulls. Great. To add to my apprehension there was a couple behind me with a dog. The bulls were all staring intently at me, even the ones laying down. Their heads following my every move. As I gingerly picked my way through the herd, trying not to give them cause to stir, I glanced over my shoulder and to my horror saw the dog couple ploughing down the path forcing the bulls to get up. This had certainly got the attention of the bulls ahead of me. I was so relieved to eventually reach the wall crossing.
After this point, I felt like I was starting to race a bit. I wanted to put some distance between myself and the folk behind, not out of any particular desire to race but more an attempt at wanting to preserve my solitude at little longer. As the marathon started to draw to a close, certainly during the final 10k, I felt I was being pursued and I went with it. The young couple I’d physically distanced myself from where now closing in on me. I’d open up the gap on the downhills and the flats but then I’d feel their presence nearing on the inclined sections.
Racing is an interesting concept. There’s definitely an element of ego that guides you. I don’t want to be passed by this young, athletic couple! There are moments when I see them catching up that I mumble expletives under my breath, and I find their presence irksome but then when I regain ground there’s an element of satisfaction in it. The point comes during the last 2k when I am spent and I can now hear them coming up behind me. I have nothing more to give and I resign myself to watching them pass. I call out ‘go on. You’re smashing it!’ as a friendly gesture of goodwill. I am relieved. That pressure is gone. Let’s face it. They deserve it. They chased me down and pipped me to the post. Respect.
Despite flipping between irritation and elation, that weird, tangled dance of emotions during competition is quite satisfying in a curious manner. I thoroughly enjoyed it, and I was pleased to see them back at the depot. I congratulated them again, and although none of us actually admitted to racing, it certainly felt like it. It’s given me a taste and I want to explore this more. I want to explore myself in this context more.
I’ve noticed that my needs become simplified, and I feel like a less complicated person when I’m engaged in distance running. Everything becomes almost primal or even child-like. For example, upon completing the marathon and getting back to the depot, what I really wanted was a cup of tea. Unfortunately, they didn’t have any plant milk, and bless them, they tried to get some for me but the local shop was shut. I cannot abide black tea. It’s a totally different beast and the taste of the tannins is too much for me. I have to have some form of milk in it to kill those tongue-shrivelling tannins. So tea was my desire which felt more like a need. My one and only need. I couldn’t see beyond that cup of tea. There was even vegan cake and I never knowingly refuse cake, but I seemed incapable of making simple choices until I had fulfilled my desire for tea. In the end I went home, and the cuppa was not nearly as satisfying as I had imagined it would have been.
On the subject of getting home, I really didn’t feel like walking the 7k back to my village. I had pushed it, and my legs were starting to complain. I asked one of the CRO team if he knew of anyone heading my way, and then I realised that my workmate would still be up at the cave, and she would probably be happy to come pick me up at the end of her shift. As I got my phone out I was told not to worry, that they would sort me a lift. What I did not expect was a lift back in the CRO Landy! Talk about going above and beyond the call of duty. Mad thanks for that. My legs were toast.
I reached the finish at about 15:30hrs. My certificate states a finishing time of six hours, however, my Garmin recorded a finishing time of 05:59:54. I like the sounds of a sub-six hour so I’ll go with the Garmin! I had exceeded my own expectations, and crunched goal #1 by finishing half an hour earlier than my target time. I really hadn’t expected much of myself due to my inexperience as a marathoner/ultramarathoner, lack of physical condition (relatively speaking), and considering those two factors, the 47-miler I’d done seven days previously. I have no idea where I was placed as the results showed no distinction between the marathoners and the runners who chose the shorter Clapham Circuit. It doesn’t really matter, though. It’s not that kind of event.
The take-away.
- My simplified emotional and physical needs.
My emotions and my physical needs become basic during endurance running. Running allows me to experience simplicity in just being. It’s very meditative in that you can’t cling to emotions. You feel them, and you acknowledge them as they pass and that makes room for the next emotion, be them pleasant or unpleasant. Notice I don’t use the terms good or bad? That’s intentional. I’ll let you ponder that one.
- Competitiveness is fun.
Even on tired legs. More so on tired legs because you don’t know how much you’ve got left to give until you attempt to give what you’ve got left. Competition has no place for sore losers, though. That’s just not cricket. It can be a nice interaction to have with strangers, especially when it comes out of nowhere, and it leaves you with a nice, warm, glowy feeling afterwards. It’s not about winning but it is about trying to win.
Why you should do the CRO Ingleborough Challenge/Marathon.
- It’s old school. There’s no designated start or finish line to cross. No chip-timings. No trackers, and no serious faces lined-up with fingers poised over their watch GPS start buttons. There are no sponsor freebies and no feed stations. You do get a medal and a certificate with your finishing time on, though, and of course, tea, cake and conversation. Do it for the simplicity.
- It’s a really friendly event, and it’s pretty small too. It certainly has a community feel to it.
- It’s for charity! After costs, this year’s event raised about £4000 for the Cave Rescue Organisation. Considering the average annual cost of running this entirely voluntary organisation is in the region of £50,000, it’s a drop in the ocean but nonetheless, a big drop.
- The route is stunning. You will not be disappointed by the varied terrain, and the views are magnificent. Although Ingleborough can be a bit of a tourist trap when the weather is mild and especially on a weekend, the marathon route takes you away from all of that. Once you’ve dodged the walkers on the ascent and descent of the Dales’ second largest peak, it feels like you have the place to yourself.
- The after party is a hot cuppa and a slice of cake in the beating heart of the CRO, their depot in the picturesque village of Clapham.
If you want to take part in next year’s event, keep an eye on this page. If you feel overcome with the urge to furnish their bank account with your hard-earned readies, this link will take you right over to their Paypal donations page. If you think the CRO spend most of their time rescuing people from caves, think again.
See you next year? Go on… you know you want to!