Grin 'n Bear It

Distance: 17 miles

Ascent: 1831 ft

Rucksack weight: 5kg
Calories burnt: 2212

Time: 4h24m

Yesterday was supposed to have been a 23 mile jaunt across the Peak District.

The website for the "Grin 'n Bear It" event said (and still does!) runners start at 10am so I was surprised when I turned up to be told all the runners had started with the walkers at 8am. Apparently the "running" event was the 16 miler, starting at 10am, although I'd checked in advance to confirm I could run the 23 miler starting at 10am. The overall time limit for the event, per the website, was 11 hours (more than enough).

As an entrant on the day this mix-up wasn't helpful! I can only assume advance entrants received different information in the post. Anyway, the chap running it kindly agreed to let me start on the 23 miler a couple of hours later than everybody else. Unfortunately I was then dropped off along with everyone else at the 16 miler start, so back in the minibus I went to be taken to the 23 miler start.

Already stressed I started off far too quickly with a heavier than usual rucksack weight. I apologised to the first checkpoint marshalls (who looked a little miffed, understandably, but were very good about it), and the second, etc. etc, pointing out the website confusion.

Onwards I went along the course, including 4.5 miles of ascent on an increasingly warm day. At the highest point and another checkpoint ("Sorry, sorry . . . website . . . 10am!") I saw out before me as far as the eye could see a slightly undulating plateau of peat bog. The checkpoint marshalls suggested a relatively dry route and pointed into the distance at a rocky outcrop I was aiming for.

This gave a small inkling of what it might be like crossing one of the endless salt flats or set of small sand dunes in the Sahara.

This felt endless, and was tough on the legs. Trudge, trudge, trudge, sinking, sinking, up, down, up, up, down, fall over . . .

Almost my entire right leg fell into a peat bog and as I pulled myself out I lost my Asics Gel Trail Sensor 5 (the off-road trainer I was testing, new on this morning!).

Clearly I couldn't finish the remaining 10 or so miles without a trainer on my right foot so had to crouch down onto my stomach and spread myself out to distribute my weight across the bog and just catch the opening of the hole I'd left as it was fast closing back in on itself. It took some doing to push my right arm in, almost to the shoulder, to ferret around the peaty mess to find my shoe, and took a good deal of effort to pull my shoe back out.

Shoe recovered, onwards I hopped, skipped and jumped across the moor for what seemed an eternity, following a line of yellow sight flags that never seemed to end. Finally off the moor, just after the next checkpoint and some 2.5 hours after I started I caught and passed the backmarker walker who'd started at 8am: this caused some excitement at the immediately prior checkpoint as they weren't expecting to see that pain-in-the-backside runner for hours yet!

It was here though that a couple of officious types were really trying to put the pressure on for me to jack it in: "It's really hot . . . people are burning up out there, we're hearing on the radio . . . come in to our Land Rover . . . just a short ride to HQ and it'll all be over! Are you sure you're OK? You look a little unwell?" I didn't appreciate this really; the other volunteers were the absolute gold stars you come to expect on these events but these two really did annoy me which only served to boost my energy for the next couple of miles.

By then I was getting a tad cream-crackered and shortly after I stopped for a few minutes to take off a far heavier rucksack: some dastardly types seem to have put rocks in it without me realising. After stretching off and getting some fuel down me I continued on to Winscar Reservoir . . . to see my first apparition shimmering in the distance, an ice cream van!!

You've never seen me move so fast. My mind became full of images of a smiling, chuckling grand-fatherly type, with a soft beard, holding out before me a large '99 with two flakes and hundreds of thousands and an ice-cold can of Coke.

Unfortunately my rucksack could only produce a couple of quid which only went as far as a cola-lolly which didn't taste very nice (but didn't stop me demolishing it in a few seconds) and a cool can of Coke. The bloke in the ice-cream van wasn't chuckling and didn't have a soft beard, though he was smiling.

Still, the sugars gave me a boost to the next road junction (by which time I'd passed another couple of walkers) . . . where the two officious types I'd seen at the earlier checkpoint pulled up in their Land Rover: "Are you sure you don't want a ride back to HQ? You've done really well, no shame in stopping now, you've done fantastic to have run all that way starting late. Up ahead it's a valley and is similar to the fiery depths of Hell, it's so hot, so you are bound to expire."

Or words to that effect.

When I replied that suits me fine because I'm aiming to run in up to 50C in the Sahara next April the officious driver looked a little put out. Unbelievably he didn't attempt to say quietly to a chap in the back: "Do you want to walk with him up this hill and try and convince him to turn in?"

I couldn't believe it! I've never heard of this treatment at any event anytime ever!

So his minion (that's how it looked) jumped out and started walking with me up the steep hill. Being a bit pee'd off by now and feeling absolutely fine the competitive gene in me came out and I thought instead I'd play a little game, the well-known Who Get's Knackered First?

I then put on a fast uphill walk and really pushed it. The poor guy struggled to keep up and started going puce and sweating within a couple of minutes. I thought he was going to keel over. Half way up the hill he looked at me with a quizzical look: "You're fine, there's actually nothing wrong with you is there?"

"Nope!"

I won.

Just before the top of the hill I could see the two officious types stood at the back of their Land Rover. I wondered what they were going to try next. I had visions of them smiling and opening up the back of their Land Rover and in a sweeping arm gesture showing the pile of chocolate-covered Jaffa Cakes before me, stacked to the roof of the Land Rover and falling out of the windows: "All this could be yours . . . if only you'd just ride with us back to HQ!"

Once at the top of the hill there were no Jaffa Cakes but it was just more of the same from the officious two: ". . . really hot down there, still got 6 miles to go, running out of time, dangerous, "elf and safetee" . . . you really need to make a decision, it's up to you of course . . ."

By now it was around 2.30pm so I asked why their website said the time limit was 11 hours, so even had I started as a walker at 8am I still had hours to go and would be finished within 1.5 hours max. There was more of the same from the officious two.

By now I'd had enough. The subtext seemed to be that these two wanted to get home early to enjoy the remainder of the sunshine, though presumably they'd volunteered for this event so it seemed odd.

So I called it a day on the basis of promising myself I'd do a back-to-back and go out tomorrow for 5 miles or so.

I sat waiting in the Land Rover for half an hour while they tried to convince the other walkers behind me to jack it in, during which time I could have just walked 2 of the remaining 6 miles so I became even more annoyed.

Once back at HQ (a few others around me were mumbling about not coming back to do this event again) I grabbed a quick bite to eat and got in the car home for a cold bath.

Still, the positives are having had a hard terrain run with a slightly heavier rucksack and brushing up on navigation skills, so not entirely a waste of time.

Today I did as I'd promised myself and went out for a 5 mile run with about 3kg in the rucksack. This is my first back-to-back run following a hard day. These are an imperative part of MdS training as that is essentially the core of the MdS and I'll have to get used to these, albeit I'll save the heavier days for January and February.

A good sign is that the legs felt perfectly fine during the 5 mile run: that's the magic of the freezing cold bath after yesterday's effort!