MY BOB GRAHAM

This account was written one week after completing the round – I’ve left the words as I wrote them then. May 2019.

Much has been written of the Bob Graham Round, by better writers and runners than me. I will not attempt to emulate them. It is too soon for one thing.

One week after completing the BG, I am still absorbing the experience, recalling moments on the mountains that I think of as home, moments with friends, moments of discomfort, of pain, of joy and a deep sense of satisfaction.

It is impossible to say where the journey began. The Bob is something that has occupied my mind, at times wholly, for at least five years. It is something that I was aware of and held muted aspirations towards for many years before that. It was, I think, while waiting for friends beneath Rossett Pike to support an attempt in 2015, that I acknowledged my own desire to make a serious attempt. I watched three or four groups come through that day, though my friends never arrived, a knee injury forcing a halt on Fairfield.

Two years later and I found myself running up Skiddaw on my first attempt. As darkness fell, so the clag descended and from there on things got steadily worse. Leg 2 was run on bearings throughout in appalling visibility and strong winds. On Fairfield, after hours of intense concentration in dire conditions, I accepted it wasn’t meant to be and we called it a day at Dunmail. It was the right decision.

Late in 2018, I started to make serious preparations once again. Long runs in all weathers, hard days on the fells in full winter conditions, painful physio sessions, a more disciplined S&C routine than I had ever stuck to in the past …

To the dismay of some, I continued racing until the week before, perhaps not the best training for a BG but it gave me confidence. And that confidence is key.

And so, after months of preparation, at 7.05am on May 18th, I set off for a second attempt, running anti-clockwise in the Clayton-le-Moors tradition, which suited my schedule and body clock.

The first two legs felt easy enough, and while it was a little harder to get going again after a rest at Wasdale, leg 3 never felt overly taxing and I arrived at Dunmail feeling confident. Leg 4 was hard. Fairfield was despatched in short order but after that, things went awry. Dizziness and nausea plagued me passing Helvellyn and for the length of the Dodds. By the end of Leg 3 I was still running 21hr splits, though I took long breaks at each road crossing. My goal was simply to finish within 24hrs. On leg 4, moving more slowly than I realised, the buffer I had created disappeared.

Climbing out of Threlkeld, Blencathra hidden in the clag, I clawed up the ridge for what seemed like hours. By the time we reached the summit I had other problems. My left knee was becoming increasingly painful and the descent towards Calva was a blur or darkness, clag and pain. Worse still, we were not in fact descending towards Calva. By the time we arrived in the valley we were seriously off route.

There followed a nightmarish traverse, leaping through huge spongy tussocks covered in 3ft high heather, to regain the trod beside Wiley Gill. Somewhere along the way it dawned on me that the successful completion I had so far taken for granted, might not happen. In short, this was not an option and the pain, nausea and tiredness turned to raw determination. Almost as though racing, I ran and paced hard up Calva.

A fast, or what felt to be a fast descent, followed, and we pulled enough time back to ease off slightly on the last climb of Skiddaw. Approaching the summit, choking back unexpected emotion, I stood in the bitter wind, trying to understand there were no more.

The descent was long and slow, secure at last in the knowledge I would make it to the Moot Hall within 24hrs. After nearly 70 miles, 42 summits and some 27,000ft of ascent, at 6.52am I touched the green door of the Moot Hall, completing the Bob Graham Round.

Could I have gone faster, stopped less, taken a better line off Blencathra? Yes. Will I run it again, try for a ‘fast’ round? Maybe. But first there are the summer’s races to come. And then, maybe, Ramsay’s Round. For now, it is enough. To run on the fells for nearly 24hrs is an experience few will know. It is one I will never forget.

So many people helped along the way, not just on the weekend of the attempt, but in the months and years leading to it and I am hugely grateful to all, for the advice and encouragement given and the confidence shown.

A special vote of thanks must go to Andy Laycock who ran legs 2 & 3, and then turned out again in the early hours to run the final leg in poor conditions.

And to all the support runners, more than one of whom also ran more than one leg and whose support and enthusiasm for my attempt was humbling.

The runners:

Leg 1: Russell Clarke, Matt Perry, Chris Snell, Richard Briscoe

Leg 2: Andy Laycock, David Bagot, Peter Coates

Leg 3: Hayley Evans, Andy Laycock, Andy Webster

Leg 4: Ralph Baines, Andrew Priory, Mark Nutter

Leg 5: Hayley Evans, Andy Laycock, Ralph Baines, David Bagot

And last but far from least, thanks to Sarah Robertshaw for ferrying bags and bodies around Cumbria and making sure everyone was where they needed to be.

Thank you all.