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MEMOIRS OF A FELL
RUNNER |
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“Do you fancy doing a fell race?”
That innocuous question from an old pal unwittingly opened the door to a
thirty year addiction to getting one foot in front of the other in a somewhat
hurried manner. I was knocking on forty
and feeling the effects of a lack of fitness for my irregular trips either rock
climbing or fell walking. My answer to
this was to start jogging a two mile circuit twice a week. On the strength of this arduous training
schedule I entered the Thieveley Pike
Fell Race and managed not to come last!
However, I caught a horrendous cold for my efforts and colleagues at
work kindly suggested that, being in my fortieth year, I was perhaps too old
for such strenuous exercise. As I am now
in my 70th year, perhaps
they may be inclined to offer the same advice again.
As I entered running from a climbing/fell walking background, I
suppose fell racing was the natural way forward. Indeed, in the first twenty years, I only ran
a handful of road races including the first London Marathon which I managed in a little over three hours but
finished totally legless. The last mile
took me eleven minutes. I had failed to
understand the different training required for a race that was not up and down
large hills!! Until recent times I always favoured long distance fell races
such as Ennerdale, Wasdale, Borrowdale,
Duddon and Jura. The Ennerdale Horseshow was a particular
favourite being 23 miles with 7500ft of climbing. The route keeps you very high
during the later stages, with awkward navigation in poor weather. I almost had
my moment of glory in this race when the entire front end of the field got lost
around Great Gable and I appeared at
the checkpoint on Pillar summit in
the first few runners. Unfortunately
they did not stay 
lost and I was picked off by about twenty runners in the final
couple of miles.
I suppose the Ben Nevis Race
deserves a mention. It starts at sea
level with a mile run to the base of the mountain. By the time you reach the summit at 4,400ft
you really have had enough of climbing.
It is once round the summit marshals, a shallow descent for a few
hundred yards across the plateau, with the highlands of
I like Wesham Road Runners.
The membership has a good mixture of the kind, the cantankerous, the odd, the
eccentric, and all held together with boundless enthusiasm. With clubs usually you pay a subscription,
someone gives you the nod and you are in.
The Bob Graham Club is a
little different. There are no subs, no
applications forms; all you have to do is complete the Bob Graham Round. This Round, first completed by Bob Graham, covers 42
Sometimes in running you like to try something a little bit
different. With Brian, I entered a lot of Long
Distance Walkers’ events. In theory
these were supposed to be non competitive but those of us who were running
obviously did not read the small print! I look back on these events with
particular pleasure. If you enjoy
running till you drop try Open to Offas, the Swaledale Marathon, Trollers
Trot or the Great Shunner Shuffle. Another great event I entered with Brian was the Manx Mountain Marathon, a 30 mile fell race from the north to the
south of the Isle of
Looking back over the past thirty years I have to mention one sad
experience. In early April 1994, a large field set off on
the Kentmere Fell Race, in poor
weather. About a third of the way round
I passed Judith Taylor, the wife of
a friend at Clayton Harriers. We
chatted briefly. She was going well.
However, as the field reached the open plateau of High Street we were engulfed in a terrible blizzard. It was freak weather. Such was the strength
of the wind it was almost impossible to stand and visibility was virtually
nil. I found the summit wall and,
following it, staggered and fell across snowdrifts to reach the checkpoint, a
tent at the cairn. I turned and fought
my way to the comparative safety of Nan
Bield Pass. I managed to finish the
race. More than half the field dropped
out, many arriving back late after being lost.
Judith did not return. Her husband Phil stood waiting at the finish.
She had been swept right over High
Street by the blizzard and had attempted to descent into Patterdale. Eventually she collapsed
and died on the open hillside only a few hundred yards from safety. She was found a couple of hours later by a
search dog from the mountain rescue team. As the last person to speak to her during
the race I had to go to the inquest in
I will finish on a happy note.
For something like fifteen years, Brian
Wilkinson, Keith Gresty, Les Ward and I met up on most Tuesdays to run in the Lakes,
The Dales, the South Pennines and the
Written by: Doug Brown
Submitted: 8th
January 2007
Edited by: Brenda J Earnshaw
WRR Editor