Montane Summer Spine Race 2026. An extremely long trek to kiss a wall.
Montane Summer Spine Race 2026
My recovery from the Swiss Peaks race went very quickly which was a good sign and I was keen to get going again. Basking in our previous successes doesn’t last for a long time unfortunately. Sadly though, the recovery from the shock of the prices of every day items in Switzerland took a while longer, this left the wife and I rather traumatised, but with determination, we got to a good place in the end.
Next on the list of events was another jog along the Tour de Helvellyn in December 2025. It’s a race I’ve done a few times now and it’s very popular. A no frills event covering 40 ish miles in the Lake District. The race went well and I was beginning to think of my pacing and fuelling strategy for future upcoming adventures. See link below for the Tour de Helvellyn website.
Volunteering, seeing things from a different perspective
Christmas 2025 was upon us once more, being subjected to those dreadful Christmas records endless overindulgence and self loathing during January. In order to combat this, I was looking forward to volunteering on the Montane Winter Spine Race 2026 as part of the safety team. I met my team for the event via a TEAMS link (some people do admire my IT skills) and we got to know each other a bit while making plans for the event.
It was great to see things from the other side of an event and to help others along the way while they were running their race. Given the weather conditions, I wasn’t envious of them either! I was posted along the route as part of the safety team where we could react to any potential emergencies, fortunately, there were no dramas and everything went smoothly.
Bob Graham Round Crew
My training was going well over the early part of 2026 and I’d subscribed to a coaching app called Albon or Ascend as it’s now known. It’s a very useful trading tool from Jonathan and Henriette Albon. Both very accomplished trail runners. I was very confident in my ability to self coach, but this app was very useful to compliment my training and I could keep any eye on my progress. It also kept me in check when I wanted to push things too much, which helped with injury prevention. I was beginning to feel my fitness and strength building, with help from regular visits to the gym. I didn’t like the gym normally, but I could see the benefits and I could tell I was getting stronger, so I began to actually look forward to the gym sessions. Running there and back was a great way to get a double dose of training in one day too. If you aren’t already incorporating strength and conditioning training in your weekly schedule, you should. I just wish I’d learned that years ago.
After what seemed like an eternity of shite weather, April began to offer promise of better times and I offered to help out on a Bob Graham Round attempt. The Bob Graham Round is a classic fell running challenge in the Lake District which has to be completed in under 24 hours, demands respect and a lot of training. I’ve covered sections of the route and been a crew member several times as it’s great training and a good chance to meet like minded people (just as mad in other words). Why don’t I attempt the round myself? I simply just can’t be arsed with all the preparation.
Pennine Prep
Training volume increasing, in May, I made my way up to Malham in the Yorkshire Dales to run the Pennine Barrier 50. As the name suggests, it’s a 50 mile ultra taking in a section of the Pennine Way and completing a circuit of the Yorkshire Three Peaks route for good measure. Again, I thought it would be a useful training run for the big race in June..shite, June was next month!
The race went well and I took the opportunity to practice race pace and nutrition strategies throughout the day. I needed a good idea of what a potential, manageable pace would be and how long it would take to complete several days. I went out and ‘enjoyed’ the race as the weather was kind to us and finished in a decent time without trashing myself. I knew I had to think of the bigger picture and swallow some of my pride.
Looking rather chuffed with my new medal
Final few weeks before the long jog
As the last few weeks came and went, I was getting slightly nervous but very optimistic as I felt fit and raring to go. I had the odd niggle here and there, but thankfully nothing major. Anything major at this stage would have been a disaster for the race.
With that in mind, I was slightly hesitant to toe the line at the Ultra Trail of Snowdonia 25k during the mid section of May. In the end, I thought sod it, I’ll just use it as a training run and not to anything stupid, I’ve said that before! Besides, I didn’t want to loose the entry fee for the race by not turning up.
The day of the race came and the weather was great, perfect for a bimble in the mountains of Snowdonia. I was feeling relaxed knowing that I had a plan and was just gonna go out and enjoy the day out. Once the race started, I just couldn’t help it. Balls to this, let’s give it some gas, see what I’m capable of. I felt good on the first few climbs and quickly adopted my go to hill climbing technique (secret). Once on the high ridge line, the terrain became undulating, so I was able to let the brakes off on the flats and downhills which felt amazing after so many months of slow and steady pace training to build my base fitness. I was pleasantly surprised with how I felt and the pace didn’t feel too much but I was moving on at a decent clip. On the final descent back to the start, I let everything go and steamed down the long track, I remember thinking, feck me, this feels amazing. Crossing the line with a very good time and placing for my category, I promised myself I would do a few more ‘short’ races as I loved that one! I was chuffed walking back to the car, no injuries and feeling confident. Could this be the year?
The last few weeks before the race was upon me, I ramped up the training volume a bit more and did some more kit testing. Finally going for two pairs of shoes, one pair wide fit and one pair half size up with a sock liner and over sock combo.
I’d also been recently introduced to Trailskin who make very good foot care and chafing products. I tested them out on a few long runs and they seemed to work a treat. No rubbing in unnecessary areas, yet..
Playtime
The usual faff and mild panic ensued on the day before the race at kit check and registration in Edale. I eventually found a car park space and was slightly concerned to see the amount of parking tickets on other cars. The local council had a field day! I walked over to the queue for the check with my trusty IKEA bag which contained all my kit for ease of inspection. Some burkes had their kit all neatly packed in their race packs and you could sense the disappointment when they had to empty the contents out to complete kit check. As usual, Lindley was mooching about to field any issues or potential arguments as to why an ASDA carrier bag would not meet the requirements for a waterproof jacket!
I always get a bit nervous during kit check. Have I forgotten anything, will the kit pass, will others think ‘look at this nob failing kit check’. All went smoothly and I got a stamp of Lindsey’s face on my hand to confirm I’d pass. I hoped it wasn’t by permanent marker or anything as that image would not help me dodge potential hallucinations during the race. Following other formalities, I drove back home to get some final decent sleep and a good meal. On the whole, I felt calm and ready to go. I guess it was due to the fact that I had learned from the last attempt and the complete balls up I made of it. I had a plan to basically run my own race and keep it very steady. Just forget what others are doing and we’ll see what happens.
Edale to Hardraw
After a crap nights sleep, it was time to go. As usual, I was sure I’d forgotten something but it was too late now as I was deposited in the car park at Edale by my wife, Natalie. Natalie was delighted to have to get out of bed at daft o’clock to drive me to the start..
It wasn’t long before the start which was good because I hate to get there too early and have to wait nervously for ages. I was pretty relaxed with only a few butterflies, which was a good sign. Get to the front for the start I thought, as that way, i wouldn’t be stuck in a queue while getting out of Edale during the opening mile or so.
The count of ten was called and once again, we were off along the Pennine Way. I pushed the pace a bit until I got to the open fields just outside of Edale and then settled down to my race plan. People began to pass me and I was tempted, but gave myself a firm reminder of what happened last time, I looked at my watch to focus on the miles per hour pace that I’d decided on. If I kept to that pace and tried to keep the faff to a minimum, I should finish around the 120-130 hour mark. The total time allowed for completion was 156 hours, so I had loads of time, just needed to be disciplined, especially in these early stages where the pace felt painfully slow and I was feeling fresh.
Heading up Jacob’s Ladder, the first climb of the race, I really held back, as I knew I could trot along a bit quicker once that was out of the way, all the way to the Snake Pass crossing. The views were great and the weather was good, I shuffled along quite happily, eating and drinking as I went. All was good.
Through Snake Pass, I topped up my water bottles from the roadside marshal point as I knew water would be scarce. The next few miles were pretty uneventful and went by steadily. I was hoping for another water stop at Torside but it wasn’t there this time. Fortunately, from recent route reccies, I knew of a natural water source heading up to Laddow Rocks on the way to Black Hill. It was nice to stop there for a few mins, top my water up and admire the view. The stream of runners was beginning to stretch out now and I was alone for a while, just the way I like it. I normally avoid teaming up with other runners as this presents a few issues, especially if they want to talk a lot, as some will know, I’m not a very social person and people do tend to get on my tits somewhat. It’s like going to the Barbers. I hate going to the Barbers as you have to sit there, talking shite to someone.
Up n over Black Hill, I was conscious of not getting carried away with the next, long downhill section as I knew I’d pay for it later. ‘A task slowly done, is surely done’ as Oliver Hardy once said. This was going to be the mantra for the next few days. The first pit stop came in the form of the marvellous Nicky’s Food Bar, next to the M62 crossing. A welcome break from the bleakness of the last few miles. Everything was still going well though, so I promised myself a little treat at Nicky’s. An added bonus was to see one of my best mates, Phil Hull stood there shouting some minor abuse at me. He’d been out on his bike and was watching my tracker. While I had a nice bacon butty and a brew, we chatted for a few mins (all above board) and then it was time to carry on.
Another steady climb over Blackstone Edge and down the other side, I could see Stoodley Pike monument in the distance. The next section was flat and alongside a few reservoirs so I was able to increase my miles per hour pace which felt good. I was beginning to plan what I wanted to do once arriving at the first major checkpoint at Hebden Bridge, this was where I could get a good refuel and have access to my drop bag. I reached the checkpoint while it was still day light, headed in and began to sort things out. I wanted a quick turnaround here as i was still feeling fresh and I knew I’d need to have some time in the bank for later in the race. Changing my socks, top and refuelling took around 45 mins. I asked for the mandatory kit check as I didn’t want to get too comfy and waste any time. Leaving the checkpoint, I was hurried along by the amount of midgies that were attacking me, it had now become dark, turning my head torch on only served as a beacon to the midgies. I was grateful to get back up to the road, out of the woods. Time to settle down and get ready for the first night. I wasn’t intending on sleep until I reached Hardraw some 108 miles into the race and around 65 miles from where I was currently. I still felt good and was looking forward to the night as it’s normally my favourite time during these events.
The next section was up and over Top Withins of Brontë fame, it was dark by now and I could see a steady stream of head torches behind and in front. I was in a group of a few other runners by now and we occasionally chatted as we went along. I think it was around this area that we came across a farmer who offered us some chocolates from a large tub. He and his family had been dot watching and he just appeared out of the gloom and mist on the open moor, it must have been around two in the morning ish. It’s amazing to know that there’s people out there who follow the race and are kind enough to offer treats to all the runners as they pass. Kind of restores your faith in humanity. Taking a handful of mini snickers and bounties, said my thanks and carried on. I do love Snickers bars, a great morale boost. Snickers ice cream is devine, I digress.
Eventually, it started to get light and our little group of runners were still together, not saying too much but probably just glad of the company during the night. Passing a farm house, we noticed a shed selling a selection of drinks and snacks so decided to stop for brekkie. It was an honesty box set up with a handy card reader. I filled my face and had a nice can of pop. That would see me though to the famous Co Op shop in Gargrave where I promised myself that I would stop for a while and get something more to eat. It would be open by the time we got there.
My mood picked up once the sun was out for the second day and it looked like it was going to be a nice day. The miles were ticking along well through the section of farmers fields up to Malham. Eventually, Malham Cove came into view and I was actually looking forward to the big climb up the steps to the top as I knew the view would be spectacular. Just ask my lovely wife Natalie after she had the privilege to climb those very steps only the week before, with only minimal stops and minor expletives. To be fair, she did very well and I was very proud.
There were a few people milling about on the steps up to the summit in various stages of hyperventilation and I just kept my head down and went past. Feeling quite smug in the knowledge that I’d just done around 70/80 miles just to get there. I kept thinking, it’s going well at the moment, just keep moving. A brief stop at the Malham Tarn checkpoint and a quick lie down in the bird hide just after it and I was ready for the climb up to Fountains Fell summit. That’s one of the good points about knowing the course, you know what’s coming up…or is that a disadvantage and is ignorance bliss?
Undercarriage
I began to notice my feet were beginning to become a bit sore on the soles, probably through the pounding on all the hard surfaces and also a slight discomfort in my undercarriage area..no, not the dreaded nappy rash! ‘Deal with the situation now before it gets worse Andy’ I thought. So halfway up the climb to Fountains Fell summit I had a brief stop to air my feet. I was pleased to see no visible damage to my manky trotters, apart from the usual snaggletoothed toenails, once I’d took my shoes and socks off and the fresh air was welcoming. Now to address the undercarriage. I had a quick look around and as no body was around, I took the opportunity to whip my shorts n runderwear down to add the refreshing air to my overheating undercarriage. The cool air around the thingies felt wonderful! Although I did get some concerned glances from the onlooking Sheep. ‘Don’t worry, I’m not Welsh’ I muttered. After a few minutes, I cleaned the area around my thingies with some wet wipes and then added a fresh layer of Trailskin anti chafe cream. It’s all about self management, no matter how unedifying it may be. Pushing on afterwards, I felt refreshed and soon sumitted the peak and was rewarded with a great view of the next climb on the other side of the valley, Pen y Ghent, part of the Yorkshire three Peaks Challenge.
The other runners I was with were now way below in the valley and I was alone again. Until I heard a rumble and then a roar of two RAF Hawk aircraft doing a training flight right in between the summit I was on and Pen y Ghent on the other side of the valley. For the next few minutes while I was descending, I was treated to my own airshow. I did have to be careful though to look where I was treading so I stopped once or twice just to watch them pass. Soon though, all was quiet and I was down in the valley heading to the steep climb up the side of Pen y Ghent, a swine at the best of times without around 90 miles already in the legs!
It was a bit of a slog up the steep climb, but I was soon descending and heading to Horton in Ribblesdale in the next valley. My feet were hurting again. This was beginning to slow my pace. Shite. I took some comfort in the fact that overall, I felt ok and the next major checkpoint in Hardraw wasn’t that far away in the grand scheme of things. This was where I was going to stop for a good rest and refuel. I’ll be able to rest my feet there too. Once in the village of Horton, I decided to lie down for fifteen minutes in the shade of a tree and grab a bit of rest. Taking the opportunity to once again air my feet, but not my undercarriage as this would alarm passers by. Final stretch before Hardraw I thought. I headed up the long, endless climb up Cam High rd. I swear that effing road gets longer every time I do it. It’s that crap and boring, even the phone signal can’t be arsed working properly up there! After a few years of walking, I reached the summit and could at last see the villages of Hawes and Hardraw below me in the valley. I’d also caught up to a few runners and we descended into Hawes together, glad that we were close to a nice well earned rest. By the time we made it to the checkpoint, it was dark and it was trying to rain a bit, but I wasn’t bothered as I was stopping here for six hours which was the maximum allowed. I remember thinking, I feel loads better at this point than the last time I attempted the Summer Spine race a few years ago. Focusing, I did some personal admin, got some decent food and went to sleep for a few hours in one of the tents. Job done. So far..
Hardraw to Middleton via the Pub
After being rudely awakened by the effing alarm on my phone, I got myself together and asked for a kit check. I think I’d had about an hour or so of sleep, but it was better than nowt. I didn’t hang around long as I didn’t want my mind to start wondering. I actually felt pretty good after the rest and headed out of the checkpoint, in the wrong direction..what a nob. Correction made, I headed off up the track towards Shunner Fell. The track to the summit goes on for ages, not too steep though. As I hiked along, one or two people passed me and we said hi. Eventually, coming out of the valley, I was surrounded by a mist but the path was still pretty easy to follow and it was now daylight. After a few false summits, I passed the cairn at the top and treated myself to a chocolate bar, not hanging around though as the view was shite due to the mist. Then it was a long downhill to the village of Thwaite. I’d been there before and was hoping to get something decent to eat from the village cafe, but it wasn’t open till 10:00. The time was 08:00, knackers! So after some muttering to myself regarding the major inconvenience, i trudged on. The Tan Hill Pub would be the next opportunity to get some grub, best be effing open! I started to have a wobble along the section to Tan Hill, I felt sleepy, my feet were sore and even the bird song was pissing me off. I stopped a couple of times to have a rinse in a stream and have a moan. That helped a little. It took ages to finally see the Tan Hill Pub, it suddenly appeared once I reached the summit of the long climb and I could see people milling about and the place looked open, thank eff for that.
Once in the Pub, I tried to have a lie down on the stage to have a nap, but couldn’t get comfy. Instead, I went to the bar and ordered some food and a brew. While waiting for the food, I did some kit faffing and chatted to the other people in the room. It must have taken minutes to demolish the burger and chips once they arrived. Just the ticket. Some proper food to get some calories onboard. The food worked wonders as I felt re energised. The next few miles went along well, the sun was out and all was going good. It wasn’t long before I reached the subway under the A66 and I was actually running the flat sections, powered by burger n chips. My mood was lifted even more by the fact that I knew I wasn’t too far from Clove Lodge and the fantastic spread they put on for people on the Pennine Way, all free. A pit stop there for a few minutes to have a brew and a chat and hoped to see the black cat that wonders around, but it wasn’t there today, rather disappointingly. It was there last time I was here and it was very friendly. Anyway, onwards. The next major checkpoint at Middleton wasn’t too far now. The weather had been pretty good all day so the going was pretty easy. Coming down off the final hill into Middleton, it began raining but the clouds were pretty broken, so it probably wouldn’t last long. The final few miles along the river bank went quickly, but I was looking forward to getting into the checkpoint for some more food and sleep. My feet were feeling sore, so I was looking forward to taking my shoes and socks off. My feet had matching blisters and one heel felt numb? Very strange. I’d packed a spare pair of shoes and took the opportunity to swap them over and have them ready for when I set off later. It occurred to me at this point that my timings for arrival at the major checkpoints was spot on. I’d arrived at Hardraw and now Middleton just as it was getting dark and being Summer, the nights were only a few hours. This would be helpful as I’d actually be in bed while it was dark and probably setting off at dawn. Alston, the next major checkpoint was around forty miles from Middleton so I could probably make it there in time before the night. This was a good morale boost and broke up the huge distance left to do. It’s important to find ways to break these things into manageable chunks as otherwise, you’d just get overwhelmed.
Arriving at the checkpoint, one of the marshals guided me to a seat and gave me my drop bag. My feet were really pissing me off again, they were sore, damp and from previous experience, macerated feet was something I was keen to avoid. The midges were also out in full force, so after some faffing about, a marshal showed me to a tent where I could get my head down for a few hours. It didn’t take long for me to nod off, despite some tit heads talking loudly right outside my tent.
Stupid bastard phone alarm went off very soon and it nearly got launched out of the tent! It was very warm and cosy in my sleeping bag and it seemed as though I’d been asleep for about five minutes. Dragging myself out of the tent while muttering, I headed over to the checkpoint building to do some more faff and got ready to set off again. The checkpoint staff were becoming a bit concerned about how much time was left for me to leave. I’d nearly had the full six hours and was running out of time. Things got a bit desperate and in the end I was escorted out of the checkpoint, while still packing. The last few bits of faffing would have to be completed out on the trail. It was my own fault, too much pissing about and feeling sorry for myself. ‘Switch on you nob and get on with it’ I thought.
Middleton to Alston
This section was where the wheels began to fall off and I went through some very low points mentally and wasn’t able to run properly due to my manky feet and just the whole effort of the last few days. I rested here and there and took my shoes and socks off to air my feet in a desperate attempt to keep them useable. The weather took a turn for the worse too. Heading up towards High Cup Nick, the wind picked up and the area was covered in mist. As I was trudging up a climb, I noticed someone coming towards me out of the mist. It was a runner as he was dressed accordingly. He stopped and chatted to me briefly and offered me a chocolate bar, stating that he’d see a few other runners ahead and offered them the same. It really struck me at the right moment, just as I was feeling very low. As soon as he left me and ran away, I just burst into tears. I couldn’t help it. It was like all the emotions I had been feeling hit me all at once, just that simple act of kindness from a complete stranger pushed me over the edge. I began shouting to myself to snap out of it, this effing race is not going to beat you. Looking back now, that was definitely the start of a test from the race to see how I reacted. Would I cope or would I quit? This finishers medal would not be achieved without a fight!
My mood lifted somewhat further along the course and the village of Dufton wasn’t too far away. But by the time I’d reached High Cup Nick, the toys had gone out of the pram again. My feet were really sore, especially my left heel and I was just hiking by now as running was too sore. ‘That’s it, I’ve had enough, when I reach Dufton, I’m pulling out, I’m fuckin sick of this’. Shuffling along down the track to the village, I messaged Natalie to say I was really struggling. I knew she knew what I meant. ‘He’s gonna pull out, time to get the car ready..again’. As far as I was concerned, once I reached the checkpoint in Dufton, that would be it. Another DNF. It’s just not to be for me this one.
On the way into the checkpoint, I’d already got my excuses together for the staff there. Sitting down, I asked for a medic to check my feet over and hopefully to tell me what I wanted to hear. But something in the back of my mind held me back, just wait for a bit and decide then. It’s funny how a sit down with a brew and a chat changes your outlook. This is something I’ve learned from previous experiences, take a breath, wait and see a bit. It was also nice to see a friendly face in the form of Tim Campbell, (a rather decent runner himself) he was watching the tracker and called in to say hi. After some chat with the medic and the offer of a pain killer for my dodgy ankle/achilles the thirty minutes max time allowed at the checkpoint was nearly up. A decision had to be made..one of the staff suggested that I sit outside for a bit and see how I felt then. Yeah, let’s do that I thought. Remembering that there was an open cafe just up the road. Let’s go there for a proper brew and something to eat. That was a very good decision. Sitting there outside in the sunshine, chatting and giving my feet a rest for an hour really did the trick. I’d stopped feeling sorry for myself and moaning about my feet. I’d passed the second real mental test of strength. The first being able to leave Hardraw to continue and now, denying the thoughts of pulling out the race after having a meltdown. Leaving Dufton feeling recharged and pleased I’d not pulled out, I headed for the long climb up to Cross Fell. The summit looked sunny and clear, but I knew that could easily change as my previous experiences on Cross Fell haven’t really been rememberable for the right reasons. I was moving pretty well again however, I noticed that my manky undercarriage was bothering me again. The fact that it was a warm day and there was no breeze didn’t help. I knew action had to be taken once again but hopefully it wouldn’t require exposing myself to the local livestock!
About halfway up the long slog to the summit, I stopped at a stream bed to inspect underneath my trollies and give things a long overdue wash. It was like carefully opening Pandoras Box. What lie in wait? There was quite a nasty rash and I’ll leave the rest to your imagination. The cool stream water was wonderful and I really didn’t give a toss if anyone saw me, what had to be done was done! The vista to a casual observer must have been horrendous. Before leaving, I removed my running shorts and carried on the climb up to the summit in my Runderwear Boxer shorts, the breeze had picked up and was conveniently blowing a nice breeze from behind me. The cool air was marvellous and very much boosted my moral. Maybe that small episode was another test from the race? Just before the summit, a race photographer appeared and we chatted and a photo or two was taken. Thankfully of only my top half! I did feel as though I should offer an explanation as to why I was in my underwear, so he was briefed (forgive the pun).
Just the top half please
Finally reaching the first summit and the start of the ridgeline, it had become a bit chilly so I put the shorts back on and trotted along, trying to enjoy the view. Surprisingly enough, the weather on Cross Fell summit was calm and sunny and as a treat, I had a bit to eat and looked at the view. Next stop was the famous Greg’s Hut, just off the summit on Cross Fell. It looked very inviting and I couldn’t resist calling in for a few minutes. The place was lovely and quiet and empty, perfect for a quick lie down and a nap. There was a breeze outside and it was whistling around the building which was strangely very calming, I must have nodded off for about ten/fifteen minutes.
The long drag down to Garrigill took a while and I kept my mind occupied by admiring the view. My pace wasn’t very quick, hiking pace at best, but I was moving and not feeling too bad. By the time I’d reached Garrigill, tiredness and my effing feet were hurting again. This was really pissing me off as I felt I could move a bit better if it didn’t feel like I was walking on glass at every step. At least my nappy rash had settled for now. It took an age (seemingly) to cover the final few miles to Alston and the next major checkpoint. I could swear I could smell the Lasagna all the way! I’d arrived once again before it got dark so the plan was working, bonus. Let’s just keep this up and we might just finish this time. I dared myself, if only very briefly, to begin thinking I’d finish the race at last..
Please sir, I want some more!
No faffing about this time, once I’d been re united with my drop bag I ordered a plate of Lasagna (it is worth the entry fee alone in my opinion) and demolished it in minutes while doing some kit faffing. I was actually feeling pretty good once I’d sat down and settled, so much better than the previous times I’d reached this checkpoint. The shoes n socks went for a burton too, replaced with my flip flops. Besides, the odour in the room was a bit unsavoury to say the least, emanating from all the other runners that were slumped around the room, so I hardly thought me adding to it would make much difference. It was a great relief to get those feckin shoes off, if I could have binned them, I would have. It was really frustrating as I’d tried both pairs during training and they worked well. Why did they wait till now to make me suffer? As if attempting to run 260 miles wasn’t hard enough without crap shoes! While chatting to the nice medic about my manky trotters, I’d ordered another plate of Lasagna and in the time it took for me to be given another one of those splendid painkillers, I’d demolish the Lasagna and ordered another one, the urge came to order a fourth..very tempting. Rather than stuffing my face for the next five hours or so, I thought it prudent to perhaps get some sleep in one of the bunks upstairs. Things were very well organised as Mike Churchyard was cutting around, organising people and stinky runners and I was swiftly shown to a bunk bed room. Once I’d had a shower, which was heaven by the way, I clambered into my sleeping bag, set an alarm and drifted off. My unconsciousness was rudely interrupted when one of the other chaps in the bunk room let off an enormous fart that seemed to echo around the room and woke me up with a start. The odour that followed was nothing short of horrific and as a consequence, I hurriedly got out of bed and left the room. How’s that for impetus? Sod my effing alarm clock.
After some more faffing about with my kit, I called for a kit check, reluctantly put my shoes back on and once all was done, I left the checkpoint into the early morning sun. Next stop, Bellingham checkpoint after another long day along the awful Blenkinsopp Common and the amazing Hadrians Wall. I left felt feeling quite refreshed and the weather was going to be good again. I was getting closer to the finish with each step, but still had a long way to go.
Alston to Bellingham and the effing Midgies
The next section was quite flat, running along a valley while passing a couple of villages, including the famous Slaggyford, so I was able to hike/trot at a reasonable pace. I was looking forward to the Hadrian’s Wall section, it always fascinates me to wonder what it might have been like all those year ago. It wasn’t long though until my feet began to get sore again, both soles were sore. I decided to take my shorts off again in order to fend off any chaffing from my underneaths. I’d applied plenty of Trailskin lube, but just wanted to make sure. After several days on the trail and around four hours sleep in total, I really couldn’t give a shite how I looked to others! My Runderwear boxers were covering things up without any potential alarm or me being arrested. It got to the point where the soles of my feet were that sore, I removed my shoes and trotted along in just my socks. I instantly felt better. WTF I must have looked like from passers by? Jogging along in my underwear while carrying my shoes in my hands! But needs must, it worked for a while and it meant I could make progress, ever closer to the finish.
Eventually, I reached the A69 road crossing, near Haltwhistle and the beginning of the Hadrians Wall section. My mood was lifted as I knew that in the grand scheme of things, I wasn’t that far from the finish. The Scottish border wasn’t too far away. By the way, before crossing the main road, I’d put my shorts and shoes back on! The ground was too stony to run without my shoes, so the pain was back. The view of the wall looked amazing, stretching out into the distance. Let’s get to the visitor centre and we can have a brew n sit down. I was relieved to see it was open and ordered a brew. There was a TV in the corner, playing a short video, highlighting the amazing things you could do in the area. It lasted around ten minutes and kept playing on a continuous loop. As I sat there, nursing my brew and feeling the need to set my shoes on fire and file my feet down with some sandpaper, the video began to become irritating. I went to re fill my water bottles to get away from it for a few minutes. Sitting back down, I was once again reminded of the exciting things you could do. The stupid voice on the video became extremely irritating. I sat there, staring into space, while the fuckin video was slowly driving me insane. Right that’s it, I couldn’t take it any longer. Grudgingly, I left the cafe and headed out. If I ever hear that video again I’m gonna put a brick through the TV.
The track along the Wall is very undulating and exactly the thing you don’t require after running/hiking for about 200 miles. Once again, the shorts went for a burton and I was tempted to remove the shoes, but the rocky ground put me off. After a few miles, I arrived at the point where I pulled out of the race on a previous attempt of the Challenger North event. This brought back unhappy memories of me sat on a bench, in tears and on the phone to Natalie to come and rescue me. That experience really hit me hard after the event and I did consider quitting the sport altogether, I did go through a rather dark patch. I have come to realise that is one of the reasons why I do these daft events. There’s no guarantee you’ll finish, unlike some daft, boring road race. The highs are just as big as the lows. Ever since that episode, I promised myself that I’ll try and try again. A lesson for life too. When some commentators claim that ‘you can do anything if you put your mind to it’ I think that’s not quite true. But you can give it your best shot and that’s all you can do. I just don’t want to look back on anything I’ve done with regret that I didn’t try as hard as I could, sometimes repeatedly.
Moving on, looking ahead as I plodded along, there was a person up ahead, who appeared to be waiting around. Might be another photographer I thought. Oh balls, but I wasn’t wearing my shorts! Please don’t take a photo, shite, there’s not a effing drone overhead either is there!? I could just imagine the dramatic video footage on the event website of the wall and then me shuffling along in my Runderwear!
But I was delighted in one or two ways to realise it was my very good friend Oliver Hague! He seemed a bit confused or concerned regarding my choice of running clothing, but it was great to see him and we had a nice big hug and a photo, top half obviously. We chatted briefly and I promised I’d see him at Byrness, just before the dreaded Cheviots.
Just after our bro hug
The turn off from the wall came soon after and another section was ticked off. I began to think, I might just do this. Bedtime at the next checkpoint wasn’t too far away now. As I trotted along, I caught up to a couple of other runners, over the next few miles, we chatted and it was good to be in some company for a change. Eventually, we came across the next Oasis at Horneystead Farm. This was another famous pop up checkpoint put together by the Farm owner. She welcomed us into an outbuilding and offered us a drink and some marvellous cake. While we sat there, there were a couple of Swifts flying in and out of the building, feeding their chicks in a nest they’d built in the rafters, completely oblivious of us. The cake was fantastic and I was very tempted to have a lie down on the bed in the corner. It was a perfect setting for a nap. Lovely and quiet and the sun was just going down after another warm day. I resisted the temptation, we said our goodbyes, thank yous and headed out for the final section before Bellingham. We arrived at the checkpoint after it had got dark and were greeted by the checkpoint staff wearing midge nets over their heads. After being subjected to an onslaught of midges and some kit faffing, it was time for bed in one of the tents. It had been another long, tiring day. I lay there thinking about how much further there was until the finish. Another long day and I should finally reach the wall. I can make it. One more day Andy. Just don’t balls it up tomorrow.
Bellingham, the Church and another bro hug!
After swearing violently at my phone alarm, it was time to get going again. I actually felt pretty good, must have had a couple of decent sleep cycles. As soon as I left the tent, I was attacked by the midges. They seemed to be congregating around the tent entrances as if to wait for the weary runner to emerge. Personally speaking, if I were a midge, I wouldn’t go anywhere near me. My odour must have been ripe after four days without a wash apart from a wet wipes around the cobblers! ‘Switch on now mate, pack up and get going’. I sat down (away from the midges) in the morning sun and prepped my kit and had something to eat. It was also marvellous to go and brush my teeth. The feeling after was amazing. It felt like I’d got some nice Turkey teeth of my own. Much like Jurgen Klopp after spending some time in Liverpool. At least I didn’t have the spray tan, inflatable lips and horrendous eyelashes!
One of the lads I was running with earlier was still around and getting ready. So there n then, we decided to head out together. Kit check done, we headed out. Next stop, Byrness. I hoped my mate Oliver Hague would be there. The local shops were opening in Bellingham so we decided to head to the nearest shop for some treats. A coffee from the machine was my priority. Nowt like a cup of warm milk with a slick of coffee is there? I could have done with about ten espressos. Decent coffee is my weakness, I have to restrain myself on a daily basis not to go to a Greggs and buy coffee as some will confirm. I know Greggs isn’t the pinnacle of coffee, but it works for me. I could digress further, but let’s continue.
The next few miles were quite flat and rolling terrain. We could see the Forests near Byrness in the distance and they were slowly getting closer. We stopped for a few minutes at road crossings and junctions and sat down to rest. This helped as it broke up the mileage into more manageable chunks. The psychological battle ever present. I dug out the map of the route and did some map reading practice to keep my mind occupied. My feet were trashed by now and beyond help, but given where I was now on the course, it wasn’t going to stop me. We had plenty of time to finish, just had to keep moving. It was a good morale boost and lots of doubts had faded. We eventually reached the fringe of the Forest and joined a solid track through the trees. The effing road went on for AGES with not much to see. As we neared Byrness, we decided to stop at the Church just outside the village to have a sleep. The little Church is another Oasis (physically and spiritually) as they leave some tea and coffee making facilities. We spent some time there in the silence. I’m not particularly religious, but it was nice and calming to rest there for a while and the silence was really noticeable. Arriving at the Byrness checkpoint, I was pleased to see Oliver again. He was sat, doing nowt, in front of a laptop. Probably dot watching..or viewing a dodgy website. He gave me a huge bro hug, nearly popping a rib or two! He was pleased to see me and chuffed I’d made it here. I could string a sentence together so we chatted for a while, but the max half hour was soon up and we had to leave. Just the Cheviots to do now, around twenty six miles until Kirk Yetholm. I was looking forward to and dreading this next section in equal measure. I’d been along the Cheviots in some awful weather. It sometimes seems as though the terrain and weather collaborate to make it as difficult as possible for you to come out the other end. Indeed, on one occasion, I was rescued off the Windy Gyle section by Quad Bike and the Mountain Rescue team! A suitable donation was made a few days later to offer my gratitude.
The start of the Cheviot section begins with a horrendous, steep climb of a few hundred metres, a final assault from the local Midges, then flats out. The midges aren’t that stupid to venture out into these hills. The weather was still pretty good, but I could see lots of big, angry clouds massing in the distance behind us. I knew they were only heading one way, straight for us. I was still with my new running buddy and seeing the potential weather conditions, we decided to pick the pace up, the time for whining about my sore feet was over. We weren’t far from the finish and the weather was chasing us. We quickly came across Hut 1 which is one of the emergency shelters on the Cheviot range. We were actually moving well, so we didn’t hang around long and pushed on up the first of the big hills.
Further up the hill, the weather began to deteriorate and there was a lot of low cloud covering the peaks we had yet to climb, the wind picked up. The Cheviots living up to my expectations, once again seemingly trying to create a barrier between us and the finish. It’s like another test of the race, right at the end, after all you’ve been through. One more obstacle to overcome. Looking back on other race reports and photos, some were treated to lovely weather, but not us sadly. As we pushed on, the weather worsened and it began to get dark. It got to the point where we couldn’t see anything through a combination of the dark, mist and the glare of our head torches, while being battered by a strong wind. Quite similar to my experiences on the Cam High Rd and Cross Fell (previous blogs). I suspect a few of you will know too well what I’m talking about! It was very disorientating and de moralising as the faint path seemed to go on for ever and we couldn’t see the end or any sign of it. Our quick pace from earlier had long evaporated, I remember thinking ‘where the eff had that quick running pace come from?’. I knew the route as I’d ran it before during a reccie, but that was no comfort. A key point was when we finally reached and passed the peak known as Windy Gyle. This was the exact spot where I was rescued by the Mountain Rescue Team a few years ago. The weather was similar. A sense of relief came over me as we scuttled on down the slope on the other side. The turn off just before the Cheviot summit and the highest point in the area was only a few miles away. Pushing on further, the weather did its worst to stop us, but it was too late. We’d beat it and reached the turn off where the path finally begins to descend into the valley and Kirk Yetholm, the promised land.
Shortly after, we reached Hut 2, another emergency shelter and stopped there for a rest. We chatted for a while to the safety team that were posted there while the wind battered the frame of the hut, trying to get at us. When we left the hut, we were once again enveloped in the darkness and mist, but there was a promise of reward in the distance in the form of artificial lights, probably from houses and farm buildings. Civilisation and the finish line! As we descended further down the valley, the weather improved as we were out of the wind and mist, it was slowly getting light from the start of a new day. God knows what day it was, I didn’t have a clue at the time. I suddenly felt exhausted and could only manage a shuffle. My companion was doing the same. We shuffled along together, the final, cruel hill just before Kirk Yetholm didn’t even register as I was completely fried by then. In all the years leading up to this point, I’d imagined what I would do while crossing the finish line. In the end, I burst into tears, hugged my companion and nearly forgot to kiss the wall. Strange that the culmination of nearly twenty years of training and disappointment was leading up to kissing a wall. But I’d finally done it, I was overwhelmed with my achievement and the effort it had taken me. I’d heard lots of other runners say that to finish the ‘full’ Spine Race, you have to be prepared to give it everything and even leave a part of you out there. I’d agree, but the reward is the smug knowledge of completing the event that will live with you for ever. Some say the winter version is harder than the summer version. I’m not so sure about that, they are equally difficult for different reasons and if you don’t prepare and respect the event, you will suffer.
Once I’d managed to get up out of John Kelly’s plant pot, I was ushered into the building for a well earned feed and rest. The shower and change of clothes felt amazing. I was still in a daze, but just so chuffed with what I’d just done.
Eventually, I managed to scrounge a lift to the nearest town and then to the train station. I’d arranged to meet Natalie at the station in York. There was no way she was going to pick me up from Kirk Yetholm. She actually used more colourful language than that, but I’m being tactful. The train was really busy, so I ended up trying to sit down on a luggage rack. People were shuffling about and dithering which, in my rather fragile state, quickly began to get on my tits. I was tempted to open my dirty running gear bag and let the smell deter them, but it would have probably made me heave too. Leaving a station, a few seats became free and I was pleased to sit down. It didn’t take long before I was uncontrollably nodding off, you know that thing when your head nods to one side and makes you jump. The other passengers nearby must have thought I was some pissed up bag head. I would have thought the same. After several bout of nodding, we reached York station. The train stopped, I starred out of the window at the sign saying ‘YORK’ for a few seconds before realising this was my stop. After some confusion as to where to meet Natalie and a quick pint of Guinness at the station bar, I clambered into the car for the trip home and did some more nodding.
Recovery
It took a few days to catch up with all the social media posts and messages. I just want to say thank you to everyone for the messages and especially to Natalie for once again dealing with the before and after. The feet have taken a bit longer to heal. The body and mind are getting there too. Since the race, I’ve tried to catch up on the sleep I’ve lost, but I’ll probably never fully get that back. My legs for a long time afterwards felt tired and didn’t have any zip in them. I tried an occasional jog in the first few weeks but I felt awful. It got to the point where I couldn’t be arsed doing anything. That’s something quite alien to me as I’m very much an outdoor person, it was quite worrying to be honest, but probably a red flag to highlight how broken I must have been. During that time, the dust and adrenaline settled and my mental health began to slide. My depression never too far away I suppose. A combination of physical and mental exhaustion, coupled with a sense of ‘what next?’
Recently though, things have improved and I’ve been back out in the mountains to prepare for my Mountain Leader assessment later this year (sept 2026) and I’ve already signed up to a UTMB event in Tenerife early 2027 with a couple of other events in mind. I don’t know where my running career will take me over the next few years, my direction will probably change to some degree, but I’ll always be found in the mountains, running or hiking and enjoying the view and nobody or nothing will ever take this recent experience from me.
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