Spine 2025: A Tale of Pedestrian Pedestrianism and Mild Peril

TL:DR: 32 hours of daylight, 15 hours of sleep, 1 stoat, 29 owls, 2 highland cows, a goat, quite a few public toilets, 16 Wispas, 3 tech fails, 21 meals, 200 wonderful volunteers, and absolutely outstanding foot care.

I entered the Spine 2023 on a bit of a whim as something I’d always thought of as out of my reach but which I’d realised actually played to my strengths. I’m not a fast runner but this is an expedition and I love adventures. I started the race 2023 not fully recovered from covid and was unsurprised when my race ended at 55 miles.

2024 start line was a different matter: I’d been working as an outdoor instructor, and had trained hard so was feeling strong and well prepared. It was insanely cold and icy but I enjoyed the race (mostly), buddying up with two lovely runners, Andy and Martin, but had a dramatic medical DNF after Bellingham and some subsequent hospital time. I’d made it 230 miles so knew I had it in me to finish, at least in theory.

I wasn’t going to enter again but an offhand comment from a friend prompted yet another go. It wasn’t a great year of preparation (covid again) so I didn’t feel as strong physically but I did feel mentally and strategically prepared. More to the point, my feet had been receiving spa care for 4 months and were baby soft.

I’d booked a cottage with Mike and Stu in Castleton, and Stu was kind enough to drive me around and I love seeing everyone setting off on the Saturday races and catching up with familiar faces. It all felt remarkably calm until 6am on Sunday morning. I’d also had the distraction of seeing Lisa, who I coach, on the start line of the Sprint and loved seeing her dot reach Hebden long before I set off on Sunday morning.

Leg 1: The ‘warm up’

Leg 1 was brutal and Jacob’s ladder was hard but the view was unbelievable, with a cloud inversion, bright blue sky, and beautiful sparkling snow across Kinder. Luckily I made the most of the view, daylight, and sunshine (see later events). Where the terrain allowed, I ran, but ground conditions were difficult: underfoot some sections were nice, compacted snow but most of it was hard going (more of this later).

I ran with Rob over Laddow Rocks and picked up some extra tips from his 6 previous spine race experiences. None of which I can recall now. Like much of the race, I spent most of this leg alone but within the general vicinity of other runners, their red lights bobbing along in the distance. These lights can make the long nights feel a lot less lonely but they peter out after Hawes. I was enjoying pottering along, but was very excited to see the luminous N of Nicky’s van and hear the roar of the M62 (who doesn’t?).

The change of the Hebden CP location meant a diversion down a long steep road, and about halfway down I realised we needed to return up it. There was swearing. I managed a 45min doze before heading back up the hill to where we had left the PW. The sleep turned out to be a sensible decision.

Leg 2: In which Kate battles ground and weather conditions and prevails

I have strong memories of both 2023 and 2024 listening to owls t-wooing in the woods on the track above Hebden. I had been looking forward to this again and it was lovely trugging along in the dark listening to their conversations. I like to think it’s the same owls every year, wondering how far north I’ll make it this time.

Near Widdop, I bumped into Rob again and we headed up over to Top Withins. This is my neck of the woods and I was envisaging trotting along the slabs easily. Haha no chance. There was so much snow with deep footholes. I tried for a nap at Top Withins but it was bloody freezing. Conditions on Ickornshaw moor were like sliding through icing sugar with everyone moving at glacial pace. 4 more hours of this and our legs were trashed. And I could practically see my house which is no help at all. It was then over to Lothersdale hoping for a nap as well as a bacon sandwich. I’ll not lie, I wasn’t feeling super positive at this stage but I do like the warm toilets in the pub.

Pinhaw Beacon and the long descent to the valley were nice but I was very tired and legs exhausted from staggering through the snow. Everyone I met was quiet and broken, complaining about the effect of the snow and bog on their legs and I got to the Gargrave toilets feeling a bit bleak. I met Stu having a kip in the bus shelter and we decided to carry on together.

I didn’t visit the toilets in Malham but we stopped for a dried meal (Dhal Bhatt) at Malham Tarn and a 20min kip in the bird hut before heading up Fountains Fell. I have hot meals at Malham, Tan Hill Inn, Greg’s Hut, and in the Greenhead toilets (the ladies is always cleaner and emptier than the gents but also don’t forget the toilets halfway along the Wall section which are always empty, have heaters, and are usually clean) and it makes all the difference getting hot calories in before being back out in the cold and dark.

At this point it started to rain. On top of the snow. Although snow covered the path, in the dark and what with the rain and the hurricane, it wasn’t clear where the path was or which direction was up. On top of this, it was melting so we were wading through snowdrifts and heather with a foot of water underneath, occasionally leaping (slumping) over torrents of water. It was blowing a gale and raining and we were quite pathetic. A few of us banded together to find the top then started the slide down to the road. Stu and I had estimated 3 hours to get from Malham to the road but it was 5.5hrs when we finally staggered off the hill. It was only when we reached Hawes that we discovered race HQ had diverted everyone behind us around Fountains Fell. Whilst it had been one of the toughest nights I’ve had out on the hill, I was quietly smug to have been out there.

On the road we eventually met the bright lights of an SST with instructions for the 9km PyG diversion. On the map it looked straightforward but there were 4ft unbroken snowdrifts to negotiate with one track entirely invisible. By Horton, everything was wet and spirits were low but we held a small survivors’ party in the disabled loo (babybel and cheese oatcakes if you’re wondering). I don’t recommend the ladies loo as a venue as the floor is always sopping wet. As Stu and I headed up to the Cam Road it was dark but made easier knowing that the sun would come up soon. We had a couple of power naps, setting our alarms for 10 mins so we didn’t freeze. Cam High Road was in deep snow so we had to stay above the road on the heather but I still managed to fall asleep walking.

On the interminable descent into Hawes I was watched bleakly by a highland cow, encapsulating my general life-view. On Gaudy Lane picked up a pair of dropped gloves which hopefully found their owner again at Hawes - wrist loops on everything folks!

I arrived into CP2 at midday, a full seven hours later than in 2024 and ensuring that I missed 50% of the Tuesday daylight. I had 4.5 hours at the CP: 3 hours of sleep, three meals, and lots of chats with the volunteers including lovely Andy who I spent most of the 2024 race with. After such an unexpectedly long and bonkers leg 2, it was worth taking the time to get some rest and stare blankly into the middle distance.

The insanely slow progress on leg 2 led to me missing out on most of the daylight every day for the rest of the race. I arrived at 10am or midday at every checkpoint. The positive side of this is that I experienced sunrise on every leg of the race, something that I find really mentally helpful. Luckily I am happy wandering through the night alone and actually really like the darkness.

Leg 3: Swamps and equipment failure threaten progress, but scurvy is averted.

I left Hawes at half 4 just as the light faded. It was a bit foggy on Great Shunner Fell but I enjoyed navigating the bogs and slippery slabs with no lights in front or behind. I love being in a bubble of light in the darkness. It was windy on top and I had a couple of exciting slips on the descent.

I was delighted to see SST Andy in Thwaite for a brief chat about constellations. Not sure how much I contributed to that. Then it was up the hill to contour around to Keld. Last year I had a fab time trotting across the snowy moors to Tan Hill but this year was wetter and boggier and it seemed to take a long time before I finally saw the lights of the pub ahead.

As I approached, these lights morphed through being 1) very tall members of the SST, 2) purple and blue aliens, and 3) petrol pumps, in quick succession before I was close enough to identify it as a pub. I had promised myself not to waste time here and to eat and move on but I did have a ten minute nap on the stage. A dehydrated meal of porcini mushroom risotto later (this is a strong choice but Chicken Korma and posh pork& beans are definitely superior) and I was back out heading over Sleightholm Moor. Despite the mud and some, erm, micro navigational issues, I was moving pretty well over this section.

The key feature of a lot of this stretch was repeated mental calculations of pace and my ability to meet the Langdon Beck cut off. I was convinced that I would barely make it in time and doing frantic calculations in my head about whether I could make it in time to have a sleep there. This was entirely a product of sleep deprivation and the psychological effect of having arrived at Hawes so late. Once I’d had a word with myself, I put this behind me and discovered I was in fact moving really well and picking up time.

There followed an extended period during which my main memory is of bog, fog, wind, Wispas, disappearing paths, and a massive headtorch admin disaster in which all batteries went flat and I had to navigate through a boggy field using my phone torch. There was also a man called Frodo. At Clove Lodge I enjoyed another Wispa and a packet of crisps as two men snored on mattresses beside me. One of my favourite things about night running is the lights of farms and houses on the hillsides, which appear to float in the darkness above you. These can however, also appear to be alien craft.

Somewhere along the way, a roadside stand materialised from the fog – a random table of biscuits provided by one of the many members of the public who are so invested in the race that they spend days waiting for runners to come through. They gave me an apple which was good as no one wants scurvy to end their race.

On the descent to Middleton, I caught up with Emily, Patrick, Terry and John and we stopped for a very peaceful ten minute nap scattered across the footpath in the sunshine. It’s a surprisingly long walk along the Tees but there was lovely sunshine, the river was in full spate, the skies blue, and I saw a stoat (or a weasel?) so what’s not to like. Then the media team turned up and I gave what I thought were coherent and positive insights into the race experience. I later watched the YouTube video and had a rude awakening on that front (and discovered that I also had terrible hat hair).

I approached CP3 at 12:45, dancing along to music and feeling oddly energetic, having done this leg an hour quicker than in 2024. I then spent the rest of the daylight hours indoors. I couldn’t get my red light spare batteries to charge but a kind competitor gave me his spare – thank you!

Leg 4: Into the Death Zone: On this leg, number 145 forms an international alliance with Spanish runner, Ramon, to tackle the highest point on the route.

As usual, it was dark when I set off, slightly anxious about finding the Cauldron Snout diversion. Went off course in the fields a bit but soon found the road to the reservoir. I was gaining on the red light up ahead and caught him up shortly after a brief chat with SST. I’m happy being out all night alone but was a bit cautious about the section across to High Cup Nick due to the lack of phone signal in this section. As someone unfamiliar with UK moorland, Ramon was also a bit cautious so we agreed to buddy up for the night. It was a clear night and the moon and stars were stunning, and as we reached HCN we could see the steep sides in the moonlight.

The path along the edge of the valley was very wet and what were usually just minor streams had become torrents. The final track down to the village seemed to take forever and we were both clearly very tired and in need of some proper food, but we had been almost an hour quicker over HCN than last year. We checked in at the CP then headed back up the high street to the Pantry. As we walked in four runners were napping with their heads on the tables. The Pantry team are heroes for staying open all night. They also have a toilet in which I neither ate nor slept. We ate (gluten free sausage sandwich) and had twenty minutes sleeping in the same way before picking ourselves up to tackle Cross Fell.

I went ahead, navigating. I know this hill well but am not a strong ascender so steeled myself for a long slow slog. The night was still clear which gave good views of the lights in the valley (always lovely to see the M6) and we eventually reached the road and the start of the path up Great Dun, down the hill, up little Dun, down again before ascending Cross Fell. I repeated the mantra ‘Great Dun Little Dun Cross Fell Gregs’ about 8631 times, ticking them off as we went. As we ascended Cross Fell, the famous Helm Wind picked up. I’ve never had a clear night/day on Cross Fell and it was amazing to be able to see lights in the valley but that wind was something else and we needed our poles for four points of contact to stagger like crabs.

The fairy lights of Greg’s hut finally appeared with the prospect of more hot food. It was busy inside with half the SST asleep on the platform. A quick dried meal of posh pork and beans (no noodles for me) and a sitting up nap on a plastic chair and we were pushed out again. The next section is a 933-mile track across Alston Moor, down to Garrigil. It’s a long slog but easy navigation and it was 6am as we left the hut so I knew the sun would be up imminently. A beautiful sunrise met us and this made it so much easier to trot along enjoying the view. I didn’t get many views this year due to getting all out of kilter on leg 2!

I wandered into Alston 2 hours quicker from Langdon than in 2024 - I don’t think it’s helpful to compare years as weather and ground conditions (and everything else) can be incomparable. However, it shows that you can have an epic adventure early in the race but still recover things – I was 7 hours behind 2024 when I got to Hawes but had made up 7.5 hours by Bellingham, and it definitely wasn’t because I had rested legs from taking it easier at the start.

The Alston team are fantastic and the lasagne provision seemingly unending. Although I suspect that I was a bit incoherent at this point so apologies to everyone there including Noel who both welcomed me in, dealt with my ramblings, and saw me back on my way again (doubtless with relief).

Leg 5: A Solo Expedition: Water stores deplete and Kate navigates Hadrian’s Endless Wall

This was a really tough section but I bloody loved it out alone with the stars. There wasn’t another headtorch in sight for whole leg. After the initial valley section to Greenhead, I had an hour’s sleep in the ladies’ toilet and a quick risotto before setting off again. With dehydration imminent, I filled up from the water left generously by local ladies. 3 miles later I was still short on water so stopped off at the next set of toilets and filled up there, resisting another sleep in the warm, clean ladies’ loos. Got a bit emotional at Sycamore Gap. It feels like a very long way along Hadrian’s wall and there are few lights around to give you any sense of perspective. But there were lots of little mice dashing around underfoot in my headtorch light and the sound of owls in the woods. Hopefully they didn’t cross paths.

After leaving the wall, it was (this is an ongoing theme of the week) cold and wet and felt very remote and I was relieved to reach the fire road and the entrance to the forest. The map here is deceptive as like many managed forests, large sections have been felled and it takes concentration to not miss turnings off the main track. Fatigue kicked in properly during this section and I stared intently towards the East desperately willing the sun to rise. At this point, the previously clear skies began to darken and threaten rain plus it was windy and I didn’t want to take a nap without shelter. I knew that I would reach a wooded area soon where there would be trees and a wall to shelter so I could safely sleep briefly. Unfortunately, this was one of those sections that turns out to be A LOT longer than you expect whilst sunrise turned out to be later than I expected. Sleep was constantly just on the edge of my brain. The rain didn’t arrive though and I managed a ten minute micro nap against a wall in the wood. This made a huge difference to my fatigue but I woke up even more bloody freezing.

From here you drop to civilisation (a B road and a house) before leaving this onto a track leading over moorland again. In the distance I could see Horneysteads. One of my worst memories from 2024 was the frozen but deeply rutted ground in this section. Every footstep fell at an angle making it incredibly painful. This year, the mud was deep and most footsteps were a slide.

I was met at the gate by the lovely and generous Helen (and gorgeous Sky) who provides welcome shelter, hot drinks and soup. I was the only runner there and, desperate for a sleep, I had a 15minute kip in a chair before a chat and a cup of tea with Helen. She directed me off the farm and I immediately forgot and took a wrong turn down the track. Relocating myself, I headed back through the sheep and some more mud before the long stretch of road. The Horneysteads to Bellingham section is a mere 5 miles but appears to descend into a thousand valleys (I think it’s just two) and back out before the last path across the moor to the road and the CP. I was delighted to coat myself fairly fully in clay on the final descent and wondered if there would be an opportunity to be hosed down before entering the checkpoint.

CP 5 Bellingham: I arrived in daylight (obviously). My friend (and Spine finisher) Tim was on duty at the CP and met me at the entrance. I appeared to be the only runner there at the time and was inundated with lovely volunteers with bowls of water, tea, and sausage casserole before heading off for 3hrs sleep on the floor of the hall next door. When I woke up to elevate my legs for a bit, the hall was half full and it was a shock to head back next door and find most chairs occupied. At least one man was crying. There was Hannah, Frodo, Ramon and Emily amongst other familiar faces. I had some toast and some rice pudding and admired my feet before shoving my remaining kit into my drop bag to deal with at home. I reallocated my food, amalgamating all sweets and chocolate left over from previous legs, knowing that at this stage, a good supply of sugar is what would get me through. Kit check complete, I had a final hug from Tim and set off down the road in the dark (obviously).

Leg 6: The G.O.A.T

I dislike navigating through villages and towns, it’s much harder than countryside navigation, demonstrated as I was redirected by a kind local within the first mile after missing a signpost. Some cheery voices in the dark cheered me on by name as I headed to the high street. It’s an odd experience being tracked: I largely forget that quite so many random people might be dot watching me so it’s a surprise to hear your own name shouted by a stranger. And also a bit scary.

Frodo and Hannah emerged from the Coop and joined forces as the route left the road up the hill. It was really nice to spend time with other people, although I did feel like I’d lost my social skills somewhere along the Way. We pottered along making pretty good time despite me falling face first into a bog.

After a pull up by the woods, we stopped for a 10 minute micro nap. I slept so deeply I actually had a dream. A while later we decided to have another 10 minutes once we hit the fire road. Suddenly there was the sound of an iphone alarm coming from the trees, a light appeared and there was Ramon packing up his things after a nap. He decided to join us and we collapsed on dry bracken to the side of the track.

At this stage I was shovelling chocolate bars, cheese oatcakes and Tangfastics regularly just to stay awake. This is an interesting taste combination. As we hit the last path along the flat towards Byrness (easy underfoot which makes a nice change), members of the SST popped up to be cheery. At Forest View we were met by the lovely Sharon Dyson and team with an immense bowl of mince and potatoes and an entire packet of gluten free biscuits. The 4 of us headed back to the church (cash or card) for an hour’s sleep before the last marathon over the Cheviots.

We set off at 3am (I think, either way, it was dark), Ramon and I headed up the steep Byrness Hill first. This was probably the easiest section underfoot of the entire route. It was muddy and a bit boggy but not anywhere near as bad as elsewhere. We had estimated 6 ish hours to Hut 1 but made incredibly quick progress, arriving at Hut 1 and surprising the team there in just over 4 hours. A 15minute sleep, a hug, and a mug of hot chocolate and marshmallows later (none of which I have any memory of at all now) and the sun had come up. It is another 9.5 miles from there to Hut 2 but hilly, up and down Windy Gyle to the final pull up and long descent past Hen Hole. Underfoot this was harder going with slippery flagstone and trippy rocks but it was sunny (and daylight which was a novelty) and glorious and we passed a single black Cheviot Goat standing in the morning sunshine. A very brief pause at Hut 2 (mostly for painkillers) before the last miles into KY. The final miles were punctuated by media team drones, an interview, and a man with a camera but I think he edited out the bit where I was dealing with a snotty nose.

Eventually I finished. It was absolutely bloody brilliant. All of it. I cried at the end.

What did I love? Long dark nights on my own, lovely company, brilliant volunteers, endless food, owls, stoats, stars, moon, waterfalls, mice, trees, toads, clear nights, music, wild night on Fountains Fell, floating lights, the cold, micro sleeps/ninja bivvys, proper sleeps, transformative checkpoint sleeps, the Cheviot sunshine, mild peril.

Unpleasant stuff that happened to my body: bloody snot, sore nose and face, minging cough, random excruciating quad pain, auditory hallucinations.

Bits I’m proud of: putting the set-backs behind me, pain management, decision-making, bloody brilliant foot care, running across the cheviots.

Bits I’m not proud of: the profound gloom from Ponden to Gargrave, possibly being grumpy at times, knocking over a bowl of water in Bellingham, terrible hat hair on camera.

What would I not be without? ‘Toddler loops’ on all gloves, front pouch, Vaseline, Trench, pre-race foot care (I got 2 tiny blisters), dehydrated meals, upside-down pop bottles, goggles, crystallized ginger, brushing your teeth, counting steps games, buddying up, swearing.

Massive thank you to all the CP and SS teams and all the others who are out on the course supporting, you are all brilliant!