Marshaling the Hardmoors 110/160

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When the industrious proprietor of the Hardmoors series of races, Jon Steele, put out a plea for marshals for his 110/160 mile events on facebook, I realised the date clashed with the 3 peaks. Then very late in the day when I knew I had to drop out of the 3 peaks, I offered Jon my services. Unsurprisingly with such a late offer of support, I was given a graveyard shift of 4am-9am Sunday morning shift at the check point at Lord Stones, a point 131 miles in to the 160 and 83 miles in to the 110. My mind boggled at the sights I may see!

I don't have a picture from Lordstones, so here's me dancing with Usain Bolt

I got out of bed at around 2:15am Sunday morning. "I'm off to a car park in the middle of nowhere!" I said to Sophia, in what my have been one of the dodgiest sentences of all time. Luckily, she knows me well. I downed a large cup of fresh-ground coffee and an hour and a half later I realised my sat nav was NOT taking me to Lord stones. Crap. Cue frenzied googling and hoping that I would get enough signal for it to direct me. 

I arrived at the check point at about 04:02 when I realised I had been stupid enough to forget my head torch.

The checkpoint was a tiny road crossing where Peter had parked his campervan and Karsten had set up a chair and a table filled with jelly babies, pork pies (which proved VERY popular) sausage rolls, flat coke and of course, water. 

Around 40 people started the 160 and about 150 started the 110. All told around 80 people reached the Lord Stones check point and it was remarkable what good spirits the majority of them were in, though almost all looked completely exhausted. As the runners made their way up the next hill, the gaits of some of the competitors was interesting to say the least, especially considering they had nigh on 30 miles to go. Some looked like they couldn't take another step, never mind cover more than a marathon, but each one shuffled off up the pretty sizeable hill with grim determination abundant. 

The most hilarious thing is that in true ultra runner style, often the runners showed concern for us, seeming to think that WE had a hard job! "So what time did you get here?" I answered 4am and the other 2, answered 2am. "Wow!" the runners said, "That's tough"

Everything is relative of course, but being a little bit cold as you stand around pouring out the odd drink and handing out the pork pie is not really hard work in anyone's book and especially not compared to people who had been in this race from 8am the previous morning in the case of the 110ers and 5pm 2 days previous for the 160ers!!!!!

Our shift was due to finish at 9am, but Jon Steele is nothing if not a vague bugger and we were still waiting for the tail runners at 10am.  We continued to chat about running between ourselves and Peter told me about many races but not least his Bob Graham round back in 1984. Karsten had done a few of the Hardmoors marathons and told me about his favourites. 

Eventually the last runner came in accompanied by the trail runners and the rain that had held off began to fall as we cleared away the detritus. 

It's impossible not to be inspired by these superheroes dressed in the guise of normal human beings, armed mostly with nothing more than pure determination to finish a truly herculean race. Yes, you think they are crazy, yes, you think they look total wrecks and yes, I wished I was them.

Driving home I was amazed to see the view that it had been too dark to see the night before. It was spectacular. The thought helped to keep me awake on the A1M motorway until I arrived back.

I still don't have a picture so here's a stormtrooper beating Usain Bolt

At home, I watched the Hardmoors facebook feed as the runners came home and a remarkable story unfolded. One guy, Frank Murphy, had arrived at a checkpoint with 15 minutes to spare before the cut off of the 160. He decided that rather than rushing himself to beat the cut off, he would have a sleep instead, knowing that it would disqualify him from the race. Not that he was dropping out, he was going to carry on, but with no check points open and no race support other than his own support team. He grimly carried on getting further and further behind the cut offs. The cut off for the entire race was 50 hours, he eventually came through in 71.5 hours! By that time he landed he had dozens of people cheering him on on facebook and a crowd had gathered to welcome him home (Think Simon Pegg in "Run fat boy run") including Jon and Shirley Steele, who, despite his official disqualification from the race, presented Frank with his finishers tshirt and medal. And that is the true Hardmoors spirit.  Do yourself a favour, and sign up for a hardmoors race today!