The Staffordshire Way - Fastest Known Time Attempt

When I heard that my mum had been taken ill just before Christmas, I knew that I needed to head back to the UK to see the family. It had been 9 years since I was last in England - even longer since I had last seen my parents. We scheduled flights that would give us two weeks in the UK during February, and with the visit coinciding with my birthday, I wanted to do something to mark my birthday whilst I was over there, something challenging again, something exciting.

 

Not having the same extreme cold and heavy snows that I have become accustomed to since living in Canada, the UK generally has relatively mild and wet winters which means that there are races held throughout the year. I scanned the race calendar to see if there was something I could perhaps compete in whilst there but nothing really came up - I was even tempted to rejoin my old running club - Trentham - just so that I could take part in the cross country races that would take place whilst I was visiting! It was then that I recalled something I said I wanted to do many, many years ago - I wanted to run the Staffordshire Way in under 24 hours - a 93 or 96-mile route (depending which resource you use), that went from north to south across my home county. Being born and raised in Staffordshire, and having family ancestry going back several hundred years that showed that the Salts were indeed native to Staffordshire, it seemed like a no-brainer - I would run the Staffordshire Way on my birthday weekend, which fell at the midpoint of my visit.

 

As I started to plan for my trip, I began to wonder if there was a Fastest Known Time for the Staffordshire Way. I did a little digging, and whilst there was one for males, there wasn't one for females, and so I had every intention of setting a challenging time for other ladies to beat when I made my attempt in February.

 

For those of you that don't know, Fastest Known Times - or FKTs as they became known - started during the Covid pandemic. With the cancellation of so many events, outdoor enthusiasts and endurance athletes wanted other ways to challenge themselves, and I guess that's when FKTs became far more popular. There are rules to completing a FKT - the route has to be a recognised route but it cannot be a race route as there are already official results recorded for races. It also has to be a decent distance, accessible to others, and you can complete the route supported or unsupported, with rules defining which category your attempt falls under. Mine would be a supported attempt with Andy meeting me at various points to provide food and water. I was also hoping that some old friends would join me out on the route, even if only for a few miles at a time. On completion of a FKT, you have to provide evidence of completion, with GPX files and photographs/videos of your attempt. You must also submit a written, short summary of the attempt, all of which are reviewed before you are able to claim the prestigious title.

 

The decision was made - not only would I run the entire Staffordshire Way, but I would also aim for the Fastest Known Time for women, putting my name in the history books for as long as the FKT stood.

 

On arrival in the UK, things were much, much milder than back home in Canada, so for the first few days, I was out running in shorts and t-shirt. The weather forecast was calling for rain pretty much the entire week leading up to my run, and whilst we did get some heavier showers, things weren't that bad. Driving up to Stoke from Heathrow, I noticed the flooded fields, and I was a little concerned that I wouldn't be able to complete my quest due to flooding given that a lot of the Staffs Way crossed farmland. The day time wouldn't be so bad, but running through waterlogged fields in the dark and not knowing how deep the water could be was a little unsettling, but I tried to push the thoughts from my mind and remained optimistic.

 

I would be running the route north to south, starting from Mow Cop and weaving through the county to the finishing point at Kinver Edge in South Staffordshire. Andy and I drove up to Mow Cop Castle a few days before the start, just to be sure I knew where the route went when leaving the main parking lot. I had completed the Staffordshire Way twice before, but it was many years ago and there was much of the route that I definitely could not remember. I did remember that some sections were not very well marked, and with not being an official race, there would obviously be no course markers which meant I would be navigating myself. I had downloaded the GPX file that the male FKT holder had submitted and would use that to keep me on track as much as possible, but even he had gone wrong on his attempt, so I knew it was highly likely that I too would take a wrong turn at some point.

 

When I did the route before, I had a copy of the official route guide that was published by Staffordshire County Council. I reached out to the County Council whilst I was there to see if they still had copies, and they offered me a free copy to use during my FKT attempt. They mentioned that it was very old - 25+ years since it was published - and that they were currently doing an audit of public rights of way in the County which included a full review of the Staffordshire Way, and they asked whether I would provide some feedback about the route once I'd finished. I've still to provide that feedback as there are definitely some sections that need to be updated and revisited after all these years!

 

The other thing I needed to do was to set up a tracker so that Andy would know where I was Staffordshire and could estimate an ETA at the various points where he was hoping to catch me. Although I wouldn't be going too far away from civilisation, I was still going to use my Garmin Inreach to enable live tracking for the duration of the run, and also because I could send an SOS call or messages to Andy if I needed to, something I was unable to do with my phone when travelling overseas without incurring huge costs. It took me a while to figure out the live tracking, and I spent several hours in the hotel room testing things out. I was mighty impressed with myself when I finally got things working, and feedback from friends and family suggested that they found it really useful and it worked extremely well :)

 

The only other thing to finalise was crew and company, and this pretty much went without a hitch. Andy would of course be crewing me, but he would be greatly assisted by my good friend Alison and her hubby Al, all of them following along and meeting me at various locations to check on me. Another friend Lee had agreed to run the first 20 to 30 miles with me, whilst another friend Gareth would join me for approximately 10 miles, which meant I would have company for at least the first 30 to 40 miles of the run. After that, I would be running pretty much solo until it went dark, at which point Alison would join me for as long as possible, with the final 20 miles or so likely to be solo as I headed to the finish at Kinver Edge. The thought of running some of the sections solo in the dark did make me a little apprehensive. I reassured myself that having ran several races in the Rocky Mountains in Alberta that have seen me run through the night, I was sure that I would be ok running through the Staffordshire countryside on my own. If I did get lost, there would no doubt be a farm or something not too far away if I did go off-course.

 

I was all set to go, and I was pretty excited and confident that I could do it :)

 

FKT Day

With not being an official event, I had planned to start as close to 8am as possible. Had I known that daylight would come sooner than back home in Alberta, I would have started an hour or so earlier to make the most of the daylight and minimise running through the night. Being February, the days were short anyway, and I knew that it was guaranteed that I would be running the dark at some point.

 

Andy and I arrived at the parking lot at Mow Cop just after 8 and were welcomed by Lee and his girlfriend, Lorna, Fiona who had recently completed an ascent of Kilimanjaro, and Alison and her husband Alan. It was extremely foggy and somewhat damp with a light drizzle in the air. It wasn’t cold though, and I was glad that I had opted to wear shorts and a windproof top rather than anything heavy. We took some pictures, had a chat about where folks would meet us to refuel, and then without too much ceremony, I went to the sign that marked the start of the Staffordshire Way, gave a wave, and set off on my journey with Lee.

Mow Cop on FKT day :)

Official start of the Staffordshire Way

A misty start, joined by Lee :)

 

The first section of the Staffordshire Way runs parallel with The Gritstone Trail, so called due to all the millstone grit rock formations in this part of the county. Lee had run this section before and was relatively familiar with the route, but I was sure to check the map every so often just to be sure we were following the correct route, otherwise the FKT would not be recognised.

I see a sign!

 

My plan was to run a pace between 10 and 12-minute miles, dependent on conditions. Non-stop, this would give me a finish time of around 20 hours which I knew was unlikely, but it gave me a good four-hour cushion for refuelling when needed, and for any wrong turns or mishaps along the way, but still ensuring a sub 24 hour finish 

 

We passed the Old Man of Mow, a tall natural structure made purely from gritstone that stood out through the fog as we ran along. The trail was already water logged with slippery rocks creating falling hazards, and when there were no rocks, we encountered mud that sapped the energy as we slid backwards and forwards. There were lots of fields to cross which resulted in tons of stiles, the wood wet and slippery from the rain which meant walking to avoid a fall early on. Lee was setting a good pace - probably a little too quick for me given the conditions, and I tried to be disciplined and hold back so that I didn’t overdo things too early. I had taken my Salomon vest with me which contained a waterproof, hat and gloves, one and a half litres of fluids, and flapjack, Mars Bar, nuts and some jelly sweets to keep me going as I wasn't 100% sure when I would next see Andy and the rest of the crew.

 

We'd only ran around 5 miles before we made our first mistake, crossing a field rather than running through a farmyard. The field was flooded and our feet were soaked pretty much straight away, but it was better than the alternative that was ankle deep in cow muck and mud had we gone through the farm yard. There were some flatter, drier sections when following an old railway line, but as we moved closer to Bosley Cloud, the climbing started which signified the start of the climb to the highest point on the route at around 2,500 feet.

 

The trail through the woodland was again slippery and muddy, and when we got to the rockier sections, things didn't really get much better. Being a popular hike in the area, we also started to encounter weekend walking groups, and we passed several people as we made our way up the hillside through the mist.

The trail head to "The Cloud"

 

Lee and I were in really good spirits and were making great progress despite the conditions, and before long, we saw the trig point that signified the summit of The Cloud. The landscape reminded me of hikes as a child - the gritstone rocks hidden amongst the heather, peat rather than soil, and lots of boggy sections. It was such a shame that it was still so foggy. Normally you'd have some fantastic panoramic views of the Staffordshire countryside and across the Cheshire gap into the county of Cheshire, with Jodrell Bank and its radio telescopes in the distance. But we could only see 100 yards ahead if that, so it seemed pointless to hang around too much and we cracked on with the running.

 

We crossed several more waterlogged fields, and eventually emerged into the village of Rushton Spencer. The next 15 miles or more were very familiar to me as the route took us towards Rudyard Lake, before heading towards Leek and Ladderedge Country Park, then dropping down to the canal at Deep Hayes which we would follow for a few miles before leaving the flat canal section for the steep climb up in to the village of Kingsley.

 

I picked up the pace a little as we headed towards Rudyard Lake. It was flat following the old railway line, and my legs just wanted to go. Puddles scattered the pathway in between the muddy sections, and it had already got to the point where we just ran through them rather than trying to dodge and avoid them which wasted too much precious time. The mist had started to clear a little, exposing the countryside around us, and I was having a great time! I had already fallen behind schedule thanks to the terrible conditions, but that's why I had given myself a cushion, to allow for these eventualities.

 

Heading up past the old manor house, Lee took a fall and he strained some muscles which made running uncomfortable for him. He had thought I would be tanking along by now, trying to make up for lost time from the slower progress earlier, but if ultra-running has taught me anything, it’s that time is made up gradually over many miles, and not by sprinting a couple of miles just to gain back 5 minutes.  

 

Lee had also been running without any water or any food which surprised me. I was so hungry and thirsty having been running for a good 2 or 3 hours already, and I imagined that Lee needed to refuel as he did seem to be tiring a little. I guessed that Andy would be at the dam at Rudyard, so I pushed on, knowing that we would be able to replenish our food within the next 30 minutes or so.

 

Sure enough, our support group that had been at the start were now waiting for us at Rudyard, and we ran a short way up to the parking lot where food and drinks awaited. I refilled my bottle, grabbed some food and was ready to go again, but was delayed a little whilst Lee made sure he had everything he needed. He still opted not to carry anything, so it was important that he took onboard some fuel before carrying on for another 10 miles or so.

 

A quick stop at Rudyard Lake with Lee :)

Leaving Rudyard, we got distracted and missed a turn, having to backtrack before locating the sign for the Staffs Way. This would take us along the feeder channel towards to Ladderedge, which was where I would be meeting my next runner, Gareth.

 

After a mile or so, we came across a sign that said the trail was closed due to flooding and the collapse of the drainage channel. Bugger! This was the official route, and there appeared to be no alternative route. I refused to let things beat me this early on - gosh, we'd only done 15 miles or something, so we agreed to climb over the gate and continue along the path - if things got too bad, then we would just find a way around, but I was not going to let this beat me.

 

There was indeed damage to the trail due to flooding, and it was a little dodgy trying to squeeze through, but it was short lived and only about 50 meters of closed trail - I was so glad we hadn't turned around and wasted time trying to find another way!

 

For the next couple of miles, we ran across land that had been churned up by cattle. It was extremely rutted, it was wet and it was terribly muddy, but then I recalled that this section had always been bad for drainage. A runner was approaching us and I saw that it was Gareth. I was behind schedule so he had run along to meet us. He had agreed to stick with me until Kingsley - a distance of around 10 miles, although this was likely to be further for him now, given that he had come this far out to meet us.

 

Coming in to Ladderedge, I knew there were some climbs to come. Everything was still wet, slippery and muddy, but I was still moving forwards, and feeling happy with the running. It felt like we were making good progress, moving along at a steady pace which would keep me on track for my target time. I also knew that once hitting the top of Ladderedge, we had a rocky descent down towards Deep Hayes, before joining the canal for a few miles. Andy and the crew would be meeting us at the Black Lion pub at Consall, which was probably around another 10km.

 

The downhill felt good, and when joining the flatter canal section, it was nice to knock out some quicker miles. The first part wasn't too muddy at all, and we made good progress towards the flint mill at Chedddleton. There weren’t too many people out and about so we weren't caught up with all the walkers, but then Gareth mentioned that rain was in the forecast for around 2pm, and it would likely stick around for the rest of the day.

 

I don’t mind the rain and I thought it might actually be quite refreshing; I was finding it quite warm and muggy, although the thought of a whole night of persistent rain didn't seem too appealing - I guess time would tell as to how severe things got weather wise!

 

Between the flint mill and the Black Lion, the towpath becomes narrower and there isn't the same gravel to help with drainage. Things got terribly muddy again, but I just maintained the steady pace. I knew it wouldn't be too long before we arrived the pub - there, I would change my shoes, get a hot drink, and have something decent to eat as it was now getting close to lunch time and I was definitely getting hungry.

Cheddleton Flint Mill

 

Lee's pulled muscles were starting to bother him and he was struggling again, so he made the decision to leave us at the Black Lion. He still covered something like 23 miles with me which I was really grateful for, but I think he was a little disappointed that he hadn't made it to the 50k that he had been hoping for. I was ok with that though - Gareth would be with me for the next few miles, and then after that I would be running solo. It was still daylight, I had my map on my phone, and so far, things had been going extremely well. The apprehension about running solo had now abated, and I was quite looking forward to the challenge of finding the way on my own.

 

We arrived at the Black Lion, and sure enough, everybody was there waiting for us. Lee hung up his running shoes as planned and called it a day, Andy refilled my water bottles for me, and Ali made me a hot coffee and a cheese sandwich on homemade bread that she had baked. I also changed my socks but couldn't see much point in changing into clean shoes - things were not going to get any better, so I figured I might just as well carry on as I was, and not bother changing.

 

The whole crew and runners in Consall 
(Picture thanks to Al and Ali)

Crossing the bridge to the other side of the canal brought us another slight detour due to construction repairs on the old bridge. Thankfully this wasn't too much of a detour, and Gareth and I pressed on. The Churnet Valley Railway runs parallel with the canal and we passed the old railway cottages shortly after our fuel stop. The old steam train then came along, puffing steam into the air and toot tooting as it passed through - no matter how many times I've seen this train, it is still impressive to see and it conjured up memories of years gone by when we used to come to Cheddleton specifically to visit the old railway museum and to see the old steam trains on display.

 

The climb from the canal up to Kingsley was much steeper than I remembered, and I was huffing and puffing my way up, slip sliding away in the ever present mud. The climb brought us to a stile and having climbed over, there were a couple more fields to cross before arriving in the village. Gareth's girlfriend was already there walking the pup whilst waiting, so we were greeted by a lively little dog as we made our way across the fields, before arriving at the church and parting ways. 

 

Now I truly was on my own, and I had no idea how long this would be the case. Alison had said that she would run some night sections with me, but it was only around 2 or 3pm, so it would be another couple of hours at least before I had company. I also had no idea when I would next see my crew. I still had plenty of fluids and I still had my nibbles to keep the energy levels up - so long as my phone didn't let me down, navigating would be ok. We had already made some errors on the route, but using my phone, I’d been able to get myself back on the course. I was finding it extremely beneficial to refer to the electronic map when sections of the route became ambiguous or it wasn't clear which way I was meant to be heading.

 

The next few miles took me across rolling farmland, some slick and muddy where farm animals had been wandering around in the recent rains, whilst others had me running over streams where the bridges were falling apart or extremely slippery. There was also no shortage of kissing gates and wooden stiles, and I was reminded  how much they interfered with the pace and flow of the running! 

 

I passed through more fields, one of which had dozens of sheep munching away on the lush green grass.  They came running towards me as I approached, likely mistaking me for the farmer and expecting food. They followed me for a short while, all neatly in line as I made my way over towards the next hedgerow, locating the stile that would take me into the adjacent field, the sheep curiously watching as I bid them goodbye and continued on my way. I came to Kingsley Holt, another little village on the route with beautiful old buildings and cottages and churches, and I was saddened to see the volume of parked cars lining the streets, taking away some of that historic context that these villages usually radiate, and being replaced with the modern day ugliness and noise of cars with engines running.

 

The next few miles saw rolling hills and farmland, some sections still muddy whilst others were just pools of water from the recent rains. I was in good spirits, moving well, eating and drinking well, and generally having a good time. Despite being apprehensive about finding the route on my own, I was enjoying the challenge of navigating my way across my home county on unfamiliar pathways, and I'd get excited every time I saw that circular maker with the arrow and the Staffordshire Knot showing in the centre. 

 

Approaching Alton, there were a few climbs to negotiate, winding their way up the hillsides before dropping sharply into the valleys below. I knew that I would be heading through Dimmings Dale at some point, a beautiful area where I used to walk Wilson as a puppy many years ago, and also the location of the Ramblers Retreat Tea House where I've had many a delicious cup of tea and a cake on a sunny, summer afternoon. But today was far from sunny, and although the mist had now cleared, there was a definite dampness in the air and a light drizzle was starting to fall.

 

The run through the woods into Dimmings Dale is quite pretty, with rhododendrons lining the trail, their dark green evergreen leaves adding some colour to an otherwise quite dreary day, and there was so much water flowing down the pathway that it was just like a river, but I barely noticed given how soggy my feet already were thanks to all the mud and puddles already encountered on the route. I was still navigating pretty well, but there were several bike trails go off in all directions at this point, and it wasn't clear from the map which way I needed to go. A lack of markers didn't help, so I opted to just follow a trail in what seemed the right direction, checking my map only to discover that I was veering off-course and having to retrace my steps to get me back on track.

The trail into Dimmings Dale

 

I knew when I was getting close to the tea house; more people were out walking, with lots of families and dog walkers in the area. I was so tempted to pop in for a cup of tea and a slice of cake, but I knew that Andy would be waiting for me when I got to Rocester, so I needed to keep on chugging forwards.

 

It was nice to get away from the crowds and get back to enjoying my own company again, and with that of course came the need to concentrate on navigating. Over the open fields, there was no clear route to follow and I couldn't see any stiles or hedgerows, but then I would see a small bridge over a brook or and broken stile hidden amongst extremely overgrown bushes.

 

As I made my way towards Rocester, one of the main towns on the route, the skies started to darken as the proper rain clouds moved in. It was around mid-afternoon as I ran alongside the River Dove, the water flowing fast due to all the excessive rainfall in recent weeks, whilst large rain drops bounced off the surface as the rain finally started to fall. I took out my waterproof jacket - I was around about half way and still had a good ways to go, most of it through the night, so I didn't fancy getting sopping wet just yet. I was still navigating using my phone, but as the raindrops got bigger, the screen on my phone was getting wet causing the map to move around and lose orientation, the directional arrow pointing in all directions except the correct one. The haphazard navigating was causing me real problems, zigzagging across fields trying to figure out which way I needed to go, jumping over electric fencing and barbed wire to get on the right side of the trail, only to have it move me back to where I had just been. I was getting extremely frustrated and it really was starting to piss me off.

 

A short while later, I came to the main road and I spotted Andy and the crew waiting in a layby a short way up the road. It had started to bucket down by now and it wasn't just my feet that were now sopping wet. The good news was that it wasn't particularly cold, although I knew that darkness would be arriving soon and with that the likelihood of much cooler temperatures as I ran through the night.

A warm hug from a friend :)
(Picture thanks to Alan)

Help from the crew and getting 
warm food and drink
(picture thanks to Alan)

 

It was good to have a little bit of shelter for a short while, to change in to some dry clothes and get some warm food and drink inside of me. The soup that Ali had made was delicious, and I took advantage of what food I could whilst I was there. Knowing that it would be dark within the next hour or so, I didn't waste too much time here, doing things as quickly and efficiently as possible before setting off alone once again, across the flooded fields.

 

The next field was huge compared to the others, and with a warning of bulls in the field, I was concerned that I would be charged by a couple of angry bulls that I wouldn't see coming. Thankfully I didn't encounter any animals, but I did end up heading in the completely wrong direction for about 10 minutes thanks to the confused map on my phone. The farm tracks and electric fencing didn't help - it really did look like I needed to head down to the river - but when the only option was to dive in and swim, I knew that this couldn't possibly be right. Cursing and complaining, I retraced my steps for about half a mile, and finally saw the well hidden stile in what looked to be a dry stone wall leading up through a small woodland.

Which way now? Just one of many old
signs for the Staffordshire Way

Fallen trees, hidden roots, and ankle deep mud slowed my progress even further, and I found myself scrambling over deadfall and huge fallen tree trunks whilst trying to stay on the right path. I do love adventure and in normal circumstances in a race or a training run, I would be loving this, but with the persistent rain still coming down, I was getting more and more annoyed with things. Thankfully it wasn't too much of a climb, and as I made my way over yet another stile into another field, I saw the road just ahead that would take me in to Rocester. There appeared to be a small parking area just ahead, so I made my way towards it, figuring that this must be the way through to the road. I was right, and before long, I was on the pavement which would take me through the town.

 

Navigating through Rocester was ridiculous. There was absolutely no signage to indicate I was still on the Staffordshire Way, newly built houses meant that things looked very, very different from when I was here last time, and with road crossing, traffic lights, and quite a considerable amount of traffic, I wasn't convinced I was on the correct route. The rain was still coming down and causing havoc with my phone, and now that my clothing was sopping wet too, I was having difficulty wiping the screen dry just so I can zoom in and out on the map to get my bearings. It was also now starting to go dark, and it wouldn't be too long before I needed to use my headtorch to help find my way.

 

I probably spent a couple of miles on the road, but eventually I turned off across fields again, feeling relieved that I had left the chaos of civilisation behind me, but now apprehensive about the fading daylight and trying to find my way across flooded fields in the dark and the pouring rain towards Uttoxeter.

Somewhere in the dark!

My memories of the run as night time came aren't perhaps as pronounced as during the day, and hiding beneath a hood to shelter myself from the heavy rain meant that I wasn't able to see things around me, becoming purely focused on looking ahead, and hoping I didn't end up in water that was waist deep or higher. As I crossed the fields, I did notice the River Dove to my right hand side in the fading light. A mist was starting to fall too, making visibility even more difficult. There wasn't an obvious path here either - I would usually look for flattened grassy areas in teh fields to determine the route, but nothing looked any different, so I continued to just move forwards, keeping the river on my right. There were no pathways leading off in any other directions, I hadn't seen any signs, so I must have been going the right way. I noted private fishing signs, then I noticed barbed wire fencing, and when I came to a crossroads of fields, I had no clue which direction I was meant to go. There was so much water that I couldn't tell whether the river had burst its banks, or whether it was just the sheer volume of rain that had caused the fields to flood. Whatever, I hesitated over which direction I should go. I then noticed a farm track to the left with a farm gate about 400 metres ahead so I headed that way, slipping and sliding in the ankle deep mud again, likely with cow dung and goodness knows what else thrown in there. I spotted a few rabbits having a play in the field which was a minor distraction for  a few minutes, and then eventually, as I climbed a hill, I came to a huge house with a semi gravel road which I assumed was their driveway, which ran about a mile or more down the road. The interior lights were on, looking warm and inviting on this dreary, wet, dark February night, and I had to stop myself gawking inside as the brightness from my headtorch would like cause some attention and they would probably be wondering what the heck I was doing out in the middle of nowhere in these conditions.

 

A sign saying no trespassing made it perfectly clear which direction I now needed to go, and shortly afterwards, I was back to running across fields in the dark as the rain continued hurtling down, but now I could see the lights of Uttoxeter in the distance, luring me towards them in the knowledge that surely at some point soon, I would see Andy again and I'd be able to get some more warm food and drink inside of me.

 

I do recall that I ran past the Uttoxter Race Course, memories of winning the Uttoxeter Half Marathon at this very venue in my mind's eye as I passed by, and I recall there being lots of flooding again, and me having to detour about 100 yards yet again to get around the huge pool of water that was lying around one of the electricity pylons. My phone was still making things difficult to navigate, but I knew I'd be briefly passing through town, before hitting the canal and heading towards Abbots Bromley. 

 

Arriving in town, I continued following the fencing, but came to a deadend about 100 yards. I doubled back to see if I had missed a sign, but couldn't see anything obvious. Wandering backwards and forwards and getting more frustrated, I had no idea how to get up onto the main road. It was that I saw a rough trail through the trees and a beaten Staffs Way sign - jeez, this was ridiculous! How the heck are people supposed to do this long distance trail when the route is so flaming difficult to find?

 

The trail was of course sopping wet and muddy as hell, and my already heavy legs felt every movement as they were thrown in all directions whilst to get a grip and not fall over. I finally came out by the railway station, and looking at my map, it took me up the road where I needed to bear left before hitting the off-road sections again. 

 

For the next twenty minutes, I ran up that road, down that road, back to the racecourse, back up the road, back down - how the heck do I get out of Uttoxeter??!! Although there were pathways, every one came to a dead end and I couldn't see a way through. I was now getting cold from the wet, it must have been about 7 or 8pm but I'm not sure, there was nobody around, and whilst I had expected to see Andy and the gang here, they were nowhere to be seen. I took shelter in the train station and whilst I was now out of the rain, a gusty wind was blowing through which did nothing to help me to warm up. My gloves were soaking wet and my hands were now getting really cold, so much so that I was struggle to find any grip to open my backpack and take out the official Staffordshire Way guide that I had been carrying all this way. My phone had fogged up from the moisture and I couldn't see a thing, so I had to resort to the old fashioned paper method of map reading and following book guided tours! It clearly stated to head over the bridge by the railway, but there was no bridge, and I was so flaming confused.

 

I sat there shivering for about 10 minutes, trying to gather my thoughts and to get warm, but realised there was no alternative - I called Andy and the crew to see if they could come to Uttoxeter to help me to escape. They were about 3 miles away along country lanes and would be with me within the next 10 to 15 minutes. It was a relief knowing that they would be here shortly, but in the meantime, I was having trouble staying warm, and I laughed at the irony of running in -40 degrees back home in Canada and being toasty warm, and here I was in England in 4 degrees, freezing cold, soaking wet, and at serious risk of getting hypothermia!

 

I started to move around to keep warm, and eventually I saw our car heading down the road. I tried to flag them down, but they didn't see and ended up driving back up the road, me yelling at them to stop. Another 5 minutes of waiting, I called again to say they had missed me, and finally - finally! - they arrived at the parking lot. I jumped straight into the backseat of our car, the heaters on full blast, and tried to get warm whilst eating and drinking everything I could to get my core to warm up. I changed out of my wet clothes - thankfully I had brought plenty of spare clothing with me, but I still wasn't 100% convinced I'd have enough if this rain hung around all night as it was expected to. I changed into dry socks, but kept my Hoka Speedgoats on - although already wet, they were goretex and would at least provide some waterproofing when compared to just my normal trail running shoes.

 

It was at this point that Ali joined me on my run - I think she knew I needed some moral support at this moment to get me motivated and moving again, and she did a magnificent job at cheering me up and getting me laughing again. We were wearing almost matching clothing as we left Andy and Al behind, both of us running up the road into the darkness as the rain continued to hurtle down.

Finally! Escaping Uttoxeter in 
the pouring rain :)
(Picture thanks to Alan)

 

Running with Ali was a huge help. We chatted when we needed or wanted to, and ran in companionable silence when we needed or wanted to. I hadn't seen Ali for probably 40 years, and yet our friendship remained strong, and there was absolutely no awkwardness between us. She is such an inspiration and has such a calming manner, and it certainly helped having somebody that was unflappable running with me.

 

We ran together for the best part of around 50 or 60km that night, but there is much of the run that I don't remember now. I know that it rained all night long, we both changed into warm, dry clothes every time we had the opportunity, we both appreciated the hot soup and hot coffee whenever we saw Andy and Al out on the course. We ran along the canal in the dark for absolutely ages, both of us falling more than once due to just how slippery things were. It was getting ridiculous how wet and muddy everything was, and yet we somehow managed to laugh at the same time.

 

As we ran through Abbots Bromley late on the Saturday night, a mist hung around the village as the pub goers started to make their way home. A couple of elderly gents were just coming out of one pub, said a “good evening ladies” to us both, and commenting on how we couldn't have chosen a better night for running! We laughed, they laughed, and realised just how ridiculous we must have looked in a pair of shorts and a backpack, covered in mud, dripping wet, in the pouring rain. 

Abbots Bromley in the rain
(Picture thanks to Alan)

Andy and Al were waiting at the churchyard for us, so we yet again got warm, got changed, before heading off in to the night once again. A sense of panic hit in the churchyard when we couldn't find our way out through all the gravestones. There were pathways, but none of them seemed to be leading us out to the Staffs Way, and it felt like we spent a good 10 minutes going around in circles. 

The church that we couldn't escape!

When we did find the gateway out of the churchyard and hit the country lane, our headtorches reflected in something ahead. As we drew closer, we noticed the sign "road closed due to flooding". Sure enough, the road was flooded, and it looked deep. Ali was saying we wouldn't be able to continue, we would have to find a way around, but I refused to give up just yet. Sure the water was deep, but it wasn't a raging torrent, so I started to wade through, the icy water coming up above my knees, but I couldn't feel a current so figured it would be ok to pass. The flooded road lasted for about 200 metres - anybody in a car would have been stupid to go through and they would have become stuck - but being on foot, we made it through safely, and before we knew it we were back to the fields and woodland trails again.

 

Flooded roads ... again!
(Picture thanks to Ali)

It helped having that second pair of eyes whilst navigating in the dark. I would indicate the direction we needed to go, Ali would keep a sharp eye open, and would spot stiles or gates that we needed to go through. It felt like we were making really good progress, even though I was walking or jogging, and certainly not moving as quick as I would have liked. The truth is that the rain and the conditions underfoot were starting to take their toll, but I kept telling myself that I had ran 200+ miles in teh Canadian Rockies - no way was I going to give up running across the Staffordshire countryside.

 

Our next meeting with the boys was just after the Shugborough Estate and before we crossed Cannock Chase. We spent a good 20 minutes or so  here, refuelling and warming ourselves up, before heading up the hill onto Cannock Chase. 

A wet and soggy pitstop at Shugborough
(Picture thanks to Alan)

It may have been earlier in the evening, it may have been later, but at one point we had been running up a  hill on an open field, and up ahead all we could see in the beam of our headtorches were hundreds of eyes peering back at us. At that moment, we had been in a field of crops, and Ali had identified the vegetables as turnips - these turnips were for sheep, and it was the sheep that were checking us out in the dark, no doubt making sure we weren't about to steal their turnips!

 

As we crossed Cannock Chase, the reflection of sheep's eyes turned to those of deer, as we encountered several herds of this wild animal native to the Chase. I'd only ever seen the occasional one there in years gone by, but I guess being night time, and with most normal humans being home and warm in bed, this was time for the deer, and they too seemed curious as to why two humans would be out running in the pouring rain on Cannock Chase in the middle of the night!

A Saturday night out with a good friend :)
(Picture thanks to Alan)

 

For the next few hours, Ali and I faced the continuous rain, more floods, ridiculously muddy sections that sapped the energy, scrambling over and through barbed wire fences and dodging electrical fences, we heard owls hooting, scuffling in the bushes, and lots of other night time sounds that we would normally miss. Passing through another village at around 3am on Sunday morning, 3 young lads were heading home after probably a night of drinking. We all said hello, and then Ali and I laughed about it, wondering whether they would remember us in the morning once they'd sobered up, and think they had maybe been hallucinating about two women running through the village in the early hours of the morning.

Another pitstop in the early hours
somewhere in Staffordshire
(picture thanks to Alan)

 

Although we were still in good spirits, the rain was now getting tedious. We had been running through countless muddy fields, slipping and sliding over more broken stiles and collapsed bridges, splashing through puddles, and generally just being sopping wet. It was still fun, but the fun was starting to waver. I don't recall where we were, but after following a farm track for absolutely ages and not being able to find Andy and Al, I think Ali called to make sure that we were still going the correct way. My phone was becoming useless and we hadn't seen any markers for quite some time. Al drove out along the track to find us, and as the beam of the vehicle's headlights came around the corner, we could finally see just how heavy the rain was, and it looked terrible. 

Rain, rain and more rain
(Picture thanks to Alan)

I think it was this point when Ali made a decision to stop. It was about 5am, she had been running for hours and already gone further than I could have hoped for, and I was was sad that she was now leaving. Whilst she sat in her car and got ready to finally head off home, I jumped in our car with Andy and discussed tactics for the remainder of my run, and where I was likely to see him to refuel and get dry over the remaining miles.

I knew that Ali would need to leave me at some point, and I think I had 72 miles on my watch when she needed to go. I'd been so grateful for the company, but now I faced the last few miles on my own. This wouldn't have been a problem except that my phone battery was now dwindling, but I couldn't recharge it because it was so wet, and the USB cable wouldn't work. I'd got the hardcopy of the official guidebook with me, but it was still piddling it down, plus I needed my glasses to read it - and it was still dark!

I set off solo in the pouring rain with just 20% battery on my phone, hoping it would last until I next saw Andy, otherwise I would definitely be lost. In the meantime, he worked on uploading the map to his phone, so we could swap phones at the next stop spot.

For the next 2 or 3 hours, I ran through the rain and the dark, and I knew now there was no way I'd get sub 24 hours. I was still hopeful though, although my legs were starting to stiffen up from all the rain and the cold, and conditions underfoot got much worse. I was getting fed up of having to cross muddy or flooded fields and was so happy to hit the canal in Brewood, but that too was slippy with mud and I took yet another tumble and bruised my knee.

Andy had arranged to meet me at Codsall but it was taking forever to get there. I was having to walk lots as running was impossible, and I was only knocking out 16 minute miles. The other problem was the amount of stiles. Stopping to climb them was annoying, some were broken and collapsing, others overgrown with bramble, all of them slippery due to moss growing on the wood.

When dawn began to break, the rain eased a little and I could finally get by again without the headtorch. I could also now see just how bad the conditions were, with miles of farmers fields ahead of me looking like paddy fields, whilst woodland sections had been churned up with mud a foot deep.

Daylight arrives and finally I could see the conditions

Pretty much all the woodland trails were
like this hereafter

My phone battery was also now at 5% and there was no sign of Andy. I sent a quick message to let him know - he was about 3 miles away so I picked up the pace in the hope I'd get there before my phone died. I made it, we swapped phones, and I carried on.

Just after Codsall, I had to cross more farmland, and it took half an hour to get across something that would normally be 10 minutes. My watch was telling me I likely had just 12 miles to go to Kinver Edge where the Staffs Way ends, but when checking the guidebook, it said another 18 miles. My heart sank - this could potentially be another 3 or 4 hours of running, which would bring my finish time to 30 hours. No. I didn't want to do it.

Just an endless quagmire!

As I ran along a narrow pathway through a woodland, all the mud churned up by horses, me slip sliding and finding it impossible to get a grip, I made the decision to quit. I'd see Andy soon and tell him, and I started to cry.

And it didn't get any better!

My feet just kept sinking in this and it was a chore

I saw our hire car ahead and let Andy know, but after a bit of a chat, he convinced me to keep going. His phone now had the route map on it, I only had a few more miles to go, the finish line was insight. Ok. I kept going.

Things underfoot for the next few miles were even worse and my pace dropped to 20 minute miles. I was getting more and more despondent, questioning why I was bothering carrying on. Sure, I'd still set a fastest known time, but it would be over 30 hours and I'd wanted to set something more challenging for others to beat. I was now at 95 miles on my watch - continuing on would give me 107 miles, even though the route is measured at 93. Something just wasn't right, even when factoring in the wrong turns earlier in the route. Yes, I wanted to finish, but I knew that stopping now would be far less disappointing than if I continued to the finish.

My other concern was that now I had Andy's phone and my phone still refused to charge, I had no way if contacting Andy if got stuck in a flooded field or if I fell or even got lost. It wasn't worth the risk. And besides, in all honesty, I was no longer enjoying the running. 

Andy was there waiting a couple of miles later, I climbed in the car, and as he gave me a knowing look, I put my head back and closed my eyes. I'd done, I'd made my decision, and I was happy.

As a final note, I want to say thank you to every single one of you that has followed along on this adventure with me. I hope you know that your support is always what keeps me going, and I know that you'll understand and support my decision to stop. I also want to say a huge thank you to Andy, Alison, Al, Lee, Fiona, and of course Gareth, for being there in person to support me. You made the weekend memorable, and I'll never forget it.

It's now time for me to finally celebrate my birthday by having a hot shower to get all the horrid mud off me, changing into fresh dry clean clothes, and having a birthday meal with the hubster.

Love and hugs to you all  xx

Stinky, wet and muddy shoes
Think they need a damn good washing!

Photos thanks to the amazing support team plus some of my own :)

 

EPILOGUE

It’s now been two months since I attempted to run the Staffordshire Way, and recovery from the run went far better than expected. My legs felt a little tired for a couple of days, but within a week, I was back running again without any problems. I didn't really lose too much sleep so didn't struggle with that same mental fog and sleepiness I definitely had when I ran the Divide 200! One thing I did notice was my need for food and drink - these long runs sure do work up an appetite, and I always struggle to find enough food to keep my rumbling stomach quiet. The hardest thing following the run was trying to get all my shoes and clothing clean. I think I threw out five pairs of socks that just wouldn't come clean, and my toe nails stubbornly held on to that English soil for a good couple of weeks, despite foot soaks, hot baths, scrubbing with nail brushes, and scraping underneath to remove the dirt. It was pretty gross and probably a good thing it wasn't sandals season!

Whilst there was initial disappointment at not finishing in the 24 hours, I know that there are reasons as to why  I didn’t finish in the time I know I am more than capable of doing. Setting a Fastest Known Time on this route in 2024 was definitely one of my goals, and I found it hard seeing a great big NOPE alongside my plans for this year – and it was only February!

 

In hindsight, it is quite clear that conditions were against us, but even then, I still feel like 25 hours or less would have been possible. But I don’t dwell on these things, and I have already moved on, knowing that I WILL go back to the UK at some point, and I WILL attempt the route again. Next time it will be in the summer months, when hopefully the weather will be much better, and I’ll have to contend with other hazards rather than torrential rain for hours on end.

I do intend to eventually release the video too, but right now, training is well underway for my first race of the year – the Lakou Backyard Ultra in May. I’m pretty excited about this one as I’m already noticing improvements in my running as a result of mixing things up a little more in training. I don’t have a goal for the event except to have fun, and so long as I DNF knowing I gave my best and had fun along the way, I know that it will be a successful race for me.

 

As ever, I will be posting regular updates on here about my training, so those of you who are interested can follow along. In the meantime, happy running and happy trails to one and all – see you all again soon!