Lakeland 100

Lakeland 100: More than just a race

A personal reflection by Ali Dixon

A few days after Lakeland 100 I’ve had chance to gather my thoughts.

Lakeland 100 is an iconic 100-mile route through the Lakes, but it’s much more than that. In the past, friends had talked about its unique atmosphere, its wacky themed checkpoints where volunteers in fancy dress look after you, feed and water you, and ensure you don’t stop too long.

I knew all that, and yet on the start line it all felt rather surreal.

The atmosphere was different to other long-distance races. The pre-race briefing wasn’t about competition; it was about friendship, encouragement and celebrating the fact that we were all there. Perhaps the 50% failure rate had something to do with that.

As we set off, the nerves disappeared, the body relaxed and settled into the rhythm of the run. One section at a time. One climb. One kilometre done… only another 164 to go.

Checkpoint one.

Checkpoint two.

Wasdale.

Then darkness came.

I like running in the dark. It’s just me and the small world I can see in the beam of my headtorch. Despite living in the Lakes, I don’t know this first part of the route particularly well. We climbed through the darkness, a trail of headtorches stretching ahead and behind, creating one vast illuminated snake across the fells.

As we descended into Black Sail, I was back on familiar ground.

Over to Buttermere.

Then Keswick.

Then the Old Coach Road.

And finally, the part I’d been thinking about for a very long time.

As the sun came up along the Old Coach Road, I descended into Dockray and Checkpoint 8 at The Royal Hotel.

Here, the Hardmoors crew made me a cheese and pickle sandwich and handed me the best cup of tea I’d had in a very long time.

I’d been thinking about this moment for months. How would I feel? Would the legs still be strong? One thing I knew for certain…

I couldn’t drop out here.

Mustn’t stay long.

We’re almost halfway.

Only 55 miles still to go.

Recharged, I headed off around Gowbarrow, one of my favourite paths in the Lakes. Looking down, I noticed the cattle grazing in the fields at Gowbarrow Farm – the same cattle that provide the beef for our burgers at The Royal.

Then came Dalemain.

Pooley Bridge.

Howtown.

Fusedale.

I was slowing now.

The legs no longer had the same power they had just a few hours earlier.

Haweswater.

Kentmere.

Then Ambleside.

That was emotional.

Crowds cheering.

My family running alongside me.

I knew from there I could get to the finish, even if it was still over a marathon away.

Just. Keep. Moving.

Chapel Stile.

Tilberthwaite.

Then, at last, the final climb up Jacob’s Ladder.

My ankle hurt.

The final descent.

My knee hurt.

Through Coniston.

You hear the crowds.

And then…

It’s done.

105 miles.

6,800 metres of ascent.

14 checkpoints.

A week later, the memory of the hard kilometres has already begun to fade. Sore limbs recover.

What remains are the highlights.

The achievement of completing the route.

Smiling faces.

Dockray at dawn.

Never-ending paths.

Family and supporters cheering.

The relief of crossing the finish line.

But, mostly, what stays with me is the incredible sense of community.

Runners helping other runners.

Volunteers putting in long shifts in remote Lakeland valleys.

Everyone going above and beyond to encourage people to push themselves and discover what they’re capable of.

This really is a different event.

Unique.

Competitive, yet inclusive.

Fun, yet immensely challenging.

Would I do it again?

On the finish line I said no.

Now…

It’s maybe.

Probably.

OK then… yes.

There’s always scope to do it better.