Montane

Robert Kennedy's personnal account of his Bob Graham Round 2010:

The funny thing about fulfilling any major goal is the personal disbelief experienced when it becomes reality that you are in fact on course to achieve all you have been striving for. For months I had been indoctrinating myself into the mantra that to fail the Bob Graham Round was not an option. And yet as I dropped off Scafell at the end of leg three, with over ten hours left to complete the final two sections (a pretty straight forward task), it seemed as if it was the biggest surprise in the world that I wasn't crawling along, desperately hanging onto some faint hope that I could still scrape it in just under 24 hours. Of course, it goes without saying that things didn't quite go to plan, and it would be a fair assessment to additionally say that things very nearly blew up in my face almost to the point where I could have been writing this final update from the perspective of someone who still has unfinished business on the fells.........

We were scheduled to start at 19:00 on the Saturday, and much in keeping with the unusual weather that we'd been having, the temperature, even at this time was ferocious. Standing nervously at the doors of The Moot Hall with about fifteen minutes to go, it would be fair to say that I was feeling envious of the slow paced tourists who were meandering through the streets, brains firmly set to relax. It was a welcome distraction to see Ray and Barry (our leg three pacers) arrive to see us off.

We were to meet our leg one pacers (Bridey, Chris and Adam) at Latrigg car park. The intention of this was to allow us to settle into our own rhythm before the pacers were on board, thus in theory ensuring that we could demonstrate our sedate pace early on to restrict the pacers charging up Skiddaw with little regard for the further 23.5 hours of the round. As it happened, it soon became evident that we needed only to fear ourselves concerning any accelerated pace. Clearly a heady cocktail of nerves, enthusiasm and stupidity was stirring inside both myself and Dale, and we charged at the initial leg with a pace more in keeping with a 17 hour schedule (we had agreed previously on a 21 hour schedule to allow for any contingency needed on the night section or through bad visibility etc). The obvious fact seemed to bypass us that the reason for our relative freshness at this accelerated pace was down to the fact that we were sitting on the nice side of a four week taper, not because life had dealt us an ace, and we had underestimated our fitness levels. Nonetheless we disregarded the warnings of our pacers and ended up finishing the first leg 32 minutes ahead of a 21 hour schedule. Oh Dear!

If I am honest, I would say that the warning signs were firmly in place at the stopover between legs one and two. Still in our self imposed state of urgency, I necked half a litre of Powerade which I instantly regretted. I knew that it was going to sit bad on my stomach as I had already been drinking a concentrated mix of carbs and was feeling quite washed out with the sickly sweet taste of it all. Despite the time being 22:00 it was still nearly 25ºC, and not being one for the fair weather, I was sweating heavily.

The months training leading upto the event had taken quite a toll on my lower joints, and it had become pretty commonplace on the latter training weekends to dose up with plenty of Ibuprofen, to ensure that we could descend quickly without being held back by restrictive knees and ankles. What was becoming apparent was that in this instance the dose, in conjunction with all the power drinks and sweet things was causing me to feel not too good at all as we headed in the night section. Initial bouts of stomach cramp were easy enough to suppress, but the mental problem that I was struggling with was that we were consistently down on our splits at each summit, and our 32 minute buffer was being steadily eaten into at an alarming rate.

Having lost two pacers early on in leg two through our initial burst, things were starting to look ominous. As the leg progressed I was desperately trying to re calculate our timings based, not only on the 21 hour schedule, but on the actual official 24 hour cut off time. My aim in this was to try and turn around the pessimistic feeling of reaching each summit to find that we were again losing time on the 21 hour schedule. Unfortunately as my head was all over the place I was struggling with handling the concept of 60 minutes in an hour, and the decimal system (pathetic I know!). In the end I spoke to Dale and we agreed that we get to the end of leg two, hopefully with our 21 hour schedule intact, and then add an hour onto each of the remaining legs, thus ensuring positive experience as opposed to the current feelings of doom.

Surprisingly, we managed to pull this off with five minutes to spare, having lost almost all of the 32 minutes accrued from leg one. This was despite the fact that Dale had been vomiting for the previous two hours, and was struggling with keeping any food down. Ray and Barry surveyed the carnage as we were slumped in our seats looking shell shocked. All of our training to date should have prepared us at least for the normally mundane first two legs, but to be fair we were well and truly on the ropes at this stage, and looked like a pair of boxers that have been dropped inside a minute of the first round.

Too worried to contemplate our chances of success at this stage for fear of what answers we might find, we trudged up Steel Fell, and into the hanging darkness. As I approached the increasingly steep section of the climb I turned to check on how Dale was, but unfortunately at this stage he was losing fluids rapidly as he continued to vomit on the slopes. With Barry right behind me giving snippets of encouragement and Ray keeping Dale going, I knew that at this stage that our joint effort was degenerating into a personal challenge which wasn't showing any signs of easing up.

The top of Steel Fell again showed that we were losing time, but to their credit, Ray and Barry had a persuasive way of instilling a positive mindset in us that kept us running on. As we stumbled toward Calf Crag I came to the realisation that I had to eat or else throw the towel in there and then. I started by chewing tiny pieces of dried apricot. I must have taken about 40 seconds to generate enough saliva to swallow each of these pieces, but with Ray constantly reminding me to drink (he had now diluted down my carbs mix), I began to settle into a sort of autopilot mode, not considering the summit times and more willing to believe the dubious assurances that we were doing fine.

It was at the top of Harrison Stickle that for the first time in seven hours I felt my mind re focussing on the task ahead. The apricots had given me a small injection of positivity, and in front I could spot my summit which would signify I had broken the back of leg three; Bowfell. If I could get up it in one piece, the rest of the leg was run of the mill. The weather too had now changed from a sweltering dark night, to a clear, cool windy morning. This was just the sort of weather I relished and as anyone who has tried to co-ordinate the weather with an activity in the lakes knows, these opportunities are too good to pass up on.

The downside of this period was that Dale was not showing signs of recovery, and it was agreed to split pacers before the descent to Stake Gill. After about another 20 minutes though Dale had no option but to drop out, as seven hours with taking on no food had finally taken its' toll. It was a bitter sweet part of the round for me as minutes later, as I picked off Rossett Pike, I became suddenly aware that this was the first peak since leg two that I had come in on schedule. With my spirits raised, I pushed on to Bowfell knowing that I was on the brink of turning this thing around.

Bowfell came and went and after Esk Pike I was due to meet up with Jo and Cush at Esk Hause who were going to supply me with fluids and foods (little did they know I still had quite a considerable amount of food left!). It was a mental boost to find that they were still there. We had previously told them that if we were not to be seen soon after our scheduled time then they should head back down. I have never been so happy to receive a bottle of Ribena in my life. I knew that I was going to be able to stomach this quite well, and I think it's fair to say that this, and Ray's abundant supply of Bananas that I'd found out about, carried me through the remainder of the leg. Again, heading toward Broad Stand it was great to see meet my old workmate, Jim and his buddy patiently waiting with a rope to assist me up the climb.

Around about this point in the round, I had started to get my head around time again. It was about half past seven in the morning when I realised that I only had about an hour left to push before I would be down in Wasdale Head, ready to start leg four. As I said previously, this left me with a very comfortable cushion for the remaining legs and whilst it's never wise to count your chickens, if I'm honest it was when I was descending into Wasdale Head off the scree slopes that I clenched my fist and told myself out loud that it was "In the bag!”. Clearly I was only confident enough to utter this when on my own, as at this stage I had left Ray to descend under his own steam due to his calf giving him problems.

Leg four saw the introduction of three very experienced pacers in the form of Seb, Doug and Craig, all from Dumfries Running Club. These guys had previously got in touch with Dale once they found out about our attempt and had generously offered up assistance. As I tucked into my pot noodle and banana (thanks to John and Emma) with a new found appetite, I sized up my leg four entourage. These guys looked tough. Much tougher than me (not that that would be an achievement in itself!). Whilst I certainly had no doubt about their credentials, I was a little apprehensive that I may not quite measure up to their standards.

I needn't have worried. Physically, I now felt strong if a little lethargic, but what was the single most influencing factor on my performance from Wasdale to Honister was the diligence and enthusiasm that my new pacers surrounded me with. Much the same as Ray had been the one performing the emergency services on leg three, these guys were well and truly giving me full aftercare duties. There is little I can recall of any pain or suffering on this section of the round. I was still caught up in the disbelief that what had started as such a potential disaster had now turned into this most enjoyable experience. Even as we descended to Black Sail Pass to be greeted by Gav, Debs and Tom who handed out the flat coke, I had no feelings of dread at having to take on Kirk Fell and Great Gable. I was simply enjoying the experience. At the top of Great Gable the guys congratulated me on ticking off the last of the major climbs, and we headed north to Honister with the feeling of a job well done.

At Honister I was greeted with a round of applause from the ground support. I can only imagine that I must have looked like someone who was going to complete on time. With Bob thrusting a comfy chair my way I sat down and gathered my thoughts. At this stage leg five seemed like nothing but a pain in the backside which stood in the way of me and Moot Hall. I didn't hang around for too long at Honister as I didn't want to delay getting up Dale Head. And so with Mo, Ste and Ray (calf just about intact) providing support for the final leg, we headed off to finish the job off.

It was mildly disappointing that leg five didn't provide me with the same elation as the latter part of leg three and all of leg four. Looking back, I can only assume that I had well and truly used up my quota of endorphins by the time we hit Honister. There were however, a few highlights to note. Reaching the top of Robinson, the final peak was not one of them surprisingly, but sliding down off the last grassy slope before picking up the track that leads to the road was certainly up there with the happier times of the day. Being greeted by my Dad and my nephews; Sam and Callum at the road with trainers that had been sat in a freezebox certainly made my feet feel better. The collection of pacers that slowly kept bolting onto our pack as we headed for Keswick was very much appreciated.

It goes without saying though that the best was very much saved for the last, as after 21 hours and 29 minutes I put in my last best effort to sprint up the Keswick High Street to touch the doors of The Moot Hall once again. It was very touching to see family and friends all gathered together to see me finish what had ended up as an emotional rollercoaster. I wish I could bottle the feeling, but as with any of these things, the only way to repeat that sense of achievement is to go and push the boat out a bit further.

I have extreme gratitude for all of those who were involved in the day and who gave up their time to be a part of something so that I could achieve my goal. My family in particular deserve much more in thanks than I can possibly convey with my meagre writing skills. My wife Irene has given me the solid support that was needed, and has been a patient single parent for weekends on end, where I have been out training in the fells. Similarly for my children, Heidi and Seamus, there's a lot of Dad time that is long overdue.

I'm sincerely grateful to the Montane team for giving me the opportunity to document details of both my training and also of the day itself. It has proved useful to people far and wide in keeping up with how things have been going. Thanks to the support of Paul Cosgrove and Tim Butcher. It's a real boost for an ‘average Joe' to be given this sort of backing.

The only other individual who I would single out as a point of thanks is Dale. Whilst fate dealt him an cruel blow on the day of our challenge, it should be noted that without his fastidious nature in compiling and tweaking the six month training programme, nor without his excellent company week in week out on the fells, I have little doubt that I would have never reached this point. Cheers Bud. Let's finish the job off on the 23^rd July.

My last point is to anyone who is thinking of doing the Bob Graham in the future. Please use the first half of this account as an example of ‘How not to do it'. We had similarly read all of the cautionary advice, but still made two fundamental errors. The first was setting off too fast. We felt fresh, and so we should, but this was a temporary condition and reality well and truly made us wind out necks in pronto. The second is that we used nutrition on the day which we hadn't previously trained with. Schoolboy error I know. We had for example just been using glucose powder and salts in our juice when training. This was predominantly because we couldn't afford to buy electrolytes and carbs every week. And so on the day we thought we'll use the real stuff to give us a better chance of success! As it stands these two mistakes finished one of us off and nearly did the same to the other.

Good Luck!