What Happens When the Body Stops and the Ego Doesn’t
“Wake up! Wake up! Don’t fall asleep,” he kept saying. I was shivering, sleepy, and tired. I just wanted to lie down, but he held my body upright. Drifting in and out of consciousness, I couldn’t work out how long we were standing there. Then I saw a flashlight. I was shoved into a van, the doors slammed, and a voice from behind. “Are you OK? You are safe now.” I couldn’t get any words out. Please just leave me alone. I am fine, alright.. I just need some sleep.
That was how my attempt at the 75-mile Lady Anne’s Way race ended. The race follows the footpaths of Lady Anne Clifford, a brave 17th-century noblewoman who fought to claim what was rightfully hers. Just my kind of race, right?
The Comeback That Wasn’t
It was a freezing February day in the Yorkshire Dales. Rain was in the forecast. I had done a recce of the route the month before. I was absolutely on it. Ready to go.
Getting to the start line felt like a true comeback. I originally had a place in the inaugural 100-mile race of 2021, but I had to defer due to lockdown logistics. Then, in 2022, came arrhythmias. On my worst days, I had to cling to the handrail to climb the stairs at London Bridge in the morning commute. A winter ultra in the Dales? Unthinkable. Laughable, almost. I quietly shelved the race. Tried not to think about it.
When Gear Goes Wrong
The race brought relentless rain, wind, mist, bogs, and freezing temperatures. In less than 5km into the race, I realised I had got my gears wrong. During my recce, I struggled with cold hands. I swapped my regular shoelaces for elastic strings. Big mistake. In the sticky mud, the elastic didn’t hold, and my shoes kept coming off my feet. I had to keep squatting down to dig them out of the bogs.
Then there were my clothes. I was wearing my favourite waterproof jacket and trousers. Ten years old. Bought when I was working long hours to pay the mortgage. I couldn’t bear to replace them. But I hadn’t tested them in harsh weather for years. The waterproofing was completely shot.
I also made a conscious decision not to wear waterproof socks. I worried they might flood with deep bog water. Whether that was a sound decision or not, I still do not know. But that decision left me with no protection when crossing overflowing streams. Every time my feet entered the icy water, they screamed in pain.
This is not fun, is it…?
Dark, Wet, and Freezing
By the time I reached the halfway checkpoint at Askrigg, I was soaked and freezing. I had fresh base layers in my dry bag, but for some reason, I kept my wet clothes on. My handheld GPS battery was only half full, and I didn’t replace it. I also skipped the chance to eat a warm meal. At midnight, my brain was off. I dashed back out into the dark with wet clothes on and an empty stomach.
The rain and wind showed no sign of stopping. In the thick mist, my head torch could only light up a few metres ahead. Then, my GPS battery died. My hands were too frozen to press tiny buttons or unzip my rucksack for a spare battery. My thick gloves were soaked and wouldn’t come off either. My fingers could no longer press the light switch on my wristwatch. I was too cold. Then, more than anything, my brain was dead.
Please. Someone please. Come over and stop this rain.
When a Gate Wouldn’t Open
I tried to follow the map I had memorised. I knew I was less than 10 kilometres from the next checkpoint. It cannot be that bad. Then, there was a metal gate.
Another gate. Why are there so many gates around here?
I tried to open. It wouldn’t open. It was like a door shut in my face. Why. My legs were too tired to jump over it.
Calm down, Hisayo. Just one thing at a time. Come on, you…
I had been running for 18 hours and was drenched. My waterproof trousers were ripped from falling so many times. My shoes kept getting sucked into the bogs. I was covered in mud from head to toe. I had to go through the metal gate, which wouldn’t open.
Just as I jumped over the metal gate to the other side, a man appeared out of nowhere and grabbed my hand.
Ending
Are you alright?
He held my hand and ran. He was fast. I couldn’t keep up. He grabbed my elbow. I still couldn’t keep up. He put his arms around my torso. He kept moving. We finally reached the road leading to Kirkby Stephen. I stood there, confused. I couldn’t work out what I was supposed to do.
The rescue van arrived and took me to the finish line, ending my race. A fellow runner had noticed me falling, turned around to get me, and fetched help.
At 3 am, while kind race staff spoon-fed me food and drink, I finally came back to my senses. I had messed up my race, and someone had given up his to help me.
Ultra Trail Running
Ultra trail running breaks your ego. It is a sport that makes you humble.
I grew up to be fiercely self-reliant. I hate asking for help. It feels like letting the world know that I am not enough. Being inadequate and deficient. I am too stubborn to ask for help.
Then, there is this thing. I have to learn. Don’t be so silly. Sometimes, accepting help from others is not a bad thing. It doesn’t diminish the fact that I ran to the point as far as I could get. That was my limit on that day. And that was OK.
Next year, I will be back and complete this race. And if I find someone standing confused in the dark, I want to be the one to offer help.
Until then. Thank you.
Link:
runhisayorun 