Image Credit: Lakeland 50/100

Lakeland 50 DNF: 55.26km, 2,105m of Climbing and Why I Wouldn't Change a Thing

A first-hand Lakeland 50 race report covering training setbacks, the Lakeland 50 route and checkpoints, running in Wildsole sandals, making the decision to DNF, and how taking part in endurance events shapes the way I approach commercial photography and outdoor storytelling in the Lake District.

Lakeland 50 Race Report

Event: Lakeland 50
Distance: 50 miles / approximately 80km
Start: Dalemain
Finish: Coniston
My distance: 55.26km
My elevation: 2,105m before DNF
Time: 11 hours 18 minutes
My finish: Ambleside
Footwear: Wildsole 4mm sandals

There are probably two ways to write about a DNF.

You can apologise for it.

Or you can simply tell the story.

This is the story.

I wasn't even sure I'd make it to the start line

In all honesty, I wasn't confident I'd get very far coming into the Lakeland 50.

An injury in May meant that training at any volume simply didn't happen. Instead, I opted to just keep moving. Sarah O'Neill Sports Massage worked on the injury, I did exactly as I was told and took everything very steadily. She also freed off my IT Bands, which have historically given me grief, so for once they weren't the thing I was worrying about.

I genuinely looked at pulling out altogether, but by that point it felt too late. Instead I carried on with the 4ZERO Programme, just with a much lighter training load than originally planned.

Ultra marathons and me have always had a bit of a love-hate relationship.

Not because of the running.

The running is the easy bit.

It's everything else.

Looking after a teenager, organising someone to look after Oz, fitting work around training, recovery, travel, nutrition and trying to remember absolutely everything that needs to go into a bag.

Thankfully mandatory kit checks don't really worry me anymore. After a few ultras you get a good feel for what you'll need, and packing becomes almost second nature.

Almost.

Coniston, coaches and the first mistake of the day

Arriving in Coniston reminds you just how big the Lakeland 50 has become.

The Lakeland 50 is one of the best-known ultra marathons in the Lake District, running alongside the Lakeland 100 and bringing a huge community of trail runners, volunteers and supporters together in the fells.

It was brilliant catching up with Laura and Dave, long-term volunteers Russ and Lianne, and Debs from LakelandPaws with her beautiful new Collie pup.

The coach journey to Dalemain was actually worrying me more than the race itself. I was convinced I'd spend the journey feeling travel sick, but thankfully I sat next to Alice and we chatted all the way there. Before I knew it we'd arrived and I felt absolutely fine.

Time to pre-fuel.

I reached into my pack for a chunk of VOOM Pocket Rocket.

Except...

Those were the ones I'd left back at camp.

"What did I just say about bag packing?"

Thankfully I still had some gels.

Unfortunately one of them had exploded inside my pack.

Sticky fingers.

Sticky coat.

Sticky backpack.

Sticky beard.

The race hadn't even started properly and I was already making memories.

The Lakeland 50 begins

My race plan was simple.

Do not set a 25km personal best.

Take the opening loop steadily.

And for once...

I actually did.

I let people go.

Passed a few.

Ran my own race.

I was genuinely proud of myself.

Then, just as we finished the opening 6km loop and headed towards Pooley Bridge, I stopped to take my waterproof off.

As I put my Racepac back on...

The chest strap snapped.

That pretty much summed up the day.

I always try to smile through these things, but there are moments when you simply look towards the sky and think,

"Why me? Today?"

If you've ever tried to run with a hydration vest that's bouncing around, pulling you off balance and refusing to sit where it should, you'll understand exactly what was going through my mind.

There were still another 74 kilometres to go.

Howtown, Fusedale and Haweswater

Despite everything, I actually felt good.

The route over towards Howtown was beautiful, taking in some stunning trails above Ullswater and watching a steady stream of Lakeland 100 runners passing through.

At the checkpoint I was hoping for something savoury.

"Crisps have run out"

That annoyed me far more than it probably should have, it wasn't like I was at the back and even if I was the races I was used to catered as much for the last person and the first!.

Thankfully another runner rescued the situation with a bag of cheese and onion snacks that tasted absolutely incredible.

Sometimes the smallest things make the biggest difference.

Climbing Fusedale was one of those moments that reminds you why people keep coming back to trail running in the Lake District.

Looking around at hundreds of Lakeland 50 and Lakeland 100 runners weaving their way across the fell side in front and behind me was really is something special.

I tried to push on a little but the singletrack naturally dictated the pace. Faster groups came through. Others stepped aside for me.

Everyone simply worked together.

The descent into Haweswater was glorious.

Dry.

Warm.

Fast.

Springy grass underfoot.

I don't think I'd ever run the path down the side of Haweswater before either. Technical singletrack through the bracken where everyone simply accepted that today's pace was today's pace.

I felt genuinely strong.

Mardale, Kingsley and the beginning of the end

Some ham and cheese sandwiches.

Two mugs of tea.

Exactly what I needed.

I finally met Kingsley, who was tackling the Lakeland 100.

He maintained unwavering eye contact while applying lube to his nuts.

I suppose we shared a moment there.

Ultra runners really are a different breed.

Leaving Mardale mentally prepared me for Gatesgarth Pass and, more importantly, home territory.

That's where things started to unravel.

Oddly enough, it wasn't my IT Bands.

For the first time in years they behaved themselves.

My legs actually felt incredibly strong.

Three years ago I'd never have imagined describing them as powerful, but they genuinely did feel powerful.

Instead, a new problem appeared.

My right hip flexor.

Every climb.

Crunch.

Every climb.

Crunch.

This was my fourth ultra-distance event.

I've learnt that little niggles don't tend to improve with distance.

Longsleddale, Kentmere and reality

I absolutely loved descending into Longsleddale.

There was a brief dizzy / trippy / kaleidoscope  spell near the top where I had to lean on my poles to stop myself hitting the floor, but after Georgia looked after me for a few minutes everything settled down.

The descent felt amazing.

I honestly think I picked up twenty or thirty places running into the valley.

This is home.

These are my fells.

A short run over towards Kentmere brought me back to reality.

I love Sadgill.

I love that whole valley.

Dropping down towards the church always makes me wonder about the conversations that have taken place there over hundreds, perhaps thousands, of years.

I arrived at Kentmere Village Hall to the welcome sight of berry smoothies.

Perhaps a little too many berry smoothies.

I've since learnt that large quantities of ice-cold smoothie don't sit especially well during an ultra marathon.

Who knew?

Garburn Pass and making the right decision

I know Garburn Pass well.

I also knew exactly what was about to happen.

The technical climb finished my hip flexor off.

That was the moment I decided Ambleside would be my finish line.

It was brilliant seeing Andrew on the pass and even better that he'd brought Oz out to see me.

Seeing a wagging Border Collie halfway through a difficult day does wonders for your mood.

Huge credit to Andrew as well for staying with another runner who'd taken a tumble until she was ready to continue.

Dropping onto the road at Troutbeck I was greeted by cheers from Issy, Chris and Alex from 4ZERO.

Considering I was well behind the others by then, that meant a huge amount heat they had taken the time to come and cheer me on.

Jago and Charlotte also pulled over.

Jago offered me an escape route.

I carried on to Ambleside because I knew I could, Troutbeck to Ambleside was a n on-technical trail, so I knew the ascent would be OK

Once there, the decision became surprisingly straightforward.

There was still another 25 kilometres to Coniston.

Another 900 metres of climbing.

Rocky.

Technical.

I know that section well.

It simply wasn't worth risking turning one injury into something much worse.

The team at the checkpoint, especially Aldo, made sure I wasn't making a rushed decision.

I wasn't.

I climbed into Jago's car.

And that was that.

Why I DNF'd the Lakeland 50

Some DNFs happen because the day simply isn't going your way.

Sometimes experience tells you that continuing isn't the brave decision.

Stopping is.

Would I have liked to finish the Lakeland 50?

Of course.

But another 25km and 900 metres of climbing on an increasingly unhappy hip flexor wasn't going to prove anything.

It could, however, have turned a manageable injury into something that stopped me running for considerably longer.

I've since had another sports massage.

The hip flexor released with a very satisfying pop.

We both laughed.

Relief.

Do I regret stopping?

Not for a second.

2,236 days sober on the Lakeland 50 start line

This matters more to me than the DNF.

I was 2,236 days sober when I stood on that start line.

I felt fit.

I felt strong.

I felt prepared.

Despite forgetting some nutrition I was hydrated, fuelled and smiling far more than I wasn't.

I met brilliant people.

Shared conversations I'll never forget.

Laughed far more than seemed sensible.

One of the things I love about trail running and ultra marathons is the people you meet along the way.

Ultra runners really are wired slightly differently.

Can you run the Lakeland 50 in sandals?

Apparently, yes.

One question came up more than any other.

"How are you running in sandals?"

The answer is simple.

I don't wear shoes.

I wear the same 4mm Wildsole sandals all year round.

Running in shoes would actually make me more of a liability than running without them.

Only one bell-end felt the need to make a thing of my appearance.

Literally everyone else was brilliant.

The volunteers were phenomenal.

The encouragement from runners and supporters was incredible.

Open Tracking reported around 2,500 trackers across the Lakeland 100 and Lakeland 50.

That's an enormous event.

Yet somehow it still manages to feel remarkably personal.

For anyone wondering...

My feet were absolutely fine.

No blisters.

No bruises.

No soreness.

The glittery toe shields did exactly what they were supposed to do.

What taking part in events like the Lakeland 50 brings to my photography

During the Lakeland 50 I'm a participant.

I'm not there photographing competitors. I'm there getting sticky gel in my beard, eating ham sandwiches, wondering where the crisps have gone and trying to get myself to Coniston.

My work as a commercial photographer is slightly different.

I do photograph events, but when I'm commissioned to work at an outdoor, sporting or lifestyle event, my brief tends to be about creating marketing photography rather than photographing individual competitors.

I'm usually looking at the bigger story.

The atmosphere.

The landscape.

The volunteers.

The supporters.

The brands.

The details.

The community around the event.

The moments that make someone looking at the photographs think:

I want to be there.

That's an important distinction.

My clients are often brands, businesses, tourism organisations and event organisers who need a library of commercial images they can use across websites, campaigns, PR, social media and future event marketing.

They aren't necessarily looking for thousands of photographs documenting who crossed a timing mat.

They need images that communicate what the experience feels like.

Taking part in endurance events gives me an interesting perspective on that.

I know what a checkpoint feels like after six, eight or ten hours on your feet.

I know why seeing someone you recognise on a remote fellside can completely change your mood.

I know why a volunteer handing you a mug of tea matters.

I know why runners stop noticing a camera when they're tired.

And I know that some of the best photographs at an event aren't necessarily of the person at the front.

Sometimes they're found much further back.

Event marketing photography is about more than the action

The finish line matters.

But if I'm working for a brand or event organiser, it probably isn't the only photograph I'm looking for.

The marketing story might be a line of runners disappearing up Fusedale.

A volunteer preparing a checkpoint.

A sponsor's product being genuinely used rather than awkwardly held towards a camera.

People laughing.

People struggling.

A tiny figure moving through an enormous Lake District landscape.

The quiet moments before the start.

The aftermath.

The weather.

The mud.

The details that give an event its identity.

That's the difference between simply recording an event and creating an image library that can help market it.

Taking part in events like the Lakeland 50 doesn't make me an endurance sports photographer.

But it does give me first-hand understanding of the outdoor lifestyle, trail running culture and the people that outdoor brands and event organisers are trying to communicate with.

And I think that matters.

Outdoor brand, tourism and event photography in the Lake District

I'm a commercial photographer based in Cumbria, working throughout the Lake District, the North West and further afield.

My work includes commercial photography, brand photography, outdoor lifestyle campaigns, tourism photography and marketing imagery for businesses and organisations.

For outdoor brands in particular, authenticity matters.

The people looking at your campaign know whether someone's actually comfortable on a fell.

They know whether the kit is being used properly.

They know what trail running looks like.

They know what wet feet, tired legs, weather and effort look like.

I do too.

Not because I've studied it from the sidelines.

Because occasionally I spend eleven hours and eighteen minutes finding out.

So, was the Lakeland 50 DNF a failure?

No.

I didn't finish the Lakeland 50.

But I don't feel like I failed.

I got considerably further than I thought I might when I stood on the start line.

My legs felt stronger than they ever have.

I ran through some of my favourite places in the Lake District.

I met people.

I laughed.

I ate things that tasted disproportionately magnificent.

I saw friends.

I saw Oz.

I discovered the upper limit of sensible berry smoothie consumption.

And when the time came, I made the right decision.

That's enough.

I'll sort the hip flexor.

And then...

I'll go again.

2722 SANDALF x

👣🧙