Doug Stanny

<4 Tim Bomba taking a break from work in his sound studio.

Bomba was once an unhappy runner, then he became a swimmer, and now he is a triathlete— and a happy one at that. Not all that long ago, such a notion was unfathomable to him.

“The biggest enemy we all have is in between our ears,” says Bomba, who has his sights set on completing his first half Ironman in 2005. “And the enemy that’s easiest to overcome is the one between our ears. If you can’t convince yourself of a worthiness, how are you going to convince someone else that you’re worthy?”

HOPE RUNS ETERNAL

As Bomba and I put the finishing touches on our chat, I’m feeling invigorated. I’m impressed, yes, that he is now a fellow swimmer. But I think I’m more moved by the fact that his fresh optimism for life’s possibilities is infectious.

If Bomba’s tale helps even a handful of people, I ponder, and each of those people positively affects just a few more people, and so on, then how can the world not be a better place in the end? And maybe that’s exactly what the bleep this whole movie phenomenon is about in the first place.

Bomba, for one, has not only applied these newly learned concepts to his running and triathloning but has also begun incorporating them into other areas of his life.

“T started applying the lack of fear to other aspects of my life,’ Bomba explains. “That started working for me professionally, and it definitely started working for me personally with relationships.”

What Bomba’s story illustrates is that oftentimes when it comes to endurance sports and to life in general, the way our mind has been programmed is what determines whether we succeed or fail.

It would probably be foolish to imply that a movie such as What the Bleep Do We Know!? can honestly change people. And even Bomba would be the first to acknowledge this.

“The movie didn’t change me,” says Bomba. “The only way a person changes is from within. But a person can, in fact, change, and I definitely think that the movie was a catalyst for flipping a switch.” th

England’s Bob Graham Round Played Its Siren Song, and I| Answered It Eagerly.

t the outset, let me say that I did not complete the round—the Bob Graham

Round, that is. The Bob Graham Round (BGR) is a monster that does not easily yield to a successful completion, but the story of this little-known mountain run in England fascinated me then and fascinates me still.

When I first heard about the round, I googled the “Bob Graham Round” and found that it has an official Web site: www.bobgrahamround.co.uk.

The site describes the round thus: “The Bob Graham round of 42 Lake District fells traversed within 24 hours is probably the most demanding test of physical fitness available to British Athletes or mountaineers. The rules for the Bob Graham 24-hour club state that the round can be attempted either clockwise or anticlockwise, provided that the start and finish is at Moot Hall, Keswick. It has an ascent of approximately 28,500 feet and an approximate distance of 74 miles.”

Various other Web sites have the total ascent between 28,000 and 30,000 feet and the distance between 70 and 74 miles. A quick mental calculation of 72 miles in 24 hours meant a 20-minute-per-mile pace. Surely that was doable, even with a lot of walking.

Let me go back to a time before the idea of googling the Bob Graham occurred. The story starts in early May, 2003, and involves the great Khalid Khannouchi. Khalid, like many other sports greats, is inspirational. I know this because I had the unimaginable fortune of sitting at his table during the pasta dinner the night before the Runner’s World half-marathon. How I got to sit at his table is another story, but that evening, I asked whether he had one secret tip that would improve my half-marathon. I told him that I had run a disastrous 4:11 Boston Marathon just a few weeks earlier. He looked at me with an impish smile, said, “Eat a great dessert the night before,” and with that, he headed off to the buffet table and helped himself to a generous slice of cheesecake. Who was I to question such advice, and with that I too polished off a hefty portion. After that, he told me the story of his move to America and his relentless pursuit of speed. The next day I ran the half-marathon in 1:37.

THE BONA FIDES

My running resume is modest and would not normally grace the pages of a premier running magazine. My marathon best is 3:11; half-marathon, 1:30:30; 10K in 38:30; five miles in 30:30; and mile best, 5:24. These times were all before we had kids! I have run 25 marathons (and beyond), including the 54-mile Comrades Marathon in South Africa in 10 hours, 20 minutes. I’m no cover boy for a running magazine, but my times have been good enough to place in the top third or top quarter, sometimes top fifth in races. Other than weekly running of about 25 miles per week (and up to 60 miles per week during marathon preparation), I have a black belt in judo and train three grueling hours per week with Jimmy Pedro in Wakefield, Massachusetts. Jimmy is a four-time Olympian (bronze in Atlanta and in Athens) and world champion (1999). I write all this simply to say that I consider myself reasonably fit and generally willing to take on a challenge.

So on returning home that evening, inspired by a fair time at the half and dinner with Khalid, I reviewed my running goals as my 40th birthday loomed. My wife’s great friend, Kelly Tyler, had recently married a madman, Nick Lewis. Nick is a geologist and environmental scientist by training; he is also an extremely experienced mountaineer and field guide. He has climbed all over the world with expeditions to Alaska, the Yukon, Kyrgyzstan, Pakistan, and Patagonia. He has guided parties in the Arctic and Antarctic, and most impressively he has completed the Bob Graham Round. Nick and a group of friends had formed the Antarctic Logistics & Expeditions, which had recently acquired the pioneering commercial Antarctic tour operator, Adventure Network International. At Nick and Kelly’s U.S. engagement party, I mentioned to Nick that I was tentatively interested in running the South Pole Marathon. We didn’t discuss this much at the time, and Nick then took off on one of his many expeditions and the only way of contacting him was by e-mail. I reiterated my interest in the South Pole Marathon and he responded thus:

Blaise,

If you fancy an ultra challenge, I really think that you should run the Bob Graham Round here in England’s Lake District—42 peaks, 74 miles, and 29,000 feet of ascent. That’s nearly three times the length of the South Pole Marathon with the same height gain as climbing Everest from sea level. And it must be done within 24 hours; otherwise, you aren’t considered to have done the round successfully and thus aren’t in the Bob Graham Club.

Most people who try it need an experienced, dedicated support team with pacers, and we could easily put together a support group for you over here. There is extraordinary camaraderie in the BGR Club, with a great unspoken understanding that anyone will pace someone who wants to give it a go, even though it may be a complete stranger! Everyone wants you

to succeed, and there is a huge collective energy on the day—it gives you great hope for humanity!

But to find out who Bob Graham was and why the round exists, the suggested schedule, member’s list, etc., check out www.bobgrahamround.co.uk. Give me a call if you want to know more—I have loads of training data and nutrition stuff here.

It is a great, great day, and I guarantee you that it’ll be one of the most memorable events of your sporting life.

Cheers,

GR 885, 1994

[Completers of the round identify themselves by number and year!]

A WORD ABOUT FELL RUNNING

Fell running, also known as hill running in Scotland or mountain running in Europe, is a distinctively English sport. It involves running over rough ground, generally in mountains or moorland. The races are graded according to their distance, type of terrain, and severity of climb. In fell running, you do not necessarily have to race and can run where and when you like as long as it’s not private land or there’s a fox or other type of hunt! This is so even in National Trust lands and different from running in some U.S. parks, as in the White Mountains, where straying off the designated path is severely frowned upon. Fell runners are a breed apart, and even though most fell runners belong to an athletic club, many would agree that there is nothing better than running along a mountain ridge on a clear, still day with a couple of friends and no time limits. One of my pacers for the round told me that he belonged to a fell-running club that banned any runner who had competed in a road race within the past year! When one member of my support crew asked another pacer whether he had ever run a marathon, he was met with a quizzical look from the pacer who asked, “Why?”

Back to the BGR. After reading all I could about the round, I decided to give myself a year to get fit and have a go. I e-mailed Nick, who in turn responded thus:

Blaise,

Ifyou can run a 1:38 half-marathon now, then I’m sure that by summer 2004 you’ll be all set to do the round. We’ll get together a really good team of pacers for you, and I’ll give you some info on where best to simulate conditions in the New Hampshire area (immediate areas that come to mind are the mountains either side of Franconia Notch).

Go for it, man, you’ll definitely do it.

A Ona prerace jaunt, the author learned sheep are everywhere on the fells.

I contacted the Bob Graham Round 24 Hours Club membership secretary, Dr.

also provided me the following interesting statistics: Of the 1,300 or so who have completed the round since June 1932, the number of foreigners who have done so is in the single digits (more on this later). Of those foolhardy enough to register an attempt, only 50 percent succeed. This seemed to me rather high, but I was told by my pacers that many people register their attempt after their completion and that many have a few goes at it before completing it. Further, most who complete the round have an intimate knowledge of the course, the weather, navigation, and the ground conditions and have competed in many fell races beforehand and have many years of experience running in the fells.

ROUNDING OUT MY FITNESS

On confirmation of my registration, I set out to dramatically improve my overall stamina and conditioning.

First I needed some answers, so I e-mailed Nick with questions and he provided the following:

Hi Blaise, Q 1: Are there actual paths? In my Internet search, people seemed to get lost at points and were unsure if they had actually reached the peak. A1: Yes, there are many paths along the route, but there are areas where one just has to strike out across open country. Getting lost is a very distinct

possibility if the weather turns bad and/or you or your pacers don’t know the area. It is unlikely in the year ahead that you will have the time to get over here often enough to get to know the route well yourself, so that’s why we need to have a crack team of pacers for you. The people I have in mind for you will all know the route and the peaks very, very well, so you will not have to worry about that.

Q 2: Do you have to stick to the paths; in other words, if a path meanders down a hill, can you go straight instead?

A 2: There’s no rule that says you have to stay to the paths as long as you complete all 42 peaks! So of course you can go straight down the hill. It may seem hard to envisage at this point, as you’ve never been there, but actually this doesn’t become an issue at all.

Q 3: People describe rock climbing and using ropes. How much of that is there?

A 3: Well, there is one small section called Broad Stand that descends from the summit of Scafell Pike to a col called Mickledore, which has some scrambling. It’s definitely not rock climbing! Walkers scramble up there all the time to get to the summit. To be honest to you, I know people who’ve done the round in winter who had a fixed rope put in place because they were wearing Walshes (a fell-running shoe) in what were icy conditions, so they wanted the extra security. But in summer it’s not needed at all—just a bit of care for a few steps and then it’s all over. I’ve always been baffled by those who felt they needed a rope there!

Q 4: Does every completer run part of it; in other words, has anybody ever completed the BGR simply hiking very fast?

A 4: Yes, the current record holder, Billy Bland, famously completed it in sub-24 by just walking. Actually, he completed it in under 19 hours. He also holds the record for a completion in just under 14 hours! Interestingly enough, though he had never ever sustained an injury in all his life from fell running, the force needed to hold back from running on some of the descents meant that he had a lot of joint and tendon problems afterward!

Q5: Finally, I do think that I would like to get the road part of it over earliest. Also, in that way I could start at night and not worry too much about hidden rocks, etc., and spend more time in paths during the day.

A 5: Mm, well, the road section isn’t very long, so even if you were to start at say 3:00 a.m., it would be light by 4:30ish by the time you got onto the rocky areas of Robinson, Hindsgarth, and Dale Head; but that would mean that at the other end of the day, you would be running over Mungrisdale Common and then climbing Great Calva and Skiddaw in the dark, which could be quite hard.

If you’re concerned about running on rocky areas in the dark, then I think that if you start at say 8:00 a.m. and plan for a 22:30 or 23-hour schedule—you need to do this to allow yourself time for mishaps, slowing down, etc.—then you would just have to run along Helvellyn and the Dodds at night, which is soft turf underfoot, flat, and has a well-defined path so you can just switch off and let the pacers do the thinking. It’ll then be light again by the time you are climbing the rocky and steep Halls Fell on Blencathra.

Hope this helps, Cheers, Nick

THE EARLY TRAINING

The first few weeks of training in May and June 2003, I increased my mileage from 25 to 50 per week. After the third week on one of my runs, I felt a twinge in my right Achilles. I tried to stretch it out, but it declared itself more forcefully. It was the return of a three-year-old injury incurred during hill training on the foothills of El Teide, the impressive 12,000-foot volcano on Tenerife in the Canary Islands. I slowed down to a shuffle, timed my mile at 12 minutes, and then made the naive calculation that even 12-minute miles for 74 miles would give me a time for the BGR of just under 15 hours. I let Nick know of my training, and he sent back this e-mail:

Blaise,

Good effort on the training—at this rate, you’ll break Billy Bland’s record! Be careful not to burn yourself (or your knees) out—it’s a year off yet, and if you can run 15 miles a day on two days consecutively, then distancewise I’m sure that you have the capability to run 72 in one next year. Maybe a good idea at the moment is to start developing that fine motor control that’s needed for fell running by doing short, steep runs up and down rough, rocky, uneven ground, as that’s one area where you’ll really notice the huge difference between normal trail running and the stuff you’ll encounter on the second (Honister to Wasdale) and third (Wasdale to Dunmail) legs in the Lakes.

If you think I’m sounding as if I’m trying to teach my grandmother to suck eggs, then please tell me and I’ll stop!

Have a good weekend,

This was an early warning e-mail, but I was certain that more time on my legs would be the key factor in succeeding. Maybe I should get Nick to teach me to suck eggs!

law, Bob Seeley, is as tough a 70-plus man as I have ever met. In his day, he ran a 4:24 mile in college, and he has kept up his running ever since.

TESTING AT FRANCONIA

Bob suggested a nine-mile run along one of his old standards, the Franconia Ridge, in New Hampshire’s White Mountains. With Bob Graham in mind, I decided to run a hilly 12-miler on the Monday before the Franconia Ridge ramble. It was 85 degrees in the middle of a humid Monday afternoon when I set off. Half of the hills were paved, half were sand, but none relented. I finished at 1 1-minuteper-mile pace and thanked my in-laws for the prescience of owning a house on a cool refreshing pond. The next day we headed off early and parked at the lot at the bottom of the Falling Waters Trail that leads to Little Haystack and beyond. Bob read a description of my route: “Falling Waters to Little Haystack, along the ridge to Mount Lincoln and then onto Mount Lafayette. Then head down to the Greenleaf hut and back to the car. Nine miles and a climb of 3,400 feet.”

“Think of it this way,” Bob reasoned. “It’s almost exactly one-eighth the distance and total climb of Bob Graham. When you get down, you would just have to do that seven more times.”

An Appalachian Mountain Club volunteer advised that it takes the average hiker 7 1/2 hours and the good hiker five hours to complete the route. If 1 wanted to complete the BGR in 24 hours, I would have to average just better than 20minute miles. I wanted to average that for the Franconia loop. I set myself a goal of three hours and headed off, carrying three bottles of Gatorade in a fanny pack up the first part of the trail, the Falling Waters. The first 10 minutes seemed reasonable, and I wondered whether I could go under three hours, but then the ground rose and the path narrowed. The rocks were wet and slippery from the heavy mist caused by the adjacent waterfalls. My running shoes were no match for the trail, and I started to lose time. After half an hour, my lower back began to hurt. I wasn’t sure whether it was the steepness of the route or the extra weight on my lower back from the Gatorade that caused the damage. I made a mental note to myself to invest in trail-running shoes.

The route continued to get steeper. I overtook hikers along the way who graciously moved out of the way. I was hardly running but moved as fast as I could, clambering up the rocks. After an hour, I was certain that I should have been at Little Haystack, but it remained hidden behind the trees. Eventually, I broke above the tree line and arrived 19 minutes late. I stopped for a minute to take in the view and down a Gatorade before setting off again toward Lincoln and Lafayette. Seeing the top somehow made it easier, although my pace did not change that much. My back had stopped hurting. In just over two hours, I made it to the top

of Lafayette, so I took a few minutes to enjoy the cloudless view and more Gatorade before heading off to the Greenleaf hut. I was sure that I would make up some time on the way down, but the path remained too narrow and now the rock was too loose. I slipped three times on the way down and twisted my right ankle, but not bad enough to stop, and carried on. I made one final stop at Greenleaf to fill a water bottle and then onto the parking lot. Total time 3:15. Another mental note to myself: “I must spend more time in the mountains.”

NICK AND KELLY’S WEDDING

Nick and Kelly were married in the ancient church of St. Austell in Cornwall

cliffs, and hills nestle this glorious town, which could easily be mistaken for the quaint and magical creation of a child’s storybook. But more than the place, the crowd that had gathered for the wedding included fascinating people. Explorers, adventurers, writers, philosophers, and artists added the finishing threads to the nuptial tapestry. In this group of people, six had completed the Bob Graham Round, and in between the vows, beer, and champagne, I sought their counsel. Unfortunately the vows, beer, and champagne left little time for serious conversation, but there was plenty of encouragement and exchange of e-mail addresses and agreement of more focused discussion to come.

FURTHER TRAINING

Nick had strongly suggested that it was much less important to be fast than to have time spent on my legs. “You need to average 20 minutes per mile for 24 hours. You get no different reward for completing the round any faster. Time on your legs is key.” With this in mind, in October 2003, I ran back-to-back marathons, one in New Hampshire around Newfound Lake, which turned out to be a hilly, drizzly affair in a rather cold 40-degree day. I completed it in 4:06 and then ran the Hartford Marathon in 3:56. I felt that I could have done a third after that but could not find one in the New England area that was within easy driving access, so I simply continued to rack up the road miles.

December 2003 was an off month with the holidays, the snow, and more important, the birth of our fourth child, Gabriel, on December 6. I was exhausted after all the training, so the time off was welcome, though it brought in fatigue of another kind!

In January I was back on the road. Nick had e-mailed my wife, Lauren, that he was happy with the level of my distance running but was worried that I had not suffered enough. “He has to get to the point of suffering and then continue,” he let her know.

One bitterly cold Saturday in early February, I ran a 30-miler in 4 1/2 hours. Two weekends later, on a warmer Saturday, I ran for six hours, about 36 miles. When I arrived back home, my wife instructed that I was not to sit for another six hours! “Like Nick said, you have to suffer.” So back out I went, with Gabriel on my back. Suffer I did. But even that was nothing like what I would face on the BGR. In April, I ran Boston. People who ran Boston will remember that the 2004 version was appallingly hot, especially for us Northeasterners who had had a cold winter to contend with. The days leading up to Boston had been cool, and the day after Boston cooled back down, but I didn’t really mind all that much because my purpose was to suffer! I ran a very slow, crampy 4:20, and upon reaching Boston, I changed my clothes and set off for home in Lexington, 12 miles away. I made it to Arlington, 2 miles from home, but with light fading. After 38 dreary miles, I decided to call it a day and called my good friend and running partner, Warren, who had run a 3:59 at Boston that day. He picked me up and congratulated me on just how much I looked as if I had suffered—always a joker in the crowd!

Thad not had enough time in the mountains and thought that it would be helpful to try a mountain race (something I had never done before) and gauge my level of readiness. I found the 7 Sisters Trail Race online, which describes itself thus:

“May 2, 2004. Twelve (12) very hilly, rocky miles. An out-and-back rollercoaster ride along the ridgeline of the Mount Holyoke Range on a single-track trail. Very scenic overlooks of the Pioneer Valley with views of the University of Massachusetts, Amherst College, Hampshire College, and the Town of Amherst, as well as a beautiful view of the Connecticut River and Northampton to the west. Extremely hilly with 3,700 feet of climb consisting of many steep hills with hazardous footing in places due to the many sharp basalt rocks that comprise the elevated ridge of Mount Holyoke.”

NICK APPROVES THIS ONE

Nick, too, thought that this would be a good challenge and that it was consistent with some of the terrain of the BGR. At the start, close on 200 runners readied themselves with Gatorade and other carbs. Many of them had run the trail before. One who had run it five times told me that anything under two hours was impossible (unless you are Paul Low, the record holder at 1:43, or Ben Nephew, both perennial top two runners). Only three or four people a year break two hours. Anything under three is good and puts you in the top half of the field.

I set off at a brisk, a too brisk pace, and reached the turn around in 1:24. Hmm, 2:48 I thought to myself, not bad for a first-timer! Then the pain and the punishment for having run the first half too fast set in, and I hobbled home in 3:13. Nick, the eternal optimist, pointed out that I was 47 minutes ahead of the necessary BGR pace!

On May 16, 2004, I ran the hilly Sugarloaf Marathon in Maine in a comfortable 3:47. Nick in the meantime had taken on the marathon task of coordinating the event and sent out this e-mail:

Dear All,

I’m starting to put together the plan for the big day and am currently figuring out who’s going to go where and help with what. Here’s some info for you all.

On the day, we need three categories of people:

Pacers—Blaise’s main supporters who will be running alongside him for one or two stages at a time, making sure he eats and drinks enough, doing the navigating and timekeeping. No idea at the moment who’s going to do which leg, but all should be capable of navigating any of the stages. All the pacers have done the round before, but everyone needs to make sure they are in tune with the route before the day!

Sherpas—these are runners and walkers who will help on various stages, either by running with Blaise and his pacers or by meeting them on various summits with loads of food and drink. As sherpas, you don’t need to know the route intimately, but you should be capable of getting yourself back down off the hills to wherever you started and should have a map and compass and the ability to use them.

Road crew—this is the most important group of all, as without a good road crew, the attempt is doomed! The road crew will be responsible for helping the runners set off, meeting them at the four road crossings (and the finish!), and providing enough food, drink, clothing, morale, and TLC to get them round; anyone not pacing or carrying will be on the road crew. Ben will be the road boss and will coordinate with the pacers to ensure that the road crew is at the next crossing in time and with the right menus! The road crew will also be responsible for keeping the master time record. I’ll coordinate with Ben beforehand to ensure that we have enough of everything including ice and ibuprofen .. .

Doc M and Ben will be the usual medical standby, but as this must be the most medically accomplished team to ever try it (especially if you need psychiatric help, which probably applies to most people on a BGR), we should have no worries there. [We had a general practitioner, a neurologist, a nurse, and I myself am a psychiatrist. ]

In terms of gear, for those unfamiliar with the Lakes in summertime, the weather can be extremely variable! We could have everything from a bright, blue sunny day with temps up to the 80s through to gray skies, wind, and heavy rain. In the daytime, runners and sherpas tend to run or walk in shorts and T-shirts. In the evening, you may stick a sweatshirt on

top, and in the night, you could be wearing tights or tracksuit bottoms, a polypro top, thin fleece, windproof top, hat, and gloves. If the weather turns bad earlier in the day, we will think about postponing the attempt; if it turns bad in the latter half and Blaise feels good, then we will probably try to push through, and that means that you all have to have a good set of waterproofs! Footwear is up to you, but those runners unfamiliar with UK-style fell running, be aware that pure road-running shoes will not have the grip or stability required. Wear a good pair of fell or trail shoes or some lightweight boots if you plan to walk. Make sure that you have some spare socks and remember that you may get wet feet, so bring a change of trainers or sandals for when you’re on road duty. All pacers and sherpas will need backpacks for use on the hill; if you’re carrying and running, then an appropriate running backpack is best. The road crew needs to have plenty of fleeces to stay warm while standing around. If anyone has any doubt about what to bring, then e-mail me.

In addition, everyone involved on the night section (pacers, sherpas, and road crew) has to have a head torch with sufficient batteries. At this latitude, and with a clear sky, we should have only about six hours of darkness, but you will definitely need lighting. LED head torches are nice and lightweight, but the pacers may want a good beam for route finding.

Blaise and I will work up a schedule for the day itself and will circulate it to all of you sometime in June. I’ll be in touch with all of you closer to the date about transport, etc.

Cheers for now, Nick

MY LONGEST RUN: JUNE 2004

I still needed to spend more time on my feet, so taking up my wife’s offer that I could have Father’s Day off to do whatever I wanted, I got up at 4:30 a.m. and left the house just after 5:00, running down to Fresh Pond. I ran around the pond for a total of 60 miles on the day, meeting up with kind friends and family who had offered up their time to pace me through the ordeal. They brought food and water, and I practiced eating food other than sports gels on the run. I ran for a total of 16 hours, which included about two hours of stops and bathroom breaks. After 10 hours, the legs switched off and the brain took over. The BGR was going to come down to this, mind over legs, but having people there to continually encourage and chatter away helped tremendously. Nevertheless, it was by far the most exhausting single training day that I had done. The downside was that to make it convenient for my pacers, I had chosen the easily accessible Fresh Pond, which is almost completely flat. Further, it was all on paving and my feet felt

it, as the last of my toenails fell off and my left iliotibial band started to twinge. On the plus side, I had practiced eating and drinking on the run and experienced waves of highs and lows throughout the day. The next day, though, I was able to complete an hour and a half of a fairly intense judo practice, which gave me a confidence boost.

THE TAPER

Was this all enough? Would the hours and the miles on the road (and pathetically few miles in the mountains) be enough? Also, how does one taper for such a run? An e-mail back to my mentor brought this response:

Blaise,

Regarding the tapering—a month before the BGR, I ran a 38-mile race on a Saturday (and next day went out for a 6-miler). Two weeks later (that is, two weeks before the BGR), I ran a 20-miler on the Saturday. In the weekdays, I was probably doing six miles on Tuesdays and Thursdays around the flatlands of Cambridge. The week before the BGR I did nothing except rest and eat.

The rule I tried to follow was that in the month beforehand there was nothing I could really do that would seriously improve my chances of completing it. If I overtrained, I was more likely to injure myself (and I did, but recovered swiftly enough to attempt the BGR). I had incipient bursitis on one knee, and so during the race I iced my knees at every road crossing for 10 minutes or longer.

Cheers, Nick

During all the logistical planning for the round itself, my wife took on the task of coordinating travel to Cumbria, the land of the fells. We would fly from Boston to Manchester (a direct flight on American Airlines), then rent a car and travel to Wasdale, a comfortable four hours from Manchester.

Wasdale is a place of rare beauty and is surely the wildest of the valleys in the Lake District. It is remote and reached only through slow travel on good but narrow English country roads. The area contains the impressive Wastwater, England’s deepest lake, ruggedly framed by the mountains Red Pike, Kirk Fell, Great Gable, and Scafell Pike—England’s highest mountain. We stayed at the Screes Inn in Nether Wasdale, a mile or so from the lake and five miles from Wasdale Head, which lies at the base of these great mountains. Wasdale Head is hardly a village but is rather a loosely connected set of cottages and farms set in flat farming land. An inn, pub, and mountain shop are the center of activity and local meeting point. It was also the site of the second road crossing for the BGR.

My wife had decided that she would only spend five days in the fells, and so through the National Trust, I rented the Bowderdale Cottage, which is situated in the Crags between Yewbarrow and Middle Fell. In an interesting twist, Eric found a book on the region, which noted that Joss Naylor, arguably the most heralded fell runner of all time, had farmed and lived at the Bowderdale farm (on which the cottage is situated). It is a working sheep farm about two miles from Wasdale Head and provides stunning views of the Lake, the Screes, and Scafell.

The trip was set, but there was a final twist to the whole event. I received this e-mail on July 21:

Hi Blaise, TI’mnot sure if you’ll remember me? We met at Nick & Kelly’s wedding in Cornwall last September. . . . I was planning to come up to the Lakes

on the w/e of 24th, to help out as a sherpa for your BGR… . However, I would actually really like to try it too. (As a definite try, rather thana “let’s see”). Nick suggested that I e-mail you to see what you think. I don’t want to butt in on your attempt at this stage of the game. You might well have psyched yourself for a “lone” attempt and prefer not to have company

Moot Hal|

The author (lower left) with family and friends outside Moot Hall.

Eric Louw

for the duration now. It’s entirely up to you! I’m very happy to stick to the original plan & come up to help, if you’d prefer. I hope the running is going well, and whichever, I’ll look forward to seeing you that w/e.

All the very best, Mary (not actual name)

Iremembered Mary from the wedding; we had talked about running and that she might one day consider the BGR, although she had not been part of the present BGR plans at all. I told her that it would be fine, although I was planning on a 23hour schedule and worried that I might be too slow for her. She responded thus:

Hi Blaise,

Thanks ever so much! That’s great that you don’t mind me joining you. . .. And don’t worry—whatever your schedule I’ll go with… . After all it’s your show & I really don’t want to butt in! Just seems like a chance to try that I can’t let pass! I’ve only been back from the mountains for about a month but did one long fell race in Snowdonia . . . and then took myself off & ran roundabout 52/54 miles on Sat. Other than that just my normal daily run… . Nick had been telling me I should just run it, and after Sat. I thought, I’d ask if you minded at all. There will be ups and downs but I’m sure we’ll make it. Anyway, I’ll talk to Nick in the morning & let him know you’re happy to have the company.

Take care, And see you soon, Mary

Nick told me that Mary was in great shape and that she had also been on a five-week ski patrol in the Canadian Rockies earlier that year. Other than a mild trepidation that I would slow her down, I saw no problem with her coming along; after all, it was “My show”!

WASDALE, JULY 2004

We arrived on July 22, made our way to Wasdale, and met up with Nick, who wanted to give me a taste of what I would experience. He took me on a quick hike from Wasdale Head up the Scafell. The ascent to the col at Mickledore (between Scafell and Scafell Pike) was clearly marked on a well-established path, and Nick used his powerful legs—powered by even more powerful lungs—to push the pace. He seemed happy with the pace, which initially shocked me but then felt more comfortable. Nick told me that we would not use this (easier) route on the day but rather use a more direct and steeper ascent, which would cut some distance. The BGR does not specify a route but only that the 42 peaks be summited. Some

Eric Louw

A The author (right) atop one of the many peaks on a training hike. The clouds rapidly descended to a whiteout condition, one of the many hazards of the Bob Graham Round.

have calculated that by very careful navigation and moving in a straight line up the side of the hill, you can reduce the distance by about four miles.

In any case, we would take a more direct route; nevertheless, Nick wanted to test my ability on the one area on the BGR where ropes might be needed. Getting from the col at Mickledore to the summit of Scafell involves climbing Broad Stand, with a big drop behind you! The alternative routes are either an easier scramble via Lord’s Rake on the Wasdale side or descending and re-ascending via Foxes Tarn on the Eskdale side. Both of these alternatives would add 30 to 40 minutes to the attempt. Nick mentioned that on a dry day most don’t use a rope but with my not having any climbing skills and it being wet, we would try the rope. At Broad Stand, Nick took out a 12-foot section of climbing rope and tied it around my waist. He climbed up the side of a short rock face as if he had been born with mountain goat genes and then helped me up the side. As if God, in a joking mood, were listening into my thoughts, as I pulled myself over the edge, a goat scampered down some improbable descent next to me! After making it to the top, we descended via the Lord’s Rake and back to Wasdale. Once again Nick felt that we had maintained a good pace.

MY ATTEMPT AT THE BGR

The next day we left for Penrith, where a friend and fellow BGR completer had lent Nick his house. Penrith is some 20 miles from Keswick, the traditional start

A Brief Note on My Pacers and Sherpas

Nick Lewis we know, but how about the others? [Numbers in parentheses are their BGR completer’s number.] Nick’s plan was as follows:

* Stage 1: Keswick to Honister: Nick Wharton (1,201) and Oliver Shergold (886)

* Stage 2: Honister to Wasdale: Brian Davison and Jim Hall (929) * Stage 3: Wasdale to Dunmail: Nick Lewis and Oliver

* Stage 4: Dunmail to Threlkeld (night section): Brian and Jim

* Stage 5: Threlkeld to Keswick: The two Nicks

My sherpas would be Eric Louw, Giovanni Bavestrelli, and Gavin Giovannoni, all old friends from South Africa. My pacers would be Jim Hall and Brian Davison.

Eric has been a distance runner for the past 20 years. He competed in the South African Universities Athletics Championships and has runabout 50 marathons and ultras, including Melbourne, Boston, London, Comrades (89K) and Two Oceans (56K). He is also an experienced hiker.

Giovanni started running at 18 to get fit and less tired while hiking in the Alps. This went on for years (both university and running), and during this time he worked his way up from 5Ks to the marathon distance.

Gavin started running competitively at 14 and ran for his province in South Africa in both cross-country and track and field. He has completed many marathons, including Boston and London, as well as the Two Oceans ultra.

Clearly these sherpas were not slouches, but the task at hand had been overwhelming. My pacers were strong too.

Jim Hall emerged from semiretirement as an Alpine mountaineer and occasional fell runner to pace Mary from Honister to the top of Scafell Pike. Having several years ago recorded the longest time of any competitor on any course in the two-day Karimor International Mountain Marathon, Jim concluded that mountaineering was a less-high-pressured sport than fell running and went on to make winter ascents in Patagonia and on Denali as well as an attempt on Mount Logan’s notorious Hummingbird Ridge.

Brian Davison has been winter climbing in the Lake District and Scotland for about 25 years and done many first ascents in both the Lakes and Scotland and even Wales. Brian has been actively winter climbing for the last 25 years and enjoys getting out into the hills as often as work and other commitments allow. Over the years, he has spent a lot of time roaming around looking for new climbs and cliffs. In Europe, he has rock climbed in Spain and France and elsewhere in Czechoslovakia, Jordan, Morocco, and Gibraltar.

of the BGR. At the house I met my pacers, all accomplished fell runners and mountaineers. I would need their expertise. A good dinner, good sleep, and light breakfast, and then off to Keswick. We had planned an 8:00 A.M. start.

Mary was waiting in front of Moot Hall, the traditional start of the Bob Graham Round.

After a few photographs and well wishes, Eric as sherpa, Nick Wharton and Oliver as pacers, Mary, and I set off at a decent pace. The first few miles out of Keswick are on roads or well-defined graded paths. Nick had insisted that the secret to a successful completion was to walk the uphills and run the downs and flats. Mary seemed strong, so we ran the five or six miles on the road to the base of the first climb. I switched shoes and put on a pair of fell-running shoes. Historically the Welsh running shoes were the ones used by fell runners, but new shoes have come onto the market as the sport has grown, and I had bought myself a pair the day before. The main benefit of these shoes is the pronounced rubber studs that grip tightly into the terrain and help on fast descents and screes. They are not that good on rock, especially wet rock, but I would strongly advise anyone not to attempt the run without good fell-running shoes. Even trail shoes can lose their grip on some of the grass slopes.

A change into fell running shoes, with pacers strategizing. Robinson (2,417 feet), the first of the 42 peaks, looms in the background.

So we had reached the base of the first climb. Mary took off up the slope and easily reached the crest ahead of all of us. Nick and Oliver, strong fell runners and BGR completers, were next, and Eric and I gasped our way to the top.

Nick had built an hour’s cushion into the schedule, and I felt that I would need every second of it. Mary continued at her rapid pace, and after another mile or so one of my pacers said that I would have to speed up. (Nick Lewis was outraged when I later mentioned this to him, in particular because we arrived at the first road crossing 10 minutes ahead of schedule.)

Nevertheless, Mary and Nick Wharton, already pushing ahead, split and sped on, with Oliver and Eric staying with me. Perhaps the pacers were thrown off by her pace, but that extra push was somewhat demoralizing because I wasn’t sure that I would be able to maintain it for another 21 hours. In any case, we had made it to the first crossing, and it was a joy to see the crew and my old running friends. Twelve miles and three peaks down. Mary had gotten there 20 minutes earlier and was just taking off. After a food and bathroom break, we set off on the second leg.

Eric, who had initially thought that he might join me for the first three legs, decided that it was too brutal to continue and was glad for the car ride to Wasdale. Gavin was sherpa for this leg, and Brian would pace and navigate. This section was 12 peaks and 15 miles. We set off from Honister up a steep and rocky ascent called Grey Knotts (2,287 feet). I heard Gavin laugh behind me, “There is no way!” That’s what it is to the uninitiated: a shock to your sense of what is possible. We ran down the backside of Grey Knotts, then pushed up Brandreth (2,346 feet), then down, then up Green Gable (2,628 feet), then down, then up Great Gable (2,949 feet), then down, then up Kirkfell (2,631 feet), then down, then up Pillar (2,717 feet), then down, then up Steeple (2,687 feet) then down, then up Red Pike (2,477 feet). Up and down, these rocky monsters did not relent.

It was here, on Red Pike, that the weather conspired (together with my weary body) to end my BGR attempt. A sudden, rapid and blinding cloud fall made it impossible to find the peak. We found a few cairns but could not orient ourselves on the mountain. A compass only helps if you have a point from which to navigate. We made some futile descents and ascents to see if the visibility was any better. Gavin had asked Brian how we were doing at the top of Steeple. We were still five minutes ahead of schedule, but now, on Red Pike, we had lost 30 minutes in the clouds. Brian decided it best to drop below the cloud cover to reorient; eventually the clouds lifted, only to show that we had just barely missed the summit. We would have to climb back again and complete the last two miles, including Yewbarrow (2,057 feet), then go to the next road crossing at Wasdale.

The further loss of time and the unforgiving hills did me in. I was sure that no amount of strength of will was going to get me through this. One more bad-cloud peak would knock me out of any chance of completing the BGR within 24 hours.

Eric Louw

Eric Louw

Running down Robinson. The pacers lead the way off the path in order to take a steeper yet more direct route.

Up the next peak, Hindsgarth (2,385 feet).

The final climb of the first section, Dale Head (2,470 feet).

Down the final descent of the first section to Honister. We arrived at the first crossing 10 minutes ahead of our planned 23-hour schedule.

Eric Louw

The valley below us led straight to Wasdale. I decided to pack it in and make the descent, Brian and Gavin agreed, and with good pace we made it to Wasdale. I had covered 25 mountain miles in seven hours. Nick Lewis was waiting there ready to pace me and looked shocked, perhaps disappointed, to see us running along the road rather than down the brutal descent of Yewbarrow. “You’ve done more than a third of the distance in under a third of the time,” he pointed out. He was right, but the thought of now having to summit England’s highest mountain, and the 30 peaks beyond, was too much. I would do this again, some day, but not today. I needed more preparation.

Nick felt bad about the turn of events but decided to catch up to the group with Mary and help them in the third, longest, and most difficult stage. I stayed on for hot tea and more welcome food, and then with friends and family headed off to the hotel for a warm bath. At dinner, we, the marathoners, talked in awe about the strength of these mountain men and women and made a promise to try this again. A little later, at 8:00 in the evening, the rain came down. I went to bed at around 10:00 and woke to a thunderclap shortly after midnight with the rain continuing to pour. It rained through until 6:00 the next morning. My wife, Lauren, called Kelly soon after 8:00. The news came in that Mary had run through the night and the rain and finished in 23 hours and 49 minutes. Nick later said that because of her strength, Mary might have broken the women’s record in ideal weather.

Eric Louw

A Giovanni and Blaise dipping in a freezing glacial mountain lake after the aborted run.

A FINAL NOTE

The BGR is a very difficult mountain run. From Australia, Eric e-mails:

The BGR has to be close to the ultimate running challenge. Leading up to the run, I thought of it as a tough ultramarathon. In reality, it’s much worse than that. Nothing can prepare you for the steepness of the ascents and descents or the toughness of the terrain, nor is it easy to get your mind around what it actually means to climb 28,000 feet in a single day. Throw in running in the dark and foul weather, and you have a challenge that makes Comrades look like a stroll in the park. Having run many sub-3:00 marathons, I arrogantly thought that three legs with a rest in between each would be easy. By the end of the first leg—the shortest—I was mangled. I was stiff for five days afterward. Strange as it seems, all this makes it an incredibly tantalizing challenge. It represents something completely different from any conventional running experience. It takes suffering to an entirely different level, but the pride and satisfaction of completing it must be completely unforgettable.

Brian Covell (general secretary for the BGR) tells me that he doubts that more than five foreigners have completed the run. Part of this is logistical. You have to