Our Co-Founder and tea-drinking champ Damian Hall writes about his latest record and we are here for it!
I squealed. Effing cramp! My old nemesis. I couldn’t get up. Or even reach my feet. Instead I’m writhing in an spassamy agony that only those of us who get cramp know.
Not pausing to tighten my daps seemed like I’d be risking prohibitive foot issues later on. But now it seems stopping is an even bigger risk. I’m 30 miles in to a Joss Naylor Challenge record attempt. I’m lying in a bog, desperately unable to do up my shoes.
Time for some ouchy fun! Credit: Beth Pascall
In 1990 Joss Naylor (RIP), 54, ran from Pooley Bridge to his cottage at Greendale Bridge, Wasdale in “very bad weather”. The crossing of 30 tops, 43 miles and 16,000ft verts, took 11 hours and 30 minutes, and the Joss Naylor Challenge was born. Thrillingly, you have to be at least 50 to run it, with an allowance of 12 hours for men, 14 for women, the cutoffs increasing with age. It has been nicknamed the “old man’s Bob Graham” as it’s roughly two thirds of the world-famous challenge, but I much prefer “masters athlete’s Bob Graham”.
Being newly 50, I loved the idea of a challenge pesky youngsters aren’t officially allowed to do. Something special for us midlife runners. Kids keep out. I’d be eyeing it up since 2020, when Karl Gray set a new record by a thumping 42 minutes.
I’m not really a fell runner. I’m from the Cotswolds. Karl is a serious fell runner, a GB mountain runner in fact and I thought his time may well be beyond me. Plus sub 100 miles isn’t really my distance. But I’ll probably never be as fast as I am right now, I reasoned, and if I didn’t try, I’d never know.
Mean Matt Neale refused to bring Damian an ice lolly. Credit: Beth Pascall
The weather forecast smiled upon us and I felt so grateful of the team supporting me and the lovely tradition of JNC completers turning up to wish me well (though I felt guilty I wouldn’t be stopping to chat).
I was worried about the split to the first summit. It can set the tone for the whole day. I’d spent time visualising being behind the record, making peace with it. I’d rarely matched Karl’s record splits on my recce runs. That grind to Arthur’s Peak, with Kim Collison and Phil Rutter in the early morning mizzle, seemed to take hours. I daren’t look at my watch, the news feels too important. Until I finally tag the summit. To see…
I’m 2+ minutes up. Game on! But that instantly brings a new pressure. Don’t eff this up.
Other than an unfortunate “sit down” by Kim on the steep Thornthwaite descent, which left him with a very ouchy-looking, red raw hammie, the rest of the leg (pun unintended) went smoothly.
By Kirkstone, we had grown that small but valuable cushion to about eight minutes. Quick tea, cola and fruit salad and I was off again in less than 1 minute, with Phil swapping out for Ben McGovern, Kim heroically carrying on.
Leg 2 to Dunmail Raise was thankfully uneventful. From Dunmail, Carol Morgan and Ben Rowley lead me on immaculate lines through the surprisingly boggy bogs, maintaining a roughly 5-7-minute lead. Maybe I just wanted to stop for a bit, but I decided my shoes had become loose enough to cause issues later and sat down, for the only time, to tighten them.
Three times I writhe in cramp. I try different angles to reach my laces, while Carol and Ben look on at my pitifulness. For the first time today I feel my age. After some pathetic experimentation, I finally find a safe angle, slowly tighten my Bruts. I get in some salt (Hula Hoops) and liquid, and gingerly get going again. Several critical minutes wasted, plus the new spectre of cramp. I’m running with the handbrake on.
Damian with Matt Neale and Beth Pascall at the finish at Greenbridge, Wasdale. Credit: Nicki Lygo
I’d been anxious about the techie descent of the doubly ironically named Great End, but Ben picked such an ace line. We had just 5-6 minutes spare going into the final leg, with Beth Pascall and Matt Neale joining me (the latter had rightly scoffed at the idea of having an ice bandana and icy lolly brought into Sty Head).
With Tim Laney joining us later too, it was almost a full reunion (only Mark Townsend missing) of a memorable jaunt through the Cheviots in a named storm during 2015 Winter Spine Race.
At every summit I asked Beth for my split. It was always seven minutes. That was enough, as long as we didn’t make a nav mishap. Or cramp up.
Nicki Lygo and Tim Laney, with Beth and Damian Credit: Matt Neale
When my shoes filled with scree on the descent from Haycock, stopping to empty them out seemed too risky. Better the devil you know.
We maintained that 7-minute lead till the final descent, where it opened up to 12 by the time I touched the bridge at Greenbridge, Wasdale, next to Joss’s old house. And I didn’t care about cramp anymore.
Tagging an early summit in the clag. Credit: Phil Rutter
“Are you really going to do it with that haircut?” Previous JNC completer Ryan says hello in Pooley Bridge. Credit Matt Neale
Obviously an event like this creates emissions, but far fewer than for example flying abroad for a race. Most car journeys were local (those who made longer ones stayed longer), many in EVs and some pacers even cycled home. Plus all of Damian’s jokes are throroughly recycled.