Last year I ran my first ultramarathon, on lovely rolling trails around the Yorkshire Wolds. It felt like a huge life achievement, and when I’d finished, I wasn’t sure if I thought I would do another. It was going to take something special to tempt me back. And then in October I came across the Haworth Hobble, advertised thusly: “If you are thinking about joining us for 31.7 miles of pain whilst being partly offset by whisky, chip butties and Tom Yum soup along the route and being serenaded by a brass band then I wouldn’t hang around too long as it may well sell out on day 1”. For context, selling out was around 1,000 entries – a huge event for a fell race. Initially I sent the details to my more-gung-ho-than-me-at-these-things husband, with the message “this looks like a Jim Rangeley kinda race”. By the time he replied to say he thought so too, I’d decided it might also be a Laura Rangeley kinda race, and that coupled with the FOMO over it filling up so quickly had me diving in to nab us both a spot.

I immediately panicked. Yes, I’d done the distance before, but a SELF-NAVIGATED FELL ULTRA? What was I thinking?! As the name suggests, the race starts and finishes in Haworth, and traverses the moors in between – essentially going to nearly Burnley, before heading east to Todmorden and back to Haworth via Hebden Bridge – completely unknown territory to us both. An upcoming day off meant a recce run to investigate the terrain and see if I thought I could do it. We covered the first 6 miles and the last 5 of the race route, joining them together neatly in the middle, without incident – hilly and hard but nothing too intimidating and with straightforward nav largely on clear, well used paths, in absolutely beautiful surroundings. And that was it – I was officially In Training!The lead up to the race was uneventful. I didn’t follow a training plan, but aimed for consistent mileage – still only around 25 miles per week on average, but with plenty of longer, hilly runs (22 miles being my longest individual run), and LOTS of cross training thrown in including weekly strength sessions. For me, this was quite enough to prepare me and meant I was injury free all winter, but if I’d wanted to actually run more of the race rather than my walk-a-lot-and-just-keep-moving-approach, I think realistically I’d have needed more miles in the legs. My last race was the Winter Half Tour of Bradwell, 18 miles with 4000ft elevation, which went really well and was a brilliant confidence boost.

Early starts were available at the Hobble for anyone that needed a more generous cut off, setting off from 6.30am which allowed around 11 hours to complete the course. If the weather had been bad (particularly wet, icy, or misty), I’d have wanted to make use of this, so we’d decided to make a weekend of it and booked a nice little studio apartment in Haworth to avoid the need to get up in the middle of night to make it there in time. If you haven’t been to Haworth, it’s a quaint-bordering-on-twee town which is VERY proud of the fact that the Bronte sisters lived there. Literally the whole place is covered in Bronte related paraphenalia – there’s a whole museum dedicated to them, pretty much every building shouts about their connection to the family (my personal favourite was the Bronte Balti House, Charlotte would have loved a jalfrezi), dubious fan art in the pubs and even the radiator in our apartment was a picture of Top Withens, the farmhouse said to have been the inspiration behind Wuthering Heights and one of many features we’d run past during the race. Anyway, we arrived on Friday afternoon and had a nice little mooch around and just the two beers before getting our bags packed (full FRA kit, plus a spare long sleeved top and capacity to carry at least 500ml liquid was mandatory, and despite the extensive menu on offer at the checkpoints I still had the makings of a picnic, so there was lots to take) and having an early night. The forecast was looking glorious, and I thought I’d get more out of the experience as a whole by setting off in the mass start after all (albeit with more pressure to meet the cut offs), so decided to be brave and set my alarm for 6.04 (I don’t like getting up on a round number) thus foregoing my opportunity for a head start. Jim had offered to run with me and treat it more as a training run as he works towards Old County Tops in May, which was hugely reassuring and meant I was really looking forward to an adventure day out with my favourite person.

Up before sunrise, I managed to nervously swallow down 2 slices of peanut butter and my father in law Brian’s famous homemade raspberry jam on toast before heading to registration. It was organised chaos in there but we were soon through kit check and ready to make our way to the start line, where I met Spine Race champion, only woman to finish the Barkley Marathons and overall legend of the running world Jasmin Paris! Jasmin wasn’t running, but was setting us all off. This was a good distraction as I’d got VERY hung up on the cut off times and was somewhat regretting my choice not to be on my way already, especially when the start was delayed by 9 minutes as we were all in the wrong place and needed herding down the hill, ready to go from the Fleece Inn, a very nice Timothy Taylors pub at the bottom of Haworth’s famous cobbled Main Street. I was also aware that about 4km in was a narrow gate, which we’d been told to be ready to queue at. Soooo when we were eventually set off I did what you’re absolutely not supposed to do in an ultra, panicked wildly and set off up the hill at roughly my road half marathon pace, maintaining this for the first 3km (which was on road or hard packed trail through Penistone Hill Country Park), before the terrain got a bit more technical and we ended up in single file.

Just before the gate was the Bronte bridge and the Bronte waterfalls, which were beautiful in the mist of the morning. And Haworth Brass Band were out on the moor playing us up the hill – there’s something very surreal about hearing a trombone led rendition of Sweet Caroline eerily getting louder through the fog without being able to see where it’s coming from. We all had a little singalong while we queued and I allowed myself to relax into things a little more, as my somewhat dubious tactics paid off and we only had to wait for about 3 minutes at the gate, compared to others further back who were there for upwards of 10, which made my constant maths about the cutoffs more in my favour.

As we headed up towards the famed Top Withens, the next surprise was a bagpiper! I was glad we’d reccied this part and that I already knew how beautiful it was, as there were no views whatsoever. The farmhouse finally came into view after a long slog of gentle ascent, and I refrained from singing Kate Bush at Jim as I’m fairly sure he’d put up with quite enough nonsense from me already by that point! Also I was quite out of breath from the climb so the high notes might have been beyond me. And that was it, first hill ticked off! Suddenly the fog vanished, and the next 3 miles or so were an absolute treat – a sweeping descent on the flagstones of the Pennine Way with breathtaking views down to Walshaw Dean reservoirs under glorious blue skies. There’s a photo of me running down here, which would be lovely if not for the man having a wild wee in the background (there weren’t any loos en route, so wild wees were a feature of the day, although most were somewhat more discreet about it! As an aside and just to give you way too much information, I don’t like nature wees and didn’t do any all day despite drinking over 3L of water, Jim however did 5.  Anyway, I digress.) Reaching the reservoirs, and the end of the section we’d reccied, we had a runnable section on road taking us to the first checkpoint at Widdop Res just under 8 miles in. Even with the late start, we reached it almost half an hour before the cut off. I was glad to have a little extra time as I’d become aware of a couple of hotspots on my feet and it was much too early for blisters – luckily I’d packed spare socks, so switched into these whilst leaning on a Tesla. A bit of fresh orange and banana and a top up of water and off we went in the direction of Burnley (I ran NEARLY TO BURNLEY, absolutely wild!). This next bit was also gorgeous – a climb up the charmingly named Gorple Gate, with views of “the Cludders” (big rocks) before another section of good trail and a lengthy downhill to yet more reservoirs. Ascending through Shedden Clough limestone hushings (which looked like grassy mounds, but are the result of “an ancient and historic mining method”, thanks Wikipedia), we were soon on the approach to checkpoint 2 and half marathon distance – the time had absolutely flown by so far, and now at almost an hour ahead of the cut offs I was starting to properly enjoy myself. A pretty little river crossing on stepping stones and a bit of a slog through some woodland and the checkpoint was in sight.

We got through this one nice and efficiently, grabbing a few salty baby potatoes and some sweets for the next climb – the first properly boring bit of the route up a straight road called The Long Causeway, which seemed to go on for ages. I’d relaxed enough to engage “sandwich pace” so anything even remotely resembling an uphill was definitely a walk. Once off the road we were back on farm paths, tracks and rolling fields – I don’t actually remember a huge amount of note about this bit actually which considering how long this report already is is probably a good thing, but it continued to be beautiful and we celebrated reaching the half point with a quick photo stop. Half way round already! We’d started to overtake some of the early starters by this point which made the race even more sociable and friendly, and were to-ing and fro-ing with a nice trio of chaps from Rivington Run Club, who kept us company as we reached Todmorden. I was suddenly aware that despite taking on bits of fuel throughout, I was definitely approaching hungry and this swiftly almost became a tantrum as I tried to catch up with Jim to get his attention that I needed to stop and eat something NOW. With impeccable timing, we reached a sign displaying 3 sausages, like what you’d see when you start to indicate to leave the motorway, but with more mustard. 100m later, another with 2 hotdogs. Then 1. We were about to reach HOT DOG JUNCTION! Turns out this was exactly what I needed, but I did do a lot of faffing with condiments and photos and was definitely getting on Jim’s nerves a bit. Nevertheless, it was in high spirits that we left checkpoint 3, through Tod and with just 1.6 miles to go to checkpoint 4 at the amusingly named Mankinholes. Easy, right? WRONG.

Little did I know that the ups and downs we’d experienced so far were just a taster of what was to come. A jaunt through the town of Todmorden, over the first stile of the race and onto by far the steepest climb so far. We could see Stoodley Pike looming ahead of us so we knew this was just the beginning, and it was WARM – about 15 degrees and full sun, a real shock to the system after training in almost exclusively cold and wet conditions. I huffed and puffed my way up, saying hello to a friendly Youtuber Dom on the way (you can see my cameo and get a feel for the hill around 13 minutes in here) before a bit of respite across some nice easy fields and a cruise in to checkpoint 4, where we’d been promised doughnuts and whisky – I’d been looking forward to this bit, expecting a quick dram of something cheap and cheerful to give us the courage to take on the might of Stoodley Pike. Imagine my DELIGHT when there was a massive table with a choice of six whiskies, each with tasting notes! I chose a Japanese whisky, Nikka Days, which was light and bright and surprisingly refreshing. LOVELY. Raspberry doughnut clutched in one hand, whisky in the other, off we went up to what would be the highest point in the race. I enjoyed nonchalantly taking my time here, it was too tough and there was still too much ground to cover to push it, and it was really just the most gorgeous day. I think this was my favourite part of the whole course.

We reached the top just ahead of our new Rivington friends, Jim having confided in me he’d decided for no reason he’d like to beat them. As they flopped down onto the grass for a rest at the summit, Stoodley Pike Monument providing a welcome area of shade, I merrily yelled LET’S GO, JIM and we began to clatter our way down the Pennine Way towards Hebden Bridge. A few on the way round had warned us about this downhill (one man described it as the worst bit of the Spine Race) but I enjoyed it and it felt good to get a bit of pace back in the legs. Nobody had mentioned the steep set of stairs we had to climb though, which were particularly unwelcome, especially as they led to a long uphill on tarmac to Heptonstall which I described as “dastardly”. I didn’t even attempt to run any of this bit. It was worth it though as at the top we reached the Cross Inn and checkpoint 5, where sadly the promised chips weren’t available but we stocked up on Jelly Babies and got a cup of homemade Tom Yum soup which was absolutely divine. Hot, sour, salty… I didn’t know a bit of tangy cauliflower was what I needed but it did the trick. We were pretty much at marathon distance now and it was becoming a slog but I was still moving ok and mostly still feeling quite jolly, plus we were off the tarmac and back onto lovely trails, a bit of woodland before being back on the moors and the home straight to Haworth. Despite the slowing of the pace, I was fully confident I’d finish now and whilst my secret “A” goal of sub 8 hours seemed out of reach, maybe I could still get the B goal of finishing before the last checkpoint closed (which would give a finish time of 8.15).

Soon enough we were on familiar territory having rejoined the path we’d reccied a few months before – the last 5 miles! Knowing what was to come gave me a good boost and I mustered up a clunky sort of jog (my hip flexors and quads weren’t happy) to the final checkpoint. No messing about at this one, last bit of squash top up and straight off, up yet another tarmac climb, this one the steepest of the lot. This seemed to take a lot out of me and I was feeling weary. Jim suggested I use my sole gel, that I very rarely take and especially not on long slow things when there’s proper food on offer instead, but hey, why the hell not. Anyway I don’t know what this did to me but it was magic. Leaving the road at “Top O’The Stairs” and with 5k to go to the finish, I ran. Actually, properly, ran. My legs felt great, I’d been fearing for my tired feet on this technical descent (even the map had printed on it “be careful as it’s horrible” here) but they were wide awake, and I could almost see Haworth on the horizon. A look at the watch and maybe this sub 8 was doable after all?! And that was it – I gritted my teeth, my determination was set, and I just kept running. All the way down to Leeshaw Reservoir, even a bit of uphill, still running. I must have overtaken about 20 people, including three lovely women from Helm Hill who we’d seen a number of times throughout the race who greeted us each time with “Hello, yellow people!”. One final shitty bit of uphill tarmac to power hike over, shortlived this time though, 50km done and just a country park to get through. So I ran. The last bit of the race was a blur, contouring the side of Penistone Hill before finally reaching the village, dash through the graveyard, out onto a bustling Main Street dodging around bemused tourists, crossing the road and into the school grounds. “Where’s the finish?!” I asked a man in a high-viz, only to be informed I’d crossed it, so that was a bit of an anti-climax… but I was absolutely elated. 7.43.10, a 50k PB (by a hilarious 5 seconds), one of my favourite days out ever and free ham and pineapple pizza at the end.

I really can’t recommend this race enough. It’s low key, a bit crackers, incredibly friendly, challenging yet accessible, full of surprises and the bargainous price of £21 with all profits going to a combination of worthy causes.