Fiona Janzen - Moors Traverse

By Fiona Janzen

In the midst of some post-race blues I decided I needed a new challenge, one I was scared of, something I couldn’t say with certainty I would manage at the time of signing up. So that’s how I found myself on the start line of the Moors Traverse, running 80km across the North York Moors, despite having never run more than 36km before March (I wish I was joking but, alas, I am not).

Let’s rewind for a second, as an important part of my journey began about 5 weeks prior. A series of events I like to call “The Great Shoe Fiasco”. Now, I am very bad at briefly summarising so I will do it in the most ridiculously simple way possible.

Old shoes = blisters on anything over 40km - last minute discovery

New shoes bought that same evening = possible cause of severe pain in my left ankle/foot - I’m talking “I just want to sit and cry” pain which left me unable to bear weight on my heel for the rest of the day.

I can’t say for certain it was the shoes, as they were fine for most of a 52km run and the pain only started presenting towards the end more mildly. The real damage happened a few days later, but the shoes were the only consistent factor. It was about 2 weeks out from the race that I started really despairing and I truly thought that might have been the end of this adventure and I would have to drop out. The pain had subsided while walking but running was still quite sore. I have my suspicions what it was, but since I don’t have any medical evidence backing them up, having not been able to get an appointment in time, I will refrain from speculating here. Anyhow, I decided I would give it one last chance and did nothing but very low-impact cross-training at the gym, and while my mental sanity took a beating, my foot miraculously got better.

Now, back to the morning of Sunday. I would say it dawned, but as it was 03:00 when my alarm went off that would not technically be true. So I will say the morning of the race loomed. My nerves, which had been settling deep in my stomach for the previous few days, were surprisingly gone and replaced by a kind of grim determination. This was it and if I was ready or not would be proven in the next 19 hours. I quickly had as much granola and Alpro toddler milk (a long story) as I could stomach that early and shoved a banana and a Belvita bake into my bag for later. As I would be wearing the blister shoes, damage control was attempted, consisting of k-tape and granny-style nylon socks. The next hour flew past as I got ready and double and triple checked my kit. The cold weather kit was deposited in my drop bag, as I was still suspicious of the almost too good weather forecast to leave it behind before kit check, despite the promise of sunshine and clear skies. I joined the other runners getting the bus to the start and while many slept on the journey, I was somehow too alert to even attempt it.

I went through registration in a kind of trance and still no sign of the nerves that had accompanied my every waking minute the day before and that I have grown accustomed to on race days.

Moors Traverse start line ©Joel Jameson Photography

The countdown was, well, counted down and off we headed. My ankles were rather stiff at the start but I felt good. Very good for having not run in at least 2 weeks and I suddenly thought “I can do this”. I can honestly say I breezed through the first 13km to Lordstones. I felt strong, relaxed and almost like I was barely making an effort. The sun came out properly and I can’t really describe the wonderful feeling of just running and existing and everything seeming so right. It was as I headed into the checkpoint it hit me “shit, have I gone out too fast?”. I did after all still have 67km left. But it was more of an afterthought, because nothing could ruin my mood in that moment.

And then I hit the next hill. I was knackered, which was quite disheartening for me, as I am used to the hills of Glencoe and these should pale in comparison. I took my phone out to take a picture and saw a message from a friend; “Good luck” and it’s those two words that gave me the boost I needed, so thank you Michael. The next bit dragged on and on along the old railway and although I got into a bit of a walk, run rhythm, some really bad calf cramps came and went, hampering my progress. I’d never had issues before in training, so I did the only thing I could think of and increased the amount of Voom bar pieces I was eating for the electrolytes and kept drinking. I passed a guy hobbling along after a rolled ankle and walked with him for a short while (I saw runners ahead and behind doing the same as they pass) but he was on the phone to Race Control and pushing to the Lion Inn; I do hope your ankle recovers quickly Ian.

Climbing through the North York Moors ©Joel Jameson Photography

The water was starting to get rationed, as I was thirsty in the sun but I knew these 1.5 litres would need to last. The section into Glaisdale was a painful blur, but I must say most of the pain was more mental I think, although my calves were not helping matters. I started to put music on where I could, but it was just my luck that there are long sections along the road. The mental push I needed comes in the form of a remix of “Survivor” by Destiny’s Child as I finally made my way down towards Glaisdale.

The bottle refill, snacks and particularly the brief sit down were a welcome respite but far too quickly I knew I needed to start moving again. I caught the two guys who left just before and read their names as Duncan and Tim. We started moving together as we realised we were all struggling with some sort of problem and had funnily enough all set out with around the same goal time (12 ½ hours-ish). This section also passed in a blur, but in a very good way as we found a nice loop of ‘chat, run, walk, repeat’. I had heard the final big uphill was long, but bloody hell none of us had realised it was never ending! It dragged on and on and on but it was certainly made easier by keeping up an easy flow of conversation to distract us.

Another wee while later came a long downhill on the road and I felt surprisingly great, so I pulled ahead and manage to overtake three women that had passed us earlier. The calf cramps were gone but replaced by an aching, bruised feeling on my lower back which I think came from my bag (I knew my overpacking tendencies would be my downfall at some point) and the tell-tale burn of blisters on my feet. These were on previously not-expected areas as the tape seemed to be holding fast; mental note - tape + nylon socks works but just the socks doesn’t. Retrospectively, I should perhaps have been more bothered and could have still whacked on some tape to stop them becoming full-blown blisters, but my thinking was that I couldn’t be bothered taking my shoes off and it would all be over in less than 30km anyway, so I could push through.

At some point, I switched my running playlist to the soundtrack of songs from Epic: The Musical, which I had planned in advance. 2½ hours of an adaptation of The Odyssey did exactly what I had hoped and not only motivated me, but the images it evoked distract me just enough. Fittingly, my first proper glimpse of the coastline we would now be heading along came with the start of Poseidon’s first song.

The final 7km were simultaneously the most breathtaking but also the longest 7km I have ever run. Three of us made our way to Robin Hood’s bay together and we breathed a collective sigh of relief as we finally ran through the streets. It seems road downhills were my strength on Sunday, as I sped ahead and my leg muscles seemed to relax once more into ‘comfortable’ strides, showing me just how much I actually still had in the tank. My 4:19/km pace (for about 10 seconds but I’ll take it nonetheless) on Garmin later speaks volumes!

The coastal path to Robin Hood’s Bay ©Joel Jameson Photography

My sister, Ailsa, who was volunteering on the Northern Traverse event, was not at the finish yet, but I hadn’t expected her to be and we had promised to find each other at some point that evening or on Monday. I made my way back up the (very steep) hill to the village hall, and it was actually not as bad as expected, but then my muscles were still warm. My dad phoned just then, to tell me I’ve come 7th woman, 18th overall out of 42 on the start line. I had managed to shave a whole hour off my goal time, of which I feel I must credit at least half to the magnificent weather, which made all pain seem somehow less significant. Weirdly, I didn’t seem to feel much in the way of strong emotions; I think I was still just processing everything. This weird feeling continued into Monday morning, so I apologise to any of the event team who asked me how it was, as I think I gave rather lacklustre answers. The real answer is that I can’t find words for how incredible it was! It was absolutely the most empowering, wonderful adventure. This event has proved to me what my close friends and family have been telling me for a long time: I always underestimate myself and I am actually capable of far harder things than I think. I have done trail races, I have done hill races andwill continue to love and do both, but I truly think I have found my place in ultra running. There’s something there that just clicked (and no, it wasn’t my knee).

To finish this off in style, I want to just say a massive thank you to all the team and volunteers at Ourea. Thank you to Shane and Charlie and Jen for being such encouraging friendly faces at the start, support points and finish and of course all the other event team and volunteers who’s names I didn’t always catch. You have once again made this a phenomenal event, you really are the gold standard!