May Microadventure: Unwelcome on the Welcome Way
5 min read.
If you’d have told me in the midst of post-natal depression and anxiety that I’d be running ultra distances just a couple of years later, I wouldn’t have believed you. But here we are, one random Thursday I took off work to run 50km solo and self-supported along the Welcome Way.
Training to this distance has been possible because I’m privileged to have a very supportive partner, a flexible job, and we have access to and can afford childcare.
Route
The Welcome Way is a 58km loop – I skipped a section to make it 50km – that passes through towns and villages in West Yorkshire where I live. I’ve walked it before but in three sections. To help run it in one go, I set myself some rules:
No dance music. I’m a sucker for 180 BPM and will run accordingly.
Walk up *all* hills. Even the ones I’ve run before. This is not a hill training day.
Switch my Garmin watch to the time – no KMs or pace to obsess over.
Pre-run
I’d set a super early alarm but my toddler needed settling at 2.30am, which led me to turn it off and mentally agree to run a shorter distance. Then we all slept in. This meant I did zero pre-run prep, as I tackled tiny clothes onto a tiny human to get her out the door in record time. And for the cherry on top, I got to nursery with 0% phone battery, meaning I couldn’t press the app doorbell. I was *that* parent. Was I really up for 50km? Probably not. But what was the alternative? Mope about the house – or worse, clean it!?
At 10am, I raided my two-year-old’s remaining Easter egg stash and ran away from cleaning duties.
0km-10km
The first stretch I know very well, these are farms and trails I run regularly. The biggest challenge was to not get ahead of myself and run too quickly. I resisted the urge to sprint up a hill I’m often Strava Local Legend on. While I said no music, I plugged into a few podcasts, worried 50km with only my internal voice for company would drive me mad. I never listen to podcasts when I run yet I smashed through:
Off Menu with Richard Ayoade
Off Menu with Stacey Dooley
10km-20km
The Allusionist - Polari
The News Quiz (Friday Night Comedy with BBC Radio 4)
These pretty much got me to lunchtime, undulating through the Wharfedale Valley with ease. I dined at one of the North’s finest eateries: Greggs. Sat in the widow people watching, I took small bites of my ham and egg sarnie and chewed well, conscious of running with bread in my gut. The same consideration was not given to the Lucozade and latte I guzzled like a lager lout in Benidorm.
I shoved the triple chocolate muffin in my vest for later, had a wee stop at Sainsbury’s, then went directly up and over the Chevin. With about 200m ish of climbing and gradients of 10%+, I was thankful I didn’t inhale my sandwich and of my ‘walk all hills’ rule.
20km-30km
This is where things got… interesting. As I dropped down into Guiseley, I reached a farmer’s field to find a herd of cows crowding the stile. I tried to cross, assuming they’d move. They didn’t. Several bigger and bolder attempts to cross proved fruitless. Grunting and frisky, these cows had an attitude I did not want to mess with.
Surely I can outsmart a cow!
I hopped the barbed wire fence into the next field – careful not to rip my favourite running tights – followed the drystone wall, then hopped into their domain. They hadn’t even noticed me. As soon as I started running, however, something caught my eye in the other direction: a lone cow. And it wasn’t a loner for long, as the crowd I’d originally dodged joined in. I sped up. And so did they.
It’s remarkable how quick your mind works in those situations. In what feels like a second I’d:
Assessed that I probably couldn’t outrun them for the full length of the field
Written a newspaper headline in my head: ‘Local mum trampled by cows’
Noticed a beck running along the edge of the field, with a small ledge
In a split-second decision I darted left and leapt over the beck without thinking. For a moment, I was mid-air. I didn’t think I had that kind of jump in me. Somehow I landed cleanly on the sliver of grass. Now what? They had me cornered.
I weighed up my options and took a photo. Not wanting to chance my luck again, I climbed over the barbed wire fence I was pressed up against – without snagging my Skins I might add – and carried on off-route.
I thought about that newspaper headline for days after.
30km-40km
Being chased by cows made the last 20km – the bit I was most dreading – feel like a breeze. Perhaps I should have recruited the cows for Manchester Marathon the other week…
I was entering the most remote part of the route now, nothing but moors for miles. Oh and the village of Esholt where Emmerdale is filmed. Very quaint.
On top of Baildon Moor I asked the only other person up there for a photo. We got talking and as it turned out she was a retired ultrarunner who completed the Bob Graham Round – a 66-mile, 42-peak circuit through the Lake District – in 23 hours. I had so many questions. Then we parted ways, agreeing that running super long distances was addictive and with her telling me to give the Bob Graham Round a go. Food for thought...
That Greggs triple chocolate muffin and Phoebe’s Easter steal powered this section.
40km-50km
The final leg was mostly downhill, which sounds easy but my knees said otherwise. I abandoned my no music rule, as I needed a distraction. Although I did opt for something more chilled: Daniel Norgren – my new Swedish obsession.
My village felt like it wasn’t getting any closer, appearing and disappearing on the horizon. It was 6pm when I reached my street, just a couple of hundred metres to go. As I looked towards home I saw Dan and Phoebe waving and cheering me on. It was a lovely surprise and the perfect finish line to my first ultra.
What a run.
What’s next?
A 50-mile race. That’s what.
