The Northern Traverse 2025 – The Art of Spreading the Effort Evenly

There is a story about Jeff Browning advising Courtney Dauwalter, at the start of her first Hardrock 100, to spread the effort evenly throughout the race, like peanut butter over a piece of bread. It is a good story and a beautifully simple analogy, that has been handed down from one trail running legend to the next over the years. For the full story listen to Episode 2 (Jeff Browning) of the Hardtalk by the Hardrock 100 Endurance Race podcast.

For the Ourea Events Northern Traverse I had two “whys”.

Why #1: I wanted to learn more about sleep deprivation. After the 2022 Spine I was firmly convinced that sleep deprivation was horrendous and something I never wanted to experience again. A few years on, memories of the suffering had slowly faded, my curiosity came back. Was sleep deprivation just like any other problem in long-distance running? Could it be cracked? As a non-stop race over 190 miles (300km) the Northern Traverse offered the perfect opportunity to explore that question. It also tied up nicely with my second why.

Why #2: The Wainwrights Coast to Coast route had been on my hiking bucket list for ages. The journey connects the west coast in Cumbria with the east coast in Yorkshire and crosses three National Parks: the Lake District, the Yorkshire Dales and the North York Moors, all stunningly beautiful landscapes and very distinct in their character. The Northern Traverse race route diverts from the hiking route in some places, but these diversions are minor, and I was satisfied that – as long as I finished the race – it would suffice to regard that hike as completed.

However, I also brought a dilemma to this race.

I got a little trigger happy and had signed up for every Scottish hill race that I could squeeze into the summer starting at the beginning of May. Therefore, I had factored in just about three weeks of recovery time and that made it crucial to manage the Northern Traverse really well. This was not about the best time or ranking. It was about completing the route, giving enough to feel I did the race justice, to be satisfied with my performance and holding back enough to not completely fall apart. I had to learn how to spread the effort evenly.

I had managed to recce the route (ironically, in that process already completing Why# 2) and knew how quickly I could cover each section based on a brisk hiking speed. I knew when I would approximately reach each of the main checkpoints, aimed to get a little sleep at every stop and had a set time when I wanted to be back on the trail. Based on these calculations a finishing time of around 80 hours seemed possible. Armed with my best laid plan and the anticipation that it all might “gang agley” I headed to St Bees on April 4^th. I had managed to get a room right at the seafront, which I shared with my good friend Laura. This was a happy opportunity to catch up with her, as I do not see her often and once the race had started, I would not see her again as Little Miss Speedy runs at the sharp end.

I can do this race with my eyes closed!

The morning of April 5^th was clear and chilly. I headed to the start line to cheer on a few fellow Westies that were running the Lakes Traverse (they got an hour head start) and then got ready for my adventure.

Saki & Elspeth at the start of the Lakes Traverse, which they crushed as 3rd & 4th female respectively!

As per tradition I dipped my toes in the Irish Sea to baptise them for the journey ahead. Going against tradition I had decided that “Leave No Trace” included not taking a pebble across the country. At 08:30am we were off. The first few miles followed the coast path and then turned inland over fields and along country lanes. After Ennerdale Bridge we reached the truly scenic section through the Lake District. Pillar loomed impressively above the pretty valley and at the far end of Ennerdale we faced our first sharp climb over to Honister Pass. I had caught up with the back end of the Lakes Traverse at this point and was making good progress. The general mood all around was joyous. Everyone was having a good time.

crossing over to Honister, looking back at Buttermere

The support point at Rosthwaite offered food and was a handy spot for a short breather before the long climb up and over to Grasmere. Here I kitted up for the night before carrying on to Grisedale Tarn, which I reached not long after sunset. During the night the temperature dropped significantly, and I was happy to reach Patterdale for a longer break. It was just after 10pm, about 14 hours on the go! I dozed in Patterdale for a couple of hours. It was a little too early into the race for a proper sleep, but I wanted to reset and recover a bit of energy. This was all part of my theory: start recovery early = hold on for longer!

I left Patterdale in the small hours on Sunday and joined a group of Lakes Traverse runners making their way up to Angle Tarn and Kidsty Pike, the highest point on the route. The night was clear and calm, it was a real treat to be out on the fells. The new day dawned as I moved along Haweswater and I reached Shap a couple of hours later. 100km were in the bag! There had been absolutely no drama up to this point. It was such a wonderful feeling to run without pressure, enjoy the moments and not be anxious about any cut-off times.

sunrise over Haweswater

The 18 mile stretch between Shap to Kirkby Stephen was moorland and limestone country. It was easy terrain. I could see far ahead and was still moving well, so I started a little game of catching people. I did not want to waste important energy, but I was having fun and the game kept me entertained. Along this stretch I had the pleasure of making the acquaintance of Gordon, the man with the best moustache in the race. He had barely broken a sweat and was jolly company, so the miles to Kirkby ticked over quickly. We reached the checkpoint just after 2pm, nearly 30 hours into the race. I felt quite drained from the long hours in the sun and decided to maximise my resting time.

Four hours later I left Kirkby again. I felt refreshed, but also somewhat wary that this feeling might not last very long. I steadily climbed up to the Nine Standards Rigg and got there just as the sun was setting. It was the most beautiful spectacle and my favourite moment of the race. Richard and Graham had caught up with me and we descended from the moor together. It was on the way to Ravenseat that I started to feel drained and tired. This worried me as there was still a whole lot of night time ahead, few support points on the way and the night was too cold for roadside naps. The first night had been chilly but overall brilliant for running. This night plummeted to sub-zero temperatures and became rather brutal. I figured the best I could do was to hold on to the guys to avoid being alone when I felt a bit wobbly.

    Nine Standards Rigg

The memory of the second night is dominated by a lot of brain fog. I remember Richard and Graham pulling a bit ahead near Keld, but I was able to catch back up and we travelled through the whole old mining area and into Reeth together. We also teamed up with Olivia during the night, but I seem to remember a few other people being around…and then not being around…so I am a little doubtful if they were actually real. Shortly after Reeth was the Dales Bike Centre that offered a free hot drink during opening hours. I got there at 2:30am! No hot drinks for me then! However, the toilets were open and I was just losing a battle with some sleep monsters, so a sheltered 15-minute nap on the floor of a loo was needed.

15 minutes was all it took to clear my head. I could then address the other issues I had struggled with during the night. As I got into Reeth I had felt incredibly cold, probably exacerbated by being sleepy, but there was no denying that the night was freezing and my layers were not quite cutting it. I remembered that I always carried an extra foil blanket with me and decided this was the situation where it had to be employed. I wrapped it around me as an additional mid-layer, which obviously was a rather noisy process. However, I was willing to face the resentment of my toilet companions for the benefit of being warm. I headed onto the trail again, gently crinkling but feeling cosy as I moved towards Richmond.

Another issue was eating, and not necessarily as you might expect it. I was not bored of any of my race food nor did I feel nauseous. On the contrary, I was ravenous and ate non-stop. The process of stuffing food into my face and the endless chewing made my gums sore. I was exhausted by it and was desperate for a break, but I was too hungry. There was not much I could do about it as I had to keep eating. It just was such a demoralising affair.

Somewhere in the fiddly fields between Marrick and Marske I caught up with three pals who seemed rather sleep deprived and together we lost and found our way across the many fields and stiles in that area. We aimlessly milled along a fence line or wall until one of us stumbled over the correct path out of the maze. After Marske I met Eleanor, who struggled with some bad blisters and seemed to have a bit of a low point. Together we covered the last few miles into Richmond where we got to the checkpoint on Monday morning at 06:30am, 46 hours into the race. The checkpoint was quiet, and the early morning temperature was ideal for sleeping, so I got a very good rest.

the checkpoint, just below Richmond castle

I left Richmond around lunchtime and felt great. Everything was going as planned. I was still able to move well, and my sleep strategy was working, at least so far! I fell into pace with Oliva, the most formidable force on the trail, and together we trotted merrily along the River Swale for a few miles until we reached the dreaded road section. Dreaded by me! I do not think Olivia minded so much, she kept trotting on like a superstar while I became increasingly despondent. In Danby Wiske I was hot and bored, so I decided to air my feet and have a quick 10-minute nap on the village green. Afterwards I made better progress but by the time I got to the A19 dual carriageway I felt like I had finally started to fall apart. I was certain the section between Richmond and Ingleby Arncliffe must have destroyed many souls.

At Ingleby Cross I popped into the Blue Bell Inn to ask for some water and ended up asking for chips and cola as well. This little food-stop blew new life into me. I happily skipped up to the Cleveland Way and along to the next checkpoint in Lordstones, where I arrived just after 9pm, after nearly 61 hours on the go.

The plan was to have a good sleep at this checkpoint and spend half of the third night recovering. Best laid plans and all that… The night was freezing! I have camped in cold weather before, but this was a new level of discomfort. For the benefit of others in my tent, and possibly the whole camp, I had decided not to sleep in my crinkly foil blanket. Maybe I should have! Even with several layers of clothes, a good sleeping bag and a hand warmer on my chest I was still cold. I spent some time tossing and turning, until I managed a little bit of sleep, but I did not feel particularly refreshed when I got up and sorted myself for the last section. 40 miles to the finish! How much effort did I still have left to spread after this semi-successful rest?

On a positive note all the muscles were still fine. There was some fatigue in the quads, but nothing was too terrible. The feet ached a bit, that was to be expected at this point, and I had one blister on the side of one toe but that did not cause any bother at all. And so I slogged off into the third night wrapped in all my layers and the foil blanket. I silently cursed the undulating terrain of the Cleveland Way knowing I would miss it once we reached the flat dismantled railway line. Bloworth Crossing, the point where the Northern Traverse and Cleveland Way part, came sooner than expected. The night was atmospheric with bands of mist blowing over the moors but as much as I tried to find the magic in that moment the stretch to High Blakey Moor became another hard ask. More sleep monsters rocked up on the Struggle Bus, the miles crept along slowly and the head became heavy once more.

I got to the Lion Inn just after 6am on Tuesday morning and snuggled into a sheltered corner in the yard for a nap, but it did not work. I was too unsettled, and that tiny bench was rubbish, so I was on my way again after only four minutes. Some five miles out of Glaisdale, the sun was high enough in the sky to feel warm, I spotted a particularly comfortable patch of heather and dived right into it for a 10-minute nap. And at 9am I finally reached Glaisdale, nearly 73 hours on the move.

Glaisdale Village Hall had been the place where I volunteered the year before and some of last year’s crew were there again, so it felt very much like a homecoming. The previous year I had witnessed runners coming back to life here and I was determined to sort myself out. I rested for 30 minutes, managed another nap, ate something and massaged my feet, which were starting to swell.

There was also a new consideration to make. It was 19 miles to Robin Hood’s Bay without any more significant stops. I was in 12^th position and two ladies, Olivia and Maria, were not too far ahead. I was not sure how much motivation I had to chase a position, especially as I had determined this to be irrelevant before the race, but the possibility of wiggling myself into the top ten was rather enticing. It was time to think about racing.

The climb out of Grosmont was hilarious. The “hill that keeps on giving” was steep and went on for possibly two miles. On the far side of the little moor we had to cross was a somewhat shorter but equally steep descent to Littlebeck and here I finally lost my sense of humour. I had been trying to catch the ladies without success and started to feel frustrated with myself. I was hot, hungry, tired and pretty much done with the race. Ten miles from the finish and I had finally run out of spread. Or that’s what I thought!

The Falling Foss café was a few miles along the trail, where we could claim a free drink during opening hours. I made plans to have a rest there, drink a coffee and get something to eat, revive the spirit. The area was busy with day visitors. As I reached the café and bee-lined to the toilets I had to wait there in line for a few minutes. On the way back I counted about a dozen people in another line waiting to order. This coffee was not happening! I had been prepared to take a break to eat and drink, but waiting in line felt like an unproductive waste of time. I just could not face being idle. Maria and Olivia were sitting in the café with their drinks, one tried to convince me that the coffee was definitely worth it and that I should also try the ice cream. Almost apologetically I excused myself “I cannot handle this queue, I gotta go!” and headed back out on to the trail.

Up to that moment I had been too grumpy to realise that I had just skipped two positions. This really hit me as I pulled away and the reaction was something I rarely experienced in a race. All at once I was bright awake, super motivated and filled with energy. I was certain both ladies would catch up with me again, they had proven to be really strong runners. I now had to defend my position as best as I could, and I was keen to give it my best shot. What struck me most was that the situation did not feel unnerving or serious. It felt like a game. I was having fun again and was curious to see what would happen. Ten coffees could not have perked me up like that. I started running again, actually running, not just the achy 180-mile-shuffle. I did a proper shift and covered the last section in just under three hours. I rolled down the last steep hill into Robin Hood’s Bay and reached the finish line on Tuesday after about 80 hours. 79 hours 55 minutes to be exact as the 10^th female finisher.

I dipped my toes into the North Sea and added my name to the Coast-to-Coast completion book (ask for it in the upstairs bar of the Bay Hotel). I sat by the finish line for a little while, chatting to other runners and supporters, letting the journey sink in. Then I headed to the Village Hall for food and eventually to my hotel. Overall, the race could not have gone better for me. There was a fair amount of luck, of course. Even though the cold nights were still challenging, we were blessed with the most amazing weather that made a lot of things easier.

As for sleep deprivation, yes I think it can be managed, at least to a degree. I did manage it much better than compared to the Spine, but I also did not get it completely right and had to take more frequent short naps towards the end. I suppose there always remains an element out of your control that you just have to adjust to in the moment.

The Northern Traverse allowed me to combine my physical strength, patience and resourcefulness. I knew my body could handle the distance. I knew the duration each section would take me. I kept to my schedule and did not rush, but I also did not waste time. I was also better at dealing with wobbles, which largely comes down to experience, I think. This was the first time a race went pretty much exactly to plan, and it feels so incredibly satisfying.

The race has a really happy wind-down as well. As I was hanging around Robin Hood’s Bay until Thursday morning, I had lots of opportunities to catch up with other runners, event crew and celebrate more finishers trickling in. This was the perfect way to decompress and start to reflect on the journey. More races need to have an “Après-Run”!