The Spine, take 2. I thought I’d be racing for closure. It turned out I was racing for me.

A few days before I started the Spine, I wrote a blog outlining why I was returning to the race. In that post, I reflected on what success would look like. Most importantly I felt, success would be drawing a line under the chaos of the last year and reclaiming my memories of the Spine for myself. Yet 30 minutes before the race began, when a friend asked me how I would view success, my answer surprised me. I realised that I had already achieved everything I needed to by simply getting to the start line.

I’d spent time processing everything that had happened over the past year, enough to write about it. I’d had the courage to share some of my story and received validation from what felt like hundreds of women both for my experience and my decision to talk about it. I’d relived Spine training, revisited the entire Pennine Way, and had found silver linings in everything that had happened, not least the love I now have for long-distance adventures by foot and the amazing ultra-running community. All of that, I realised, was enough to draw me my line in the sand. I didn’t need to finish the race to find closure; getting to the start was enough.

And this realisation brought with it a wave of unburdened happiness. It may sound strange or over-dramatic, but the start line was the first time in over a year that I truly felt like myself. As a triathlete, someone once told me to race with joy, and looking back, I’m convinced that my performance at the Spine came from the release of this pure, unrestrained joy, a feeling that had been buried for a year. I wasn’t racing for closure; I was racing for me.

Physically, I’m not entirely sure my body should have been able to pull together the performance it did. I had struggled with sciatica for eight weeks leading up to the race, making running painful and incredibly slow. The first time I was able to hop on my left leg was just five days before the race. Under normal circumstances, I might have deferred my entry. Any coach would have told me to rest. But in my mind, I had convinced myself that this race was the key to moving forward and because of that, I kept shuffling. Back in 2016, I broke my collarbone just eight weeks before the Ironman World Champs. It was psychology, not physical fitness, that carried me to a 9th place finish, and what has stayed with me from this experience is the power of mindset in performance.  So, I drew on psychology during the weeks before the Spine, focusing on what I could do both physically (big slow miles, albeit painful, with a pack, the watt-bike, mobility and flossing, a £70 steam tent from amazon), and, just as importantly, practically. I’m not a spreadsheet person but I spent a whole day making a spreadsheet to plan out fuelling, sleep options, navigation; all ways to build my confidence in a way that looking back at my strava diary may not have done.  The Spine is a bit about athletic performance but it’s more about mindset, decision making and problem solving when it matters most. Mindset matters and, despite the sciatica (which had completely cleared up by the start) I knew that psychologically, I was ready.

Looking back at the race itself, I’m honestly not sure I could have done much differently. Maybe a bit more sleep before the Cheviots; perhaps a bit less faffing at the checkpoints, though the extra time there probably helped me recover. There have only been a few races in my life where I felt I truly squeezed every ounce of performance from my body, and this is one of them.

I’ve recorded a few podcasts that dive deeper into my race experience (links at the end), but here are some of the key highlights (and low points):

  • Climbing Jacob’s ladder in the sun screaming out in joy at the stunning views.
  • 33 hours from CP1 with a stranger called Tim (Broadhurst). We didn’t talk much but I thrived on the companionship, solidarity and accountability. Ultimately, going along with Tim’s decision to sleep at Keld (120ish miles, 35 hours into the race) was the decision that drove my positivity and energy for the next 50 hours. I left Keld with what felt like a new body and a new mind, on a mission to prove to myself that the 70 minute sleep would buy me time back and I don’t think I would have done what I did without that sleep.
  • Running with Robyn from CP3 to Dufton on the Tuesday morning, laughing and chatting as the mist cleared and the sun came out. It felt like a training jog. “Robyn, this is crazy, we’re WINNING THE SPINE” I shrieked at one point. We even called ahead to the café in Dufton to order sausage sandwiches and double espressos to go.
  • Leaving CP4 without sleep at around 6 p.m., nervous about the night ahead but convinced it was the right decision. Realising that, for the first time since I retired from triathlon, I was fully embracing being competitive.
  • A cold, broken rest on the floor of the toilets at the start of Hadrian’s wall, leaving without feeling regenerated.
  • The long night along Hadrian’s wall. My brain has blocked out the really low points, but I somehow recorded a harrowing video that shows just how broken I was. Painful though it is to listen back, I’m glad I have this memory of the tough times as well as the incredible highs.
  • A 40-minute sleep at Horneystead that felt like a full night’s sleep.
  • Seeing mum and dad just outside Bellingham.
  • Leaving Bellingham knowing that, whatever happened from there on, I’d done everything I could to look after myself up to that point and feeling proud at what I had achieved so far.
  • Asking someone who had won the men’s race and being told the leader (Kim) was just a few hours ahead. This was when it hit me that it was just Wednesday lunchtime and that what I was doing in pure performance terms was special.
  • Struggling to breathe climbing the Cheviot. Joining forces with John Kelly just after hut one. Grilling him for entertaining running stories during that final leg.
  • Savouring the clear sky, stars and moon over the Cheviots as I remembered what a privilege it is to have a body and mind that allows me to do these crazy things.
  • The final climb, stopping every ten steps to catch my breath, allowing myself to accept I was almost there and wouldn’t crumble before the finish.
  • Playing “Sweet Caroline” on repeat as I shuffled the last 1 km to the finish, just as I had dreamed of since first walking the Pennine Way in 2021. (Sorry, John!)
  • Crossing the finish line, surrounded by friends and family, overwhelmed with satisfaction, pride, and gratitude.

The Spine race is less about competition and more about adventure. It’s a journey that allows you to live what feels like a lifetime in just a few days. Yes, of course I’m proud of my performance, but I’m far prouder of the resilience that brought me to the start line. In the end, for every athlete, this race is about far more than the finish time and I expect many others would feel the same.

There are so many people I’d like to thank, who made this experience what it was for me. The volunteers, who selflessly give up so much time to look after tired, smelly and broken runners. Nikki, who captured the essence of the race so beautifully on my socials. Bex, who was my sounding board before and during the race, particularly when it came to sleep. Everyone who donated to Move Against Cancer. I’m honestly humbled by your generosity and it’s such a privilege to be able to turn a hobby into a platform that promotes a charity that I care so deeply about. Everyone who responded to my pre-race blog and validated me taking the leap to share it, particularly those who shared their own experiences with me. The tribe of awesome women I’ve met this year who make me feel loving bogs, mud, big miles and being just a little bit broken is entirely normal. And mum and dad, for supporting me always.

You might think ultra-running is a solo sport. The reality is it’s anything but.

Donate to Move Against Cancer

A few links you might enjoy (click on bold bits).

Podcasts:

Miles from Ordinary with Nikki and Bex (AND TIM!):

Run Ultra

Young hearts run free

Work on your mindset with Iron-Mind:if you want an insight into some of the tools I use to work on my mindset (most of which are now so inbuilt that I use them subconsciously), check out Iron-Mind (use code SPINE40 to buy for just £40 – https://www.thinkbelieveperform.co.uk/iron-mind )

Move Against Cancer charity: moveagainstcancer.org

Thanks for reading!

Photo credits: Adam Jacobs (finish pic) and unknown (snow pic)

Lucy Gossage – Adam Jacobs @Wild Aperture-5
Lucy Gossage – Adam Jacobs @Wild Aperture-5
Related Posts