Race Report: North Yorks 100km
100km. 2,200m elevation gain. Middle of summer. Here's how the day went.
20/06/26 6:59am: The start line was silent, or maybe I just zoned out the noise I'm not sure. Everyone is contemplating life decisions that led them here, staring up at the hill we were about to climb, the first of many. 2 minutes later, before I realise it, I'm at the top of that hill and we're on the flat. Time to control my breathing and remember not to worry about the guys at the front. It's an ultramarathon, not a sprint.
At the start of 2026, like many others, I began to set out my goals for the year. I'd recently completed the Lakes in a Day 50 miler. A brutal race that taught me many lessons. The natural next step was 100km/62 miles. Once I found the North Yorks ultra challenge there was no other option. Scarborough to Whitby and back, along the famous Cleveland Way and across the moors. I travelled there many times growing up so it's a place close to my heart.
Training was far from perfect. A foot injury kept me out for all of February. Illness and travel caused me to miss half of May, then I made a mistake by increasing volume too quick causing a hamstring tendon injury leaving me unable to run 2 weeks out. Physio work and a careful taper got me to the start line in one piece.
Pre-race
In the week leading up to the race, anxiety was high. Will my leg hold up? Am I fit enough? I've been telling people about this for months, what if I fail? So much could go wrong but as my friend Josh reminded me, 'there's so much that can and will go right'. The only thing guaranteed was that I'd give it everything.
Having a detailed, flexible race day plan is crucial. I packed clothes for all weathers, spare shoes, socks, first aid kit, chafing cream, enough carbs to feed a small village. There were mini aid stations every 10-15km where I would stop to refill water. Every 25km was a bigger aid station where Erin, my fiancée and one-woman crew, could give me supplies and encouragement. I gave her a checklist of things I needed, including enough carbs for 3-4 hours, electrolytes, caffeine etc. All this was planned to avoid making bad decisions under stress.
The Race
The first 10km ran inland through Scarborough before joining the Cleveland Way up towards Whitby along the cliffs. I'd pushed hard early and felt good until around 21km. I had shooting pains in my hip and the temperature was rising. A couple of brutal climbs meant I got into the first big aid station feeling like I'd ran the full thing. It was barely 10am and I was already pouring water over my head and lathering on sun cream. Long day ahead.
I left that aid station feeling refreshed, but the climbing continued. The water dried fast and my skin turned into a magnet for insects. I focused on fuelling while hiking the climbs, so I wouldn't have to slow down once the trail opened up again. it made the slow sections feel productive. In the following section, things got better. What goes up must come down, finally a descent. I was able to speed up and because I'd been fuelling on the hills, I was able to just focus on running. The hip pain was gone, the start line nerves had gone, I was in flow state.
I tried to cling onto this feeling as long as I could, but the sun broke through the clouds again, sending my heart rate through the roof. The halfway point was only 10km away, but it took an age to get there.
Finally, there it was, Whitby abbey looking spectacular in the sunshine. My family were waiting there to greet me, seeing them was a big morale boost. I sat for a few minutes, ate some chips, refilled my pack, then it was time to go again. I probably sat a little too long because getting going again was tough. I headed down the famous 199 steps from the abbey into Whitby town, on a sunny Saturday afternoon. As expected, I had to fight my way through the crowds, across the swing bridge, past the arcades and chip shops. Slowly, as I moved inland, the sounds and smells of comfort disappeared.
The Long Way Back
Soon I was alone again. Another 50km in front of me. A strange calm came over me, it may be far, but I was on my way back towards the finish. The body was hurting but I'd settled into a rhythm, the trail was flat, and I was moving well. The next 10km were steady.
That soon changed as I was heading up some country lanes, out towards the moors. A big climb zapped my energy. Then I checked my phone, which was about to die. Josh, who'd been tracking me from home had sent a text, 'some elevation coming up, best part of the race'. Oh no, that hill wasn't what he meant. A very steep descent cooked my quads. Then I turned a corner and my head dropped as I realised what was in front of me, a seemingly endless climb. With the sun on the back of my neck, I remembered what I was here for- to test my resilience, to see what I was capable of. The next 10km were that test. Completely alone. There was no one cheering out here.
My brain had to work just as hard as my body to keep me moving forward. Concentration lapsed for a moment. As I headed down a narrow, overgrown trail through the woods, getting swarmed by insects and stung by nettles, I didn't care. I was just grateful to be going downhill. Then I realised, I haven't seen a marker for a while. I stopped for a moment and considered going back, 'no, it must be this way' my mind was playing tricks on me. Deep down I knew I'd made a mistake, but I didn't want it to be true, so I kept moving, further and further down into the woods until I came to a junction at a river. Two bridges, no signs… the thought of going back up that trail was so unbearable that I actually started crossing one of the bridges, just a complete guess. No. I had to turn back. I couldn't even laugh at myself in this moment; I was pissed off. The anger lit a fire; I made up the ground as quickly as I could. I made it back to the top, saw the sign clearly pointing in the other direction. Swore at myself one last time, put it behind me and got moving.
The Final Push
Still 10km until the next aid station, sweating buckets but saving my water until I came across a lad stood at the end of the trail handing out water. What a legend. He nodded at the hill beside us and promised it wasn't too long. It wasn't exactly flat, but it was a runnable gravel track.
As I approached the final big aid station at 78km, I could see the flags and parked cars just the other side of a huge valley. They like to put aid stations at the top of big climbs. I can see the logic but it's torture. I spotted a couple of other runners ahead of me, they were struggling. I ran down to the bottom of the valley, put my head down and power hiked up the steep, unforgiving hillside. As I reached the top I started running again straight away, passing 3 runners, the same ones I'd passed a couple of hours earlier before my wrong turn!
I arrived at the third big aid station in a world of pain, head pounding, legs heavy, feet throbbing. But there was Erin, waiting with a big smile, ready to restock me for the final stretch. She could see I was hurting; I'd given everything on that last section. I felt like I'd been crawling, like I was failing. Then she told me I was in 25th place. I didn't believe her, I'd just been surviving out there. Apparently, everyone else had been suffering as well, she told me about people who had dropped out of the race. Then I remembered I'm supposed to feel like this, being tired at 78km is to be expected.
'See you at the finish line', she said as I hobbled away from her, slowly getting my stride back. Just over a half marathon left, I could already see another 2 runners ahead of me, I had my eyes on top 20.
Imagine starting a half marathon barely able to run. To me it felt like I was almost home. The next section was across moorland very similar to what I train on at home, I was in my element now. My mindset had switched; my race had finally begun. I quickly passed 3 more people and pushed until I was out of sight, 'don't let them see you slow down', I thought. Around 9pm approaching the final water stop, the temperature was finally starting to drop as one of the most beautiful sunsets I've ever seen was on display behind me. I almost lost my footing for a second as I looked over my shoulder in awe. I only enjoyed it for a moment but that was all I needed; it's etched in my memory now.
After another sickening climb just before the final rest stop, 12km out, I stopped for just a moment to scan my tracker, take on water then straight out. I was in a race against the sun as well as the other runners. I'd forgotten to pack my head torch, and I reckoned I had about 90 minutes of daylight left. No problem I thought, until my right calf started cramping. I slowed down for a moment, didn't panic, I've been here before and come prepared for this. I quickly took three sodium tablets, downed a load of the water I'd just refilled, walked for a minute then kept moving.
Soon I was moving well again, passed another 2 runners who were deep in the pain cave. As the air cooled and the overgrown trail turned into a flat cycle path lit with streetlights, I started to open up and strides became longer. There was no reason to hold anything back anymore. I poured most of my remaining water over my head which gave me a rush of adrenaline. My watch was dead so no measure of heart rate or pace. I was just emptying the tank.
The feeling I had in the last few kilometres was indescribable joy, satisfaction, relief, gratitude for having a body this capable and disbelief at how good I was feeling. How was I still able to push? 40km ago the tank was empty, or so I thought. That just proves how much of that pain was mental.
The Finish Line
I completed my first ever 100km! I don't think that finish line feeling will ever get old. This one was made special by my dad and grandparents travelling 45 mins at 11pm to greet me, massive credit to them and my fiancée Erin for getting me through the day.
Time: 15hrs 54mins
Overall position: 20th / 370
That result settled something. I came to find out what I was capable of, and the answer was more than I'd believed standing on that hill at 6:59am. I've got the taste for competition now, and I know where this goes. The goal is to be winning these races within the next two to three years. I'll be documenting every step. Stay tuned.
