I got to the start in Helmsley slightly less daunted than last year but still filled with a tension that had built up over the previous week that only setting off would get rid of. Because it’s essentially cruel to deprive people of sleep whilst making them follow me around North Yorkshire very slowly, this time I had decided to divide up support duties into a night crew and day crew. Rich and Tim would follow me during the night whilst Lizzie, Mez and Lars would take over during the day. We relaxed in afternoon sunshine and waited for the clock to hit five.

At 5pm, a representative of the Cleveland Way gave a short speech, a 3-2-1 and off we went. It took about five minutes to lose the nerves and settle down into the 12 minute mile pace I was to going to keep to finish the race in one piece. In accordance with the promising weather forecast, the race organisers had deemed it OK for us to run without kit before 9pm and after 5am, so we weaved unencumbered through Ryedale towards Sutton Bank and the White Horse. I chatted with Steve about pace. Steve had finished in 31 hours two years ago and not setting off too quickly seemed to be a crucial factor in getting yourself all the way around. And before long we reached the White Horse.

It was hot, I was sweating a lot, and I had a long way to go, so I drank plenty, took on electrolytes and ate some food. Which sounds straightforward, but these are all things I’ve forgotten to do at different times in the not too distant past. My knee, which had become very painful after I ran 40 miles around Bradford a fortnight earlier was becoming  noticeably unsettled, so I got some deep heat on it and crossed my fingers. I set off again to meet Rich and Tim again in the top car park before setting off on the long stretch to Osmotherley.

The evening was glorious and cool, making for perfect running, with long views across the Vale of York into the Pennines and the Yorkshire Three Peaks (of which I’d run two a month ago) and back towards Harrogate from where I had set off three hours earlier. I started crossing paths with an interesting competitor called Aneurin, who said he didn’t like running and whose main training aside from a couple of 30 milers was running seven miles to and from his job in London. Despite these almost alarming revelations, he seemed to have a lot about him and I fancied his chances.

Osmotherley. I picked up my rucksack, put on a long sleeved top and forced down some rice pudding. I hate rice pudding at the best of times, and after 20+ miles I find it even less palatable, but it is the perfect fuel for this kind of effort – easily digestible and full of energy, so I treated it as just that, fuel, and crammed it down.

The next stretch saw my mood dip. I remembered that I’d had my brother with me at this point last time, and as darkness fell I began to feel a bit isolated. But then, I reflected, on an ultra-runner’s scale of potential woes,  not having someone to talk to does not rank high.

As darkness finally descended, I was on the long drag up Carlton Bank. This was less isolated than I had feared, not least because the night was punctuated with the shouts of people searching for self-clips. These had been left on the tops of hills for competitors to mark their race tallies to demonstrate they’d been there and had not taken short cuts. Yells -  ”I think that’s one… no it’s not”, “Is that it?”, “I’m just going to check that rock”, “You’d have thought we’d have seen one by now” – were audible every couple of minutes. Eventually we reached the summit, found the self-clip and everyone calmed down. I clipped and carried on down to the Lord Stones car park. Rich and Tim were there, and I was only ten minutes behind schedule which was great news. Even better, on setting off again I caught up with a man called Kev with whom I was privileged to run for the next 30 miles. Kev amused me immediately when he started talking about people ‘looking for the f**king self-clips’ and the trip up Hasty Bank and the Wainstones was made nice and easy as we distracted ourselves by chatting about our respective jobs and backgrounds. The fact he’d spent ten years in the marines filled me with confidence too. We made relatively light work of the big hills and met our support crews back at the bottom of the stretch up to Blowarth Crossing. We stopped briefly and then motored back up the hill, picking up Aneurin on the way, as we carried on towards the ancient drovers’ road that would take us down off the moors into Kildale, passing the cattle grid that did for me last time on the way. I flicked it a V when I was safely across.

On arrival at Kidale I was hungry, so got as much into me as possible. I wasn’t feeling great, but the marshal on the checkpoint said I looked brilliant and as fresh as he’d seen anyone. Whether or not he said this to all the competitors, it made me feel superb and I set off again brimming with confidence. The day was beginning to brighten and Kev and I set off again towards Captain Cook’s Monument and Roseberry Topping. I was a state at this point last time out, but fresh from my morale boost, a change of clothes and a handful of bbq flavour pringles, I had a real spring in my step. We got to Captain Cook’s monument without incident and met Rich and Tim again at the bottom carpark. We then decided to make things interesting by seeing if we could get to the top of Roseberry Topping in the same time it would take them to drive out of the valley, back round to the base of Roseberry and climb up it themselves. Kev and I set off to try and beat them, whilst scanning the horizon for other competitors we thought we might be able to catch. As we started our ascent up Roseberry, we found Flip Owen coming down and stopped for a brief chat with him before launching our assault. I found it about 100% easier than I had in September and was really chuffed to see Rich and Tim stood at the top talking to the marshal and enjoying the view. We had a bit of banter before setting off back down the hill in high spirits. What a difference sunshine and a few jokes make.

The next stop was the Fox and Hounds in Slapewath which meant making our way through Guisborough Woods. These go on and on when you’ve run 50 miles but Kev and I gritted our teeth and got on with it. We met our support crews briefly and then set off again into Skelton and then to Saltburn. The difference I felt physically between my 2010 effort and my 2011 one was marked. The knee was still holding up and I don’t think I had once pushed my body into overdrive by running too fast or charging up a hill to quickly. From Skelton to Saltburn we made our way through a couple of estates, the fantastic landscaped Saltburn woods, into the town and down to the sea. As we reached the steps to the car park I saw Lizzie, Mum, Dad, Lars, Mez, Rich and Tim all stood together cheering me on. This was made me feel pretty happy. And upon checking in at the checkpoint I was again told that I looked fresh as a daisy.  I hung about at Saltburn for ten minutes, resting, chatting, enjoying the attention and feeding before setting off with Lars, dressed this year as someone from the 1980s.

From here we jogged the downhills and walked the uphills to Skiningrove where I was amazed to find Rich and Tim still helping out, despite being free to go home. Beyond the call of duty or what. Upon setting off to Staithes, though, I began to flag and at just this time a mood-sapping thick sea mist rolled in. The cliff tops ceased to be a great place with fantastic views and became vista-less, cold, drizzly, with awkward footpaths. I lay down on the grass for a while and things began to get a bit blurry until a dog started sniffing me and licking my face. This got me moving again. I dragged myself to the edge of Staithes where I climbed into the boot of Rich’s van, got into some warmer clothes, ate an egg mayonaise sandwich and some paracetemol but felt no better.  I set off again though and traipsed down into Staithes to get back into the van. Thoughts of pulling out began to gather.

At this point Lizzie said she was going to run with me and Pat Mullin the sweeper appeared, telling me to get out of the van and carry on. Not knowing him well enough to disagree I did as he said. He then said ‘It’s Henry isn’t it? You like techno don’t you’ and proceeded to entertain Lizzie and me with stories about standing behind the decks with Nick Warren and how he would happily get us on the guest list at Fabric and Mint. So it was something of a shame that we had to leave him behind when I suddenly felt great again and started running! We ran over the top and into Runswick bay where dad met us and he too, ran down the hill. We checkpointed and set off again, walking the beach, but then ran pretty much all the way to Sandsend with Lizzie keeping me both distracted and entertained throughout. Unfortunately this was the last running I did. As we stopped at Sandsend and refuelled for what felt like the thousandth time, my body just didn’t respond. I set off again with Mez this time, but my knee had begun to click and I had no energy left to speak of. He made me laugh as I staggered through Whitby, but I could physically feel my body winding down as I got slower and slower and needed to sit down more and more. We climbed up the 199 steps to Whitby Abbey and I leant on my parents’ car and almost fell asleep stood up. This was it. I was exhausted, freezing and in pain. The last burst of running from Runswick to Sandsend was done under cover of paracetemol and with thirty miles to go, I wasn’t going to risk masking the pain for another ten hours. I need to work for one thing and being a personal trainer means you have to be able to do what ever you’re asking your client to do. That wasn’t going to happen if I couldn’t walk. So at 78.5 miles I pulled out, a satisfying 22 miles further on than last year.

Although I keep failing to finish this event I have a fantastic time doing it. Aside from the sense of personal achievement, having family and friends rally around when things get bad and meeting fantastic people on the tops of moors in the middle of the night make it worthwhile. You have to be incredibly fit and bloody minded to finish this race. Currently I am neither, but I am closing in on both. Twelve out of 26 people finished this year. Next time I will be one of them.