Ultra running is, in many ways, an inherently selfish sport. You disappear for hours—or even days at a time—leaving family and friends behind, only to return utterly broken, unable to contribute much to family life and complaining loudly when overzealous children leap onto your aching legs to give you a hug. Yet, for all of that, the Bob Graham Round highlighted something quite different: a remarkable camaraderie and selflessness that sits at the heart of the fell-running community.
For me, this story is really about the selflessness of one individual in particular: my partner, masseuse, chief whip, logistics coordinator, and self-appointed coach, Rob Green. While I was the one running, Rob was the constant presence behind the scenes—sorting out the family, encouraging, cajoling, and somehow continuing to put up with me throughout the process. So this one’s for you, Rob. Thank you.
The idea of a Bob Graham Round was more Rob’s than mine. I’d had a decent run at the Stanza Stones event in June 2025 and, while I was wondering what to do next, he quietly planted the seed. A couple of big mountain days in the Alps later that summer made the whole thing seem just about plausible—provided I could stay fit through the winter.
What followed was, in truth, a fairly miserable few months of running in all weathers. Rob generously volunteered to take charge of the kids one weekend each month so that I could spend two consecutive days beasting myself in the Lakes. As winter dragged on, these weekends became increasingly difficult to motivate for. The prospect of spending eight hours soaked to the skin, running alone over bleak fells, before returning to a hostel room with only my own company for entertainment, began to lose its appeal.
Rather than questioning my life choices, Rob responded by bringing the whole family along. While I disappeared into the hills, he somehow persuaded our girls that trudging around the Lake District in the rain was a fun day out. I’d stagger back to the hostel cold, wet and exhausted, to be greeted by warm hugs, a hot dinner and a family who seemed genuinely pleased to see me. Looking back, it’s still unclear who had the harder day.
Spring rolled around and I felt fit. I’d decided that the Three Peaks Race would be my go/no-go test for the Bob. Unfortunately, race day turned out to be baking hot. Months of running in horizontal rain and freezing winds proved remarkably poor preparation for the sweatiest day in April. I bailed out before Ribblehead feeling totally crushed. My confidence was in tatters. The idea of spending twenty-four hours running around the Lakes suddenly felt like a spectacularly bad decision.
The months that followed can only be described as an onslaught of kindness. NLFRs seemed determined to rebuild my confidence, and what had started as a fairly daft personal challenge gradually became a collective effort. People gave up their weekends to recce legs, offered advice, and volunteered to support the attempt with an enthusiasm that continually amazed me. By the time Bob day arrived, I was surrounded by a small army of friends who had quietly removed every logistical worry from my shoulders and convinced me of the impossibility of failure.
The day itself was a great adventure. We set off from Moot Hall at 2am, waved off by a giant drunken squirrel who was partway into his stag do. The weather up Skiddaw was wild. Super strong winds kept taking my feet out from under me, and dense clag meant we were wholly reliant on Adam’s watch for navigation. The ground underfoot was boggy but we made good time, arriving at Threlkeld up on schedule despite a rather hair-raising blustery descent of Halls fell.
Leg 2 was dreamy. I was led out by the super team of Tom, Chris and Niamh. The clag was down but we had an epic tail wind, which meant by Dunmail Raise we were nearly an 1hr up on schedule.
Leg 3 was more of a rollercoaster. This leg was much more into the wind, but we made good time thanks to some stellar lines from Jonno. The Bowfell ridgeline was a real high point – I love that rocky, uneven terrain – and the miles sped by. That was until Broad Stand. I’d convinced myself that I would do the scramble unless it was sopping wet. When we got to Broad Stand, it was sopping wet, however there was no way I was going to descend down to Lord’s Rake and climb back up. What followed was a short but memorable lesson in poor judgement. Trying to hand jam into a corner crack pouring water was probably not one of my better ideas. I emerged from the top fairly shaken. With the benefit of hindsight, and probably foresight, I should have just done the extra climb via Lord’s Rake.
At Leg 4, I was handed over to Rob and Gautier. By this point, the terrifying climb, the strong winds and just the hours on feet had started to take their toll. Yewbarrow was a crawl, but I knew that if I could just make it through Leg 4, I was home and dry. Rob had been deliberately put on this leg to deliver some hard truths in case I waivered, but actually, although I was shattered, no pep talk was required.
Running down to Honister to start Leg 5 was probably my lowest point. I greeted a very cheerful Dan with little more than a grunt but, to his credit, he didn’t take it personally. He and Rob maintained an extraordinary stream of completely inane conversation all the way to Keswick, allowing me to listen in and contribute the occasional well-timed grunt. The final road section was probably the hardest part of the whole round. To get under twenty hours, I needed to be running at around 6 min/km. On a normal day that would barely register, but after everything that had gone before it felt completely beyond me. That was the point where I finally cracked mentally and could no longer persuade my tired body to run.
Arriving back at Moot Hall was surprisingly emotional. To be greeted by whoops and cheers of the friends who had supported me throughout the day was an incredible feeling. It really made me appreciate the value of the friendships we build doing this daft sport. While the Bob Graham Round may celebrate individual achievement on paper, I feel like the success of the round belonged as much to the people who encouraged me, paced me, fed me, navigated me, drove me around Cumbria, covered family duties, and picked me up when my confidence wobbled as it did to the person who happened to be wearing the running shoes. Looking back, what I remember most isn’t the route or the time. It’s the extraordinary generosity of the people around me, and how lucky I was to have them in my corner.
So a massive thank you to Phil Davies, Jess Guilding, Joe Mills, Becky Butcher, Adam Johnston, Chris Watterson, Niamh Jackson, Tom Bell, Kate Archer, Jonny Coney, Gautier Nicoli, Dan Starkey, Jenny Lea, Reeta and Jim Roberts and, of course, Rob Green.
