Bowland Ultra 2026

The Bowland Ultra wasn't as hard as last year, but it wasn't easy. Instead of snow, sheets of ice lay scattered around the course. The climb to Fiendsdale Head was a skating rink beside a sheer edge. Slopes grassy enough to be *probably* ok if you fell - far enough down that you don't want to find out. 

The hard freeze having solidified the Bowland bogs, this course may never be more runnable. Let’s not pretend anyone finished the race with dry feet, but terrain that’s usually slop was rock solid and fun to run. For the first ten miles I was skipping along.

Training had been thin, with this only my second long run since the Backyard Ultra in October. It wasn’t surprising I started to question my choices miles in. Why do I keep doing this? It’s stupid. I'm not even halfway.

From checkpoint three (Chipping) to checkpoint four (Dunsop Bridge) I gave myself a pass to walk anything that even smelled of hill. Who cares what time I get? Who cares what position I’m in? It’s a beautiful day, isn’t that enough?

Simultaneously: I wonder if I can finish under nine hours? Am I still fifteenth? How far can I get before I need my head torch?

I waddled out of the last checkpoint, fell into step with another runner, and chatted for a bit. Then he fell behind. That was unexpected. Maybe I’m actually doing ok. And is that another runner up ahead? It looks like Phil. It can’t be Phil, he’s an hour faster than me. Let’s see if I can close the gap.

I’ve never felt good on the final climb of this race, but sans snow or bog it was as easy as it’ll ever be. I passed the other runner – it was Phil! - feeling good and pushed hard to the finish, to come in just over eight and a half hours, thirteenth, head torch still in my pack.
 
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Huge thanks to the race organisers and volunteers. I’ve done this event three years in a row and love it so much that I am now one of those race organisers I’m thanking. Needless to say everyone else did much more useful things than me.
 
Photos: Mark Attwood

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