Debbie Martin-Consani, 45, from Glasgow, placed second woman and eighth overall in a field of 150 at the fearsome Montane Spine Race shortly before lockdown in January 2020. An exceptional long-distance runner who has represented Scotland and Great Britain in 100km and 24-hours events, Debbie talks through her race, which lasted 118 hours and pushed her through a snowstorm and winter Storm Brendan.
The Montane Spine Race is a fearsome mountain run: 268 miles along the Pennine Way through northern England and into Scotland, non-stop and with more than 40,000 feet of climbing (and equivalent descent) often in extremely rough terrain. Most importantly it is held in the depths of the British winter, so the weather is extremely unpredictable and of course can include snow and ice. In 2020 more than half the field failed to finish the course.
Debbie is an Ambassador for outdoor clothing company Montane (which also sponsors of the Spine Race) and is a member of the Centurion Running Ultra Team. See more about the Montane Spine Race. Follow Debbie on Twitter or Instragram, @UltraRunDMC. Photographs ©Jimmy Hyland Montane®Spine except where indicated.
First a bit of form
I started running in 2002, when I was 27 and entered a local women’s 10k - some of the gals I was working with were doing it and I was intrigued. When I began training I couldn’t even run for a whole minute without stopping, but my endurance and fitness improved pretty quickly. I definitely caught the running bug and moved on to half marathons and then ran my first marathon in London in 2004. I joined my local running club, Garscube Harriers, in 2005 and started to train with more structure.
I discovered endurance and ultra-running in 2007. I have always loved adventure and being out in the hills, bagging Munros and running in the mountains - it’s all right there, where I live. So in 2007, after I’d run a few big city marathons, I looked for an event that combined my love of running with trails and hills. I stumbled across the website for the Devil o’ the Highland, which is 43 miles on the northern part of the West Highland Way. I intended this to be my one and only ultra… Somehow, I’ve completed more than 50 to date.
Since then I’ve been really fortunate to experience some of the world’s best events, including the Tor des Géants, Spartathlon, UTMB, West Highland Way, Lakeland 100, all the Centurion 100s, Transgrancanaria and the Bob Graham Round. I also represented Scotland and Great Britain for five years, racing at 100km and 24-hour Championships in Poland, Italy, France, Holland and Ireland. I still hold the Scottish record for 100 miles, at 15 hours 48 minutes
I love the camaraderie of endurance events. It’s all about meeting people you wouldn’t normally come across and sharing something special with them. The circumstances may appear horrible – in a storm or unforgiving heat – but when you’re out there doing it you realise that you’re part of something amazing. People say ultra-running is a brutal sport. And it definitiely can push you right to the edge, but it’s simple and raw. And hey, I like races where you can be lazy. In events this long it’s fine to walk up hills and eat jam sandwiches.
Why the Montane Spine race? Why 2020?
If I’m honest, I always said the Spine was something I wouldn’t even consider. It looked like pure misery to me, just slogging out the miles in such hard terrain and awful weather. But years of dot watching got me intrigued. And anyway I like events that are a good test: in fact the higher the drop-out rate of a race, the more I want to do it. And the Spine certainly has a high possibility of failure. That said, quite often I get so highly strung with fear before a race that I question my motives. But I still keep doing them.
I was a late sign up for the Spine, in maybe October 2019, as I got my place through Montane, but I don’t think it’s a race that you can ever be fully prepared for anyway. There are so many factors completely out-with your control, so it’s sort of ‘now or never’, and when the opportunity came up, I just went for it. I am glad I did: it might be the only race I do in 2020.
What makes the Spine Race different?
So many factors make the Spine ‘Britain’s most brutal’ race – the distance, terrain, fatigue, constant wet feet, all in the most terrible weather. For me though, the worst part is the 16 hours of darkness each day.
I’m glad I had an opportunity to recce the route as the Pennine Way is a special kind of crazy: endless bogs, farmland, pathless moorland, slippery slabs and hundreds of gates and stiles. Navigation is pretty tricky too. I have huge respect for anyone who completes the Spine without going over the course in advance! They must have no idea what they are letting themselves in for.
Training and Planning
I work full-time for a newspaper, which is pretty much 24/7, so fitting in training around that and my family is sometimes tricky. I don’t find time for training, but somehow I make time, which includes run-commuting to work, speed sessions at lunchtimes and early morning runs at the weekend. Pre-lockdown, I’d squeeze in extra miles or a gym class when my son Cairn is at one of his many clubs. There’s not much time for rest and relaxation, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.
©Mick Kenyon / Montane®Spine
In the months leading up to the event, I started training with a heavier pack, which goes against the grain for trail runners, where the focus is usually fast and light. I even ran commutes to work in Glasgow with a big pack, which raised a few eyebrows: I must have looked like Dora the Explorer. As a Montane athlete, I was lucky enough to get a sponsors’ place in the race – 2021 sold out in a few hours - so I signed up quite late. It meant I didn’t have too much time to overthink the enormity of it all, though I did spend an inordinate amount of time – and money – on the very extensive and specific kit list.
I recce-ed as much of the Pennine Way as I could over a couple of months. I don’t like surprises. Knowledge is power when it comes to races. In the end I had five full days on the Pennine Way, covering most sections from Hawes (100 km) to the end in Kirk Yetholm. A few bits of the course were so hairy they kept me awake at night. The climb up Cauldron Snout was very icy in the recce; one slip would be life-threatening. Even crossing then A69 gave me the fear. Strangely though, the things that worried me the most didn’t bother me one bit in the race.
My first recce was an absolute riot. It was minus 4 when I started out from Dufton and my plan was to run 37 miles to Greenhead. What I hadn’t taken into account was that nobody goes anywhere quickly on the Pennine Way and it took me way longer than expected. Towards the end I got lost in the dark in water-logged fields and didn’t eat or drink anything. I ended up running up and down the A69 with a head torch trying to find the bus-stop. I hadn’t put on any extra layers, so by the time the bus stopped I was a shaking, incoherent, soaked and muddy mess. The bingo ladies on the bus kept staring at me! I was already mentally withdrawing at that moment. I was convinced there was no way I could do the race. I’d let myself get into a state. Self-care is not my forte.
Thereafter the recces went much better. Actually I had some of the best weather conditions you can imagine; sunny and crisp with stunning sunrises. I took that as an omen that I only bring good weather to the Pennine Way. I was so, so wrong.
How did the race go?
Before I signed up, my overriding goal was to finish, maybe by midnight on the Thurs. But as I thought about it more, I decided I wanted to finish in the top 10, which I reckoned I could do if I didn’t spend too much time in aid stations. In the end I finished at 6 on the Friday morning, which in Spine time, is not too far out.
Below is a detailed account of the ups, downs (sometimes pitching full-length into the mud), highs and lows of Debbie’s Spine race 2020:
Start at Edale to CP1 at Hebden Bridge – 74km, over the Peak District
The race starts at 9 am, in rain but happily enough: I am getting used to the rhythm and the weight of my pack. At Jacob’s Ladder mist closes in, adding to the rain. The rocks are wet, but the ground is still firm for running. My first mistake: I let my clothes get wet and my hands become cold in my gloves, so cold I can’t get my rucksack off, then I can’t get my gloves back on again. I take myself aside for a stern talking to; must do better…
How did you manage your race?
Badly. I ate mostly in the checkpoints, which isn’t a great idea, and I definitely didn’t eat enough. I find it hard to eat out on the trail, when you’re wearing two pairs of gloves and using poles. Plus you forget to eat when you’re just concentrating on foot placement had navigation. I think I mostly just carried my mandatory 3000 calorie pack unopened.
My plan was to sleep at checkpoints, but after the second CP I kept arriving during the daylight, so I skipped sleep to maximise the light, which probably wasn’t the best plan. The fatigue just made me slower in the long term. I think I had about 7 hours in total, so just over an hour a night.
In terms of race strategies. I just try to stay positive, which is hard when your brain is functioning on another level. I count a lot to stop the crazy in my head. And I sing. Loudly. I did save music for the hours of funk, but I ended up losing one of my Airpods, so that was an end of that. There is so much to think about – navigation, foot placement – that distraction is not really an option. Not like a road race when you can stick on some music and tune out for a while.
What were the hardest, best and most memorable moments in of the race?
Storm Brendan on Monday night. It’s hard to put into words how horrific that was; there were storm force winds and torrential rain. The path was like wading up a river. The harsh reality was there was nothing I could do about it apart from suck it up and get on with it – and I got lost and totally hysterical at one point. Then my head-torch went out and I couldn’t get my frozen hands to work well enough to change the battery, so I ended up running 3 miles into Hawes with a small handheld torch between my teeth! I was an absolute wreck at the checkpoint, but the volunteers there were angels. I wouldn’t have got through it without them. I think this CP had the biggest drop outs. It’s ‘only’ 100 kilometres in and that’s just a warm up for what lies ahead.
The snow on Tuesday night was another low point; though mainly because I let myself go and got into a state again. I was freezing and hungry and hadn’t eaten for hours, because I didn’t want to stop, and so had kept pushing forward. I got lost and was so exhausted I couldn’t stay on my feet, so I kept falling in the mud. It was the closest I came to throwing in the towel! The idea of going up Cross Fell in the dark, by myself in a snow storm terrified me.
In some ways for me the hardest part of the Spine is the darkness. To keep going through 16+ hours in the dark each day is tough. Especially when most outdoorsy types do it for the views. The Pennine Way is actually really pretty (really, it is!), but of course you cover most of it in the dark.
Most memorable? The most memorable bits are also the hardest parts. The full-on effects of Mother Nature: the storm, the rivers, footprints in the snow, sounds of the waterfalls.
And the best? Coming off Cross Fell (the section I was most worried about) by myself in the snow. The reward was an amazing – a tin pot of spicy noodles at Greg’s Hut. Nothing will ever taste as good as that.
Were you happy with your performance?
I’m never happy! I made so many errors; I wasted way too much time at checkpoints, though who didn’t? In the end though, I’m really happy I got to experience it. I know I hit some massive lows, but now I only remember the good bits. In fact, being out there never even really felt like a race, more of a personal adventure, with lots of amazing people helping me on my way. Next year though, I’ll be quite happy to be back to my screen watching other people’s dots making their way slowly and painfully along the course.
