Running the world’s toughest race

John and his team at Greg's Hut have been working for 60 hours. They have barely slept, like us, between the passing of the runners.

The highest bothy in England is the hut built in the 1800s as a bunkhouse for workers of the Katelock Lead Mine. It's part of the folklore of the Spine Race, a chain of outposts that have grown to be sanctuaries for runners as they battle to complete the 268-mile course across the Pennines, the mountains and moors. The route goes from the village of Edale in Derbyshire to Kirk Yetholm, which is over the Scottish border. January is when the days are shortest and the weather is the worst.

The first year of the race, most of the 11 runners who started from Edale had dropped out before reaching Crossfell.

The first edition of the Spine had a man who hiked three miles to a hut with 10 kilo of coal on his back. He was stationed there so that he could reach people who got into trouble.

Greg's hut is not a base for rescue, but a place to shelter for a short while, to refuel with the noodles that Bamber serves up in mess tins.

I reach Dufton, the 165-mile mark in the race, on the Wednesday night after setting out from Edale. A farm track leads out of the village, across a stream, to Great Dunfell.

Bobby Abraham is a South African. The runner ahead of him is a man. We are three for the climb after teaming up at the control point. On a clear day, the trails are mud paths up the grass slopes. The ground is different at night. We wear goggles to protect our eyes from the strong wind. The torchlight only breaks the fog a few metres ahead. The world is short.

Bobby's pack has a light that flashes from it. I'm the weakest of the three and my goal is to stay with them to reach the hut. I am grateful for the company. Bobby calls out "Ice!" when the flagstones are frozen. He learned not to stray from the path even when the water was black.

As the race has progressed, I have become less and less mobile. I'm not a great runner but I used to be in the middle of the pack. Over the years I have taken part in many mountain races but I have never been so weak physically during an event and by Greg's hut I am only just hanging on, the consequence of starting too fast. Make it back to the trail. If you really can go a step further, you'll stop.

"What makes the Spine so hard is the nonstop nature and the harsh weather," says this year's winner and long time Spine veteran, Eoin Keith. The weather was milder this year, but you never win with the Spine.

It's hard to understand how the race has grown over the past decade, with most of it crossing seemingly unremarkable English field and moor.

It became clear early on that it was not comparable to other ultra-runs at the time, says Phil Hayday-Brown, who had previously organised races to it. Over the last year, the event has grown into a larger series with nearly two thousand runners participating in shorter races. There will be spin-off events in the following years: in the following years: in the following years: in the following years: in the following years: in the following years: in the following years: in the following years: in the following years: in the following years: in The main race, which is restricted to 175 places, sold out in under three minutes.

When the gun fires, the clock is always on until you reach the end, that was always the way with our races, according to Bamber, who worked with Hayday-Brown on those early polar events.

Leading British ultra-runner Jasmin Paris, who has won several of Europe's most prestigious endurance races and holds the overall Spine record, agrees that the Spine is more intense than other types of racing. It is common for sleep-deprived runners to hallucinate. There were nuns and horses in Paris.

My race from Greg's hut slows down on the final 100 miles. I often burst into tears. Simple tasks like changing torch batteries can take a long time. The descent to Garrigill is a long rocky track off the back of Cross Fell. I reach the fourth official checkpoint, Alston, at 5am, which is 30-60 miles from the next checkpoint. After a couple of hours of sleep, my feet are too swollen for my shoes, and it takes two of the checkpoint team to get me into the trainers I packed as a contingency.

As the race has progressed, I have become more reliant on this army of Spine volunteers: those who spend the week feeding, consoling, organizing and cheering on the increasingly exhausted runners at the checkpoint. Many of the informal stops that have emerged between them have become part of Spine folklore.

The Angel of Slaggyford is a woman who sits at the trail crossing in her village until the last runner passes, handing out slices of homemade cake. These interactions, which are the only contact you have in a day or a night, can have a powerful mental impact when you are cold and tired.

Hayday-Brown co-owns the event with the owners of Beyond the Ultimate and says runners often talk about a Spine family. We don't want to lose that. I pass a plastic box filled with chocolate, water and paracetamol, left by an invisible stranger with a note. The next morning, at Horneystead Farm, there is a wood chipper in the barn, blankets are laid out, and a soup is left on a warmer with bowls for runners.

The reason for a race like this is to try to win for competitors like Paris, Kelly and others. It is still an adventure for them. Kelly remembers stopping for a nap on Hadrian's Wall, like a legionnaire would have slept 2,000 years before.

I stopped for a 20-minute nap at the bothy in the Cheviot Hills when I passed the last mountain huts on the route. I have six miles to go and it is just getting light. I think there is something absurd about hobbling down the last part of the trail towards Kirk Yetholm.

I remember the lady who was serving breakfast at the Youth Hostel handing a bowl. The Border Hotel and finish arches come into view, and people want to experience that.

In the Border Hotel, in the middle of volunteers and medics, are Bobby and Kirsten. A couple of people are sitting, feet in buckets. It will take another 17 hours after midnight and another 161 hours after the start to finish the race.

Jonathan Cape is the author of Waypoints: a Journey on Foot.

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