Ladybower 52K Ultra:
The Brutal Parts I Couldn’t Film

At ten miles, I thought a sub-six-hour finish was on. By the final descent, I could see the end, but I couldn’t run towards it.

That was my Ladybower 52K ultra in the Peak District: beautiful views, a reunion with an old Army mate, and a finish that took absolutely everything I had left.

The video is called Beyond Fifty. It brings together the race footage and my reflections from the following morning. But there’s a reason some of the hardest moments aren’t on camera. When things got really tough, filming stopped being an option. All I could concentrate on was putting one foot in front of the other.

Watch the film: Beyond Fifty on YouTube

Twelve years apart. What a way to catch up.

Wes and I hadn’t seen each other since 2014, back in our Army days. Twelve years later, we were heading to Ladybower to run an ultramarathon together.

There was plenty of laughing before the start. We were joking about how this would have been a standard training week in the Army: Monday phys, Wednesday phys, combat fitness on a Friday. Easy to say when you haven’t started climbing yet.

It was freezing walking down to the event, although the sunshine soon warmed things up. I even did a warm-up for once. I don’t normally bother, which I admitted on camera is usually a mistake.

We were excited. We had the whole day ahead of us. And we had a fair bit of catching up to do.

Ladybower didn’t ease us in

The opening miles went straight uphill.

We were fresh, so I don’t think we fully appreciated what those climbs were taking out of us. Some of the early gradients were properly steep. By roughly two and a half miles, we were already talking about what a beast that first hill was.

Still, the views were ridiculous. There were those moments when you looked around and remembered exactly why you’d signed up.

Getting over the top felt good. We could start running downhill, we were still chatting, and the legs hadn’t started complaining yet. Even then, the descent wasn’t effortless. It was another bit of work, just in a different direction.

Around five miles, I was feeling strong. We passed through woodland that looked like something out of Sherwood Forest, and I was already wishing I’d worn a short-sleeved top.

At that point, it was an amazing day out.

At ten miles, sub-six felt possible

By the time we reached the reservoir, about ten miles in, we were convinced we had a chance of finishing in under six hours.

We thought the more runnable part of the route would help. The trouble was, there wasn’t really a flat section in the way you might imagine one. There were always little ups and downs, and the ground was uneven.

Around halfway, my pacing display had me about two minutes behind the sub-six target. Wes was somewhere behind me, and I decided to stretch out a bit and see what I could do.

I pushed on through that section, knowing there were still two big hills to come.

Looking back, that’s an important part of the story. I was still chasing a time while the terrain was steadily taking its toll. It wasn’t simply a case of finding a flat path and settling into a comfortable rhythm. Every uneven stretch asked a bit more of the legs.

Twenty miles: a different race

By about twenty miles, I was pretty beaten up.

My legs were hurting, and I had a pain in my knee that wouldn’t go away. The next climb wasn’t one clean uphill followed by a nice recovery. It was up, down, up again, with rough ground throughout.

There’s a bit in the film where I start questioning my life choices. Why do I enter these things?

At the same time, I’m looking around saying how stunning the place is. Both were true. I was in pain, and I was somewhere beautiful. Enjoying the scenery didn’t make the next step any easier.

This is where the footage stops telling the whole story. Getting the camera out meant finding attention I didn’t have to spare. The hardest sections are often the ones you don’t see, because I was too busy trying to get through them.

Cramp on the trail

Somewhere around twenty-five miles, I kicked a rock and my leg cramped up.

That stopped me. I had to lie down, and another runner stopped to help. If you’re reading this: thank you. I really appreciated it.

Both calves were struggling. My hips were hurting too. Running wasn’t happening in the way I wanted it to, so I had to walk for a while.

Meanwhile, everyone seemed to be talking about the big hill still to come.

That’s not what you want to hear when your legs are already cramping. But there it was, waiting near the end of the route.

The final climb wasn’t even the worst bit

At roughly the thirty-mile mark, we reached the climb everyone had been warning us about.

It felt more like two hills than one. My legs were already in bits, and it became a slow procession towards the top. I wasn’t the only one struggling. We were all inching our way up.

When I finally got there, I remember hoping the other side wouldn’t be as steep.

No such luck.

For me, the last descent was probably the hardest part of the whole race. Going downhill sounds like relief until your legs feel as though they could cramp at any moment. Every step becomes something you have to manage.

I could see the end. I wanted to run. But I knew what my calves were threatening to do if I tried.

Being that close and still having to move so slowly was tough.

Nothing left at the finish

Eventually, I could hear the commentator. The finish was there.

Chloe, my son and daughter were waiting, along with my cousin Lizzy and her family. Having everyone there meant a lot. And Chloe deserves a proper thank you. She’s always there supporting me.

Once I’d finished, I was on the floor. I could hardly walk. The next day, the best description I could come up with was John Wayne.

Then we waited for Wes.

After everything we’d been through, he came flying over the finish line. An absolutely insane finish. Well done, brother.

Official race results

Ladybower Reservoir Trails 52K Ultra — 26 September 2026

It wasn’t the sub-six I’d been chasing earlier in the day. It was the finish I had to work for with the legs I had left.

The morning after

There wasn’t a quiet recovery day waiting for me. I was straight back at work, hobbling around with sore calves and a back that kept locking up.

Recording the commentary then felt right. Everything was still fresh, including the bits I hadn’t managed to film.

What I took away from Ladybower is how quickly a race can change. Feeling good at ten miles doesn’t tell you what thirty miles will feel like. A descent isn’t automatically a rest. And another runner stopping beside you can mean more than they probably realise.

This is my account of the day, not advice to ignore pain or push through an injury. The struggle was real, and I don’t want the film—or this post—to dress it up as something everyone should copy.

A massive thank you to the runner who helped me, everyone supporting on the course, and the event team. Thanks to RunThrough Trails, The North Face and SportsShoes for a brutal, beautiful day out.

I left it all out there on the trail.

What’s been your hardest race moment: the climb, the descent, or simply finding the will to keep moving? Tell me in the YouTube comments.

Cheers,
James 👍