Say hello to the Dovedale Dash

The race seemingly designed by scenery-loving sadists

Photo courtesy of Craig Lewis

Introduction

There’s a picture of me closing in on the finish line of the Dovedale Dash.

My head is thrown to one side, my mouth gapes wide open as I gasp for air, and I am encased in mud, sweat, and quite possibly silent tears.

The peaked cap on my head features the anarchic slogan, ‘Raise Hell.’ In truth, I look like I am in hell, my running top unzipped to let any stray air cool my over-heating body, my legs kicking out in what has become a weary lurch forward.

I have run a grand total of four-and-three-quarter miles (7.5 km).

Before I go any further, it’s important to say that for some people, that distance is the biggest goal they have. It’s huge. For many people, a 5k parkrun is their crowning glory.

For others, completing a mile, making it to the end of their road, or even getting out of the door and running for the first time is a massive achievement.

And there is nothing wrong with that. In fact, it’s brilliant. Every individual’s goals are theirs and should be celebrated for what they are.

I have been lucky to complete marathons, 50ks, and even a 100k race. They weren’t easy, but I’ll tell you one thing: Nothing else I have done compares to the pain – and joy – presented by the Dovedale Dash.

The Dovedale Dash

So, what is this race that reduces competitors to a muddy mess?

Run by more than 1,000 slightly unhinged participants every year, the Dovedale Dash takes place in the picturesque surroundings of the UK’s Derbyshire Peak District.

It is run in early October each year, presumably because someone on the organising team wants the course—which rolls over fields, trails, and even through a river—to have absorbed as much of the English rain as possible.

There is even a children’s race, where super speedy youngsters sprint up and down a hill at a crazy pace. This is where the trail runners of the future are born.

The race is famous among experienced fell and trail runners, who expertly launch themselves through the mud and malaise, skipping across the hillside like mountain goats.

Others, like me, are less graceful. Around 40 minutes before that painful picture was snapped, I was setting out on my Dovedale Dash by sliding down a hill on my posterior.

That’s because the race starts with those thousand-plus participants charging down a steep slope. A feeling of impending doom grips those non-mountain goat runners as they slip and slide across the soggy soil, even the best trail trainers struggling to find any grip.

Photo courtesy of Craig Lewis

Idiots like me are keen to hit maximum pace as quickly as possible. Such idiots generally end up on their arse, sliding more than running, the need for speed rapidly replaced by a striving for simple survival.

After successfully negotiating the starting slide, runners are greeted by the Dovedale Dash’s most famous feature: The Stepping Stones. These much-anticipated boulders are a set of rocks that stretch across the River Dove. Runners can either wobble across the slippery stones or immerse themselves in the chilly water and splash across to the other side.

Idiots… like me… well, safe to say I got wet.

The rest of the course stretches up and down stunning trails, with the rolling dales a welcome companion for your eyes but less of a friend to your legs.

It finishes with an evil uphill stretch that saps any remaining energy from you, a lung-busting brute of a climb fresh from a sadist’s fantasy.

It’s a beautiful, brutal run, one that has been taking place since 1953. It is a physical ode to the madness of the Great British trail runner.

The Dovedale Dash is an incredible challenge. It beats up your body while making your soul sing. It locks you in a prison of mud while giving you a freedom you can only find in nature.

There’s a picture of me closing in on the finish line of the Dovedale Dash. Believe it or not, I’m loving every moment.

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Craig Lewis

, author of

Running Tales: After all is said and run

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