Mountains to the Roads, a fell runners journey to a road marathon

Introducing Jacob Tonkin (Tonk), a local legend in the Lake District town of Keswick. Follow his story from fells to the roads and his latest attempt at a road marathon. Tonk, takes it from here...

On the evening of 26th June 2021, at precisely 8:57 pm, I found myself sitting on the steps of the Moot Hall, tears streaming down my face. I had just accomplished one of the biggest goals of my life: completing the Bob Graham Round (Traversing the 42 fells in under 24 hours, starting and finishing at Keswick Moot Hall, involves 66 miles (106 km) with 26,900 feet (8,200 m) of ascent). I was quickly surrounded by my closest friends and family, all of whom were crying alongside me. My Mam approached, wrapped me in a huge hug, and said, "Well done, lovey. But remember… I’ve still run a faster marathon than you!" I was utterly speechless. Here I was, basking in the glory of my greatest achievement to date, only for her to remind me of one of my most humbling moments — my single marathon race attempt back in 2014, which remains my only experience with the distance to this day.

I was still relatively new to the running scene back in 2014. I’d not long since ran a reasonably quick Great North Run. When we finished that, my mam’s best mate Jude said she was going to go do the Kielder Marathon and why didn’t we join them. I thought “why not?! It’s a month away. A marathon is just twice as long as a half. What’s the worst that could happen!?” Oh, how foolish I was.

We set off the evening before and stayed in a stunning log cabin nestled in Kielder Forest. After enjoying a lovely meal that night, I woke up the next morning still feeling quite full. At the time, I thought it was a brilliant idea, reasoning that I wouldn’t need much breakfast. I skipped a warm-up and wore fell running shoes (just thinking about these decisions now makes me cringe). I started the race at a quick pace, confidently hydrating with a bottle of water at every aid station during the first half — but only consuming three Jelly Babies. I hit the halfway point in just over an hour and a half. By the time I reached 14 miles, it dawned on me that I should probably eat something. So, I downed an entire bottle of Aldi’s own-brand electrolyte drink, followed by a very watery gel and a handful of Jelly Babies. Approaching mile 15, I could feel it all sloshing around in my stomach. That’s when I clocked my fastest 10-yard sprint of the day—a mad dash to the bushes—as my body decided to expel everything, and from both ends, no less.

I wish I could write about composing myself and being determined to finish, but I can’t. I did not want to be there. The rest of the race took me over 3 hours. At 19 miles I heard very familiar sounding footsteps. “Has somebody set off a bit too quick!” she chortled, as I threw up again. “Mummy” I said “I’m not very well”. She smiled and said “I’m sure you can keep up with your mam”. As she said that she showed me a clean set of heels and beat me by over 20 minutes. I crossed the line in 4:52:28. I loudly proclaimed to never want to do a marathon again.

Back to the end of my Bob Graham. I can remember pretty much all of my round. However, after I had that first sip of victory beer everything became a bit of a blur. One thing I do remember thinking is “one day I’ll beat my mam’s marathon time”.

I ended the 2023 fell running season on an incredible high. My club, Keswick, had hosted the Fell Relays in Braithwaite, where I ran what was likely my best fell race to date. Alongside my leg partner, Hamish Murray, we absolutely aced the navigation leg. I felt like I was on top of the world, convinced that the following year was going to be even better. As winter set in, my motivation stayed strong, but every run through the relentless, torrential rain started to take its toll. My shoes were constantly soggy, my so-called waterproof jacket had clearly lost its battle against the elements, and my dog was thoroughly unimpressed with being dragged out into such miserable conditions. My enthusiasm hit rock bottom. And then, snap—my Achilles began acting up. That problem lingered for what felt like forever (though it was just three months in reality). Finally, I managed to sort it out and rediscovered the joy of running. But just as I was gearing up for Borrowdale in August, I took a tumble down a hole and tore my quad. That marked the end for me; my running mojo had vanished entirely. It was clear that I needed a change.

While out on a dog walk, I found myself contemplating how to reignite my lost mojo. That’s when a persistent memory, quietly lingering at the back of my mind, came rushing to the forefront: I would train for a marathon. Just saying the words aloud sent a shiver down my spine. Searching for marathons near me was even scarier. When I finally committed and paid £65 for a race entry, I almost keeled over in shock— especially considering that, in the world of fell running, races typically cost around £5!

And here we are. I, Jacob Tonkin—the accomplished fell runner — am gearing up to take on the challenge of racing Manchester marathon. Why? Because it terrifies me, and, of course, my mam has already clocked a faster time than I have. In the upcoming series of blog posts, I’ll be sharing everything I’ve learned along this journey. Don’t miss it — stay tuned!