Bowland 1500 FKT – Ellis Bland

I was born into running, my surname passed down to me, but just because you were born into good pedigree does not mean that you will be inherently good at something. The sons of bankers are no better at dealing with finances because of their lineage, nor the daughters of accountants any better with numbers because of a certain surname bestowed upon them. My last name has put me under pressure in the past. Early on as a keen sportsman and schoolboy, where finishing well meant good press and placing badly came with the disappointed reverberate: “That’s not where a Bland would finish”, I have felt the weight of the baton on my shoulders.

A common statement amongst accomplished ultra-runners is, “I worked hard to be here”, but for me, to the contrary, I actually worked very hard to undo it all. At 18 years old I started making really poor health choices, physically and mentally, trying to be the worst runner I possibly could, and I excelled in achieving that objective.

After years of running away from running, I came home from London. My brilliantly straight-talking mother sat me down, “Ellis, you look like a fat, hairy mess!”, her words penetrating my psyche, I got up the next morning and I started to run, and I haven’t stopped since. My mum means everything to me and naturally, I like to make her proud. I am grateful that my parents are so harsh talking, I respect that a lot. Without it, where would I find my toughness, my grit and the motivation to be the best version of myself?

I began the journey back towards the level of skill I had once before, and I have been working towards that incredibly hard! In a nutshell, I was a good runner and then I was a horrible runner and now I am doing well once more.

I am a member of the Bowland Fell Running Club and their community means everything to me! It is the most phenomenal collection of individuals concerned with nothing other than their shared passions.  The knowledge that they pass down to me is priceless!

I am 27 now and that is something I respect when I think of my age in terms of ultra years, I am young in this game. In August 2019, I raced the Dale’s way, my first real experience of long distance at 87 miles. I was running in first place and cruising well, but at mile 40 I lost the course for a few miles. When I found my way and re-joined the route, there was a woman standing roadside, clapping, spurring me on, “Well done, you are only 3 miles behind first place”. I was stunned, in those few miles another guy had taken my spot and I never saw him again that day. Subsequently I spent mile 40 to mile 65 bringing up all the reasons I was rubbish, sucking me into dark patterns of thought, I even began reflecting about a breakup I had at 15 and all the ways I could have handled that better.