Whernside

I'm Yorkshire's highest mountain but a point I'd like to state...
There's a different hill called Whernside with the moniker of "Great"
Deepdale's to my north and to the east there is Blea Moor
My summit is just half way round a classic mountain tour
The Three Peaks is that challenge of which I'm the second fell
It's hiked and biked and once a year a running race as well
I look towards the south-east to my neighbour Pen-y-ghent
The way he rises in that hump is rather impudent
Old Ingleborough is to my south, a steep and flat roofed hill
Frequented by the caving crowd who head to Gaping Gill
I'm quite the gentle giant with my long and sloping ridge
There's runners fast approaching me from underneath the bridge
They take the shortest line and then they climb my steepest side
And once again it's Jebb out front with elongated stride
A strange thing seems to happen as they clamber to my top
Half of them start hobbling and half of them just stop
But as they recompose themselves, the clouds drift slowly by
And Yorkshire looks its finest from my vista in the sky
Here comes number eighty-one, he's struggled on the climb
He's reached the top, now checks his watch and curses at the time
He mentions to a marshall that two hours is the key
To finish in his target time of "under three thirty"
He sighs and pointing to his watch he says "two hours four"
The man who hands out jellybeans says "here mate, take some more"
He's scrawled the split times on his hand, his preparation thorough
Then off he sets with straight legged steps to head for Ingleborough