At a café in Llanberis, I met up with Duncan, who told me that he has had his kit officially inspected for his UTMB Snowdonia 100k race, with the exception of a mandatory cold weather item of “clear glasses” that have to cover his eyes. We returned to the UTMB Snowdonia village, where I took in the atmosphere of exhibitor stands, runners posing for photos holding their race bibs, and announcements of the status of the 100-mile runners who’ve just set off.
Like at the UTMB Arc of Attrition event in January, I found my name on commemorative t-shirts for sale, listing all of the registered runners of the five events. But I didn’t buy it, because I didn’t like the grey colour scheme. Anyway, the official technical t-shirt that came with the registration pack, in bright red and graphics for each of the events, is cooler.
Duncan and I stayed at the Plas y Brenin outdoor centre. This accommodation was organised by mutual friend Paul, who unfortunately wasn’t able to join us. During the 20-minute drive from Llanberis, a young lamb darted from the roadside into my path. Sadly, it collided with my car and I felt the horrible sensation of driving over it. Hopefully not an ominous sign.
Plas y Brenin is a great place. I noticed the lecture room, where serious training in mountain safety, etc., takes place. Indeed, there was a session on as I made my way to the bar, where Duncan sat with a spectacular view of Mount Snowdon. We discussed matters running and our logistics, over a filling and nutritious dinner.
At 4.30am the next morning, I drove Duncan to Llanberis for his 5.30am start. At that early hour, I was able to park on the street nearby and not have to avail of the 3-day park-and-shuttle service that I prepaid. In fact, that was a wasted expenditure, as the public parking lot near the start was the same price but more convenient.
After recording a short video of Duncan’s start, I returned to Plas y Brenin. En route, I saw the dead lamb with its mother sitting nearby — whether awaiting for it to awake or mourning it a zoologist would have to inform me. As the ewe made eye contact with me, I felt the guilt of a killer.
After a kip and a cooked breakfast, I drove out to Duncan’s first aid station at Dolywyddelan. This was my first time serving as a crew member in a trail race. I was glad to be there, if only for some moral support. Grateful he accepted my suggestion of changing into dry socks, as his shoes and feet were already very wet from running through many bogs.
I saw Duncan run off, and I felt like a parent sending their kid off to school — have a great experience and be safe, Duncan! I kept absent Paul informed of Duncan’s progress.
With hours to pass before I would need to be at the next planned aid station, I returned to Plas y Brenin. Good choice, because it began to rain. In my warm room, I stayed dry and relaxed for my own race.
Mid-afternoon, I returned to Llanberis to have my race kit inspected. Pretty straightforward. They were only interested in seeing my bivvy bag; warm, long-sleeved top; and waterproof jacket.
I hung around for the awards ceremony for the 50k runners. It was still raining steadily. The UTMB President, Catherine Poletti, took to the stage and remarked, “They told me that I would discover Welsh weather. I admired the walkers and hikers on the mountains today, who unlike our runners didn’t need to be out. In Chamonix, it also rains. But when it rains, we stay indoors.”
There is a mobile app, Live Trail, that anyone can use to track any runner during the races. I used this to try to estimate when Duncan would arrive at the Beddgelert aid station at 81k. It predicted 6.30pm, so I made my way there with some time to spare. Only after I arrived did the app update to say he passed the previous point, 10k away, at 6.15pm. So, I had two hours to kill. Getting a meal was a challenge, because the village’s only pub wasn’t accepting any walk-ins. I got sorted by ordering a lasagne at a restaurant that allowed me to eat it at their nearby drinks-only pub.
Duncan arrived at 9.10pm. He looked better than I expected, having seen the state of other runners at that stage. I encouraged him to get some solid food into him. The pasta was too dry and chewy, but the potato and leek soup did the job. He said that he was starting to get chilly, and that’s when I suggested it was time to get moving again. He kindly set me free to return to Plas y Brenin, because he knew that he wouldn’t finish until the wee hours of the morning.
While Plas y Brenin opened the self-serving area early for the several 50k runners the previous Saturday morning, I must have been the only 25k runner on here on this Sunday morning. I sat at the table with the view of Snowdon while I ate my instant porridge and contemplating my race.
I packed for the worst weather. The forecast was for overcast skies in the morning, then a higher chance of rain by midday. I decided to wear my waterproof trousers and jacket for the start. Indeed, with just about ten minutes before we were due to begin, my mobile pinged with an official message from the race organisers: “Thunderstorms expected late morning on Mount Snowdon. 25K has been modified to avoiding Mount Snowdon and start has been delayed by 30min.”
I was in the first wave of runners. At the later time of 8.30am, we set off. I started slowly, keeping an eye on my heart rate. I duly slowed my pace when it got too fast (80% maximum). Kept my poles away until we got to the climb with earth/rock. Maintained a slow but steady pace uphill. Grateful for wearing a Polyamide long-sleeve base later and waterproof jacket, because the increasing breeze was chilly; I even put my hood up over my head at some points.
The course was not that technical (which is fine by me). Just steep climbs and descents. I was grateful also for wearing my Inov8 Trailtalons, with 6mm lugs. The sections that were not climbs or descents were wide gravel or earth trails, and my Kipride Kipsummit Max’s would have been great. But as I witnessed several runners slip and fall on the descents, choosing the rocky and muddy path, and wearing Hoka Speedgoats and the like, I relatively flew past many by being able to take an open course on taller grass. My recent NIMRA League fell mountain racing also gave me confidence to attack descents more aggressively.
A section of the descent to the course’s only aid station was particularly steep. Although only about 300m descent, it was challenging. Thankfully I didn’t fall. At the station, while many just had their bottles refilled then quickly set off again, I decided to sit for a kit change. The sun had come out and I was slightly overheating in my waterproofs. I removed them both and repacked my kit. I refilled my bottles and ate some fruit before heading back out. I knew that I spent a precious several minutes, but I was aware of the steep climb back up. Also, I did some quick math in my head. Two hours expired with more than half (and the harder half) done. I was confident that I would finish in under four hours; I didn’t know if 3:30 was realistic yet.
The climb back up was a bugger. I was so thankful for my poles and that I had good upper body strength, because it really was a set of power hiking up it. Glad it was only 300m ascent! At the crest, I collapsed my poles and focussed on not getting carried away on the long descent.
With less than 5k left, now I was starting to look at my watch to estimate feasible finish times. Looked like I was on course for a sub 3:30. So, I just keep cruising at a reasonable heart rate (about 150bpm). The final part of the course is a backtrack of the start, so I was familiar with it. After a final little climb, it was a sharp descent on tarmac. I still kept that slow and controlled.
With flat pavement and less than 2k left, I decided to open it up. Mentally, I was in great spirits. “Let’s go,” I shouted out to myself. Then, suddenly, my right quad did a serious seizure. Oh shit. Maybe not. After a few seconds of fright — the thought of limping the last kilometre — I slowed up and thought only happy thoughts. I got myself back into my constant plod and told myself, just get over that finish line intact. I reminded myself that, so long as I didn’t fall apart, I would finish better than planned.
I kept plodding until the last 400m straight line to the finish. I slowly cranked it up and the adrenaline kicked in, thankfully. Finished strong, with fists pumped in the air. Finish time 3:22:45.
Duncan was there at the finish. Great to see him there, to share in the celebration. He took some great finisher photos of me. I gave him a post-race analysis while I walked off my legs. He treated me to a double-scoop mint chocolate chip ice cream cone, which never tasted so delicious.
We soaked up some of the post-run vibes but didn’t stay too long, because of the impending rain — heavy, dark clouds rolling in — as well as our logistical needs. After a refreshing shower at Plas y Brenin, I dropped Duncan off at the train station — while fighting off foot and leg cramps, ouch.
Having made a new friendship with Duncan, I told him that I was confident that we would meet each other again at a future trail race. Hopefully with Paul, too.
Because nothing is better than a camaraderie with friends and a shared, enjoyable experience.
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