- Distance: 100.43 miles
- Elevation: 35,359 feet
- Elapsed Time: 45:06:15
- Estimated calories: 18,255
- Total finishers (within 48-hour cutoff): 99, of 260 starters (61.92% DNF)
When you have finished a race, it can take a while to process what has happened; the narrative can change as you become fully aware of the external factors and your own responses to them. In the moment, you may not be able to understand the impact of tiredness, temperature or nutrition, for example. The experience of racing, especially long distance racing, is one of many micro-battles, and that is the story I like to tell. At the end, I also talk from a post-race perspective.
Experiencing the UTS
The UTS is part of the international UTMB world series, and until a few weeks ago, the only one in the UK. It has various distances spread over the weekend, with 100-miles being the longest and most difficult. It is notoriously hard because of the terrain; whilst alpine races can present big elevation and the challenges of altitude, UTS brings comparable elevation over more, shorter climbs, but with very varied and mostly difficult terrain. Many regard it as more challenging than the flagship Mont Blanc event. I expected it to be significantly harder than anything I'd previously attempted, and my various recce visits reinforced this view.
I was a bag of nerves when we arrived at Llanberis Slate Museum, the site of the UTS festival village. I knew what challenges lay ahead with the terrain, and that I needed my very best to get around within the notoriously tight cutoff timings at each checkpoint. I also knew that pausing training for injury had to some degree affected my race fitness, and that the injury may still derail my effort. I had also failed to contain domestic life sufficiently in the lead-up to the race, and so had not slept well for a couple of weeks; I was putting on my pack for the biggest race of my life, knowing I was actually exhausted.
Having arrived early for registration, we'd had plenty of time to wander round the exhibitor stalls before the 1pm start. I allowed too little time for my own prep, and dashed for a short nap at 12. My head was instantly spinning with the complexities of the race plan and stuff I still needed to do. The MC had started his pre-amble and music on the PA the other side of the car park. I abandoned sleep and started rushing to do my final prep. I couldn't find my safety pins for my race bib, despite what I thought was meticulous organisation. I almost forgot to fill my bottles. Thankfully, my planning had otherwise been good and so I managed to get to the start line with everything I'd planned.
Leg 1: Llanberis - Pen-y-Pass
Friday 1pm, 0 miles
I'm not accustomed to big events, so the big send-off with probably a couple of hundred people lining the road was a novelty. The 100-mile distance was the smallest field, with 260 starters; the total starters across all distances was around 2500, with 1057 starting the 50km race the following day. My nerves remained, well beyond the streets lined with supporters, and I was not ready to chat to any other runners for a good while; I had to let my brain process all the plans that I'd been forming for weeks, and feel settled with how the first few hours would play out. Meanwhile I was jogging up the first ascent of Snowdon with a big crowd of runners who I assume were equally unsure of how fast they should be going. A very long race lay ahead, so squandering energy early on would seem unwise, however with tight cutoffs at the early checkpoints, there was little room for dawdling, and I was determined to build a buffer over the first half a day to increase both my confidence and options should I encounter difficulties.
With many difficult climbs featuring during the race, I didn't really consider Snowdon itself to present much of a challenge, especially the first pass via the Llanberis path. Yet it seemed longer than I remember. I had been glad of the sunny but moderate forecast, but the weather actually turned out to be significantly hot by Friday lunchtime. I'd realised at race start that I needed to treat this as a hot summer's day, and had started with cap and buff on, with factor 50 on my exposed skin. I was already working hard to keep fluids going in, knowing how important that would become.
The first pass over Snowdon didn't hit the summit, instead dropping down the Pyg track. Unlike the wet and icy conditions I'd experienced during recces, we were skipping over dry rocks and it felt easy. Foot traffic was lighter than expected, and hikers were being generous in letting us through. My nerves settled, and my confidence was building; after tackling so much of this route in very difficult conditions, the dry conditions were so much more mangeable and, I assumed, quicker. I saw my support crew waving as I approached Pen-y-Pass. At such an early stage, this checkpoint would just entail a bottle refill and quick additional drink.
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| Snowdon, with left turn to Pyg track in the foreground, and the summit beyond |
Leg 2: Pen-y-Pass - Glan Dena/Llyn Ogwen
Friday 3:12pm, 7 miles
With location options for my supporters limited by checkpoint rules and proximity to roads, that would be the last I would see of them until around 24 hours in. My plan was to get focused, minimise my time at checkpoints and keep moving well in order to build up a buffer from the checkpoint cutoffs; I didn't want any unforeseen circumstance to cause me to be timed out, and one such apparent risk was now heat - I may need time for cooling off.
We headed straight up Glyder Fawr via an unforgivingly direct route. This set the tone, with a climb that I'm sure most hikers would consider tough. Today, it was one of many but still a shock to the system. I found my rhythm, and was enjoying picking my way over the rocks as we headed off the top. I'd already chatted to a slowing runner, who was being affected by the heat. I was buoyant, and enjoyed skipping down Devil's Kitchen. I didn't feel as agile as normal, with my lingering groin injury, but with the rocks being dry it wasn't a difficult descent. As it flattened out, I had a chat with another runner, but then felt I was missing a chance to press-on with one of the few easier sections, so I sped off. I was passing a lot of people, but knowing my endurance pace well, I didn't feel it was an inappropriate pace; I could sustain this, and I'd back off a lot for the climbs.
The heat started catching up with me. As we looped around the south of Tryfan, over a not insignificant climb, I stopped to cool off at a waterfall by dunking my head and wetting my cap. As I reached Glan Dena, I realised I couldn't rush the stops too much or I'd overheat. I loitered in the tent, eating cheese and pickle sandwiches, and decided that a cup of tea would go down well; it seems counter-intuitive to have a hot drink, but I find that when it’s hot enough to struggle to drink, a cup of tea, coffee or soup will be more easily consumed, and help me get straightened out.
There were signs at the checkpoint reminding us that the Tal-y-Braich checkpoint would not be operational, so we'd have a longer next leg, and should ensure we leave with full fluids. The mandatory amount of fluid capacity was 1.5L; I filled 2L. I was exclusively using the provided Naak energy drink at this point, to cover both electrolytes and the vast majority of my carb intake - it promised 250 kCals per serving, more than the 200 in my normal Tailwind. Both flavours, lime and watermelon, were tolerable, but I didn't care much for either. I was carrying a fair amount of Tailwind powder, but less than half of what I would require at my normal rate of 500ml per hour, over potentially 48 hours. I'd planned to use a combination of the two, but review how I was managing on the Naak stuff; I’d consider whether I need to carry so much Tailwind powder and potentially not take the full amount I’d put in my half way drop bag.
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| On Pen yr Ole Wen, looking back at Tryfan, with Devil's Kitchen to the right |
Leg 3 & 4: Glan Dena - Tal-y-Braich - Capel Curig
Friday 6:06pm, 14 miles
I feared this next section. A failed recce on Pen yr Helgi Du in horrendous conditions had highlighted quite how technically challenging, as well as physically exhausting, this sequence could be. Yet this was early in the race, in daylight and the weather was dry and still. I felt that conquering it with some confidence would be a boost for the rest of the race.
The opening hill of the sequence round to Tal-y-Braich was Pen yr Ole Wen. This is a climb on a similar scale to Snowdon, but completed in less than two miles; for the first part, straight up the fairly tight contours, then steepening with some scrambling on the higher section. If the tricky descent down Devil's Kitchen had failed to convey what sort of run this is, then the reality could not be missed here. Looking up at the rocks, I folded up my poles and put them in my waist band, as I'd be needing both hands.
The heat effects had been building, I was feeling a little wobbly and dehydrated. Experience told me I needed to cool down. I thought I'd get to the top of the climb and take a short breather. As I reached the summit, I realised it was only just in time. Some other runners were taking long breaks, lying down at the top. I'd already passed one who was struggling with sickness, and another who had stopped and vomited. I sat for around 5 minutes, and my slight nausea passed. I was following my normal strategy to keep forcing the fluids in regardless, and add in morsels of salty snacks to make it tolerable. It was tough, and I didn't feel like eating anything, but I know those dangers well - if you don't eat and drink, everything will quickly get very hard, and you won't finish.
Feeling a bit more normal, I continued the difficult sequence around Carnedd Dafydd, Carnedd Llewelyn and Pen yr Helgi Du. They were intimidating to look at, as you see the full skyline of hills wrapping around, but feeling confident on my feet it was ok. The official route at Pen yr Helgi Du had changed late on, so the route would not go over the rocky summit, but instead track around the narrow track on the loose, steep side of it that had scared me on the failed recce. Still not a route for the faint-hearted, but I wasn't phased in daylight with dry ground.
As I reached the bottom of the hill a few hours later, I felt I was fading because of the hours in the sun. People around me seemed to be going quicker. I knew what was required, so I slowed to a very gentle jog, kept sipping the fluids, took on a caffeinated gel, and waited for my energy to return.
I expected the checkpoint replacement, a water-only stand, to be a short distance beyond the original location; I'd misunderstood, it was at the far end of Llyn Cowlyd reservoir, nearing 26 miles, and in the only leg of the race route I hadn't recce'd. This didn't present a problem other than my expectation. During that time, the ground along the reservoir was boggy, and the daylight disappeared. It was a tedious trudge, but my efforts with nutrition paid off; sure enough, I started passing lots of people at what felt like nothing more than a gentle jog. I made the briefest of stops for fluids, knowing that Capel Curig wasn't far away.
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| Onward from Pen yr Ole Wen in the heat |
Leg 5: Capel Curig - Dolwyddelan
Friday 11:25pm, 30 miles
I used the Capel Curig checkpoint as my first proper maintenance stop. With a bag drop at mid-way, I had allowed the quarter and three-quarter distances to be my interim change stops; I swapped t-shirt and socks for spares in my pack, cleaned up my feet and put fresh lube on them. I used only Vaseline between my toes because it was the only small container of lube I had; at the start I'd used proper runner's lube and put it all over my feet. The checkpoint was serving hot food, so I had veg curry and a coffee.
Feeling replenished, I set out in the dark to tackle the significant climb up Moel Siabod. I was feeling ready. I woke Claire up with a phone call at just after midnight, as she was camping down in the valley. She could see me flickering my head torch a couple of hundred metres above. I could have been intimidated by the descent that followed the summit; on my last visit, conditions were horrific, and it was dangerous scrambling down the awkward rocks in the dark. This was very different; my shoes were confidently gripping the rocks, and the route markings helped ensure I didn't get it wrong. Previously, I was fearful of the big drop to the left during descending, without really being able to see a route across a field of large rock formations and boulders. The only glitch was where I passed one of the reflective flags, but couldn't see the next one. I carefully trod down a tapering slope that looked like the correct direction, but didn't seem safe; as it looked like it dropped into an abyss, I decided to head back up and check. Sure enough, I managed to find the next marker on another rock formation. It was a reminder that there are significant risks at points on the route.
I had been moving briskly down the difficult bit, and passed a couple of people who were finding it tougher. As the incline eased, but still had minor scrambling and rock-jumping, I was in my element. Another runner appeared behind me, and commented about the time it would take the other runners to get off the hill. We got chatting, and had a fun, if slightly speedy, section until we hit the forest fire roads, then we resumed a steady pace. A seasoned hiker, he was walking with big strides and using poles, I was mostly doing a light jog without poles to hold the same pace. He was less experienced than me with this type of run, but had great skills from orienteering that gave him confidence over the rocks. I attribute my skills with leaping across rocks to growing up in Cornwall and rock hopping at the coast, running round the High Peak and trying to keep up with Rob (see previous posts).
I'd tried to be efficient with my stop at Dolwyddelan, but I wasn't as efficient as my new buddy, so set out five or so later, and wouldn't see him again during the race.
Leg 6: Dolwyddelan - Blaneau Ffestiniog
Saturday 2:46am, 37 miles
The 8-mile section to Blaneau Ffestiniog looks unremarkable on the map; the only peak is Y Ro Wen, at 594m, with only one steep section. My prior experience of that section had been in awful conditions with bogs underfoot, and high winds driving rain in my face; it seemed to take an eternity. This time around, it was a warm night, and the bogs had reduced a lot. However, there was still much bouncing along soft ground, which makes running tough, so it was once again slow going. Getting deep into the night, and having started the race exhausted, my body was giving all the signals of wanting a rest. Knowing a quarry was ahead, I thought my best option for a sleep away from the insect nightlife might be on some smooth lump of slate. As I eventually reached the outer edges of the huge old quarry at Blaneau Ffestiniog, I started looking in the decayed slate shacks for options. Eventually, as the sun was rising, I found a huge timber lying nearly flat in some ruins. I made no efforts in preparing the spot, I just took my shoes off, lay on my front and set an alarm for 15 mins.
Unlike previous attempts at sleeping mid-run, this one failed to provide the benefit I was hoping for. I didn't really sleep (no surprise there), but neither did it lift the lethargy or replenish my legs; when I resumed, my quads felt battered and lifeless, my feet had swollen and I still didn't feel awake. I was struggling, and started questioning the wisdom of my fairly speedy descent of Moel Siabod; had I just overcooked my legs? Was it revealing weakness after my paused training? The mental battle had really begun, and I started questioning whether I could actually sustain this. I had a fairly miserable plod down to Ffestiniog, and drank coffee at the checkpoint.
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| Disused quarry near Foel Ddu, above Blaneau Ffestiniog |
Leg 7: Blaneau Ffestiniog - Croesor
Saturday 5:29am, 45 miles
I knew this to be a significant section with a big ascent through the quarries around Foel Ddu, the awkward track above Llyn Stwlan, the brutally rocky Moelwyn Mawr and a very steep grassy descent to the valley. As I headed out of the town, I passed some other runners, which made me feel like I wasn't going too slow, but my muscles still felt dead and I was weary. It was slow going through the quarries. My pace felt ponderous as I continued above Llyn Stwlan, and my stomach wasn't happy. The fierce clamber up Moelwyn Mawr felt really tough. It was warm at dawn, but it didn't initially get hot; it was windy on the tops, and I had to take care going along the edge. I was struggling.
The drop down to the midway checkpoint started with a very steep descent on grass; these are very unfriendly to my knees, and I realised I was getting heel blisters from movement in my shoes on such downhills. I planned to do a proper maintenance stop at the checkpoint, swapping kit from my drop bag, and doing a full clean and clothes change.
I started pondering a pre-race discussion with a Naak rep; he claimed that their solution included protein so was suitable as mountain fuel, where Tailwind does not. I realised that with heat the previous day, and the very warm night, I had kept forcing liquid down, but not followed my usual habit of eating cashews and other snacks alongside. For several hours I had been just drinking Tailwind, and had ended up with muscular struggles. Recalling my own mantra, "even when you think it isn't fuelling, it is always fuelling" (or something to that effect). I decided to try and eat my way out of trouble. I ate a caffeinated gel and opened my cashews rather than waiting for the checkpoint
The steep descent was hideous. My toes were hitting the ends of my shoes and my knees were screaming at me. I was feeling very grumpy. when I finally reached the bottom of the slope, it was a gradual descent down to Croesor on a farm track. I was keen to get the checkpoint, but had to will myself to jog rather than walk.
Leg 8: Croesor - Gwastadannas Farm
Saturday 8:26am, 53 miles
Heading out from the checkpoint in fresh clothes, I realised that it was shaping up to be hot. I wore a cap and a Buff, and creamed up any remaining exposed skin. The checkpoint changeover had gone well; unlike my last event, I had no confusion over what to do, swapping my kit around and doing my various maintenance tasks. I had put Compeed on my heel blisters, but my feet didn't seem as bad as I expected. It had taken quite a long time, but I was still doing well against my estimated timings.
Having followed my plan to eat some hot food at the checkpoint, my muscles and energy levels slowly began to recover. I had to continue to take care in the heat though.
Cnicht felt more brutal in the race; a long climb that gets steeper and turns to a scramble for the last section. The wind had picked up, and I had to take care heading along the edge, as I descended from the summit.
I wasn't looking forward to the next section; judged by map contour, the moor passing Moel Meirch over to the road near Llyn Gwynant looks fairly innocuous. But it is an up and down slog and spongy moorland that is only partially runnable, energy-sapping and tedious. It was draining both my energy and my joy. The sun remained strong. When I eventually crossed the A498 and picked up the small road up the valley, I was feeling the effects of too much sun, and struggling to maintain a jog, and it took a frustratingly long time to get to the checkpoint.
Leg 9: Gwastadannas Farm - Beddgelert
Saturday 12:46pm, 61 miles
I'd kept the pit stop short, not needing much beyond the refuel. Immediately afterwards, Claire and the kids greeted me and I took the opportunity to stick my head in the stream. I soaked my t-shirt, cap and Buff. My feet needed more attention; more blisters were developing, and the ones on my heel were worsening. I was slightly delayed, as I realised I'd dropped my sunglasses in the checkpoint. I set off down an easier section of the run along the lakes, before hitting the climb over Grib Ddu to Aberglaslyn.
Cooling off had helped, and I was moving well, but still feeling the impact of the heat. Some runners disappeared off ahead after the checkpoint and I ended up alone for a good while. The climb up Grib Ddu felt hard, and I felt battered on the descent too. When I got to Aberglaslyn, it was surprisingly quiet for a hot day, which was a relief given the narrow track around the rocks above the river. I was going fairly slowly along the rocky section, and looking longingly at the clear river, wanting to jump in.
My young supporters greeted me on the trail, and my daughter ran with me to the checkpoint. Claire passed me an iced latte as I neared the entrance. This was the first checkpoint falling during daytime that allowed supporters, so Claire joined me to assist. I was indecisive about what I wanted in terms of drinks, food and refuels; my head had gone a bit because of the heat. I sat on the floor, trying to give my feet a break. We spent some time patching up my increasingly bad blisters; this was becoming a race-threatening problem; running was getting difficult, and I was failing to prevent them worsening. I wanted to continue and get things done, but I knew I was hot, and that the next sequence of hills was the most intimidating of the race, so I didn't rush from the checkpoint.
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| Aberglaslyn |
Leg 10: Beddgelert - Rhyd Ddu
Saturday 4:14pm, 70 miles
I was in fear of this section. Falling at 70 miles and around 30 hours into the race, Moel Hebog alone is an intimidating prospect; the cocktail of steep and technical peaks that follow comprise a substantial and difficult trail run on its own. I knew this section would take hours and be super tough, but even worse it was far from the end of the challenges - it would be followed by a summit of Snowdon, the brutally steep Mynydd Mawr and the torturously long ascent of Moel Elio; there was a huge amount of work still to do.
It was still hot in the early evening. Masses of bluebells cover the lower part of Moel Hebog, but even at this point it begins steeply, on the grass. After a while of tough plodding, one of the most extreme parts of the race arrived - the fiercely steep approach to the summit is blocked by fields of huge boulders, and the course markings just picked a straight line up across the rocks. This was some difficult scrambling, and inevitably slow - my kind of fun, but a scary amount of effort to put in during a race this long. As hard as it was, my brain continued to ponder what was to come afterwards. I continued over Moel yr Ogof and Moel Lefn; they were difficult and draining, but I was looking ahead to the dramatic Y Gyrn, Trum y Ddysgl, Mynydd Drws-y-Coed and Y Garn.
I didn't rush, and kept the fuel going in. A chat with some marshalls after Moel Lefn gave some encouragement, and I was feeling quite strong. As the impossibly steep grass climb up to Trum y Ddysgl came in to view, I kept eyes on another runner very slowly working up it. When my turn came, even having done it before, I couldn't believe how steep it was; if you fell, you'd end up rolling all the way down. The final section before Rhyd Ddu got very technical; by this point, my sense of humour was fading; I didn't enjoy the very technically difficult and risky scramble round and down the rocks. Daylight was coming to an end, but fortunately I was on the fairly runnable descent by the time darkness closed in. It was still a long and difficult descent, made worse by my now very sore, blistered feet, and exaggerated by my desperation to get it over with. I was ready for a rest and refuel.
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| Foot of Moel Hebog |
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| Moel Hebog summit |
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| Descending Moel Hebog, looking at the five peaks before Rhyd-Ddu |
Leg 11: Rhyd Ddu - Bron-y-Fedw Uchaf
Saturday 9:54pm, 78 miles
I arrived at the checkpoint expecting my support crew to greet me, but they were nowhere to be seen. I rang Claire, and it became apparent she was at the next checkpoint (there are three checkpoints along the same road, so this is easily done). I got stuck into my maintenance tasks, and they arrived soon enough.
My blisters had been getting worse and worse, and were now so painful that I couldn't envisage how I was going to keep running for much more time. I still had over 20 miles remaining, and probably 10-12 hours given the hills and my tired state. I said to Claire that I didn't know whether I would have to pull out, or just face the pain, ignore the post-race consequences and run on despite them. She encouraged me that it was ok if I couldn't continue; I said I had so much invested in this that I desperately wanted to finish. We assessed how many patches we had, and what could be protected. Some plasters were hopelessly slapped over the remaining sores. They were a mess.
Refuelled, I felt surprisingly ready for the climb up Snowdon. Once on the ascending trail, I set a brisk hiking pace. As the trail steepened, I kept pushing. I passed another runner, and I knew I was moving well. It took a long time, longer than I remembered, but I had to remind myself that whilst Snowdon isn't highly technical on this route, it is big. As I reached Bwlch Main, the one risky section of scrambling, I caught a couple of other groups of runners. I was still pushing, and passed them before the visitor centre at the summit.
It had been a great climb, but I knew what came next; with my feet in that state, I couldn't descend. Going downhill on uneven or steep terrain felt I was ripping the skin apart on my blisters. I made some effort to hold a jog down the first gentle section, but it hurt a lot. As it got steep, I was reduced to a walk, and all the people I'd passed returned the favour and headed off into the distance.
Once off the steep rocky section along the Ranger path, we were heading down a private farm track to the checkpoint. I picked up a painful jog. It went on forever; I could see the lights, but they never seemed to get closer. I got encouragements from other runners I passed who had been reduced to a walk. Once again I was doing well, but with much suffering.
This was a big checkpoint, and filled with many runners doing both the 100-mile and 100-km distances. It was late in the night, and some runners were sleeping, many taking their time fuelling and others seemingly just having a lot of chat with support crew (mine were elsewhere sleeping). It was tempting to settle into the atmosphere, but I mostly stayed on my feet, got refuelled and geared myself up to continue. Then I spotted a bed being freed up, and realised this could be a shrewd move; I set a timer on my phone for 10 mins, and got my head down. After a rest if not a doze, I was straight up and heading back on to the trail.
Leg 12: Bron-y-Fedw Uchaf - Betws Garmon
Sunday 2:15am, 86 miles
As I set off from the checkpoint, I got chatting with a runner who was doing the 100k distance. We headed into the woods and beyond to Mynydd Mawr. I had perked up a lot. As we started ascending, the weather threw me; it wasn't quite so mild, and it was windy. I expected it to be cold on the tops, so I stopped to get changed. I over-egged it with leggings, two top layers and a jacket. I was slow up the very steep climb, but managing. The downhill was once again horribly painful.
The tiredness was finally getting to me; I was getting confused about what I was doing. I knew that I had to finish the event by 1pm, but I wasn't exactly sure what it meant to finish; I thought I had to have ticked off the various sections, and that I had ticked some off, but I couldn't seem to grasp that I simply needed to keep running to the end. I found myself planning how I was going to tackle this section, then realising I was actually already doing it. I'd also been pondering whether it was ok for me to continue to run on my heavily blistered feet, except I thought they were Claire's feet, and I needed her permission to abuse them in this way.
I hit the familiar fields towards the checkpoint sooner than expected, probably because I hadn't been fully conscious. A member of the event staff asked me what I wanted in my bottles. My answer was kiwi, which caused some confusion; my family pointed out that I am allergic to kiwi, and I actually meant watermelon. My feet were such a mess that I didn't want to look, and of course I was weary. Even so, knowing this was the last leg of the race perked me up; I was well clear of the cutoffs, I could walk the last 9.5 miles if I needed to, but I wanted to get it done.
Final leg: Betws Garmon - Llanberis
Sunday 5:32am, 91 miles
I immediately stepped up the pace. I wanted to get this last leg done in under three hours, ideally nearer two. The pine forest section wasn't quite as ridiculous as on the recce; we had flags to follow, so there was much less getting lost clambering around fallen trees, and a reduced risk of impalement. The following grassland trudge to the quarry took less time than expected too.
I'd hit a problem with my bottles. I tried drinking from one, filled from the energy drink mix at the checkpoint. There was something wrong with the mix; it tasted horrible and gritty, and then blocked my valve. I switched to another bottle, and the same happened. I only had three, and third was also disgusting. It left a foul taste in my mouth and grit on my tongue. I couldn't drink it. This was a bad situation, given a section of potentially a few hours and a hot morning.
We hit the long climb I dreaded, Moel Elio. During the recce, I tackled this one at a point of fuelling failure, and it was gruelling. This time, I was really starting to fade with tiredness; I was staggering around and my eyelids were drooping. My brain couldn't quite compute what was happening; I wasn't sure what I needed to do in order to finish the event. I was going super slow, and seemed to be getting nowhere. I stopped and laid down for a minute and instantly fell asleep. Fortunately, I awoke not long after, but the runners around me had disappeared. I realised that I if I didn't get to the end, I wouldn't complete the race.
I carried on staggering, trading places with another runner doing exactly the same thing. We chatted and reminded each other to keep going. When we had finally cleared the top, I had to stop; I was too warm now the sun was up, so I went back to shorts and t-shirt. The grassy descent was torturous; while other runners skipped down it, it was so steep that I could barely walk. The final steep grassy section of Foel Goch was immensely painful, and more runners disappeared away from me. I wasn't bothered about position, but I did want to finish.
As we hit the stony trail pointing back to Llanberis, I noticed that my watch had died. So much for tracking the whole event. I set Strava tracking on my phone. I was desperate to finish and feeling more awake, and realised my legs still had plenty in them. I picked up a jog with a flat-footed technique that avoided my blisters burning too much. I was parched; I had tried drinking more, but it just made my tongue feel horrible. I'd just have to get to the end for a drink.
The jog was in some ways easier than the mental pain of a drawn out walk, so I kept it going almost constantly back to the start of Llanberis town. I'd passed a lot of walking runners who were surprised to see me attacking it. As I neared the town, I rang Claire to make sure she was ready at the finish line; actually, my pace had surprised her, and it was looking like I might get there first. As I entered the town, I had to drop to a walk to make sure she was there for my arrival. I lost a couple of places, but I wasn't bothered - I was getting back in three hours clear of the 48 hour cutoff, time 10:02am, a total of 45hrs 6mins 15secs.
It was a brilliant finish, with crowds, noise and celebration of every runner arriving. My daughter ran along with me until I peeled off into the finisher barriers. Somehow, I'd done it, and I'd finished strong, holding a run. I needed a drink, and I didn't dare look at my feet.
Post-race perspective
After months of training in adverse conditions, the forecast mild conditions were a surprise; on the day, the sun was far more intense. This caught a lot of people out very early on; there were plenty of DNFs by checkpoint 2, and ultimately, 62% of starters would not complete the course. Having done three ultra races, including a 100-miler, in extreme heat, I could read the signs of trouble and was responding well to them. That is, I was relentless with the fluids, covered up well, took opportunities to cool off, and backed off my pace where it was getting harsh. I still found myself suffering from the heat at points. I wasn't, however, eating well, assuming the complete nutrition fluids would be sufficient.
On Saturday morning, after my attempt at a sleep, things got really tough, and this continued quite a long way into the day. I could have lost confidence, with my legs seeming to lose all their power, but I've learned the lessons about fuelling the hard way. It did knock some fun out of a run through some spectacular places in beautiful weather; I'd hoped to enjoy my time out there more, but Saturday was characterised by the battle to fuel.
No sooner had the nutrition problems passed, and I'd hit feet troubles, just like my last 100-miler. Though not a wet race, the tough terrain was causing my shoes to move around a lot. This was probably the race I should have been experimenting with preventative foot-taping and better lacing techniques. Foot problems nearly cost me a finish. I was really pleased to be finishing with the strength and energy to hold a run, and it was clear that the foot struggles had also cost me a lot of time; I'd had the strength on all the climbs, but my overall pace was hamstrung by the hours when I simply couldn't run downhill. I will be trying various ways to deal with this, though it is hard to reproduce in training; the problems occur when getting into 24hr+ runs.
It was unquestionably a savage course. The big elevation numbers are only a small part of this; even sections of the course that appear little more than undulating feature difficult, energy-sapping terrain. The tougher sections include scrambling and clambering that it seems unthinkable to include in such a huge run. From my recces, it was hard to believe it could all be done in succession. I'm glad it was a dry weekend, even though the heat caused challenges.
It was hard to turn up with a potentially race-ending injury, and knowing my training had been compromised. But endurance strength is built over a long period, and not quickly lost; if I'd been racing sub-marathon distance, I've no doubt such a training interruption would have scuppered my result. Here, I'm not sure it made any difference; perhaps the time off my feet allowed my muscles to be rested enough to finish.
Would I do it again? It was a huge investment in training, planning and kit, and dominated my life for a good portion of the year. I know that even having completed it, a similar level of training would be required again. I fear undertaking this race in bad conditions; some of the rocky sections could get pretty scary at night in bad weather, as I discovered on my recces. But it is a great course and a great event, so who knows.
