Tag Archives: Race

Brent Knoll: race report

by Ben

I have previously taken part in the Brent Knoll Race in 2016, 2015 (when apparently I didn’t blog about it) and 2014. Last year I was injured, but went along anyway to take some photos and go to the Somerset Series presentation afterwards.

Due to illness, I’ve barely run since the Snowdonia Trail Marathon in mid-July, although I did manage to get around the Ash Excellent Eight in August. My monthly stats make some poor reading: I peaked at 131 miles in May, then was around 90 in each of June and July. Then… 29, 36, 18, 9. It’s not a great trend.

It’s been pretty rough: running is one of my main methods of stress relief, so without it, I’ve struggled. Particularly at a time when I’ve been feeling quite low anyway, because of being ill for such a long period. But: I generally seem to be much stronger now, so hopefully I’m through whatever it was, and can get back on with life.

Enough rambling about that – let me ramble about the race. Or at least the most direct pre-race. This is the final race of the Somerset Series. In order to qualify for the series, you have to complete eight of the participating races. I’d done seven. So, I resolved that I was doing this race, whether I could run, walk or crawl it. (Okay, slightly exaggeration possibly.) Given the aforementioned lack of mileage, it was clearly not going to be easy. For those not familiar with the race, it’s worth giving my 2014 report a read: it details it more than I’ll go into again. But I’ll let the Strava elevation plot give you an idea:

So… we got a bump coming up…

The basic race plan was to take it relatively easy, and just finish. So, obviously, I completely overcooked the first mile, cracking along at (quick-for-me-now) 7:16. I maintained much the same pace for the next half a mile. I then refer you to the above plot. I didn’t even try and run/jog/power-walk the hill. It was a trudge.

Trudging. (Credit: Neale Jarrett)

Let me tell you, I was loving it every bit as much as it looked. This is pretty much my favourite race. But it’s an awful one to attempt when unfit. And boy, am I unfit. Still, the first climb was managed without excessive drama (just excessive sulking). My pace dropped off completely from those around me after that exertion though; I started dropping back slowly through the field along the relative flat between climbs. The second climb acted as a leveller, with us all walking, before I dropped back further as we circumnavigated (well, nearly) the summit.

Finally! The descents! Those who know me will know that there is little in life I love more than a trail descent. I took this first one a little bit steady, as I was a bit unsure of how I’d manage, given my lack of recent running. I still managed to pass a few people on the way down, and make up for a fair bit of my previous rubbishness. Of course, once we were back on the flat, they all streamed back past me, but whatever.

On the second descent, I really let myself go, and perhaps for the only stage of the race, had a genuine smile on my face. Of course, once we were back on the flat, they all streamed back past me, but whatever! The rest of the race, about a mile-and-a-half, was just a slog to finish.

Lazy technique. (Credit: Daniel Anderson)

I was glad to finish, and not bothered at all about trying to put in a sprint finish. It was done, I’d completed my eighth race, and qualified for the series. Now it just remained to be seen if I had done enough to finish in the top ten? I’d been (based on points average) eighth coming into this race, but it all depended on how other people had improved compared to me.

While the race wasn’t a great experience for me, it was really good to get out and see the racing community. Being the end of season race, most of the familiar faces were there, and it was nice just to be immersed back into that. As well as that, both of my clubs, Running Forever and Minehead had good contingents at the race, so it was a nice, social occasion. Most importantly though (!) my attendance had paid off, and I finished ninth in the Series – another glass for the shelf!

Club swag!

So… what’s next? I honestly don’t know. I’d like to set down a foundation over the next few weeks, even if it’s just a couple of runs a week. After that, hopefully I can work on getting back up to pace. But first, I’ve got a cold to shift. [EYE ROLL]

My Snowdonia thoughts

by Ben

A bit of time has passed now since the Snowdonia Trail Marathon. (Did I mention that I ran a marathon?) I wanted to post again to reflect on my thoughts about a few things. Overall, I did it. I did it in more or less the exact time that I estimated. So I can’t have too many qualms about the race really. But.. there are a few things that I’ve learnt from.

Training

So, again, I finished, and I finished in pretty much the time I predicted. But that doesn’t mean that my training was perfect. Or even adequate. I took a relatively laid-back approach to this training cycle. My focus was on two main things: mileage and elevation.

The latter I certainly achieved (compared to my previous efforts, at least). I opted for a two-pronged approach: I simply made an effort to target more hills in my runs, and run far less in central Taunton, and I joined Minehead Running Club for their Monday evening runs. The combined effect meant that by early July, shortly before my marathon, I had run just over 50,000 feet this year. In contrast, the most I’d ever run before *in a whole year* was 42,000 feet.

Courtesy of Veloviewer.

Mileage was generally less successful. I only ran one long run of 20 miles or more; and only three that were 15 miles or more. My weekly mileages were also pretty low. In the 12 weeks leading up to the race, my biggest week was 40.7 miles. In contrast, my biggest week for the Bristol Half Marathon was 45.9 miles. Accumulated across the whole 12 weeks, the difference is even more stark: 422 miles for the Bristol Half, compared to 301 miles for Snowdonia.

There were definitely reasons – I was ill twice during that training period for Snowdonia, and missed something like 15-20 days (not all of these were training days, of course). That probably works out to about 60-100 miles, a big part of the difference. Without those gaps, my training would have built on itself a bit better, and I would almost certainly have done longer long runs. Or at least, more of them. Races (as always) got in the way too. Doing a 10k, plus some added mileage isn’t too bad during training for a half, but it’s a pretty big dent for marathon training. If I’m serious about a marathon in the future, I probably need to curb my shorter distance racing habit a bit.

We also had a lot going on. Both me and Lolly have been busy and stressed at work, and we also have twice as many children to deal with now compared to during that Bristol Half training.

Could I have trained better? Yes, though it’s hard to account for illness. Do I really mind? No, this was all about completion, not time. But it’s still good to analyse it to see where improvements could come in the future.

Fuelling

This, in my opinion, is where I really let myself down. I don’t even know why it all went wrong. Well, no, I do. I got in my own head about it, and messed myself up.

I have quite a sensitive stomach / digestive system. Actually, that isn’t entirely true. For some reason, my head has too much influence over my stomach. I make myself feel ill – if I get it in my head that something smells funny and has gone off, then my stomach feels funny. Not because the food has actually gone off, but because my head makes my stomach worry about it. Or something like that. Because of this, I’d never used gels before this training cycle. I’d read so much about their possible effects on the digestive system that I thought it best to avoid them with my own.

I realised that running a marathon without anything would be stupid. Particularly this marathon. I am also something of a fussy eater, so most of the ‘natural’ alternatives don’t appeal to me. After a fair bit of research, I settled on trying the Torq gels. They were described as more of a ‘yoghurty’ texture and flavour, which sounded like something I could deal with. And I could. I used them in my training runs, and had absolutely no problems. I also tried having a peanut butter sandwich (too dry and claggy) and then settled on peanut butter and jam sandwiches instead.

My favourites: Apple Crumble, Raspberry Ripple.

So, for the race, I set off with (I think) seven gels, plus two slices of peanut and jam sandwich. My plan was to eat something roughly every 4.5 to 5 miles.

I had a gel at around 6 miles, and a sandwich at 11 miles. A further gel at 15 miles, and I was done for the race. I tried to have the other sandwich around mile 21, but by then I was struggling up Snowdon and was pretty dehydrated. I should have probably tried a gel instead, but as I say, I’d basically got in my own head by then. The distances don’t look too bad, but if I convert them into times, it tells a slightly different story. 1 hr 10, 1 hr 50, 2 hr 30, 4 hr 18. Yeah, not quite the same as 6, 11, 15, 21, huh?

A simple lesson to be learnt here – distances might be fine for flat road marathons where you would expect relatively even splits. But for gnarly trail marathons with mountains… not such a good idea. In future, I might try to base my fuelling on time, rather than distance. I also need to worry less about what everyone else is doing, and just focus on myself. Which is really bloody obvious, and yet still I suffered by it.

Hydration

For the most part, my hydration was pretty good. I carried a 500 ml bottle with me (this was part of the mandatory kit). For the majority of the race, this was plenty enough, in conjunction with the drinks stations themselves. However, for that four miles from Pen-y-Pass to the drinks station on the way down Snowdon it was not. Primarily because that four miles took me about 1 hr 45. Basically, as above, I just need to consider time gaps, rather than distance gaps. For most races, a 500 ml bottle plus refills would have sufficed, but for this one, I could have done with double that, if only for the big climb.

The mountain

Despite the sharp increase in the amount of elevation I clocked up during training, nothing could prepare me for Snowdon itself. A 1,300 ft climb up Corn Du in the snow in early February was the biggest single climb I did, while my “Exmoor Three Peaks” run totalled 3,300 ft, including Dunkery Beacon. Both impressive feats, but compared to a 2,800 ft climb over about four miles, they were small preparation. Especially after 18 miles of running. Simply put, the only thing that could have prepared me for climbing up Snowdon would have been climbing up Snowdon.

Would I like to go up Snowdon again sometime? Yes. Would I want to do it in a race? Maybe, but probably not. I run because I love running. Walking for four miles isn’t my idea of running. It was a great challenge etc etc, but at the end of the day, it wasn’t running. Would I do another race with over 5,500 ft of elevation? Sure. But it would need to be more spread out over the whole race, rather than concentrated on one big and one very, very big climb.

Marathon distance

I guess the biggest question is whether I would consider doing another marathon. Truth be told, I don’t know. The long runs were pretty tough on the family, and I really didn’t enjoy them that much. The race itself was hard, really hard. But then, I’ve heard it talked about as being the “toughest marathon in the United Kingdom”, so go figure. For the moment, I certainly want to focus on shorter distance stuff again. But… I do still have my deferred London Marathon place…

Hmmm…

Snowdonia Trail Marathon: race report

by Ben

It’s difficult to know where to start with this one. So, as is traditional, I’ll try and start at the beginning.

Just under a year ago, in the middle of a good spell of training, I saw that one of the runners I follow on Strava had done the Snowdonia Trail Half Marathon. It looked amazing – 13.1 miles, 3,852 feet of elevation. It went over a mountain! The idea took hold quickly. But soon things escalated. I’d been looking for a trail marathon to do for a while. I wanted my first marathon to be off-road, and hilly; that way I couldn’t get too caught up in chasing a time. Also, once I thought about it, travelling all the way up to north Wales for a half marathon; one that was pretty similar to the Exmoor Stagger in many aspects (16 miles, 3,200 feet), seemed not really worth it. So obviously, rather than give up on the idea, I simply decided to run the marathon. And there it was; on Friday 28 July, I had signed up.

Six weeks later, a major spanner fell in the works when I sprained my ankle. Despite my initial hopes to be back up and running relatively soon, it dragged on. Then, in early October, more news: against all the odds, I’d got a London Marathon place. Wow. Suddenly, it looked like I was going from never having done a marathon, to a couple in three months.

In late October I started to run again – a mile here, a mile there. But it wasn’t really until December that I was doing much. Then, with Christmas and illnesses and whatnot, it was January. Various bugs meant that my training remained spotty. But, at the end of February, I made my return from racing. And I did it in typical fashion: a double-header. On Saturday, the Minehead Running Club “Hills to Coast” Relay. On Sunday, the Babcary 7.5.

On 12 March, I “started” my training. It was pretty ad hoc. After just two weeks, I was out of action for two weeks with a diarrhoea bug. Another couple of weeks of training and I had another bad bug, and missed another ten days. It’s fair to say that at this point, I didn’t really think a marathon was going to happen. I’d already deferred my London place; it was quickly obvious that wasn’t going to happen. But I was really starting to worry about Snowdonia too.

Despite all the issues though, I was still making progress. My long runs were getting longer: 13 miles, 14 miles, 17 miles?! (I blame Ron.) I went for a solo run around some of Exmoor’s highest peaks, totalling 19 miles and 3,300 feet. A few weeks later, after a couple of race weekends, I looped back, forth, and all around Center Parcs for 20 miles. By then I was pretty happy – even if I did no more running, I was confident that as long as I was fit and well, I’d be fine.

Which was handy, and I got ill, again. Another week and a bit of training gone.

I’ll start talking about the race now, I promise

Fast forward to race week. Suddenly, the logistics became real, and difficult. My daughter has been getting car sick lately, and a five hour car journey didn’t look too appealing. We created, then tore up plan after plan after plan. Eventually finishing with cancelling all our hotel rooms, and involving me driving up on my own on the Saturday, saying with my in-laws that night, and then driving back straight after the race. It looked like it wasn’t just going to be the race that would be brutal!

It’s a long old journey…

The drive up went pretty well – five and a quarter hours to Llanberis. Then another half an hour to find somewhere to park (this would have been easier if either [a] I had change or [b] North Wales joined the 21st century and allowed you to pay for parking by mobile phone.) It was then simple enough to walk into the race village and collect my number. Another twenty minute drive got me to the holiday cottage in Y Felinheli my in-laws were staying in. We went out for a lovely meal at the Torna a Surriento restaurant in Bangor that evening to allow me to ‘carb-load’. I’m not sure whether Carbonara really counts, but it was delicious, so who cares!

Okay, okay, the race

A relatively normal 6:30 alarm gave me plenty of time to have a large bowl of porridge, start filling myself with water, and get my kit ready before we left the cottage at 7:30 to head to the start. Rather than worry about parking again, my father-in-law kindly dropped me off – we arranged that he would keep an eye on the tracker, and hopefully work out roughly when I was due to finish. I guessed at something between 5 and a half and 6 hours to complete the race.

Having collected my number the afternoon before, I didn’t really have anything to do in the hour and ten minutes before the race. I took a few pictures – both for myself and others, and generally whiled away the time. Bizarrely, given that my main concern for the race was getting too hot in the sun, I also had to work on keeping warm. The sun was tucked away behind the clouds, and it was actually – for the first time in about a month – quite chilly.

An average view from the start/finish area

The Always Aim High event team were brilliant throughout the morning, given frequent updates on the mandatory kit list. They had loosened it slightly, removing the need for waterproofs or gloves – full-body cover was still needed (a long sleeve top and trousers/tights). Sadly, this made no difference for me, as the only full-body cover I had with me was my waterproofs, so I had to carry that anyway. A lesson for the future!

A race briefing was given at 8:45, detailing the cut offs, and some basic safety information – pretty generic stuff, but some good stuff. They asked runners not to use the drink station water to pour over themselves, as this would risk them running out, especially in some of the harder to reach locations.

This bit is actually the race now

Well, sort of.

Not only was this to be my first marathon, but also my first race with mandatory kit, my first mountain race, my first run with more than 5,000 feet of elevation (actually my previous most was 3,800), my first run further than 20 miles, and significantly my longest run time-wise.

I had two main concerns:

  1. Running that far.
  2. Fuelling myself.

You’d think that I was worried about the climb over Snowdon itself, and the elevation, but oddly, I wasn’t. I’d trained with a fair bit of elevation, and was fully expecting it to be a walk, so the difficulty of it had been diminished in my head. I wasn’t even too concerned about the distance. Again, I knew that Snowdon would be something of a walk anyway, so actually, I didn’t really think I would have a major problem completing the race from that respect.

Running in an anti-clockwise direction.

On the other hand, my food and drink situation was one that worried me a fair bit. I get quite significant headaches after a lot of my runs, which seems to be linked to my hydration and fuelling. This race was going to span lunch – in fact, a guide time of six hours from 9 am meant that it would actually be basically all day. I have never used gels in a race before, but had been experimenting with them during my long runs, and had no ill effects. I had also taken peanut butter and jam sandwiches out a couple of times, and found that this had worked well too. So, I made a rough plan for the marathon: 5 miles, gel; 10 miles, sandwich; 15 miles, gel; 20 miles sandwich; 23 miles gel.

My general race plan was to take it pretty easy early on: that initial small looking climb is still over 1,000 feet. So I figured that I would get over that without exerting too much energy, and then crack on along the descent and the flat section. And then, you know, the mountain. I’d basically try and survive the walk up that, and then see how my legs were for the big descent. Sorted. A plan.

The actual start of the actual race (Start to Rhyd-Ddu)

No, like, actually this time.

After the race briefing, we were called to line up at the start. It was all a little bit of a mess, and I didn’t really have a clue whether I was too far forward, too far back, or about right. I guessed I was a little bit too far back, and this was borne out by our start through the village. Heading right down Llanberis High Street, the crowd was going at slightly less than 9 minute miles. Not catastrophically slow, given that I wanted to take it easy to start, but still slower than I wanted. I was aware of a stile at around mile four which other blogs had described as a pinch-point, which long queues. While I wanted to take it relatively easy on the first climb, I also wanted to hit that stile far enough up the pack that I didn’t have to wait too long.

I can tell this is early – I had my cap on!

I continued to gradually pass people along the High Street, and then as we turned up the hill the crowd slowed to a walk. I jogged short sections when there was space, but was mostly happy to go with the group. I really didn’t see any point in killing my legs on this first climb. We continued to climb, first on what was mostly a proper road, becoming a decent, single road-width track, becoming a narrower track, becoming quite a gnarly path. I slotted in with a group of three runners at this stage, and let them dictate much of the pace for a while.

Our first peak was reached at about three and a half miles, and took me about 40 minutes. I say a peak – in reality we were running up a pass between the heights of Foel Goch (605 m) and Moel Cynghorion (674 m) to Bwlch Maesgym (467 m).

Cap off – looking a bit less kempt.

More ‘average’ views.

From Bwlch Maesgym, we dropped down towards the Snowdon Ranger Path, where we had a short queue for a stile. This was the first of the pair that I’d read so much about – I was thankful that I’d clearly got far enough forward that they weren’t too much of an issue. The half marathon route splits off to head up the Ranger Path, but the marathon and ultra runners continued on, down towards Rhyd-Ddu. But first, another stile and some pretty treacherous terrain. I was keeping a pretty decent pace up along this whole section (stiles aside). The downhill nature suited me, and the terrain was pretty friendly early on – soft grass with a few rocks around to avoid. But after we crossed the Ranger Path, we seemed to be in some sort of quarry, and there was a lot of loose shale-like terrain to deal with, and some seemingly artificial mounds to negotiate.

One of the many stiles to get over early on.

Rhyd-Ddu, just about 10k into the race, was the first drinks station. Having missed my first gel at five miles, I took it on here. I also had a big cup of water, and took the opportunity to refill my water bottle. The station was well-stocked with water, High5 Isotonic drink and High5 gels as well. This was also the first checkpoint for the live tracking, so the first time that those following my progress had any idea of how I was doing: 1:08:21, at an average pace of 11:13 per mile, apparently.

The ‘boring’ middle bit (Rhyd-Ddu to Beddgelert)

After the gorgeous first section, and ahead of Snowdon, the middle section was relatively dull by comparison. That’s not to say it was actually unattractive or boring – in any other race, it would have been lovely. It’s just that in this particular race…

Approaching Rhyd-Ddu, when I was still capable of looking like I was enjoying myself!

Heading out of the drinks station in Rhyd-Ddu, we went around Llyn y Gader (a lake) and followed the edge of Beddgelert Forest. The pace picked up; mile 8 was my quickest of the entire marathon (8:25), and most were quicker than 9 minute miles. The terrain was largely compacted gravel, and with less stop-start, it was easier to follow typical race tactics. Three of us ran much of this section together, our paces nicely matching, though we swapped lead of the group a few times.

Entering Beddgelert, we reached the second major feed station for the marathon. Again late for my food, I scoffed down my sandwich as we approached it, and then once again took on plenty of water and refilled my bottle. As I was waiting for my refill, I heard my name – it was fellow RFRC runner Matt Blee, who was doing the ultra. We had a quick chat; he let me know that he was ahead of Damon, but the two Andys from our club were just ahead. After a little confusion about which direction to head in to leave, I headed off once more, through the pretty little village. Beddgelert was very busy with tourists as the time approached 11 in the morning. 11 miles in 1:49:42, at an average pace of 9:58 per mile.

The end of the beginning. Or, the beginning of the end. (Beddgelert to Pen-y-Pass)

From Beddgelert, the race continued to be mostly flat until the approach the Pen-y-Pass. The scenery was very different to the earlier stages; despite the dry spell, we were surrounded by lush greenery. We were running up the Afon Glaslyn valley, and went passed a couple of lakes, Llyn Dinas and Llyn Gwynant. Shortly after Beddgelert was the lowest point of the race, around 50 metres. Other than a brief bump around Llyn Gwynant, we only gained about 50 metres over the next 10 kilometres. Despite this, the terrain slowed us down from about mile 14, as the path twisted and turned through the trees and rocks. There were quite a few scrambles up and down steep rock formations, and there were a fair few stiles again. A feed station around mile 15 reminded me to take a gel, and put me pretty much back on track.

Just more lovely scenery.

 

Just before mile 18, the climbing starts. It sort of caught me off-guard. I’d driven past the Pen-y-Pass car park on my way to Llanberis the day before, and I had wondered about how high it already was. Apparently, I never developed this thought to really work out that there would be a fair bit of climbing before the Pen-y-Pass feed station (and cut-off, though I was well ahead of that spectre). In fact, we had to climb about 250 metres just to get to Pen-y-Pass and the start of the Pyg Track. Mile 19 was that climb; the first of four miles of it. And it was one of the most significant; 756 feet (~250 metres) in one mile. Everyone slowed to a walk – one person joked that it was like something out of a war film, with everyone trudging along, snaking up the path as far as we could see. That didn’t make it any easier – we could see quite how much further up we had to go – just to get to Pen-y-Pass.

Up, and more up. And this is before even hitting the mountain proper.

It was a relief to reach Pen-y-Pass and refill my water, which had been getting pretty low. Sadly, with the trauma of the climbing, I forgot to have anything to eat – technically it was too early, but given how much I’d had to slow, I should have done anyway. Pen-y-Pass was the last checkpoint before the finish line; 19 miles, 3:33:29 at an average pace of 11:14 per mile.

Can I please just give up? (Snowdon ascent)

The Pyg Track is often described as the prettiest route up Snowdon. It is one of the more popular, as it is also the shortest (assuming you start in the car park, and not 19 miles previous in Llanberis…) It is not however, the easiest. According to walkupsnowdon.co.uk, it “can be steep and rocky in places”. Yes. Quite. No one was even remotely considering running, and we were frequently slowing right down to clamber up some of the trickier climbs. It was amazing, let me be clear about that. Had I not already run pretty much as far as I’d ever run before, I’d probably have loved it. As it was, I’d already been climbing for a mile, knew that I had a fair bit left, and was getting fed up. It didn’t help that I didn’t remember exactly how much I had left. I recalled that the summit was somewhere around either 22.5 or 23.5 miles in, but couldn’t remember which. So I couldn’t even console myself by counting down the distance.

Mile 20 took 24:19, followed by mile 21 in 20:12 – there were actually a few points during this mile when I was able to run! Well, sort of. My this stage I was really struggling with basically everything. My groin or quads (I couldn’t really pinpoint which) were struggling with the big steps needed at times, and my calves and hamstrings weren’t too happy either. I sat down for an actual break at about 19.8 miles, and then repeated this again at 20.6, 21.1 and 21.8 miles.

Tough going.

Frankly, my head was broken. I didn’t want to keep going. I’d already gone further than I’d ever been before, and the walking was really demoralising me. I’m a runner – I train to run, I like – heck, no – love to run. And yet, for a few miles, and for more yet, I was just walking. Trudging really, not really walking at all. If there had been a feasible way to stop, to give in, I’d have probably taken it. As it was, I was halfway up a mountain. I had to either walk back down, or walk the rest of the way up. I could hardly sit there and demand Mountain Rescue come and take me off the mountain. So, on I went.

The views though!

I kept on going. And going. And going. Thankfully, my estimates for the summit (well, where the Pyg Track meets the Llanberis Path, which is as far as we went) were off, and we actually got there at mile 22. There was a photographer near the top, and I’ve not included any of the photos – the backdrop is stunning, but I was… not. My efforts at a smile and thumbs up are quite amusing though! For the record, mile 22 included 983 feet of elevation, and it took me 30:58!

Down Snowdon back to Llanberis (to the finish)

Normally, I’d have gobbled up the downhill; it was rocky and fun. However, I had no legs left to work with, and very little energy. I knew by this point that I’d messed up my food, and although I’d tried to have a sandwich halfway up, I just manage it. I’d ran out of water on the climb, and the drink station wasn’t until a mile into the descent. But, importantly, I knew that having made the climb, I could definitely finish.

I once again made full use of the drinks station, having two cups of water, and refilling my water bottle up completely. I tried to then spur myself on down the hill, but truth be told, I just had nothing left. I ended up running with the half marathon sweeper for a fair while – I think he must have sensed my despair! We chatted for a little while about the race, and running in the area generally, before he stopped to talk to some marshals and I continued on. For about two and a half miles after the drinks station, we dropped down the Llanberis Path before it deposited us on the road. I was unusually happy to see the road, and the regularity it brought with it – my muscles were fed up with variable terrain.

Spurred on by a runner who passed me, I managed to put on a bit more speed down into Llanberis. Thankfully, I remembered from the blog posts I’d read that the course didn’t head straight to the finish, but took a right-hand turn to approach the finish from the other side. I assume this has something to do with traffic management, but even knowing it was coming, it was pretty hard to cope with being diverted away from the finish when you’d already run 26.2 miles! Still, a wiggle through some trees, and an annoying little climb, and then I was into the meadow next to the race village. And then into the finishing funnel – which went on bit longer than I would have liked!

Nearly, nearly, nearly there.

Then, finally, I rounded the corner, and could see the finish. Damon, who I discovered had been forced to drop out, was right by the finish, and I’ve rarely been happier to see a friendly face and have a high five towards the end of a race.

You know what, I don’t even remember what my finishing time was. It doesn’t really matter. It was a bloody difficult course. It was my first marathon. It went over a bloody mountain. I survived – physically, mentally (just about). But, for the record, it was 5:46:28, an average pace of 12:48 for the whole thing. Pen-y-Pass to the finish was an average of 16:20.

Looking more or less how I felt.

I think this is plenty long enough for the moment – I’ll post about my reflections on the race later in the week.

Piddle Wood Plod: race report

by Ben

The Piddle Wood Plod is a race that I’ve wanted to do for a couple of years. But each year something else seemed to get in the way. In 2016, we were on holiday. Last year, it came the week after a string of three race weekends in a row. The physical toll of four races in four weeks didn’t really bother me. I just didn’t think that with a two-month-old son, I could push Lolly that far!!

To be honest, I didn’t really know how this race was likely to go. I ran the Crewkerne 10k the previous weekend, and did a midweek ‘race’ with Minehead RC which involved over 750 feet of climbing. On the other hand, I hadn’t done much else. Coming into race-day I’d only run 13.6 miles in the week to that point, and nothing at all Thursday, Friday, Saturday. Not great for marathon training, but a nice ‘taper’ for a 10k.

Although I hadn’t run the race before, I know the first and last part of the course pretty well, as it makes up part of the Herepath, which I have run reasonably often. I also had plenty of Strava data to examine, as plenty of my club-mates have run the race in previous years. I spent a little while examining their elevation and pace graphs to get a feel for the course. It is essentially a lollipop variant. About 1.5 miles out, then two, different loops, then the same 1.5 miles back. The first loop had a gentle climb, then a steep climb before a descent, while the second loop had a steep climb followed by a steady climb. Looking at the paces of my club-mates, all of whom are quicker than me, I noticed they’d all had to walk the steep climbs. I immediately decided that there was no point in even trying to run those parts. Race plan: complete.

Race day

The morning of the race was a little different to normal. With a relatively late 11 am start, and only being about four miles from home, we had time to go to junior parkrun as a family before we headed over to the race. Even after doing this, we made it to the race in plenty of time to get a good parking spot. I had a pretty relaxed pre-race: collect number, chat, get changed, gentle warm-up with Dom. As we gathered for the start, I initially stood a couple of metres back from the start, but soon took stock that there weren’t that many obviously quick runners around, and shuffled forwards.

As we launched off, a leading pack quickly emerged. I was controlling my pace, holding myself back from the danger of the too-quick start. A second pack soon formed behind me, though I could sense that some in the group wanted to go quicker. Who was I kidding, so did I – it was taking all my self-control not to. We turned off the road onto a narrow path through a field, and any thoughts of passing people were gone. I caught up with a runner who was obviously out of position, but just held pace behind him, happy for another excuse to not bomb off too quick. Once we were out of the field and over the road, I made my way past him, while at the same time a few from the pack eased past me. I wasn’t too concerned at this point – my focus remained on controlling my pace for the opening mile and a half, and then see how things went on the loops.

Despite my ‘controlled’ pace, I remained in touch with those around me. The leading pack had disappeared into the distance, but everyone else was very much in play. As the course got a bit more technical and a bit steeper, though still very runable, I started to ease back past people, and soon built up a gap. I’d hoped that Dom might come with me, and was worried that on my own I might soon be running a very lonely race. Thankfully, as I continued up the hill, a fluorescent racing vest came back into view. Josh, who’d done the 34-mile Dartmoor Discovery the weekend before, looked like he was struggling a bit.

I gradually closed in on Josh as we climbed the hill, though my effort was put into perspective as I was passed by another runner on the climb. When the route turned a sharp left, I knew it was the first of the short-sharp hills, and dropped straight into a walk. I’d far rather lose a few seconds to those around me than destroy my legs, particularly this early on. As it was, Caroline behind me had done the same, and I wasn’t losing much time on Josh ahead. Nearing the top, it started to level off, and I trotted back into a run. As the course dropped into a descent however, the tables turned. I followed the inov-8 mantra. Feet first. Head will follow. I passed both the runner who’d overtaken me (who was in a Taunton Deane Aquathlon vest, so in my head was dubbed ‘the triathlete’), and Josh. I expected Josh to come back past me as the route flattened out again, and I wasn’t disappointed. However, rather than him run on beyond me, I was able to use him to push a bit more, and we fell into stride.

In-step with Josh!

When we reached the start of the loop again, we were directed back up for the second loop, and I was buoyed by the call of ‘6th, 7th and 8th’ from the marshal. Although I’d have realised it had I considered, I was shocked to find I was so high in the field. The second lap bore much in common with the first; the triathlete was strong up the hill and went past, while I’d let Josh lead up the hill too, while I concentrated on conserving my energy with a walk up the steep start of the hill. As it levelled off, I kept pace behind Josh, and then he gallantly moved to the side to let me past at the top of the descent. I flung myself down the hill again, though just slightly slower than the first lap apparently! The triathlete, who I’d overtaken on the descent, came back past me on the flat, but I was slightly surprised to see Danny, from Minehead, not too far ahead. He’s far quicker than me on the flat, but on these off-road, hillier courses, I tend to be a bit closer to him.

Although I’d thought that Josh might come back at me on the flat, positions were more or less set from here, and in the end, my finish was pretty lonely, for a time of 43:50.

Post-race

The race was really well organised, and that didn’t finish at the end of the race. Thurlbear School PTA had provided an amazing array on the cake stand, and a barbecue too. The presentation was delayed somewhat, but I think this was a tactical ploy to give people more time to buy food! Unlike many races, where lots of people disappear quite soon after the race, it seemed like everyone was hanging around, so I’m guessing the PTA did pretty well out of it.

Loot!

Considering the race only cost £10 as an EA registered runner, the haul was pretty impressive: a plastic drinks bottle, a buff, a medal… and a bottle of cider! It’s no wonder this race always sells out – definitely one for my calendar again next year.

Isle of Man Easter Festival of Running 10k (2018): race report

by Lolly

Surprise! A race report that’s not from Ben. Well, not much of a surprise if you read Ben’s training update a few weeks ago, but still. It’s a bit of an understatement to say I haven’t been racing lately. My last race was in fact the Stoke Stampede, way back in December 2015. Rest assured, though, that not everything has changed. I mean, it’s taken me the best part of 4 weeks to write this one up.

I picked the Isle of Man Easter Festival of Running to be my race return way back near the start of 2017, while still pregnant. I’d never run it before (although Ben had in both 2014 and 2015), the route is right near my parents’ house, and the timing worked at just under a year after my due date. While I entered other races (although ultimately gave up my place for both), this was always my target.

The question being, then, what was my target? The first, and most important, target that I set myself was to finish the race with a smile on my face. I’d love to say I was happy to leave it at that, but like many runners I wanted a time goal. The obvious goal was to beat my time from the British 10k, which was my first post-natal race last time round. But my dream was to under an hour.

A month before the race, I headed to Burnham and Highbridge parkrun for a benchmark 5k. Clinging to my dream, despite all my training indicating I wasn’t fast enough, to me sub-30 was crucial. I crossed the line in 28:44.

But then it all went wrong. Between low energy levels (I’ve been on and off iron tablets for anaemia) and bad weather (snow in Taunton? seriously?) my next run wasn’t until 3 weeks later at Minehead parkrun. By the time I made it to the Isle of Man my confidence was low. And by the morning of the race (which is in the evening) I was also tired and unsure if I’d even take part.

Getting race kit ready

What does race kit look like again?

Happily for this post, I did indeed decide to take part. Ben walked me down to by the start, where the feeling of being part of a race instead of on the sidelines felt surreal. After the customary queue for the ladies loos, I had a chat to a few people before handing Ben my outer layers. The atmosphere at the start was great, which helped relieve a few nerves.

I’d mentally broken the race down into 5 parts: Port Erin, connecting roads, coast, climbing and home stretch. The course starts by heading out and then all the way back along the prom, before climbing up to the upper prom and through the village. I’d practised this section a few days before and was pleasantly surprised how much quicker it seemed to go with other runners and a supportive crowd.

Turning at the end of Station Road

Ah yes, this is how races work

Despite vaguely targeting my British 10k time, I decided to only look at my watch at each mile beep. Having felt run down earlier in the day, I was wary of pushing myself too hard. Mile 1’s pace of 9:42 was not only significantly faster than expected, it was only fractionally slower than 1 hour pace. Not great for my chances of thinking straight about my fitness levels!

Heading out of Port Erin, I started the section I’d written off as ‘filler’ miles. Once actually running, though, I realised how I would normally go out of my way to run along ‘country’ roads like these. (Ok, it’s technically an A road, but it was still nice). Around this point I found myself running near someone else with Tikiboo leggings, which was a nice extra focus. My watch beeped to tell me that mile 2 had been almost identical to mile 1.

I took the turn onto what can definitely be described as a country road, and started to get excited. As well as being a generally nice road to run on, glimpses of the sea started to appear. Yes, the race had started by the sea in Port Erin, but this was the bit I was really looking forward to.

As I crossed over to the pavement by the sea, I told myself to just enjoy the views. I’m kind of surprised I didn’t get a cricked neck from all the time I spent looking to the left. The weather was just perfect for lighting up the coastline. The route continues along the coast path as it splits from the road, and shortly after this was the 5k clock. I passed this at somewhere around 29:40; my second fastest 5k of the year and on a much tougher course. The only niggle being that I had another 5k to go. With a teeny tiny hill.

Running by the sea

I remember! You have to hop!

Happily, before that hill was more coast path. And a drinks station. More neck cricking commenced, as I ran past Port St May beach. The metal bridge-path known as The Catwalk followed. Perhaps strangely, this is one of my favourite places to run. Whether it was fatigue or simply enjoying the view, my pace for mile 4 had slipped. With the climb up still to come, there was realistically no chance that I would finish in under an hour. This realisation actually calmed the last nerves I had and steadied me for the effort.

The climb up through Port St Mary and out the other side lasts for just under a mile. To start with, the incline is reasonably gradual, as the route follows the high street. I was definitely starting to get tired, but kept plodding along. The turn off onto the back road to Port Erin brings the steepest part of the climb. It’s a section of road I know well, and an early decision to walk the very top as it rounded the corner was probably the only reason I kept running until then.

With the bulk of ascent completed, it was time to settle into a tired rhythm. The beep for 5 miles brought with it a new determination. My pace for the mile had been 10:50, but my overall pace was still just around 10 minute/miles. New race goal set.

At the perfect time for a motivation boost, my family were just along the road. A power-up high five from my daughter (a junior parkrun staple) set me nicely on my way to the end of the road. Turning the corner it all went downhill. Literally. Which is pretty nice 5 and a half miles into a 10k. Sadly I’m not all that confident at letting momentum take control of my running, but I managed to let go a little.

Back on the prom things were a bit chaotic. Nice evening weather on a bank holiday weekend had brought a fair few people out. And faster runners (which, let’s face it, most of the field were compared to me) were running up and down the road on cool downs. It was a bit of an obstacle course trying to get through.

Passing the start, there was just a small incline before the finish was in sight. I’d promised myself that I’d push for a fast finish even if no one was in sight. As it happens, I managed an overtake just before the end. The perfect finish to a very enjoyable and well organised race.

Good Friday 2017 photo

Good Friday 2017

Good Friday 2018 photo

Good Friday 2018

For the vast majority of us, running is all about personal achievement. And so in that spirit, I present my 10k time of 1:01:34 (9:54 min/mile). My personal best 10k as a mum-of-two, and my personal best returning-to-racing 10k.

And I finished the race with a smile on my face.

Hills to Coast Relay: “race” report

by Ben

After not racing since last August, for some reason I decided that it would be a good idea to return with a weekend back-to-back. On Saturday I took in Minehead Running Club’s “Hills to Coast” Relay, an internal club event that I was kindly invited to take part in. The following day was my first Somerset Series race of the year, the Babcary 7.5 mile road race, but more on that in a later blog post.

MRC “Hills to Coast Relay”

Each year, Minehead Running Club arrange a club relay, and this year I was lucky enough to be invited to take part. The event comprises four legs, and the course isn’t marked – the onus is on the runners to learn the course themselves in preparation for the day. A couple of months ago, I found out that I was running leg 1, and had been sent the route.

I plotted the route onto my OS Maps app, and headed out in early January. Lolly dropped me off near the start, and then headed off to the end with the children for a splash around in the woods. Meanwhile, I studiously followed the red line on my phone to navigate across to meet them. My daughter was a bit confused when I turned up, asking how I’d got there without a car! About a month later, I headed out again with a few other runners to try the course again. I was pretty happy with most of the route, but I remained a bit uncertain about the start. Hence, Tuesday this week, I nipped out again to get it firmly sorted in my mind (and maybe have a CR attempt at the downhill segment on Strava…)

Stunning views

Roll on Saturday morning – I dumped my car at the finish, and got a lift to the start with Josh. Running Yeovil Montacute parkrun last weekend had given me a bit of a wake-up call; I’d shot off too quick and suffered later. So my plan was firmly to take it easy early on, and then reap the benefits later. It’s important that I make it clear that this was my plan.

The first mile essentially weaves its way through Williton, and is basically flat tarmac throughout, crossing the West Somerset Railway on its way out of the village. After that, the course moves off-road, and starts to climb (this is something of a trend – the leg started at 93 ft and finished at 421 ft, so there was always going to be plenty of climbing involved.) The next mile and a half are more or less a constant gentle climb up to the base of the Quantocks. Throughout this section, which alternates on- and off-road, I maintained a grade-adjusted pace of roughly 7:00 min/mile, and was holding quite nicely in fourth/fifth.

Up, and up, and up…

Then came the “Unnamed Combe”, as the Strava segment dubs it. And off came the wheels of my race. A long drag of a hill, this starts up a boggy field, continues up a footpath which is basically actually a stream, and then turns into what might as well be a brick wall (albeit a gorgeous one, pictured). It involves 569 ft of climbing in one mile, and my pace dropped right down to 13:32 min/mile – even grade-adjusted it was 8:16. Given that the Snowdonia Trail Marathon, which I’m running in July, includes four successive miles that clock in with 769, 601, 385 and 953 ft of elevation respectively, I think I might need to work on this…

I dropped back from fourth on the climb, and then a navigational error meant that the runner behind me caught up. With seemingly better legs, he pressed on ahead of me on the gentle climb on towards Bicknoller Post and Longstone Hill. I managed the gap, but could do little to dent it until we dropped downhill. I flew down the last mile, which was entirely downhill on tricky loose stone, to reclaim fifth place, and finish in just under 54 minutes.

This was a great little event, well managed by the club. If anything, I probably enjoyed the exploration beforehand more than the relay itself, though both were enjoyable. The downhill terrain played to my strengths at the end, but I’d already lost too much up the hill for it to make much difference. Minehead make a day of the event, following the relay with an evening social, but I skipped that part as we had family staying. I’m hoping to get out running with Minehead more this summer during their ‘Strate Liners’ to explore more of Exmoor and the Quantocks.

A race report catch-up: part three

by Ben

This is the third and final instalment of my race report catch ups, going through all the races that I’ve done in the past few months, most of which I didn’t manage to get around to writing up at the time as I was too busy doing other things.

  • Part one: Butleigh MT 10k, Yeovilton 5k (May), Wambrook Waddle 10k, Crewkerne 10k
  • Part two: Red Bull Steeplechase

<dramatic voiceover> And now… the conclusion. </>

Quantock Beast – 2 July

This was the third year in a row that I took on this race, put on by the local Quantock Harriers, and only a few miles up the road.

The race came just a couple of weeks after the Red Bull Steeplechase, and off the back of a not great week of running. I ran 8 x 200 metre repeats on the Tuesday evening, and I think it wiped me out – I was using a football pitch to estimate the distance, and I think I ended up doing too far, too fast. The following night I wiped out during our club run, and just felt completely drained. I didn’t run again before the race – so I was a little concerned about how it would go.

As usual, we had a good club turnout for this race, and we were especially we represented near the front of the race: Iain, Tim and Andy all run with group 1, although I hoped that on a hilly, off-road course I might be able to challenge Andy.

The race begins with a fast road descent that lasts just over a kilometre, and despite feeling like I was taking it easy, I ended up being six seconds quicker than last year. I continued to be significantly quicker over the next kilometre, although the drier weather might have something to do with that, as the second kilometre moved off-road and climbed gently uphill. I stayed in touch with Andy through these early sections, and as the course dropped to a steep downhill, I was able to pass him, though he got straight past me again as we climbed back up the hill.

After a couple more little lumps, this climb settled into the big one, almost a mile and a half long. Although it is rarely too steep, the climb is sapping, and I struggled a bit with it. I can’t really put my finger on why I didn’t do too well on it: there is a Strava segment for the hill, and my best time remains that from 2014. I’ve done lots of hill training since then, so logically I should be significantly better at it, but last year I was almost two minutes slower, and even this year I was about 30 seconds off the pace. I can only put it down to a ‘longer race mentality’ which means I’m taking more walking breaks than I did before. Maybe. Looking at Strava, I was massively slower at the bottom of the hill this time (7:32 km compared to 6:38) while I pretty much the same towards the top. This definitely suggests I started walking earlier and more. Something to consider for future shorter races with hills!

Anyway, over that hill I just had the long road descent back to the start/finish. I could still see Andy ahead, and hoped that I might catch up down the hill, but he (and everyone else) maintained their pace far more than I remembered in previous years. Despite running this final section quicker than I’d managed before, I was actually caught during it, though I managed to time my sprint finish better to beat him to the finish line.

I was generally disappointed with this race – it should have played to my strengths, but for whatever reason I just didn’t seem to be quite there on the day. On reflection I guess that given how I was earlier in the week, along with everything else going on, meant that it was actually a decent performance. It just didn’t really feel much like that at the time.

Yeovilton 5k – 12 July

After my first Yeovilton appearance of the summer, I wanted to set things straight a little with this race. My actual time in May hadn’t been awful (considering), but my pacing had shown how poorly my head had adapted to a slowing in my pace. After running the first two kilometres at 3:57/km, I then dropped off dramatically, running the final two kilometres at 4:24/km to finish in 20:48. So this time around, I wanted to be a bit more realistic.

I was boosted somewhat by this being a Somerset Series race, which meant the field was a bit bigger, but most importantly, there were more recognisable figures. Most significantly, the chap who I’d just pipped to the finish at the Quantock Beast was there, and we ended up running most of the race together, along with a couple of other familiar figures. This meant that although I was a little concerned with my quick early kilometres; 3:52, 3:53, I didn’t have to worry too much about the numbers as I was around people I considered my peers.

In fact, it worked out pretty nicely. After the quick start, we then dropped to almost dead-on 20 minute pacing, running the last three kilometres in 4:00, 4:02, 4:03 (though that last one was only due to a sprint at the end). I finished in 19:46, a little quicker than this race last year, but most importantly, back under 20 minutes. It’s a silly little thing, but in my head, I’m a sub-20 minute 5k runner, and until I’d got back to actually doing that, I just felt a bit out-of-place, almost a fraud. It also meant that I could see everything was coming back in the right direction, which was a huge boost.

Haselbury Trail 10k – 2 August

Another race that I’ve done a couple of times before.

I had a good few weeks between the Quantock Beast/Yeovilton races in early July until the Haselbury Trail at the start of August, and I clocked up the training miles, including a few decent speed workouts. Haselbury was well timed after a recovery week as well, meaning that I went into it feeling the best I had been for a while. We had a surprisingly good club turnout again at this race, especially considering the awful weather – it had been raining all day long, and that didn’t stop in the evening. For me, this was great – the Quantock Beast had been too dry for my liking, so I was looking forward to a wetter off-road race!

Again, there were all the familiar Somerset Series regulars (well, minus the two Matts, one of whom has been injured most the year, and the other of whom has just had a baby). My previous two visits to this race finished with near identical times; 47:08 and 47:07, though conditions had differed significantly between the years, making the 2015 time the more impressive. This year’s conditions were definitely more akin to 2015!

Unsurprisingly for similar overall times, my splits were similar in places too: both years started with 4:01, 4:20, 4:52 kilometres (give or take a second). Both years, my race report talked about having gone off too fast, and needing to rein it in. Which I sort of managed this year – my opening kilometre was 4:11, though I then ran 4:18 for the second and 4:45 for the third. Those good at arithmetic will notice that as a result, my first three kilometres were actually therefore more or less done in exactly the same time in 2017 as the two years before…

But despite the similar overall time, I think the specific kilometre splits made a difference. I didn’t destroy my legs so much with an over-fast sprint start, and I think I’m in better shape anyway than the previous two years. By the end of the third kilometre, I’d settled in behind Graham, figuring that given our recent relative results, I didn’t want to get ahead of him. However, the pair of us were stuck behind another runner who seemed to be struggling on the slippier off-road sections, and when Graham didn’t pass him on a wider section, I opted to pass them both, backing myself to manage my own pace. As it happened, Graham must have passed him soon after, and was back on my heels by the end of the fourth kilometre.

Shortly after came the first climb of the “Horrible Hill” (to quote the Strava segment). I was fully expecting to lose ground here – in previous years I had been passed on the hill, and after my Quantock Beast experience I had no reason to think it would change this year. But amazingly, not only did I not lose any positions, but I actually gained time on those around me. Admittedly, I was probably a little bit slow to speed back up again on the level, but still! As we came around to begin our second lap, there were a group of four of us, strung out a little; a runner from Maiden Newton, a chap in a triathlon club top, me and Graham. The pace was being pushed by the two runners I didn’t know, particularly the triathlete, though I was a little confused at his variations in pace. Sometimes he was sprinting along, easily passing me, but then at others, I cruised up to pass him.

Although I made some decent pace down the hill to start the lap once more, I decided not to push along with the other two initially, but temper my pace closer to Graham’s once more. As the lap continued though, I kept swapping positions with the triathlete, and I soon worked out it was because he had road shoes on. On the more solid terrain, he was much quicker than me, but when we were on the slippier sections, I had the edge. Coming back around to the hill at the end of the lap, he was slightly ahead of me, but really struggled in the mud that had been ground up at the bottom of the hill. In trying to go around him, I ended up more or less running into him as he slipped around, but I pushed myself hard up the hill, and over the last section of off-road terrain. I knew that my only chance to keep ahead of him was to have a decent gap before we got back on the road.

My hard work paid off, and I retained my position to the end; the group of four of us that had started the lap together ended up finishing within 1:10 of each other, having gained a couple of positions past some struggling runners. I was very happy with finishing 22nd, especially doing so ahead of Graham.

Red Bull Steeplechase: race report (catch-up part two)

by Ben

My catch-up quest continues! Three more races to get through, starting with a big one (literally):

Red Bull Steeplechase – 18 June

This was one of my favourite races of 2016, and when I saw that it was coming back to Exmoor for a second year, I couldn’t resist. Despite the huge hike in price. In 2016, I’d been pretty close to making it through the second checkpoint, and onto Lynton, but I missed out by a couple of minutes. I was itching for the chance to go further. Of course, then we had a baby, didn’t get enough sleep to train properly, and I came to realise that even equalling last year’s effort would be a fair achievement! This race also happened in what was pretty much the hottest weather I have ever run in. So not ideal… (Getting my excuses in early.)

The race started at 9:30, which I had figured would be one small mercy with the weather. Except that the day before the race, I was doing some gardening at 9:30, and it was already baking hot, so there would be no respite. I mostly tried to stay out of the sun before the race started, and made sure I drank plenty. I also toyed with my race tactics – namely my plan for the start. Last year I was surprised by the pace of the start – we did the first half mile at around 5k pace, as it went through the street (singular) of Lynmouth and then hit a bottleneck at the coastal path.

Ultimately, I decided to take it a bit easier in the heat, and then slowly pick my way through the field later on when it was wider. I then completely ignored this plan, and pelted it through Lynmouth at what Strava suggests was pretty much exactly the same pace as last year. After that quick half mile, we then had a slow half mile of hill climbing. Very slow in fact. The first half mile took about three minutes. The other half took about eight minutes. But, important detail, that was the first horrible climb completed.

After that first hill, things level off for a time, and I could just run. Each mile was slower than 2016, but between the training and the heat, it was still feeling pretty tough. Very tough in fact. About six and a half miles in, running alongside the River Heddon, I stopped for a drink station. Credit to Red Bull: there were lots of drinks stations, and they were very well stocked with bottles of water and cups of Red Bull or a water/Red Bull mix. When I say that I stopped, I really mean it. In a knockout race, I, along with two others I’d been running along with, came to a complete stop to drink a complete 500 ml bottle of water. Such was the heat, and such was the knowledge of the hill to come.

But now, some good news! The marshal at the drink station asked if we’d done it last year. Yes, we all had. Well, he said, that horrible hill climb through the scrub? Not there. Instead we’d turn left and head up the coast path instead. Great!

For some context. These two “struggling” runners came first and fourth. This is how hard the course is.

No, it bloody wasn’t.

It turns out that when you’re at 120 ft, and the checkpoint is at 815 ft, there isn’t really an “easy” option. In 2016, we had one horrible climb, and then a gentler ascent up the road to the checkpoint at about 8.7 miles. This year, the climb up rugged terrain just seemed to go on forever, and the first checkpoint wasn’t until 9.4 miles. On the two intermediate checkpoints, I’d been 110th and 108th, but I knew I’d dropped places heading up the never-ending hill and was 113th. Considering my expectations, I was surprised at how highly I was placed – in 2016, I’d been 128th through the first checkpoint.

Through the second section of the race, things became more lonely as the field spread out, and I was really starting to struggle in the heat. There aren’t really any flat sections of the route, and I was taking frequent walking breaks. Where in 2016 I’d been cheerily acknowledging walkers and those around me, this time I was grunting and hoping for it all to be over. The course was beautiful, the scenery stunning. But my body wasn’t really up for it, and I didn’t cope with the heat very well. Amazingly, I finished in exactly the same position, 110th in both 2016 and 2017. But whereas in 2016, I was only 2:44 behind 100th, this time I was 5:41 behind.

Some other comparisons; last year it cost £30, this year £45. Last year, there were 281 men and 96 women. This year 198 men and 93 women. I fear that the race might have to either move again, or consider the price. It’s an expensive race to put on, and Red Bull do a hell of a lot to make it worthwhile. The drinks (as I said) were well stocked, there was a free “runner’s lunch”, this year it was a pasty, followed by a cream tea. The hoodie from last year had been downgraded to a cotton tee though. And yet again, despite photographers and videographers all over the course, there were no participant photos, just a “pool” of about 15 shots available to the press. To me, this was the most disappointing aspect. Red Bull could get lots more publicity and marketing exposure by making the photos available, with big Red Bull logos in the corner. We’d have shared them on social media, especially given the amazing backdrop. But there was nothing.

All that said, if the race is back on Exmoor again next year… you know, I’d probably do it again: I really want to get to Lynton, and get the train down the cliff.

Right. This was meant to be all three race reports, but I got a bit carried away with the Steeplechase! Look out for part three…

 

Big Cheese: race report

by Ben

NOTE: Apologies for this being a little very late. I ran this at the start of March, and I’m posting this exactly two months later. In my defence, in the mean time, we’ve had a little boy, and he’s filled a lot of our time. I’ve got another race report, for the Butleigh MT race, to catch up on too, and then a couple of ideas for other stuff. I’ve also got quite a few races coming up. So we’ll see how well I do on keeping up with writing!

A while back, I decided to ditch my plans to race the Bideford Half Marathon and switch to the Big Cheese instead. The link above explains the reasons in full, but essentially I didn’t want the pressure of the training while Lolly was getting more and more tired due to her parasite pregnancy.

Along with the Exmoor Stagger in both 2015 and 2016, and the Red Bull Steeplechase last year, this would be my fourth “ultra-half”. In addition to the distance element (the Stagger was around 16 miles, and I got 14.4 miles into the Steeplechase before being eliminated) each of these races is made much more challenging due to the terrain and elevation. The Big Cheese actually isn’t so bad as the others; a mere 2,000 ft compared to climbing in excess of 3,000 ft for each of the others. (For reference, Scafell Pike stands roughly 3,200 ft above sea-level.) So… 2,000 ft… should be a doddle, eh?

My club mate, Iain, had done the race last year, and it basically killed him (though he was doing it the week after the Grizzly, which itself came a week after the Bideford Half). Meanwhile, Matt reported that a couple of his club-mates described it as essentially “not too bad”.

It was.

The trip from the race HQ to the race start was around a mile, so made for a handy warm-up. I had ummed and ahhed for a while about what to wear; the forecast was for a complete mix of weather, and the race directors had recommended, though not enforced, us to wear a waterproof. (As a fell race, they could have instituted mandatory kit.)

The race begins with a climb up, and up, and up, which lasts just over a mile. I was content to drop down to a walk reasonably early on – there was plenty more to come, and there was no sense in destroying my legs on the first climb when there would be over 14 miles left to go! Still, it was a bit demoralising letting people stream past me, and my legs felt pretty tired anyway! But hill climbing is still the weakest aspect of my running (a symptom of doing most of my running in Taunton town) so I just have to accept that I’m going to lose some positions on hills. That first mile was actually my slowest of the whole race, and included 615 ft of elevation!

After a mile, or just over, things levelled off to an extent and the terrain got trickier as we dropped down into Rowberrow Bottom. I started to gain some places back on the steeper sections of the descent and paused briefly at the first drinks station. Of course, when you’re in anywhere described as “Bottom”, there’s only really one way left for you to go: up. We were now heading towards Beacon Batch, over Black Down. But of course, nothing is that simple. After a run/walk tactic up the initial hill, we took a sharp left and dropped back down the hill rather than taking a direct route to the peak of Beacon Batch. The descent was a treacherous mix of flooded moorland that was of variable quality, but it was nigh on impossible to judge it by look. It was interchangeably slippy mud, sticky mud and lake. I was running pretty quickly to start with (it was a downhill – duh!) but in order to keep my balance, I kept finding myself going quicker and quicker. I probably looked like a pretty cocky so-and-so, practically sprinting through some of the worst terrain of the course. Had I fallen (and it was probably about 50-50) I’d have looked like a right tit.

‘Shit, there’s a camera, make it look like you’re having fun!’

After a short spell of this, the terrain solidified somewhat and took on a more technical aspect before we started climbing again. Along here the ground got silly, just excessively slippy. It was impossible to find a “good” route through it, you had to be content with finding a route that didn’t place you on your arse. This was pretty much the story of the first half of the race – you were either climbing a hill, descending a hill, or struggling through horrific underfoot conditions. The race website has this to say about what shoes to wear:

“It’s likely to be pretty muddy so off road trainers are an advantage but you will be able to get around fine in normal trainers.”

I mean… sure, you would be ABLE to get around in normal trainers. But I doubt it was fine. It wasn’t fine in my trail shoes. But still, whatever.

I made a fair fist of trying to keep running through the bottom part of the climb, but after a switchback, when I noted that I was closer to Matt than I had expected, things got more difficult. The hill got steeper, we’d turned to face the wind, and the mud was still pretty bad too. I dropped to a walk for pretty much the entire climb up to Beacon Batch, the highest point on the Mendip Hills. Thankfully what goes up must come back down, and most of the following four miles was downhill, although after about 400 metres the path had turned into a rocky river, as it had presumably provided a handy run-off for the rain of the previous week. Down this section I heard one runner behind me stumble and fall, though there were other runners around him, and I’m pretty sure he got up and continued okay.

The next mile was predominantly a gentle downhill along the road, which was a nice change in some ways, although it was tough on the legs in trail shoes at that point of the race. We then turned back off the road down through some former mine workings along Velvet Bottom. The path remained pretty good, and this was one of the quickest stretches of the race, though there were a few tricky drops from plateau to plateau.

And then… the worst section of the entire race. It was probably only around 500 metres, but it was steep, with horrible footing, and 11 miles into the race. While trying to negotiate slippy lumps of rock underfoot, you also had to make sure you didn’t get clothes-lined by an low-hanging tree. Still, as I say, it was only a short section. And best of all: it was the final climb, just a few miles and 700 ft of descent left!

The course mostly levelled out for the next mile and a half, before dropping in a reasonably steep, long downhill towards the finish. Even on tired legs, this played to my strengths at an ideal time: a downhill finish lets me get past a few people who then don’t get a corresponding uphill to regain their place. (Technically, I guess, the mammoth climb at the start of the race was the corresponding climb. So ha, we’re all even!) The terrain varied a little bit on the descent, being a decent even path in some places, difficult stony track in others, before the final half-mile stretch along the road.

Overall I come home in 2:11:35 for 39th overall, although that was partly due to a group of runners that had been ahead of me going the wrong way. Considering my relative lack of training, I was well chuffed. And best of all, afterwards – the free cake and cup of tea!

The whole race was organised really well. Number pick up was easy and straightforward, there was a bag drop at race HQ, along with changing rooms and showers (always nice after a muddy trail race!) The route was well signed and the marshals were all friendly and encouraging – which given the inclement weather, particularly on the top of the hills, was much appreciated. All in all, this is a race that has joined my ever-growing list of “want to run every year” races. In fact, I’m starting to run out of weekends in the year…

Babcary Road Race: race report

by Ben

Coming into this year, I’d done all but five of the nineteen Somerset Series races over the past few years. Most of the ones that I hadn’t done came early in the year when I’m typically sat at home moping about an injury, rather than getting out and racing. So this year, I’ve been taking every opportunity to get out and do the unknowns. Babcary was one of those. Described as “undulating” on their website, the race also had an unusual distance of 7.5 miles. After a bit of research, I managed to find an elevation profile so that I knew what I was heading into.

I wasn’t injured, but I was still moping – a string of colds had struck me down (too over the top??) through the start of the year, I was really struggling to string two decent weeks of training together. Babcary itself came at the end of another cold, albeit one that I tried to ignore and just run through. With mixed success. At the race, I met up with Nigel, who briefed me a bit about the course (he has a ridiculous memory for courses; he can do one once and then relate the whole thing in detail the following year). I did a short recce of the start of the course as my warm-up, heading out for about three-quarters of a mile before doubling back, confirming what Nigel had told me: it was a long uphill drag to start the race.

If I looked (and felt?) like this at the start, you can only guess how I was at the end…

Forewarned is forearmed, and so I planned a gentle start to the race. Turns out (no shit) that everyone else had the same plan – especially the leaders, who made a very sedate start. So much for my plan of having a bit more in the tank after not wrecking myself on the first hill. I swear runners are never normally this sensible…

The course lived up to its description of undulating: it never really levelled off. A gentle descent replaced the first climb, before itself switching to another steady uphill. Throughout the race there were no awful climbs, but merely a continuing series of ups and downs that prevented you from ever finding a proper pace and rhythm.

The race went generally as I might have expected: I was slightly further down the field than I would have liked (but better than I worried I might be) and I mostly lost time to those around me on the climbs, and made it back on the descents. I started to struggle towards the end of the race, slightly negating a downhill finish that should have suited me well, but overall I was happy enough with my performance given how the year had started.

There wasn’t much time to rest and recover though; my next race, The Big Cheese (15 miles of hills and mud) was the following Sunday…