Tag Archives: Trail

Wambrook Waddle: race report

by Ben

This is the third time I’ve run the Wambrook Waddle; I previously took part in 2017 and 2016, while Lolly ran it in 2015. Last year, it took place, but wasn’t part of the Somerset Series, so I gave it a miss.

Running hasn’t really come together for me this year. Am I running badly? No, not really. But am I running well? No, not really. I really, really, really want to break 40 minutes at 10k this year, but without a sustained period of decent training, it’s not going to happen. But anyway, that’s not what this post should be about. Suffice to say, that more or less as always, I’d have liked to be more prepared for this race.

This was the second race for my new club, and it sort of underlined part of the reason behind my switch; I was one of four from Minehead, while there was no one else from my old club there. Well, technically, Lolly was there, but she wasn’t running, just spectating! (Mostly stopping the kids from killing themselves, actually.) After a little pre-race potter about, we headed out for a warm-up, which included the field we would climb up at the end of the race. During this (in which I actually ran quicker up the hill than I would in the race) we discovered that the car park hadn’t been marshalled very well (at all), meaning that there were cars parked across the race route! Thankfully, the gaps were big enough to get through easily, but it was one to bear in mind for later…

More faffing about ensued for the next ten minutes before the race start: mostly I dumped my sweaty warm-up top on Lolly (I’m sure she appreciated it), and switched to my race vest. The pre-race briefing sensibly suggested not tripping over anything, and kindly reminded us that this was quite a hilly race. Hopefully, it wasn’t too much of a surprise for anyone!

… and GO!

I love the start to this race. A 600 metre dash downhill to a stream crossing. I started what felt like relatively conservatively, but ended up second behind only Matt. Not so conservative after all. I actually felt like I could have pressed a little bit quicker than Matt was going while remaining comfortable, but I opted not to be a complete prat, and stuck in behind him. I took a slightly different line to Matt through the stream… and it turned out to be completely the wrong one. I sunk down a lot more than I expected (and a lot more than Matt), and nearly fell in. As it was, my vest, head and arms were all soaked from the splash/sinking combination.

Immediately after the stream, the route follows the old adage; ‘what goes down, must come up’. Or whatever. I wasn’t surprised when people came streaming past me as we climbed the long hill (well, it felt like they came streaming past me, in reality I was still in 10th at the top of the hill.) I was completely prepared for this; much as I would love to say that I could pace properly, and be that guy who conserves his energy for the last push, it’s just not how I race. Maybe when I’m closer to peak fitness I will give it a go, but at the moment I feel my best tactic is to push hard early and then try to hold on. I’m aware that this is probably just a really bad idea.

As usual, in warm conditions after a slog up the hill, I was glad for the 1.25-mile drink station. The hill went on for a bit longer before the fiddly twists and turns through the wood at the top. Through this section I heard footsteps come up quite quickly behind me, but before the runner could get passed, the course dropped downhill again, and I was able to stay ahead. I maintained my slim advantage all the way downhill, until we reached about 2.5 miles into the race, and then he inevitably went past. And that, for all intents and purposes, was the end of my actual racing. I was in 11th place, and maintained exactly that position for the rest of the race. The end.

Okay, so it wasn’t quite that simple, as I still had another 3.7 miles to run. The immediate battle was the second climb of the race. I took a brief walk towards in the middle of the hill, but tried to push on as best as I could. Mostly because there were a couple of marshals on the hill, and I felt guilted into it! Another descent took us down to the third river crossing of the race, before easily my least favourite hill.

I don’t really know what’s so bad about it; looking on Strava, it doesn’t look the steepest of the hills, and it’s far from the longest. Maybe it’s partly the underfoot conditions. Probably, it’s just that it’s just barely over halfway through the race. Far enough in that I’m already knackered from the hills already run, but not far enough that I feel like I can push on through because I’m nearly finished. Thankfully, after the short, sharp climb through a field, the second drink station gives a handy excuse for a rest. The course continues to climb after, and I was able to see the runners both ahead and behind me. The gap looked similar each way, and I was a bit concerned that this meant I was slipping back into those behind me. I couldn’t do much about it at that stage though, I was struggling a bit with the hill, though it was a relatively friendly 1:10 or something.

From mile four, the course mostly runs through relatively flat fields until a couple of drops and climbs right at the end. A couple of fields into this stretch, not long after my watch beeped for four miles, I realised that I’d sunk into something of a plod. I made a conscious effort to drive my arms and generally ‘get a wriggle on’, otherwise I was definitely going to fall into the clutches of those behind me. (I could see a group of three; my club-mate Verity and two men.) Having sped up, I slowly built up the gap on that gap, and hoped that would dissuade any of them from making too much of an effort to catch me. Conversely, I briefly saw the group of three ahead of me; all three were Minster Milers runners. It looked like Ed had caught the two ahead of him, and I was hopeful that it meant they were struggling. As it turns out, they either sped back up, or it was something of an illusion, as they both finished around a minute ahead of him.

Although it had given me a brief impetus to speed up, it soon became apparent that I wasn’t going to catch anyone, and I settled back into a steadier pace, aware that I had another race coming up on Wednesday. In fact, I ended up running the last hill (though the car park field) slower than I’d done it during our warm-up.

A half-hearted attempt at a sprint-finish.

I had a lonely second half of the race; I finished in 11th, over 90 seconds behind Ed and 50 seconds ahead of the next runner. For the Somerset Series I was chuffed with an 11th place, and it was also a course PB by about 45 seconds, so I can’t really complain.

Did I enjoy this race? Yes. It’s really tough, because the hills kill you in the first half of the race, but this is the sort of race I love.
Would I do this race again? Again, yes. This is the third year I’ve run the race, and I’d love to do it again.
What’s next? The ‘Town Tree Trail 10k’ on Wednesday 15 May. I ran this last year, but didn’t blog about it. It’s off-road, but almost pancake flat, with some lovely twists and turns around the Town Tree Nature Garden.

Butleigh MT 10k: race report

by Ben

I previously ran this race in both 2017 and 2018, and described the course in the 2018 report, so I won’t go into too much detail again.

After starting my Somerset Series campaign last weekend at the BHAM Trail 10k, it was a back-to-back week of racing, with the Butleigh multi-terrain race coming the following weekend. In between, we had a week at Center Parcs, which was a lovely family holiday, but I’m not all that convinced that the nice meals out and the various activities were all that conducive to race preparation!

As I hadn’t signed up in advance, I arrived suitably early in order to register on the day. And by “suitably early”, I really mean far too early! It was basically just me and the marshals for about quarter of an hour. Registration (once it opened) was nice and straight-forward, and I was soon back in the car listening to a podcast while I waited for other people to arrive. Namely, Matt B, who was bringing my new club vest. A midweek transfer from Running Forever RC to Minehead RC had gone through somewhat quicker than I was expecting!

I’ll admit, pulling on the blue vest of Minehead felt pretty odd after five years of the red and white of Running Forever. (The vest is also a little too big, which is unfortunate. Maybe a hot wash or two?) Still, part of the reason that I made the switch was borne out at the race: there was one other Running Forever member, someone that I don’t know that well, compared to a group of seven of us from Minehead.

Race

Given my cold, I opted to take it pretty easy from the outset; though my splits don’t make it appear that way. I ran an almost identically paced first mile as in each of the last two years, but bear in mind that it was so much firmer this year. So while my time might have been about the same, the amount of effort required for that time was far less. In fact, over the first four miles, I was nearly 45 seconds quicker than last year. My final two miles brought me back to almost exact parity. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

I let runners flow past me early on, content to run my own race. Unsurprisingly, because of the conditions, I ran a huge PB on the ‘Up to Reynolds Way’ Strava segment. In previous years, this has been a quagmire of a field, but this year, it was completely solid, resulting in a 26-second improvement. Despite this, it was one of the sections I struggled with; anything uphill meant that I slipped back. I soon found that while I could ‘cruise’ without too much issue, pushing that little bit harder just wasn’t possible, my chest didn’t allow me to step up that extra gear.

Looping around the first field. The t-shirt was possibly a bit of a mistake, but I was worried that if my run was quite slow, I might get cold.

I held pace through the middle section of the race, a combination of descents and flat fields, but the second, long, climb was a real struggle. I slipped back a few positions early on, and could hear more footsteps further up. I glanced back and saw a few runners behind me, but somehow I managed to only let one through. By this stage, around four and a half miles in, with around two to go (another long “10k”), my competitive instincts were straining. Although I was limited by my chest, I was no longer just taking it easy. I was pushing as much as I felt I could, trying to keep hold of positions if I could. I went past a runner that I’d been keeping pace with for a little bit, but then let a Langport runner through. I tried to match pace with the Langport runner, and found that I could do well enough. As the course dropped down out of the woods, I flew back past him again, but not for long, as he overtook me on the subsequent flat.

From there on, the final three-quarters of a mile, things stood pretty equal. The Langport runner eased away from me, while Verity (a fellow Minehead runner) was closing in behind me. I ended up beating her by a couple of seconds, but had the race gone on for another 50 metres, I wouldn’t have had much of a chance!

I need to work out the race number alignment thing…

The results haven’t been posted yet, so I don’t know what position I finished in. I normally wouldn’t have raced with a cold like this, but given that Lolly and I both want to complete the Somerset Series this year, we can’t really afford to miss too many. My position isn’t going to be amazing, but it’s a pretty small field, so hopefully it won’t have done too much damage. Importantly, that’s two races under my belt already, with another couple hopefully coming in May.

Did I enjoy this race? Today: not really, it wasn’t much of a “race” for me.
Would I do this race again? Yes. This was the third year in a row, and I can’t see any reason I won’t be back next year.
What’s next? The Wambrook Waddle on 12 May, which I raced in 2016 and 2017, and Lolly ran in 2015. Lolly has the Glastonbury 10k the week before, which she ran in 2015, and I ran in 2016. (She better get training!)

BHAM Trail 10k: race report

by Ben

The BHAM Trail 10k was a new one in the Somerset Series for this year. They had held their first event in 2018, but it had passed me by (and, who am I kidding, if it’s not in the Somerset Series, I’m not really interested!) BHAM Runners are based in Bower Hinton, Ash and Martock on the Somerset Levels. The Somerset Series already has two races in close proximity, the Ash Excellent Eight, and the Town Tree Trail 10k. The Tin Tin Ten, which is sadly no longer running, used to be just a couple of miles away too.

I hadn’t done a great deal of research before the race, but I did have a quick look at a Strava summary from someone that ran it last year, and discovered that while it was mostly flat (which is to be expected on the Levels) it did start with a downhill, and correspondingly finished uphill. Even so, it totalled less than 250 feet of elevation, so nothing too concerning there. Beyond that, I didn’t really know what to expect.

As usual, I’ll get my excuses in early. I’d been running well this year, building back towards full running fitness, which culminated with my 20:00 at the Street 5k in February. Unfortunately, shortly thereafter I fell over while running on the Quantocks. Then I got shingles. Then I got the diarrhoea and vomiting bug. Happy times. I ended up missing around five weeks of training, and have only had two weeks back so far.

Race day

Parking was a military operation; we were neatly squeezed into a little trading estate. It was a short walk from there to Bower Hinton Farm, which served as the Race HQ. It was a little disappointing that there only appeared to be one porta-loo (plus a porta-urinal). The pre-race instructions had mentioned that there were toilets at the car park, but when I asked the car park marshals, they directed me to the farm.

Timings meant that I ended up missing my warm-up, which was a little unfortunate, but ultimately, I’m not in the kind of form where it’s going to make much of a difference. (The link between warming up and injury reduction is inconclusive, but the links with improved performance are far more apparent.) The children’s race was ran at 9:30, before the adult race (due to start at 10:10) which meant that the race briefing for the 10k doubled up as the prize ceremony for the children’s races, which was a nice touch to make sure that the children got a good crowd. Awarding children model grenades was less suitable, I felt. I get the obvious link between a grenade and the cartoon BHAM! explosion logo that the club use, but while it is fine for the main 10k, it felt inappropriate for the children. But hey, call me Generation Snowflake.

Race

With the race briefing complete, we bimbled over to the start line. It quickly became apparent that there weren’t that many of the typical front-runners. This wasn’t too surprising, as the race was held on the same day as the Taunton Half Marathon. Despite my expectations of struggling somewhat, I lined up in the second row from the front, and with little fanfare, we were set off.

Burnham’s Matt Powell was chuffed with a front-row start! Credit: Derek McCoy

After a short and relatively inconsequential climb, we dropped downhill for the first half mile of the race, and I mostly just let myself off the leash to have fun. The initial back-and-forth position changes went on as we worked ourselves out, but I quickly shuffled into tenth. A top-ten finish would be great, but I didn’t much fancy my chances of holding onto it. The early stages of the race involved a number of narrow muddy paths which were pretty slippery after the recent rain, and I could hear the footsteps closing in behind me as we navigated them. The narrowness of the paths meant that the runners behind couldn’t pass me, and I gained a bit more ground as we crossed a couple of stiles shortly after.

The stiles marked the beginning of the more traditional fare for a race on the Levels; running around the edges of fields. With this came plenty of room for passing, and it wasn’t long before I’d dropped a couple more positions into twelfth. At this stage, around a mile-and-three-quarters in, I was worried that the rest of the race might be a slow progression of other runners easing past me, but despite regular and frequent glances over my shoulder, I seemed to be holding onto twelfth okay.

After the early mud, most of the rest of the course was relatively firm through the fields. At around the three-mile mark, we came out onto the road for a few hundred metres before turning off, back into another field. That was the only significant road section of the race; another couple lasted less than a hundred metres each. The field after was perhaps the toughest section of the race. It was horribly uneven and leg-sapping: I can only imagine how much worse it would have been with a bit more rain!

More fields, more stiles, all good stuff. The aid station (which was somewhere during all this, I really can’t remember where), was dubbed the ‘Claire Station’ as all the volunteers there were named Claire. I didn’t take a drink; I was struggling a little, but water wasn’t going to do much! The only significant climbs of the race were both at the end; a climb up to a residential area on the edge of Bower Hinton at just over five-and-a-half miles, which wasn’t too bad, and then another at about six-and-a-quarter miles, which was.

Yes, six-and-a-quarter miles. This was a long 10k. So long in fact that it was closer to 11k! I had continued to glance over my shoulder, but the expected rush of runners passing me hadn’t happened. Until that last hill. Nicknamed ‘Cripple Hill’, it certainly had the expected effect on me. After managing to run the lower section, I ground to a walk soon after the cheering spectators. I felt nauseous, faint, all the great stuff. It felt like I was walking forever; a pair of runners went past me, and then a third just as I got back up to a jog. I managed to drag a sprint finish out of the reserves to get myself back into fourteenth at the end.

Flying feet during my brief sprint to regain 14th. Credit: the Burke family

A nice medal and goody bag awaited at the finish. A couple of biscuits, a bag of Haribo and a drinks bottle, along with a good quality medal made this race great value at £12. The good value continued at the cake stall: two cakes for 50p, plus a hot drink for the same again – bargain! We hung around long enough for Matt B to receive his bronze grenade for third place. It turns out that if you press the lever, it beeped and made an exploding noise!

Overall, I summarised this race on my Instagram post: “Harder than it should have been today, but to be honest, that’s just the difference between where my head thinks I should be, and where my fitness currently is. Nice course, but leg-sapping terrain in parts. Can’t complain at 14th overall, 13th male. Somerset Series campaign started.“

Did I enjoy this race? Yes.
Would I do this race again? Absolutely.
What’s next? The Butleigh MT 10k next Sunday, which I ran in both 2017 and 2018.

parkrun tourism: Trelissick parkrun

by Ben

When the New Year’s Day double of Penrose and Heartlands appeared, it became almost inevitable that we would spend New Year’s at my parents’ in Cornwall. When we realised that we could also do Trelissick parkrun if I took the Monday (New Year’s Eve) off work, it became a nailed-on certainty. We had done Penrose before, but that was on the old cliff-climbing course, while Trelissick and Heartlands would be completely new to us. But more about the NYD double in another post.

Our logistics were not without their issues. As I was working on Thursday and Friday, and parkrun is on parkrunday (sorry, Saturday), this meant we’d need an evening drive down. Unfortunately, due to various issues (us not getting our stuff together) we left home at 19:40, having not eaten any dinner. We arrived at my parent’s house at 22:10, still having not eaten any dinner. Nor even snacked. A bowl of pasta with chicken nuggets and cheese at 22:40 eventually counted as dinner. This was not an optimal fuelling strategy, to quote a couple of the guys that I race against in the Somerset Series.

For a change, we were able to leave the children behind and head out alone. In general, we like to bring the children along, even if we have babysitters, so that they can be involved in the parkrun atmosphere, but after the night’s antics, we let them rest at home. (Wow – how many commas did I manage in that sentence?!) It was, for us, a short drive to a tourist parkrun: about 25 minutes.

The parkrun is hosted by a National Trust property, Trelissick Gardens, though the run itself doesn’t enter the gardens. As a result, there are copious amounts of parking, free for NT members or £3 for non-members. Runners gather by the cafe and toilets for the run briefing, before a walk through the gardens to the start. While we were waiting, we noticed a couple with cow cowls and an apricot declaring ‘Yeovil Montacute’, and so got chatting to the lovely Dave and Deb Stanfield. During the run briefing, Ola then got chatting to another tourist, this time from Pomphrey Hill parkrun – Helen Spilsbury. It was great to meet all three, and it was far from the only time over the parkrun holiday!

Anyway; paragraph 5, the run.

I hadn’t really researched the course. I had heard that there was a hilly field, and so in my head, the whole thing was on undulating grassy fields. It turned out the undulating was spot on, but not so much the grassy fields – for the most part, anyway. We started next to the River Fal by the King Harry Ferry – and a huge ship moored up out of the way. It was a downhill start on a woodland/coastal style path – compacted mud with a fair smattering of rocks and tree roots. It turned out that this was actually the terrain for the majority of the route.

The fast downhill start set the trend for the first kilometre and a quarter: though it gently undulated, we gradually dropped down to basically sea-level. I hadn’t really noticed from the running itself (though I should have realised that it felt too easy), but I did twig that the river had got a lot closer! Unsurprisingly, the first kilometre was my fastest. We crossed a bridge and had a short (like 20m? horizontal) climb followed by more path.

Just short of the two-kilometre mark, we reached the field that I’d heard about. And yeah – it had a climb. First, we more or less doubled back on ourselves, running the other side of the hedge from where we’d just come, and then took a sharp right up the hill. It wasn’t awful. Roughly 30 metres vertical gain at about 20% gradient at the worst. That said, it was relatively dry – I imagine that it’s pretty awful in the wet, slippy mud. The beauty of the loop around the field though was that what had gone up had to come back down. The descent was less steep, making it more runnable for most (personally, I’d clearly prefer it the other way around, but I firmly believe that parkrun courses should be as accessible as possible). It was still a fun-enough descent, and saw me hit my quickest pace of the run; a not-too-silly 3:14/km.

Back onto the path, and after the short run back to the bridge, there was no avoiding that it was going to be something of an uphill slog to the finish. I tagged along with a young lad (JM11-14) through this section, but eventually I had the legs on him and eased ahead. Between him, and another couple of runners, I managed to keep myself honest towards the end, when I really just wanted to take it easy and plod back. The hill kicks on steeper at the end, and a “120m to go” sign was a mixed blessing! The finish is further up the hill beyond the start line, making it technically an uphill course. That final stretch from the sign was one of the best finishes that I’ve experienced at parkrun. The nature of the course means that the spectators line the river-side of the path, creating a little cheering funnel up to the finish. Sadly, for those finished later than about 30 minutes, most of the spectators had left with their families, resulting in a far quieter finish for those runners.

I headed back down the hill after finishing to cheer Lolly in – I think she appreciated the shout of “Push, push up the hill.” [Editor’s note: she didn’t.] We both hung around for a while to cheer people in, before grabbing our hoodies, socialising a bit more, and heading back to the toilets and car, to rescue my parents from our children. Or should that be our children from my parents?! Just our short walk through the Gardens had shown how pretty they were, and we returned with the whole family in tow on New Year’s Eve. With the added advantage of being not in smelly running gear! It was really nice, and I’d recommend allowing time for a visit to the Gardens if you’re in the area.

Trelissick was a stunning parkrun – possibly in my top-three. I’d love to come back and run it when I’m at my peak, but that mostly depends on no more parkruns starting up in west Cornwall before we next visit my parents! The attendance at Trelissick didn’t quite set a new record, but was only 13 short – it seems that we weren’t the only ones who realised that a trip to Cornwall over New Year’s was a good way to tick some of the further parkruns off the list! (To my parents, if you’re reading: I do love you really!)

Next, three days later, the New Year’s Day double…

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:

Running that far.
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.

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.