Lying in bed, in the slightly
weird B&B, on my birthday night, not being able to quiet my mind to get
that precious snippet of sleep, I did wonder to myself why was I doing this to
myself? Once again I found myself not
being able to sleep the night before a ‘big event’. My stomach gurgled. I kept looking at my phone. I wasn’t really that nervous. By 4am I’d resigned myself to no sleep and
just lay there waiting for the 5am alarm.
I knew I could still get through the day, I’d done it before,
twice! It just wasn’t ideal.
I mumbled to Dan that I’d got no
sleep again, he said “Aww” before turning and going back to sleep. Lack of sleep always makes me feel queasy
but I managed to force down a small bowl of porridge, coffee and orange juice. The 7.30 start of the race was only a quarter
of a mile away, so I calmly got my gear together. Dan got up and we discussed where he would
come and meet me and what emergency items he would bring – warmer gloves,
peanuts, hula hoops and a bottle of coke.
It was still dark outside when we
left to walk the short distance to Henderson Hall, race HQ, but the weather was
completely calm if a little cloudy. Ideal conditions. I’d had visions of battling gale force winds
and relentless drizzle on top of mountains which would’ve surely made for
miserable, non-ultra-completing conditions.
Henderson Hall was abuzz with
chatter, neon, weird looking trail shoes (I’m talking about the Hokas),
backpacks and buffs. It was a nice
little atmosphere and I felt quite at home, despite being an ultra newbie. I said hello to a guy from my gym and waved
to someone I’d worked with over seven years ago in Bristol. Martin from Likey’s, the race organiser, gave
a very comprehensive race briefing and before I knew it, we were all quietly
heading to the start at the canal, 100 or so metres away. I was ready but wished I wasn’t feeling so
tired from the lack of sleep.
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| Tired but ready |
All two hundred odd of us huddled
on the narrow canal path, Martin gave us a 3-2-1 countdown and we were off. This was the most relaxed race start I’d ever
taken part in as we all walked for the first 100 metres or so, before gradually
breaking into a trot. The first 3 miles
were along a flat canal path and I managed to run a nice 10 minute mile
pace. It was quite a surreal feeling,
running along in single file, on no sleep, contemplating that this was going to
be me for the next 12 hours.
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| The start 'line' - photo courtesy of Likey's Facebook page |
After 3 miles we snuck over a
tiny bridge and onto the foot of the day’s first and biggest climb, the beastly
Tor y Foel. I followed trend and walked
up a little ramp that led to the first style of the day, where, in true British
fashion, a queue had formed. This was
nice and I took a moment to take it all in.
I started chatting to a Glaswegian lady called Carol and we stomped
together through a field full of Shetland ponies, discussing the fact this was
my first ultra and how she was an old hat at all this. She’d done the race last year, but had run
with a slower friend and was hoping for a time of around 11ish hours this
year. I thought to myself I’d like to
try and stick with Carol.
Tor y Foel is hands on knees
steep. My three recce runs in the last
few months meant I knew what to expect.
As we ascended, wisps of fog flew around, which dissipated to reveal the
lovely views below. Tackling the hill
with a load of others made it a slightly more pleasant experience than scaling
it alone during my training runs. We were treated to the sight of the
healthiest looking fox I’ve ever seen, darting across the path ahead of us,
chasing some poor rabbit or something. I ate some bits of salty sweet potato. I
eventually peeled away from Carol, not wanting to break the rhythm I’d
built. Three false summits later and we
were greeted at the top (the peak is marked by the most pathetic pile of
stones) by one of the volunteers, a South African man in a bright orange coat
and his young son, who’d pitched a tent and set up the campingaz for the
day. I picked up my running again, the
descent varying in steepness but it gave me a chance to catch my breath again
whilst gawping at Taylbont reservoir below, which by now was bathed in November
sunshine.
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| Emerging through the mist to the top of Tor y Foel - photo courtesy of Likey's Facebook page |
Once down the grassy slopes of
Tor y Foel, we were onto a gravelly track which undulated a little so I kept up
a steady jog until we got to checkpoint 1.
Here we were instructed to make a right down a wet, rocky path (which required
a certain fleet of foot) towards the bottom of a section of the Taff
trail. I wasn’t looking forward to this
bit, since it was 3ish mile, very gradual climb on gravelly road. I usually revel in long gradual hills, but
with a pack on my back, a steep, glute killing hill already in my legs and a
determination to run this bit, it was tough going. Carol caught up with me again and after a
brief chat about how bloody steep Tor y Foel was, I watched her edge away from
me at an impressive pace.
I kinda managed to run all the
way up the trail but must admit to some short walking breaks, during which I
took some rhubarb & custard gel. It
was a relief to get onto the road which then plunged down to the bottom of the
‘gap’ road. The gradual but very rocky
trail led up to a dip in the landscape in between the foot of Cribyn and Fan y
Big.
As I mainly walked, but with bursts
of running, I was treated to the distraction of hundreds of Army Reservists
coming in the other direction, fully laden with enormous backpacks, massive
rifles and mostly pained expressions. I
tried to acknowledge as many of them as I could and liked to think we were
mutually suffering, although I was thankful that I was doing this ultra under
my own steam and not being shouted at by a Sargent Major.
It was getting a bit chillier the
higher we got, so I donned some gloves. Once my hands get cold, I become even
more hopeless with making sure I was eating plenty. I was doing ok with hydration, taking sips
from the pack when I fancied, but I wasn’t doing so well with eating. I picked at a few nuts and took on an ‘After
Eight’ chocolate mint Gu gel, but whatever I tried, I still felt sick. I wasn’t worried though, as I knew I’d been
in this situation many-a-time, it just wasn’t particularly enjoyable.
Once down off the ‘gap’ we were
onto a mixture of less complicated trails, fields (including a field of swedes)
and roads. The weather was still perfect
and my feet mercifully still dry. I amused myself by peeing behind an enormous
tree. I felt so sick though and the thoughts of quitting after the one lap
crossed my mind. I thought of how
disappointed I’d feel if I did and once I was back on the canal path
at Pencelli, I concentrated on looking forward to seeing Dan at Talybont and
delving into my emergency supplies for that bottle of coke.
Sure enough, at the third
checkpoint back at Talybont, there was Dan with the magical supplies. I quickly filled up my pack with water (which
made it heavy again, boo!) but didn’t want to stop too long, so asked Dan to
walk with me a while whilst I necked the bottle of lovely fizzy coke (which
also had a jolly picture of Santa on it).
I’ve never been a fan of coke (or
cola, I should say). I’m more of a
squash gal and would never have a can as a ‘snack’. In the middle of an endurance event, however,
when you’re feeling pretty disgusting, tired and you still have 23 miles of
quad crunching terrain to go, there is no finer nectar in the world.
Dan and I walked together and I
told him stories of the first lap – the fox, the soldiers, peeing behind the
tree. The coke started to work quite
quickly, inducing some useful burps, which helped a bit with the nausea as well
as providing some well needed sugar and caffeine. I can’t speak highly enough of coke in this
situation. It’s a MIRACLE. Anyway, I bid
Dan farewell again at the environs of Talybont and continued my quest, still
not fully on top of my game but better.
The field was well are truly
spread out now, and I found myself alone on the canal path. I ran to markers in the distance – that tree,
that bench, that tuft of grass – before speed walking again. I knew this stretch of path was roughly 3
miles so when my garmin ticked over marathon distance (and I had a little muted
celebration about going over marathon distance for the first time ever) I was really hoping I’d
recognise the turn off point……but all the little bridges looked the same! I panicked that I’d missed the turn, so
started to backtrack hoping someone would come along. I must’ve run back around 200 metres when I
was met by Lee, who I used to work with years ago (!) and his friends. It was great to see a familiar face and they
were sure the turn off point was further down the path, so I hadn’t overshot
after all.
It was great to run/walk with
people again and we got to work on tackling the bit I’d dreaded, the second
ascent of Tor y Foel. After cooing over
the Shetland ponies again, the grind started and we tried out best to have
snippets of conversation in between all the heavy breathing. It was slow going but we managed to keep
moving. I tried to stick with one of
Lee’s friends, who was moving a bit faster and I managed to get to the top just
behind him.
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| View from the top of Tor y Foel - photo courtsey of Likey's Facebook page |
Even though it was nice to
have company, I just wanted to keep moving so I started descending by
myself. My legs felt surprisingly good
running downhill, but once I got on the first slope of the gravelly road, I
resorted to a speed walk, concluding that this was the most efficient way. By the checkpoint, Lee & co had caught up
with me again but they stopped for some water whilst I carefully carried on
down the rocky path.
Back onto the Taff trail and it
was starting to get cold. I resorted
back to speed walking and started munching on my coconut bar, but it wasn’t
going down well. Within a mile, Lee
& co had caught up with me again and asked if I wanted to try their
strategy of running for 0.4 of a mile and walking 0.1. It didn’t sound appealing so I let them go,
thanking them for their company and praising their good effort with their
running. I kept them in sight though so
I wasn’t too downbeat. A few others
overtook me too but I think I overtook one or two.
About 400 metres from the end of
the long, gradually ascending, gravelly track, I could see Dan,
waiting with my supplies for me. By now
it was really quite cold and even though I was wearing gloves, my hands were
freezing and I was dying for that coke fix again. It was time to put on my coat, warmer gloves,
fleece hat and in preparation, my head torch, so Dan helped me with my pack,
both struggling with cold hands. Dan
walked with me up the little hill whilst I necked the coke and said he might
drive around to find another good spot to see me at the other side of the
mountain.
We parted again at the top of the
hill. I managed to run down to the right
turn where the trail very gradually started to rise, heralding the beginning of
the gap road once again. The sun was
starting to disappear behind the beautiful silhouetted beacon mountains as I
maintained a steady march, with occasional, very short, bursts of running. I was looking forward to it getting dark by
now, just as a ‘change of scenery’ but I was really hoping to have gotten up
and over the most complicated trail before I had to turn the headtorch on. I realised half way up that I wasn’t feeling
as sick as I was but realised I hadn’t really eaten anything for a while. I thought about the finger of Fudge I had in
my bag but didn’t want to jeopardise how I was feeling, which was surprisingly
ok. Not ‘hey, I’m gonna run the rest of
this race’ ok, but happy enough to power walk to the end.
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| Getting dark on the second ascent of the 'gap' - photo courtesy of Likey's Facebook page |
Up and over the gap and down the
rocky, treacherous trail, still in enough daylight, gravity helped me run and
catch up with a guy, Luke, who’d stopped to get his headtorch out. We got chatting and trotted together down
towards the final checkpoint. It turned
out he lived in Cardiff and worked with a doctor friend of Dan’s. It was nice to share the onset of darkness
with someone (I’d been a bit worried about the dark) and by the time we got to
the checkpoint it was pitch black and the headtorch was doing its business
well.
Luke stopped to top up his water
but I carried on, down the narrow, rocky path (more rocks). It was here I caught up with a guy with NO
torch. He was negotiating his way down
the path at quite an impressive clip, by moonlight alone. I got close enough behind him to give him
some useful light but realised he had his headphones in and what he was
listening to was loud enough for me to hear that he was listening to a 5Live
podcast. We got to the road together and
he finally pulled out his headphones so I asked him about his lack of
light. It turned out he had a headtorch
but the batteries were dead, so I lent him some light so that he could put the
batteries in the right way.
Happy that he could now actually
see where he was going, I left him to it and ran down the fairly long hill that
would eventually take us back to the field of swedes. I went to take a sip of water but realised I
was completely out! Gah! I should’ve restocked at the checkpoint. It wasn’t a major disaster but not ideal for
the final 5 miles or so home.
Strangely, I really enjoyed the
darkness. Walking through a field, all
by myself, in the stillness of the night, with just the light of my headtorch
was a zenful experience. I felt safe,
calm but determined. I was managing to
run downhill and the odd burst on the flat.
A bit parched, I arrived at Llanfrynach village to find Dan waiting
there for me again. I was surprised and pleased to see
him especially as he was brandishing that coke bottle again, which still had a
good gulp or two in it.
My garmin read 10 hours something
and I had 3 miles to go. I was
definitely going to beat my 12 hour target.
I carried on my march, moving fast enough to start feeling too warm in
my coat and fleecy hat. I didn’t want to stop to faff around with clothing
though. I finally made it back to the canal path and started to count down the
canal bridges. I knew Talybont was
bridge number 145. Some of the bridges
were close together but one of them took ages to come into view. It was quite eery walking along the canal in
the dark. Owls hooted in the trees and the sound of a duck fight alarmed me a little.
FINALLY, bridge 145 was in sight
and I could see someone standing on top of it wearing a headtorch. I made a left back to the road and the
headtorch man declared “well done, just down there on the left”. Down the hill, I ran to Henderson Hall. I
made the left turn to the finish to find not only Dan waiting there for me, but
my parents too, who’d come up to put in a surprise appearance! Before I went under the finish gantry though,
all finishers were made to run down and up the little field, which gave the race
a bit of a glory lap, where those who were there watching, could applaud the
finishers.
Under the gantry, I stopped my
garmin which chimed a satisfactory bleep, and I was done. 11 hours 19 minutes. Hugs, kisses and relief all around. I’d done an ultra!
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| Relief and surprise on seeing my parents |
I’d spent most of the day
adamantly thinking ‘never again’, that I should just stick to marathons and not
put myself through the mill with all-day endurance events like ultras and
ironman. I did enjoy the day though,
even with the nausea and lack of sleep, and although I haven’t immediately
signed up for my next one, I would definitely consider an ‘easier’ ultra, if
there is such a thing. I love the fact I
now have an ultra on my ‘palmares’ and I’ve really been enjoying my running these
last few months.
At the moment, I only have the London Marathon on my list of entered events....I'm sure that will change soon enough.
