Snowdonia Marathon - Marathoneryri - a once-in-a-lifetime race?

This weekend, Nic and I joined our friends Roy and Chris for a relaxing run around Llanberis and surrounding villages, at the Snowdonia Marathon.  The story of why we were there goes back just over a year, to my failed attempt at a PB in the 2011 Abingdon Marathon.  And once we got there, we enjoyed what can only be described in a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

Cast your mind back to October 2011, when I was disappointed that my body, while clearly in the best condition it ever had been in, failed me for a second year as I attempted to break 3:20.  I knew I needed to put a lot more focus on my core strength and add more long, fast running to my schedule.  Then, I had to write a few "for fun" races off my schedule while I recovered the minor niggles.  It's safe to say that I wasn't in the best frame of mind for scheduling a fast road marathon for the third straight year.

If we fast-forward slightly to January 1st, 2012, when I came back from a slightly "merry" 5k jog to clear the fog, I had a text from Roy notifying me that entries had opened, and would be closing very quickly indeed.  So, with both Nic and me still somewhat judgement-impaired from bringing in the New Year, we decided it would be a great first road marathon for Nic.  I decided that I'd had enough tilting at the 3:20 windmill and would enjoy doing a road race somewhere "just for the fun of it".

Then, the magical racing year that has been 2012 happened.  As part of my ultra preparation, I had increased the core work, added a 4th run to my standard running schedule, and was enjoying the benefits of consistent training.  By the end of August, every race I had run was either a course best (trail) or personal best (1mi, 1.3mi, 5km, 1/2mara). So, I started to look at 2011 Marathoneryri times from runners I know and compare against that 3:32 from Amsterdam to see if there was any chance of keeping my streak alive with another road PB.  I concluded that it would be tight, but possible, and put a little more work into finding a sustainable uphill running effort for the final hill of the race.  The idea of cracking my PB, set on a pancake-flat course, among the hills of Snowdonia struck me as the sort of convoluted achievement that I particularly enjoy.  After all, a PB is always nice, but setting it with an extra 2500ft of ascent is so much better!

Along comes race day, and everything is set - after a few flakes of snow overnight, the sun came up to bring that rarest of beasts, a cold, bright, and dry day.  Everyone was amazed - it was the first clear day the race had seen in many years.  The previous 4 had all been held in truly wretched conditions.  After my warm up (yes, even for a marathon!), I made a quick trip to the car to dig out the sunglasses to deal with that funny thing showing between the clouds.

What's that bright thing behind the mountain?

Heading to the start line - sunnies at Snowdonia?!?

It's only a road marathon - how hard can it be?
Nic was in charge of the camera today.

The race, in all, was an exercise in guesswork - there were no sections of the course where I could judge whether my pace would get me the time I wanted, because it's such an undulating route.  I started the first half mile slowly (8:30mm) and just kept an easy effort going to the bottom of the first hill.  As the road went down, the pace got faster, and when we hit the hill just after two miles, I just kept the rpms high and spun up like I would on a bike.  I removed my Buff, pushed up my sleeves, and unzipped my top and just kept ticking along.  Just after 4.6 miles, it was time for the downhill.  Barring a few interruptions to climb up some very small hills, that downhill lasted a good 8.5 miles.

Most road races don't boast views like this!

Totally unable to tell if I was running fast enough or too fast based on pace, I went for the logic of "if I'm hot, it's too fast".  I tried to keep my effort level just high enough to feel warm, using my sleeves, zip, Buff, and gloves to manage the changing effects of the sun and wind.  At half way, I was on 3:20 pace, which I knew was an unrealistic expectation because the second half has more ascent than the first half.  So, I mentally allowed myself a net 5-minute loss for the final hill, did my best not to lose too much on the steady drag from 13-15 miles (I lost 2 minutes), and kept repeating the mantra "every minute not lost is a minute off your PB!" for the 10km in between.  This is the bit where Nic got bored of running on the road, so I'm glad to have had a goal to help me keep focus.

Snowdon off in the distance

The climb at Waunfawr hurt, as expected.  Hamstrings and calves started to rebel, and eventually I was pushed to a speed-walk to use some different muscles and try to stretch out the screaming ones. The run-walk strategy got me up the hill and I finally got to enjoy the final descent into Llanberis, although I got a gentle reminder that the legs have to be as ready as the head when I clipped a rock on the trail and spent a few seconds on the ground.

Just a short burst down to Llanberis and it's all over!

With a mad sprint down the mountain for 1.3 miles, I clawed back enough of the walking time to finish in 163rd with 3:31:16 - 70 seconds faster than I'd run on the flat roads of the Dutch capitol.  Twisted, for sure, but also evidence that two years of (mostly) consistent marathon and ultra racing are really paying off.  A personal best on a course with 2500ft of climbing, a sunny day at the Snowdonia Marathon - it's a combination that will almost certainly never happen again.

The River Ayr Way Challenge 2012 - some like it RAW

When I entered this race, I briefly anticipated writing a reflection filled with discomfort, fighting through extreme lows, and the glory of pushing my body harder than I ever dreamed possible.  Then, I shuddered, put all anticipation of anything other than a smiley start and a relieved finish out of my head and pretended that everything would be fine.  After all, I kept saying, the race starts at the head of a river and ends at the mouth - it's all down hill, right?

The day started cool and grey, as forecast, with moderate winds (a big improvement on the gales and driving rain of the previous day).  Nic's parents kindly agreed to be crew for the day - their first ever such assignment, which saw Jeff cruelly taken from the clutches of his bed far too early for his day off.  We arrived at the start at 8AM, to find RD Anneke preparing to receive runners.  Many would register on the bus from the finish.  Those of us lucky enough to have crew (and/or like me, likely to lose their breakfast on a bus) picked up our numbers in the tiny car park above Glenbuck.

As usual, our target was to arrive early, relax, and have a bite to eat while waiting for the start.  So, when we got out of the car and I looked at the delightful woodlands surrounding us, I noticed that there were no facilities other than the boxes waiting to receive our drop bags.  I realised this really was going to be a pretty relaxed atmosphere.

Jeff, Maggie, and Nic posing for a pre-race picture in front of the ample toilet facilities.

The registration area began to fill as the buses arrived, while Nic and I realised that we weren't particularly nervous.  Considering this would be my first time over 40 miles, and her first time over 28, the chilled vibe was obviously rubbing off on us.  With about 15 minutes to spare, I had a short jog to make sure my shoes were well tied, took some pics, and was ready to go.

Race crew hard at work (behind the race crew hard at chat).

You know it's Scotland when you see red tartan lycra shorts...

The race started with a great descent to get us all up to speed and quickly took us to into the open moorland that made up the first 10 miles of the route.  Good, steady descents, a few short hills to break up the rhythm a little, and before I knew it, I was sheltering behind a few runners at about 45 seconds per mile faster than my preferred early pace.  With the steady headwinds, the firm footing, and the lack of any notable hills, I decided to stick with it for a while, to see how things went.  After all, I've not really been used to running for any length of trail without some enforced walking breaks, so I wasn't really sure how I would react to 8:45 minute miles.  Had it been a flattish road race, I would have been quite happy with the conservative speed, but for the trails, sense said I was going to have to slow down at some point.

Narrow but firm footing just alongside the River Ayr

For those not familiar with the race or the route, The River Ayr Way Challenge is organised by the East Ayrshire County Council - in particular the Countryside Services team.  It's pretty low key, well supported with regular water/feed/chat stations, and runs along the length of the River Ayr Way.  The rangers had to put in some extra hard work this year, recovering/re-routing some sections of the RAW where it had disappeared after this winter's ice floes and heavy rains.  In many places, they had even been out strimming in the days before the race.  Compared to what I normally run on, the path felt practically manicured!  We were truly spoiled in that respect.

Nic looks back on the open moorland, our first hill top for nearly 7 miles

Nice day to do a bit of fishing

The early stages of the route set the tone for the whole of the RAW.  There are pretty views in all directions, but few "wow!" moments.  Early on, we enjoyed miles of open moors, misty light on the distant hills, and plenty of slippery little wooden bridges to test the coordination.  After 11 miles, my right calf (this month's muscular liability) started to tug, so I eased back a bit.  I didn't fancy running another 30 miles on a cramping leg, and hoped that putting less strain on the leg would do the trick.  By the time I hit the first check-in point with Jeff and Maggie, the leg was doing OK and I was running fairly freely.  I was also 15 minutes ahead of schedule after only 17 miles, and wondering how bad the payback would be.  The early moorland was giving way to wooded slopes as the river carved through the low hills.  Easy running was about to take a back seat.

Catching up with the in-laws at 17 miles

The tough patch came, a bit later than expected, at around 25 miles.  We had finally had some hills - all short, all sharp, with plenty of steps to make running difficult.  Climbing up and down through the riverside woods had killed the pace and my legs.  My right quad and ITB started to object, colouring my language nicely with each new staircase.

Alas, no train to distract from the sore legs

The difficult patch carried on into the new addition for this year's running, a diversion near Stair where the old path unfortunately has now joined with the river itself.  We slogged up a short hill through a nice, soupy pasture where the "mud" had a nice oily sheen to it.  Best not to think about it all, really, but I did laugh that I had finally reached some trail that was like what I've been enjoying throughout this rather moist summer.  The cattle at the top of the hill looked on bemused, and I was happy to reach them with both shoes still on my feet.

A couple of miles later, though, we ran through ankle deep water for long enough to wash the shoes.  I splashed along, enjoying the cold water on my feet and keeping my hands above my head so I would still be happy to eat with them later.  Unfortunately, I also managed to wash some large bits of grit into the shoes, in spite of my gaiters.  By this time, I was 30 miles in, a little cranky, and more than just a little confused by anything that required much thought.  At the 32-mile check point, luckily, the in-laws were waiting with some extra brain cells for me to use.

I stopped for a drink and a little chat, forgetting about my gritty feet.  After a minute or two, I suddenly remembered that my shoes were full of ick.  So, I sat down to empty my shoes and found that the grit had helped me to mangle my socks.  With toes poking through the end, I knew another 10 miles would be manageable, but possibly a bit irritating, and stared blankly at my feet.  Maggie asked if I had any socks in my end-of-race bag (in the car boot).  It took far too long for my brain to kick into gear, but I did have a spare pair for after the run, so was able to change socks.  I ditched the gaiters while I was shoeless, and suddenly felt a lot lighter without the extra layer of wet fabric.

Getting up wasn't easy.  The rest while I tended my feet did me some good, but it also cooled me off.  So, as I walked up the next hill, I changed into my spare t-shirt.  The clouds were firmly in place, so I didn't need to worry about getting too warm as the afternoon continued.  At 34 miles, I grabbed a drink and a bag of jelly worms from my drop bag, and carried on.  With only 7 miles left, I knew I would be able to get it together and finish, even though I had lost any hope of a 7-hour time.

I always carry a phone for emergencies on a long run, and feared the worst when mine rang as I left the check point - surely Nic had fallen, broken her arms and legs, and was being rushed to hospital.  Clearly, rational thought was taking a nap.  Thankfully, the only problem was that, as tired as I was, I was still running better than the car.  Jeff was calling to let me know that my bag might make it to the line before my crew.

Gradually, I gathered myself and started to push on, trying to catch one person at a time in a battle of "who can slow down the least".  The underfoot conditions eased again as we neared the finish.  With firm paths, tracks, and road, I was able to get back into a consistent running rhythm, getting back to 10-minute miles for the final few.  It's easy to get down about working so hard to run so much slower than my normal pace, but I had already figured that I would be straining hard to even run.  I just kept concentrating on getting each mile as close to that 10:00 as I could, until I finally started to see the 9 on my watch.  As long as I didn't have to go up or turn a corner, I was moving well.

As I approached the finish, I heard someone say "there's only about 100 yards left" and put on a "sprint" for the line.  At nearly 7:15, I finished 20 minutes slower than my "good day" or "plan A" time, but inside of my "plan B" - pretty good for my first foray over 40 miles.  If I had only managed a few minutes faster, I would even have beaten the car back to the finish - the issues had been dealt with and our ace crew had made it just in time.

After getting cleaned up and refuelling a bit, I headed back up the course to cheer Nic into the finishing straight.  Luckily for her, I had about half a mile of the route in view, and could pick her out in time to position myself for a good bellow of encouragement followed by a picture.  Her plan B was "don't finish last", and her plan A was "sub 10:00".  A 9:05 time showed that running conservatively for the first ultra was probably a good idea, and that there's definitely more ability there than she gave herself credit for.

Still smiling at 40 miles.

It looks so much further when you look at it afterwards...

One of the bucolic views along the river (courtesy of Jeff)

Much like the route itself, there were no outstanding high or low points to my race.  I had expected to hit the wall, struggle to carry on, battle with my usually temperamental digestion, feel elated when I finished, etc. etc.      The reality was that everything just kind of ticked along.  The weather was moderate.  The marshals, supporters, and passers-by were all very friendly. As the race went on, I felt mostly in control (as much as one ever is), never particularly strong, nor overly weak.  I got tired, cranky, cheery, chatty, and quiet, much as I do over the course of any full day.  Overall, it was just a normal, nice day out on some scenic trails among like-minded runners, with the added bonus of great support - what better way to spend a Saturday?

Hot Running in the Scottish Highlands: The Nairn 1/2 Marathon

When we signed up for the Nairn Half Marathon, the goal was to have a bash at setting some fast times after a Summer of focus on speed rather than just endurance.  I looked high and low for a flattish half in August or early September, and found one just a short drive from Nic's sister and her family - the bonus of a family get-together made the race too good to pass up.  Of course, it's a 10-12 hour drive to get there, so a little planning was needed to make sure we arrived in condition to run!  Luckily, Nic's folks live about 2/3 the way there, so we got to stop off and enjoy even more family time on both the out and back, as well as breaking up the drive.

The Nairn Half has the unique (to my knowledge, anyway) feature of being part of the local Highland Games.  So, unlike many local races, the spectators at the finish actually outnumber the runners by quite a large margin.  It also means that there's plenty going on when you finish, so the post-race is quite enjoyable.

We arrived around 11am to register and avoid getting stuck in traffic heading for the Games, and took in as much of the grass track and arena as we could.  Nic particularly enjoyed hearing the sound of a lone piper playing a short distance from the park as we wandered along the seaside paths.  You can take the lassie out of Scotland...  With around 30 minutes to go, we started our gentle warm-up, as usual checking out the 1st and last mile of the course, loosening limbs, etc.  The clouds that had threatened to keep things cool for this afternoon race began to blow past, leaving us in no doubt that the weather would be abnormally warm for a visit to the northern beaches!

The clouds start to drift off as we get into our warm-up.

At the start, the local runners were looking up, worried that the foreign yellow disc might stay put throughout the race.  I had already added five seconds per mile to both of our planned first half splits, to allow for the added warmth in this cold and dreary Summer, so was confident that we would survive without too much damage from the sun.  Nic's sister had kindly leant us some sunscreen, since it's not normally in our Scottish travel kit.  It was a good thing, too, since our shoulders hadn't spent much time in the open lately.

Nic sporting the new prototype Cotswold Running vest.

At 12:30, I found myself in the second row, waiting for the fast runners to come and line up in front of me.  Only a few did, because everyone wanted the inside line for the initial lap of the track.  When the gun (and it was actually a starter's pistol!) fired and the short stretch of jostling was finished, I found myself in around 6th place on the inside of the track.  By the time we left the track, I was in the more sensible and lucky 13th position, keeping a close eye on my watch to make sure I wan't going dangerously quickly.  Within a quarter mile, nearly 20 runners passed me as I maintained my pace.  I was confident some would come back eventually, based on previous years' results.  This year's field was nearly twice the normal size, so I was curious to find out how many would come back if I finished in my goal time of sub-1:30.

The first two miles of the course are fairly innocuous.  The goal was to keep in the region of 6:50 before hitting the little hill in the 3rd mile.  By the end of the 2nd mile, the field in front of me was at its largest, and the combination of the warm day and early enthusiasm was already starting to take its toll.  When the hill approached, the first few runners came back quite quickly.  I kept a beady eye on the watch to make sure I wasn't riding the "thrill of the hunt" to blow my own race as I steadily worked my way back towards the top 20.  At the first water stop, I encountered my first "grab-and-stop" of the day.  What is it that causes otherwise sensible people to grab the first available cup of water and suddenly break into a walk, making it impossible for the next runner to access either the way forward or the next cup of water?  I'd like to say I pushed the offending runner into a ditch rather than simply running through him and spilling his water, but he apologized and I carried to get my own drink and douse without losing too much pace.

From the "top" of the hill to the half way mark is a very gentle slope, or "false flat", which means that every now and then, you can look down the road and wonder why it feels a bit harder than it should to maintain pace.  As I approached the 5 mile marker, I encountered my first "walker" - he was definitely suffering from the searing sunshine and lack of a breeze.  I noted a windmill turning well in the distance and immediately realized that the lack of air movement was essentially a tail-wind - a bit of a worry on what is basically an out-and-back course.  At the next water stop, I tried to let the runner in front and the 1st volunteer know I was aiming for the 2nd volunteer's water.  Too late, the runner stopped right in front of me and the volunteer kindly tried to hand me water as I was passing through.  I got an extra douse, apologized my way to the 2nd volunteer, grabbed some more water for a sip and shower and again continued on my way.  At around 6.5 miles, a kind man had placed a sprinkler over the road to help cool us off - a welcome burst of cool since my vest had dried quickly after the water stop.

Then, we turned into the wind and I stopped feeling hot.  At first, the breeze was refreshing - it was only just starting to really get up.  This section of the course was broadly down hill, with occasional short tree-lined stretches to offer a bit of shade.  I had expected a reasonable amount of wind, but it was becoming quite an obstacle.  I managed to maintain my pace through to 9 miles with an effort, losing a second here and there and finding it more difficult to recover the time.  The 10th and 11th miles had some small hills, but nothing particularly taxing.  Unfortunately, they also had some significant sections into the stiff headwind, and I dropped 50 seconds as I struggled against it.

With the final push to the line, I got back onto pace with a good downhill and some changes of direction, but the damage was done.  Sub-1:30 would take a superhuman effort, and even getting a PB was at risk.  I needed to leave everything on the road to have any chance of a good result, and pushed as hard as I could.  The race finishes with a lap of the grass track, surrounded by cheering spectators, but I honestly couldn't hear anything.  I focused on following the yellow line and the runner a few seconds ahead and speeding up for all I was worth.  In the end, I was about 200 yards too slow, finishing in 1:30:38 - 55 seconds faster than my previous best set in March.

The flags got a good workout, and the beer tent had to be dismantled and turned into an open-air bar, as the wind got up.

Nic suffered even more in the wind, having turned into it after it had already stopped just being a breeze.  She still took a minute off her previous best, and is looking forward to a slightly more favourable day to pick up a couple more minutes.  The day had been scheduled for some fast times, but the conditions were not the best on the day.  We found out later that the wind had even been strong enough to cause problems at the beer tent at the Games - a temporary tragedy that was dealt with by removing the tent and running the bar under the blazing sun.

A little music to entertain us as we lounged in the grass.

We enjoyed a different recovery from the usual (the beer tent was being dismantled as we finished), sitting with Nic's sister and our nieces enjoying the track races, Highland dancing, tug-o'-war, caber tossing, and marching pipe bands.  I think we both suffered a little sunburn and no little windburn, but it was an amazing way to wind down from a hard race.  I guess next year we'll just have to train a little harder!

Making Cotswold Running Real - my greatest running adventure

Running is addictive.  It gets under our skin.  Muscles, tendons, nerves all suffer when we run.  On the best days, running transforms us.  On the worst days, it is our final action.  Every day in between is a day when we are running, could be running, should be running, dream about running, or prepare to run again.  Many runners struggle to find time for running, and yet the time is somehow found.  Many runners struggle to keep running from taking over their lives, and kid themselves that they have succeeded.  This Spring, I finally stopped kidding myself.  Running has taken over my life.  This Spring, Cotswold Running stopped just being the name of a blog, it became a dream.  In June, Cotswold Running became a company.  In July, we opened entries into our first races, the Broadway Tower Marathon and Half Marathon.  On August 1st, Cotswold Running became my full-time occupation.

The part of my day that used to be dedicated to the automotive industry is dedicated to putting together the races that I've dreamt of running - races ranging from 10 kilometres to 100+ miles on trails and hills that always call out to me, "Come run here, you'll leave with a grin!".  Success is measured not just in the number of runners at the starting line, but the smiles at the finish, the number of runners coming back for more, the number of towns, villages, and landowners welcoming us back to share their landscape for a few hours.  Running is addictive.  It's gotten under my skin.  Let the adventure begin!