Piggy Plod, 2019

Last year we ran this in the middle of a heatwave.  Today was a lot more comfortable; warm, with a light breeze. We parked up in a field and after a dodgy moment when gravity caught the car door and bumped the mini next to us, we met up with Ali and Jo from the Hares, plus Dave, Tony and Di from OS.

With the Hares...

...and the OS crew

It was gratifying to have a good mix of twentieth-century music playing - no teenage DJs today.  (I love being grumpy about rubbish contemporary music).  After a typically laid-back briefing, we were off, straight up the first hill.  It was a fairly aggressive start, with half a dozen blokes rushing off ahead.  I didn't know any of them, and it was impossible to tell whether this was a flash-in-the-pan or a competitive race in the making.

1km in, and I was ahead, with mixed feelings.  Epic struggles in races can be magnificent and exhilarating, but in the moment it's easy to crave the peace and quiet of being comfortably ahead.  Against this is the continual lurking fear that someone has paced this much better than you, and is bidding his/her time, letting you do the pacing and waiting for the moment to strike.  This was the worry I was carrying, although the rational part of me knew that it was mine to lose, and when I looked over my shoulder the coast became increasingly clear.  The car keys were knocking slightly in a pocket and I imagined someone behind me and used this to stay focused.

The course is made up of two laps of long uphill and downhill drags on the headlands of arable fields.  The second lap was longer which was mentally quite tough.  There was super support from the marshals and spectators.  The lovely Mrs S and I crossed each other and had a wave at one point, and in the later stages exchanged greetings with the tail runners.

I enjoyed bombing down the hill to the finish in just over 40 minutes - over 5 minutes faster than last year, but there was really no comparison in terms of conditions.  Here are my stats.  I got a bag full of goodies and enjoyed cheering the rest of the gang home.  Everyone was on great form.

Good old White Star races - they're always great value.

Ali is the queen of the group selfie

Looking forward to the cider!

Snowdonia Trail Marathon 2019

I was more excited and nervous about this race than I had been about any run for a long time. This was my first proper off-road mountain marathon, and I really had no idea what to expect.

Having driven up to Llanberis on the Saturday, the lovely Mrs S and I found ourselves at the race briefing at 8:45 along with our friend Sue Sleath (Mike was running the 10k). This was a new adventure for all of us.

Ready for the start

Dinorwic pumping station, behind the start field, fondly remembered from an O Level Geography case study

The race started, and we were off along the streets of Llanberis and then a left turn took us steadily uphill, past the youth hostel and into moorland.  We climbed steadily up and over the first coll, all familiar from last year's half, and then there was a boggy downhill stretch to the first water station. A few runners rushed passed me on this stretch, and I remembered from last year how rubbish I am at technical descents compared to the fearless fell running types who run this sort of thing all the time.  I had a few snatches of matey conversation as we ran along. Everything felt OK.

From about 11km to around 25km it was all fairly undemanding.  The terrain was undulating and the surface was mainly gravel track. After a while I started overtaking the ultra runners and there was lots of good-natured encouragement going on. I was feeling good.  I was carrying a bladder of water with a Tailwind mix, which I planned to supplement with the occasional gel.  But the experience of washing gloopy gel down with sweet liquid wasn't pleasant, so I only had one.

By the time I reached 21k, just under the halfway point, my watch read 1:45. Hmmm, I thought; in normal circumstances I would be looking at a 3:30 finish.  Add in the Snowdon factor - i.e. having to go up it and back down the other side - and surely that wouldn't take up more than an extra hour?  My declared goal was sub-5 hours (last year's M50 winner had done it in 5:01) and I was bit suspicious about the amount of spare time I seemed to have in the bag. The race profile suggested that it was going to stay nice and flat till about 29km, so nothing to worry about just yet.  Or so I thought.

But at about 25km the running changed drastically.  We were still in the valley floor, but now off-road and on a rocky, rooty trail with mud and plenty of slip potential.  It was tough going and required full concentration.  A handful of runners overtook me as I focused on not falling over.

The rocky path eased off for a short while before starting to ascend towards Pen Y Pass.  I could see the road way up high above me, and got into gear, walking with my hands on my thighs.  Soon enough I passed through the car park and got a great view looking south towards Llanberis.

And so on to the Pyg trail.  I had assumed that this was a big open path. I imagined it would be a good climb, but not terribly technical.  Crikey... I was completely wrong on this score.  Plenty of it involved hands-and-feet scrambling, with big boulders, steep steps, sheer drops and day trippers a-plenty.  I broke into the occasional run on the flatter sections, but it was mostly a fast walk, breathing thank-yous to the kind folk who let me pass.  I was aware of wet shorts and I slurped at my water + Tailwind mix, worried that it was all seeping away from a leak in the bladder (it wouldn't be the first time).  I was feeling weary now.  The landscape felt eerie and wild, and I felt that we were all climbing Mount Doom for an epic denouement.

Part of the Pyg Track

The view I would have had without the cloud

After about 5km of Pyg Path, the final ascent was heavy going.  I was shrouded in cloud by this stage. I was robotically climbing, heaving away, when a guy in hi-vis loomed ahead of me, directing me on a right turn onto a ridge. I was at the top.  Good - now just the descent.

I remembered from last year how treacherous the run down Snowdon could feel.  I broke into a run, and jogged onwards.  Descending felt weird, and none of my limbs seemed to be working properly. The descent steepened, and quite suddenly I felt overcome with exhaustion.  I stopped, leaning against something, my arms buzzing (a sure sign of system stress, as I learned at the 2010 Clarendon marathon), and feeling utterly wretched and drained.

I can't remember much about what happened next. I started walking, everything feeling horrible, and after a while as the slope eased I began running, still in a state of numb shock at this turn of events.  Plenty of folk gambolled cheerfully past me, including a few I recognised or had chatted with earlier.  After a few minutes I started perking up, and began to feel human again.  I kept telling myself 'lift your feet' but still had to manage some minor stumbles. How people race headlong down rocky mountain paths is a mystery to me.

By now Llanberis was in sight, and the temperature was rising as I descended.  It was a big relief to get off the rocky path and onto the road, which continued steeply down to the town.  And then a small loop around the back of the town to the finish field.  I was thankful that Mrs S and I had walked it before supper the previous evening.  Someone was running close behind me, but as I got on the flat I felt my racing spirit return after the shredding I'd encountered on Snowdon.  I pushed hard, and crossed the line ahead of my rival at a good pace.

It was over - my watched said I'd finished in 4:47:11, certainly the slowest marathon I've ever done. I was well inside my 5-hour aspiration, but after a proper mauling.  I checked the results and was delighted to find I was 1st M50.

I went back to the hotel for a bath and then back to the finish field to meet Mike and Sue before they had to leave, and next up was the presentation, where for the first time I got to stand on a podium!

Enjoying my podium moment

The lovely Mrs S finished in storming style, looking as fresh as a flower after over 7 hours on her feet and grinning madly after her first taste of mountain running.  What a woman!

Mrs S, finishing strong

It had been an astonishing and complex experience.  I was very pleased to get the top oldie slot in a competitive field, but I'm left feeling that something had gone badly amiss on the mountain... it had been a very real feeling of near-collapse up there.  All the evidence points to a nutritional problem - I simply wasn't taking enough calories for the hour or so of of climbing in the final third of a marathon.  The Strava flyby shows how my race crashed in the mountains.  I want to come back and get this right.  I'll never be a fast fell runner, but I do think I can do this race with a bit more aplomb.  Next year!

The story of when I ran and when I was reduced to a walk over the distance

The same story over time

Charmouth Challenge, 2019

We're right in the thick of summer time hilly races.  Last week Seaford, next week Snowdonia, but today we ran the Charmouth Challenge, an 8-mile Dorset fell race that's been run by the local primary school for about 36 years. Sounds good, doesn't it!

So the lovely Mrs S and I had no qualms about getting up early on a bright sunny morning and heading west to Charmouth. It was surprisingly easy to find a space at the beach carpark, right up close to the action, and got our race numbers and slapped on suncream.

It's going to be a hot one

Off we went, having been started by a town crier who was in splendid regalia but who I thought cheated slightly by talking into a microphone. The first km or so was flat, and then the road took a sharp inflection as we began the 180m climb up to Stonebarrow Hill.  I overtook a few folk and felt good.

There was a good downhill section, not too technical, and at the bottom I cursed as I stopped to tie my laces up and heard footsteps approaching. Then immediately back up hill, ascending to Golden Cap.

I had been thinking that it would be good to avoid walking up the hills, but I was thwarted by the steps as I approached the summit which broke my stride. Plus, it was as steep as hell and I was quite happy to walk this bit.  It was a really tremendous view from the top, and thank you to my lovely Mrs S for the photography!

Views from Golden Cap (thanks Mrs S)

After a bit of bimbling about in the valley, the final ascent began, becoming increasingly steep. There had been three guys in view for a while, and I felt I was closing in on them. I overtook one of them as he was walking up the steep section,and I was confident that he was beaten. Oh no he wasn't!  The descent had a steep, technical section of steps on a narrow twisty path and he came hurtling down behind me. 'Sorry mate', he called... I moved right, and nearly fell into thickets overhanging thin air. He hurtled past.  I really wish I was more capable going downhill.

It was almost all over.  There was a long descent into Charmouth, the finish gantry clearly visible.  I was never going to catch the three blokes ahead but I ran as fast as I could down to the bridge and up the cruel little hill to the finish.

Beating the hour was never a real objective, but I was really chuffed to finish in just over 59 minutes in 9th place and 1st M50.  Here are my stats.  Mrs S had a tremendous outing and the presentation was very charming.  We chatted to the first man, James Baker (from Chichester) and the first lady, Helen Wallington, from Totton.

Waiting for Mrs S, and briefly alarmed about where she was heading

Ah, here she is!

A magnificent, friendly race.  We'll be back again for sure.

Unusual M50 prize

Martello half marathon, 2019

The lovely Mrs S and I had been staying in Sussex for the weekend, and had taken advantage of this to book a race on the South Downs.

We turned up at Seaford on a bright and breezy morning. Thankfully, yesterday's hot weather had dispersed. This was a small and low-key event, organised by the local Rotary, although it was compered by the local town crier. (We couldn't help noticing that town criers seem to be getting younger).

Oh yea!

We set off into a brisk headwind along the seafront and then headed inland on country lanes.  There were five runners ahead of me, and then three, as lane turned into track and we started gaining elevation.  The landscape opened up into fabulous rolling chalk hills. By 6km I had edged into the lead, but with a certain amount of trepidation at being in pole position this early on unknown territory.

Soon after 7km we were heading steadily uphill to the east-west ridge which spanned the half-way point, and three chaps overtook me.  I was almost relieved, and dug in behind them. We had a never-ending ascent to the crest of the hill which never quite arrived, with a tremendous panoramic view.

Lovely day for it

And then down, down, over uneven grassy tracks, with the sweep of the coastline and Newhaven harbour ahead.  The open downs became narrow footpaths which gave a terrific feeling of speed whizzing downhill.  At about 15k I caught up one of the front three (Adam Vaughan, according to the Strava flyby) and I kept pressing on.

I had a couple of moments in the final stages where it wasn't entirely clear where I should be running and whether I should be crossing the main road.  I have a lot of admiration and respect for marshals, but some are certainly more experienced than others when it comes to telling runners what they need to know... it's not always obvious when you're in the thick of a race.

Back on the promenade, and a long gasping plod to the finish line in third place.  I reckon it was about 400m short of HM distance, but nonetheless I was very happy with my time of 1:25:43.  Here are my stats.

Mrs S pushes for the line

3rd place trophy

A lovely, low key race on the South Downs. We may well be back for another crack at this one!