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