After another stressful week at work, it all felt like a last minute panic getting the bags packed and loaded and setting off for Harlech. As we got into Wales, the rain was persistent and the clouds hung low over the hills. Once we got to Barmouth and beyond, I was wondering which bits of the scenery I would be running through tomorrow and how I would be feeling that far into the run. As we got close to the B&B, we were driving through the clouds and visibility was minimal. We eventually found our way and after a warm welcome and getting settled, set off to check out where the train station was and to find somewhere to eat. I'd been expecting to have to go into Harlech for the train, but there was a small station just 10 minutes walk away in Llandanwg but I'd have to signal for the train to stop for me. We ended up walking a hilly five miles in our quest for food, enjoyed a lovely Indian meal, then drank a little too much wine to make sure I slept, rather than staying awake worrying !
I was up and getting ready at 5.00am, much to the disgust of my better half who didn't seem to understand how many times I needed to check and rearrange everything that had already been checked and rearranged the night before, or how many times it is necessary to go to the loo just in case...
As I had an early start, our hosts had organised a bacon sandwich for me to eat while waiting for the train. BH drove me to the station, just in case the train didn't stop for me but fortunately the train driver realised that brandishing a half-eaten bacon roll at him was actually a request for him to stop. The train was full of runners and the conductor kindly gave us all a group-discount on our train tickets. The journey to Aberdovey took an hour, which was plenty of time to speculate on where our route might take us on the more arduous journey back to Harlech. Plenty of time for nervous runners to keep revisiting the toilet too !
Once at Aberdovey, race HQ was only a couple of hundred metres away and we all queued up to register and collect our race numbers and a race-hoodie if we had pre-ordered one. We then had a briefing before leaving bags in a trailer to be taken to the finish and then walking to the starting point on the beach. The train had been a few minutes late and consequently the race started at 8:56 instead of 8:45. It's a sandy beach and we all headed for the wet, compacted sand closer to the sea as it is easier to run on. There were 93 starters and the group gradually started to spread out. I chatted to a few people while finding a comfortable pace and after a few miles we reached the seafront at Tywyn, where we had to cross some pebbles and soft sand to get to the promenade. Team Awesome had some supporters waiting for them, dressed in clown wigs and waving and cheering enthusiastically. After Tywyn, we headed inland, in the rain, across the muddy, marshy ground around the river estuary. This took us inland as far as Bryncrug. At about the 9 mile point, there was a check-in point with plenty of food and drink on offer, as well as support. I just had some water and carried on. Soon after this, we got our first taste of hills. They weren't too challenging so I just stuck to a run/walk strategy, only having to stop to avoid being flattened by a tractor on the narrow lane. Soon after this, we were back on muddy tracks where I discovered that my shoes really weren't grippy at all on long, flattened, mud-soaked grass and running or walking up the hills felt as if I was sliding back with each step. There were also several stiles and gates to negotiate but I was still enjoying it and the rain was refreshing.
The next check point was at the Garthangharad Hotel, Llyngwril, where we again got a warm welcome and good selection of snacks and drinks. For some reason, cola looked appealing - I haven't drunk it in years - so I had a small glass then made use of the toilet in the pub. My back was aching badly at this point and I'd intended to take a pain killer at the check point, where I could drop the soluble tablet in a plastic cup of water but unfortunately I forgot until I was a couple of hundred yards up the road and decided to wait for the next checkpoint. With hindsight, it would have been a lot better if I'd gone back because the next stage was almost certainly the most challenging and just made my back worse which was pretty draining. The hills now were really challenging, it was hard work to walk them so I didn't even attempt to run them. We started off on road, and then headed off across fields, with numerous stiles and gates to negotiate. It's amazing how confusing a gate can be when you're feeling weary and in pain and how you have to tell you legs what to do when you're trying to climb over a stile that was clearly designed for people 7 foot tall or more. The stiles that were built of stone, incorporated into the stone walls, had the added challenge of being quite slippery in the pouring rain. I felt really stupid at one gate - it was fastened with a piece of blue rope and I was trying to work out how to lift the rope off the gate but my brain was so foggy I felt completely baffled. Then it dawned on me that it actually just lifted off the gate post because it was looped through the gate. We followed the undulating route for several brutal miles, rewarded by the stunning views. By around 19 miles, I could see Barmouth in the distance - about 7 miles of running away but looking tantalisingly close as I knew that once I'd got past that checkpoint I was into the unknown territory of ultra-running ! I'd been hoping to make up some time on the downhill stretches but there was a long, steep downhill section on road and it was just too much for my tired feet - I found it tougher going than climbing up the hills. I ran on the grass whenever I could but every step hurt my feet and my back pain was wearing me down a bit. I stopped to take photos, at least partly to distract myself. I also sent a couple of text messages so BH would have an idea how long it was going to take me - as it turned out, it didn't help at all !
My right knee in particular started to niggle a lot at about nineteen miles, it was more an ache than a pain but I didn't have confidence that it was going to keep working properly especially on the stiles. There were a couple of places where we had to cross a river and I chose to wade through rather than try to use the stepping stones, which were slippery looking and under water anyway, because I didn't trust my knee to react quickly enough if I did lose my footing. The cold water was quite refreshing for my feet, which were starting to get a few hot spots - I'd brought along a spare pair of socks and some sachets of Blister Shield thinking it would help keep the blisters at bay if I put fresh socks on but once the hot spots had started I was scared to remove my socks or shoes in case I aggravated anything. I kept getting glimpses of the bridge to Barmouth and thinking I would be there soon but it was very deceptive and at one point I was getting quite sweary and convinced it was moving further away. I came to a t-junction and couldn't see any signposting and there was no-one else in sight. I stopped to check and double-check for any route markers but couldn't see any so I decided the downhill option looked the most likely and was relieved when I eventually saw a red arrow sprayed on the ground, confirming I'd made the right choice. I thought I must be close to the bridge by now and it was quite soul-destroying when I realised the route was taking me all the way back to the coastline and along the sea front for a while before following a track back inland towards the bridge.
Two ladies had passed me looking fresh and energetic while I just felt sore and defeated - I was only just past halfway and I was heading for my slowest ever marathon distance. The not-quite-healed-scar where I had an abscess recently and which needs surgery later this year had flared up due to the chafing and was quite sore by now. And my phone battery had just died so if I collapsed in a heap no-one would find me - at least that meant I had to keep going ! A couple walking their dogs along the path thought it was more important that they stay holding hands than that they let a worn out runner pass them so I had to run down the bank and round them. Energetic, happy me would have found it amusing but at the time it just felt horribly unfair and just added to my growing despair. A couple of people on the next section of track were nicer and one held the gate open for me but I was still feeling fairly close to giving up. I could see the two ladies who had passed me disappearing into the distance and just felt sorry for myself and couldn't imagine how I was going to finish. I promised myself that I would run over the bridge and then I would nearly be at the next check-point and I could stop. It turned out to be quite frustrating crossing the bridge, I was surprised how oblivious some people can be to anyone else, too rude to make way for someone coming the other way even when they were walking three abreast. I managed to keep running but was close to tears by the time I reached the other side. There were a couple of marshalls there shouting encouragement and I just said "I don't think I can do this, I'm broken"
"Yes, you can, the next check point isn't far away" came the reply. I kept running, encouraged by a friendly smile from a man sitting on a wall rolling a cigarette (I wished I was on a wall, rolling a cigarette or even something better!) but it felt like a battle, weaving my way through oblivious tourists. I thought I'd spotted the check point when I saw a car with the boot open but when I got closer it was just a couple changing into wet-suits - the disappointment was softened by the wet-suit lady smiling and saying "Keep going, you're doing an amazing job" I kept going, trying to feel amazing and wondering why this section seemed to go on forever. Then I recognised someone walking along the seafront, away from me. It was my BH so I shouted at him and he ran over and ran/walked with me. He said he hadn't seen the checkpoint yet. He swapped the battery in my phone for me, then we spotted the check point. Hurrah !!
I stopped longer at this check point, chatted a bit, took my painkiller and ate a jaffa cake. This was 27 miles so it was a distance PB if nothing else. I took a 9-bar with me and set off again, almost straight into a steep hill. I was glad when I got to the junction that we had to turn left and not keep going up ! I was surprised how much better I felt now - the painkiller had kicked in quickly and I had a lovely stretch of comfortable running along a gently undulating stretch of pavement, creating quite a distance between me and the three runners behind, who I'd been chatting with at the check point. I didn't like the hard surface on my feet but I was much more comfortable and positive than I'd been for the last 8 miles and was actually smiling and believing I would finish. Eventually, I caught up with the two ladies who had passed me before Barmouth. They were crossing a stile at the far side of a small field and looking puzzled. The red arrow and the coastal path sign both pointed in that direction so I went and joined them. The reason for their puzzlement was clear - the path just didn't go anywhere. They said they'd already spent ages looking but we carried on trying to work it out. The three runners behind joined us and we all looked puzzled and ran backwards and forwards looking for route markings but could find nothing. Then another lady joined us and spent a while looking before saying we could just carry on along the road and we would be back on the correct route without affecting our overall distance.
We all ran together for a while and soon found we were back on the marked route; we gradually separated over the next few miles, which were mainly off-road with more stiles, gates, railway crossings etc We eventually ended up on a narrow lane where I overtook a couple of men who I'd lost sight of long ago during the first half of the route. Soon after that, I reached the checkpoint at 33 miles which was at a campsite, next to some toilets. They were a welcome sight, so I popped into the conveniences before having some cola and water and a couple of crisps. The two ladies I'd caught up with earlier were at the check-point but having a short break so I headed off on to the next section, through the dunes and then along the beach. I didn't see anyone along this stretch so I wasn't sure if the two men had come past while I had stopped at the check-point. I really enjoyed the section along beach, the soft surface was a relief to run on although my blisters were now quite uncomfortable. When I took walk breaks, I had enough energy to power walk and it was easier on my feet so I still felt I was still making reasonable progress. The route headed off the beach at Shell Island, where I managed to get very confused. I couldn't see any route markers and no-one I spoke to had seen any other runners. In the end, a security guard looked at the map and got me back on track but I'd lost quite a lot of time. I ran along the causeway for a while but the hard surface forced me back to walking, plus I'd run out of water and it was now quite hot. I was hoping to see a shop somewhere along the way so I could buy a drink and thought I should take it steady until then. The lady who had helped us back on to the route earlier caught me up and we ran together for a while, crossing bridges, fields and railway. My Garmin had died at about 37 miles and she said hers had too. I couldn't keep up with her with my sore feet and my throat was feeling tight without any water. I also didn't want to eat anything without water to wash it down - although I didn't feel I wanted to eat I was aware I'd only had two crisps in 10 miles so thought I might need something. I believed I was going to finish and I could actually tell myself "Keep going, you're an ultra-runner now! " At about this point I sent a text to my BH telling him where I was. I was running alone again, no-one in sight ahead of me or behind me. I headed diagonally across a field, thinking I should be heading towards the beach but as I got there I realised I should have gone straight across and headed away from the beach before looping back.
There were two men in the car park who I recognized from earlier, although I wasn't sure where - they were very encouraging. "There's just this one nasty hill to go and then you're on the beach heading for Harlech. You're doing great !" I admitted I'd nearly given up at Barmouth and they said they'd seen me come over the bridge and could see how bad I was feeling. As I went to carry on I remarked "I've ordered a ginger beer at the end, I've run out of water !"
"Do you want some water ? We can re-fill it, we're an unofficial check point !" said one of them. I turned back and he re-filled my water bladder with lovely cold water and his mate asked if I'd like a lollipop to keep me going to the end! That seemed like a good idea so I gratefully accepted and set off up the hill - I knew what to expect from the hill as I'd walked it the previous evening, after checking where the railway station was. I walked it again now, enjoying my lollipop and fresh water.
Shortly after the top of the hill, I turned off towards the beach and my heart sank when I saw the many steps down to the beach. My right knee was still not feeling right, having been niggling since mile 19 and I didn't trust it to work properly on steps so I ended up carefully lowering myself down them, leaning on the handrail to support my weight. They seemed to go on forever ! Once I got to the bottom, there was a pebbly section to walk over and then I was on the sand. I ran a little but mainly power-walked. Looking over my shoulder, I glimpsed the two men I'd passed earlier running behind me - I felt a bit gutted, I didn't want to be passed at this late stage. Even though it's all about finishing ! I put more effort into my walking but was surprised when they stopped running and I started to get further ahead. I eventually caught up with another runner who I'd been chatting with for a lot of the earlier part of the race. His mate, who had only ever run 9 miles before, had gone on ahead and finished a long way ahead of us. I walked and chatted with him for a while but he told me to keep going as he didn't want to slow me down. I carried on but the beach seemed to go on forever.
Eventually, I could see the red and white marker pole the men from the car park had told me to look for, indicating that I needed to turn off the beach and head for the castle. At the same time, someone called my name and to my amazement, my friend Preethi came running across the sand towards me, cheering and looking thrilled. She encouraged me to start running again, explaining how close to the finish we were and telling me I must run and sprint at the finish. She had three friends with her, all cheering and taking photos - it was very unexpected and a huge boost. We walked through the dunes as the sand was too soft for running and then started running again along the road to the finish - it was just in sight. My BH was standing at the gate across the road and opened it for us to run through - he'd seen other runners struggling with it earlier. I managed to speed up and run for the finish and it felt great !
In spite of feeling so bad for such a long time in the middle of the race, I actually felt better than at the three marathons I've run. I'd said I just wanted to finish within the 12 hour cut-off but you always hope for more and at times during the race I'd thought/hoped I would be closer to 10 hours. I know I'd have coped better if I'd taken a painkiller earlier and I also lost time getting lost. I'm also really not sure how the last 5 miles took 1 1/2 hours (Garmin switched off at 37 miles & 9:00:25 hours so should have been 5 miles to go but my Mio Fuse says 44 miles in total) . Anyway, my finishing time was 10:32:22 and I'm not unhappy with it.
After I sent my text to BH telling him I was five miles away from the finish, his reply 70 minutes later was "I'm writing a book here: The Loneliness of the Bloke waiting for the Long Distance Runner" It could be a good book !
