I was back on home turf yesterday morning, trotting around Cardiff Bay and up into Casehill woods to do some exploring. There is no doubt that Cardiff is a great place to run, with a wide variety of routes accessible straight from my front door. I’ve been trying not to dwell on the stunning runs I did on the two weekends prior to yesterday, but it’s hard not to miss the mountains, however wonderful it may be here. Running around Cardiff makes me happy; running in the mountains feels like coming home.
Which is not to say that the two runs were not without their challenges. The Kentmere run in the Lake District was a repeat of a route I’d followed two years ago when training for the PIGUM ultra. At 12 miles and over 3000 feet of elevation it is not a small route, taking in the beautiful Nan Bield mountain pass and six Lakeland fell tops. When I’d run it the first time most of the route was in thick clag, so to be gifted clear blue skies for this second attempt was a joy. I discovered lakes I hadn’t known were there last time, and fabulous views across the whole of the Lakes from the top of Thornthwaite Crag. Most of the time I had the mountains to myself, another unexpected treat given how busy August in the Lakes can be.
But as wonderful as the day was, it was hard, hard going. I didn’t help the situation by wearing the wrong shoes (I love my La Sportiva Bushidos, but they didn’t have the support my feet needed when the ground was so dry and hard underfoot), but that was a final straw, not the central issue. I was significantly slower than two years ago, finding the ascents much harder work than I had before. It was the outcome I expected, and I know there are very good reasons for it, but that didn’t stop it feeling like a fairly brutal reality check. The final descent from Garburn Pass over never ending broken rocks sapped the little energy I had left, my spirits only lifted by finding my husband and son waiting for me at the end, cheering me on and full of stories after a successful morning bouldering in the valley.
As I mulled over the run during the following days I was still in two minds about how it had gone. I had had a fantastic morning out in the mountains, feeling safe and confident up on the fells, yet at the same time, my pace was slow and I was broken at the end, which did not bode well for a 50 km race that is closing in fast. I also had my first race of the year to face in less than a week, which was the priority in the short term, and some planned family walks before that which would hopefully stretch me out and keep me moving in readiness.
The following Saturday saw me being dropped off at Cilcain village hall in north east Wales just before 9am, ready to pick up my number for my first ever Long Distance Walkers Association event. These events are walking and running challenges, rather than races, and the difference in atmosphere was clear from the outset as a very relaxed group hung around the hall with their tea and toast, waiting for the 9:30 start. I was lucky enough to pass the time catching up with a very old friend who’d come to wish me luck, and 9:30 arrived before I knew it.
Those last few minutes before the start are usually moments of high tension as runners crowd towards the start line, fingers hovering over watch buttons, ready to hit start as soon as they hear ‘Go!’. This start was completely different. The event organiser came out and said a few words, glanced at his watch, and said ‘off you go then’. And that was that, the group of runners and walkers set off up the road out of the village and headed towards the Clwydians, with no sudden burst of adrenaline, just a gentle, relaxed opening to what looked set to be a beautiful day out.
I spent my teenage years living very close to Cilcain, regularly walking over the Clwydians, and have gone back in recent years to run sections of it whenever I’ve been able to. They are a fantastic line of hills for running, rolling, heathery tops, many of which have the remnants of Iron Age hill forts on the summits. The highest, Moel Famau, is easily spotted from miles away due to the Jubilee Tower on its summit, built over 200 hundred years ago for the golden jubilee of King George III. These are hills I know well, so as the first section of the course took us over Moel Dywyll and onto Moel Famau I could concentrate on just enjoying being there and making sure I set myself up well to get to the end, nearly 16 miles and 2,300 feet later.
That section got me as far as the first checkpoint and some much needed crisps, and from then on I was onto new territory, curving up and around the small Fron Hen before reaching the woods near Bryn Alyn. This was my first event that was entirely unmarked, so there could be no reliance on arrows and markers, only my own ability to read a map and follow a route. This initially sounded a little daunting, but in reality it was no different to plotting a route and heading out on my own, which I’ve done many times, with the added bonus of other competitors who I could check in with if needed. In fact, having to know exactly where I was at all times meant there was no risk of blindly following markers only to find myself in the wrong place having missed one without realising it (it’s only happened once, but the long climb back to the course was memorable!) There is definitely a lesson there.
By this point we were well away from the moorlands of the hills and into limestone territory, following an escarpment through the woods. I ran some of this with another couple doing the race, then lost them on a climb up through the woods as my struggle to keep a decent pace on ascents came back to bite me. But it levelled out and I got moving again, down to Loggerheads country park and the second (and last) checkpoint. Then on to the final section alongside the river Alyn, past limestone cliffs and caves, and the spectacular Devil’s Gorge. And with perfect timing, my family drove into the village just as I ran the final few meters back towards the village hall, there to cheer me on and pick me up at the end.
I absolutely loved this course, a perfect mix of familiar and new terrain in beautiful surroundings, with excellent organisation from the local LDWA. The finish was as low key as the start, no finish line as such, we just headed into the hall and gave the man at the computer our numbers. There was plenty of tea available, and some delicious quiche, by which point my certificate had been printed and we were ready to leave. In stark contrast to the week before, I finished this one still smiling and knowing I had more in me, not broken at all. A relatively quiet week in the lead up had no doubt helped, as had a fuelling strategy of having a few haribo or a bite of energy bar every 30 mins with proper food at the checkpoints. I also added an electrolyte tablet to my water, very diluted as my bladder carries 1.5L, but it was enough to prevent the very dry mouth I get on hot days, which then made food choices much easier.
As a practice run for Gower this was perfect. I finished well, which has given me some confidence back, and I’m happy with how my strategy played out. With less than seven weeks to go I am having to accept that my pace will be slower than I’d have hoped, but if that is the trade-off for reaching the distance then so be it. There will be plenty of time in the future to think about some speed work, but right now, the only question that matters is whether I can get myself around 50 km of the coastal path. It feels a little more likely now.
I Run Free 