There aren’t many races I’ve ever taken really seriously, but this one I did. I got in a decent amount of training beforehand, and even managed to reduce my cake intake by around 4%. Those who know my stance on fruit and vegetables will appreciate the dedication shown when I reveal that on race day I drank 140 ml of beetroot juice. This is serious.

There’s usually quite a small field for the short fell runners’ course – this year 35 people ran the 12.5km / 1700m (ish) route. I’d entered once before, a couple of years ago, and enjoyed it an awful lot.

With a forecast of sunshine and clear skies a few days beforehand, I prepared kit accordingly. The day before, everything changed and “cloudy with gales” became the order of the day. A hyper-organised Friday afternoon meant I had chance to park at Pen y Pass in the evening and find the perfect route down the bottom half of the “red-dot path” descent from Glyder Fawr. I’d had a few decent nights’ sleep beforehand, and an easy running week too, so there weren’t really any excuses for the big day.

The half-hour bus journey to the start gave plenty of time for nerves to build, and I was about ready to burst by the time the starting shout was given. After a couple of hundred metres I was in fourth, and shortly after I was up to second. This was the steepest part of the course, so there was definitely the chance that everyone else was just holding back.

Up Y Gribin and still I held my place; the chap in first had already eked out a sizeable lead. First control, at the start of the scrambling, and my recce a couple of weeks ago proved very useful as the marshals directed us on exactly the route I’d assumed we’d take. Familiar holds lead to the summit plateau, and the forceful cross-wind became a forceful head-wind as we turned around towards the summit of Glyder Fawr.

A glance behind revealed the third-place man reasonably close by, but no-one anywhere near behind him. Still in second place at the summit control, then starting the descent to Pen y Pass. Third place eventually caught me as we reached the end of the fast grassy section (I’ve never been fast on those), but I was about to unleash my perfect line from the previous night. The challenger disappeared just before I broke right; he clearly was not “in the know”.

An uneventful but fast descent saw me at Pen y Pass in double-quick time. Just quick enough, in fact, to see the third place man now in second place and about 200m ahead of me. Bugger. Obviously the perfect line wasn’t too perfect.

The Pyg Track is my area of strength; last time I did this race I made up plenty of places and found it really enjoyable. This time I was knackered by Bwlch Moch, and by the junction of the Pyg and Miners’ paths I was completely spent. I knew Jono and Gareth would be waiting somewhere near the zig-zags, so forced myself onwards. I hope I’m not prone to hyperbole on this blog, but this was undoubtedly the most I’ve ever given in a race. The temptation to just stop for some kind of vague recovery was incredible, particularly when a lady flew past me (metaphorically) just before the zig-zags to take my precious third place. I have no idea how on earth she was going so fast so far into the race; I doubt I’m that fast even when fresh.

Gareth and Jono soon came in to view, and I couldn’t lose face by stopping in front of them. No words, barely even any eye contact. Jono got a thumbs-up when shouting encouragement, but nothing more. Onwards up the zig-zags, stopping twice and trying to stay upright. Finally the bwlch, but then more climb to Carnedd Ugain. In the clouds now, I plodded upwards. Super-fast lady passed me on her descent back to the bwlch and onwards to Snowdon, and some time later I finally hit the trig point. Dib the dibber and reverse back the way I came, into a fierce wind, and taking yet more effort.

The section from the bwlch to the summit always drags on, but this time it was surprisingly short (or I was just completely out of it!). Disaster nearly struck when I headed up towards the summit cairn, not realising that the finish line had been moved to near the cafe since last time I did the race. I eventually worked out was going on, and fourth place was mine!

A quick kit check, and then I crumpled next to Gareth and Jono (who’d made rapid progress from the zig-zags up to the summit to see me in). The hot sweet tea I’d been fantasising about for the past fifteen minutes vapourised when it became clear that the summit cafe was closed due to high winds, so we scampered back down the Pyg track. This proved quite interesting on shattered legs, and took quite some effort! I managed to spot Kat and Stuart to give shouts of encouragement (good performances all around), and then it was back to the hostel for a nap…

Sunday began well, with a perfect reverse parallel park into a spot right at the bottom of the north ridge of Tryfan, and then a lovely sunny blitz up the ridge before meeting the others for walk over to Crafnant.

UPDATE:
Since I wrote this post, the provisional results have been published. I didn’t go to the prize-giving last night, but I’m listed in second place. There were time penalties for the people originally in first and second place because they weren’t carrying all of the required gear. I’m still not sure how I feel about this – carrying the right stuff is obviously very important from a safety point of view, particularly in the context of some high profile fell racing deaths in recent years, and there should definitely be consequences for not doing it. But it does feel weird and a bit disingenuous to profit from someone else’s mistake. Either way, fourth or second, I ran really hard and well (for me, it’s all relative!) and that’s a result.