Ras Cnicht 2014. The same sense of unease was present this year as last – it seems that only proper fell runners tend to turn up for this one. The first 100 yards is about as steep as metalled roads can get before all the tarmac slides back down hill again, and my “walk to save energy” tactic was – rather alarmingly – employed another 100 yards further on as we left the road for the hillside.

I carried on up the ridge, puffing like a train and wondering how my recent attendance at club training nights had translated into such a lack of performance. Hundreds of people streamed past me, and a quick glance behind confirmed that I was near the back of the pack. Oh dear. Things took a turn for the better as I reached the summit and it became clear that I had mis-judged my position entirely, and was actually about halfway down the field of forty-two. The descent was a joy: flat-out, eyes streaming, arms waving. My final time was less than a minute longer than last year, giving me 18th place overall, which was pleasing since I thought I was in much worse shape prior to the race.

After a refreshing dip in the outdoor paddling pool (which fills with water from the river while you’re running up the hill), everyone retreated to their cars as the heavens opened. I nipped up to the caravan to see Mum and Dad, had some lunch, and then set off home. I couldn’t resist the idea of getting out somewhere else though, and parked at Ogwen for a quick round of Y Garn (well, quick-ish).

The weather, by now more amenable again, remained pleasant, and the bank holiday crowds I feared would be enveloping the summit didn’t ever materialise. I back-tracked from the car a little way up Nant Bochlwyd and celebrated a great day of running by eating a cake whilst sitting in a lovely cool river and watching the world go by; bliss.