29th Feb: Winter Fan y Bagging

Let’s face it, the weather of late has been foul, properly foul to the point that a LOT of us have been struggling in a rut of motivation and ennui to get out AGAIN in the relentless rain and hippopotami mud. How can you get out of the rut? Well we came up with an answer of sort: ROAD TRIP!

Let's go to work!

A handful of us ‘Hookers’ bundled in to a couple of cars and headed off for the 2 hours it takes for some alternate sights, a different challenge and determined that we would embrace the weather, whatever it was, rather than hide under the duvet once more.

Back in January Andy had suggested a winter version of the Brecon run he and Graham have previously organised where we would drive to the foot of Pen y Fan and run the ‘horseshoe’ or thereabouts. Looking at the diary he found a date not clashing with anything and invited all who wanted to come.

Looking back down to the car park.

Since settling on the date and now, every week seems to have brought a new named winter storm of varying degrees of severity in wind and rain and this week was no exception to this rule. We were well aware of the forecast of an incoming storm, Jorge this time, so for the last few days leading-up to the expedition we had paid particular attention to the local forecast with safety paramount and the whole trip was in the balance until lunchtime the day before when it became apparent we would have a big enough weather window in the morning till early afternoon to get around. Even then the forecast was for very strong winds with gale-force gusts and snow beyond 400m elevation: the starting height of the run!

Gathered in the cold rain of the pre-dawn morning air at 6am outside the village community centre, we drove through the beginning of the storm with its torrential rain to park in the deserted car park at the foot of Pen y Fan. As prep we wrapped-up well with the air temperature here at 2º and unlikely to warm-up, that being with us out of the wind!

Setting out onto the walkers path from the car park the climb began in earnest from these first steps. Within 10 minutes the temperature had plunged as we cleared the tree line then crossed the limit where water becomes ice. My right calf was already giving me grief from the strain I picked-up a few weeks back and I was beginning to drift off the group of the others.

The calf wasn’t the only thing concerning me. Already I couldn’t feel the last 2 fingers on both hands with the extreme cold in the wind, so as I trudged I rummaged in my pack for my second pair of gloves and put them on. Slowly the sensation of feeling began to return to them over the next 10 minutes.

As we ascended, the more the weather closed-in on us, reaching the first peak of the day at Corn Du we were being properly buffeted by gusts of wind approaching gale force. Balance was at a premium with how icy everything was underfoot. Having good grippy trail shoes for running over mud and snow are absolutely useless for traction over icy rock, so scrambling up this small section of rocky outcrop to the plateau as large flakes of snow whipped past you was tricky.

When we hit the cairn at the top we were having the snow driven towards us horizontally in near blizzard conditions and a decision on a route was made, changing an initial idea I had had of running down the ridge over Bryn Ten before turning for the path back up to Fan y Big as with the wind direction it would have meant a long 2 mile slog upwards directly into the teeth of it, which would be no fun for anyone!

 
Once across to the summit of Pen y Fan you have the runnable short sharp drops and climbs as you can move from peak to peak and by the time we had worked our way round to Fan y Big the weather broke and we had vindication in our decision to come here for the run as the views opened-up and we could see for miles around under clear blue skies.

The route we had decided to run was based on the infamous ’horseshoe ridge’ walk, but doing it as a loop starting at the base of the horseshoe, so we needed to link the bottom of the east and west sides of it by running down from the summits to the valley bottom, across the reservoir in the middle and back up to the top on the western arm.

From Fan y Big we began our descent to the valley, wending our way over Torpantau and the field of babies heads till we skirted Taf Fechan Forest. This run was energy sapping as you tried to bounce from one to the other in total guess-work as to what your foot was landing on. The gaps between them were essentially bog, freezing bog running with water. Every time you missed a head, or slipped off one you splashed your foot down in to them. Every step was a fresh full foot immersion into the freezing bath and maximum discomfort as you could not get your feet warm from the continual soakings.

 
Eventually we cleared the field of babies heads and descended into the bottom of the valley hitting the reservoir where we had a bit of an unwelcome surprise: building works. Unfortunately all the paths across the reservoir that you would normally take were closed with metal fencing around them whilst they seem to be either removing or re-building one of the smaller holding dam sections where in the past we have managed to cross.

Descending from the sub-zero chill on the top it made you appreciate the difference in temperature when you were no longer exposed to the elements, as once on the valley floor it felt positively balmy and our hats and gloves were temporarily removed. Under the clear skies you could think it was summer except for the frosted tips of the snowy ridge. Seeing this though made us realise we were about to climb back up on to the top and confront the wind head-on as the storm-front moved in.

Not wanting to detour for a couple of miles we decided to venture towards the main dam and see if we could access it to walk across to the other side. Unfortunately this was not possible as they have it well secured with anti climb fencing, so we had to think again.

Our option was to drop down to the overspill at the bottom of the dam. Here the flow of the water was a bit too feisty to attempt a crossing without a large risk of being swept off our feet, so after a quick sandwich we followed the river down stream to where we could find a manageable crossing point and a thigh-deep wade across.

Fording.

Crossing the river meant we were now on the way up to the other side of the horseshoe and very soon we were beyond the trees and exposed to the blast of the wind and the snow once more as we ascended to the ridge. Running this western ridge we had the problem of the stiffening gusts of wind trying to push us off the edge which focused our attention as we had a grand-stand view of the dark grey of Jorge on the horizon looming larger.

This last couple of miles on the top were a steady ascent but runable although it required a great deal of concentration with the wind catching you off-balance and the loose rocky path interspersed with icy mud and puddles. At times when you could it made sense to be as far across to the left hand side as you could to mitigate against the force of the incoming winds until we had finished our ‘loop’.

On our run we had had the luxury of the route all to ourselves except when we joined back on to the main path to and from the summit for the descent to the car park. We now had the pleasure of running downhill like salmon against the tide of people walking to the top of Pen y Fan, staring into their pained faces as they struggled upwards whilst we bounded down, the snow beginning to be whipped-in as the sky bruised noticeably.

Back in the car park having chalked-off 13 miles including a vertical mile of cumulative climb and the same in descent, what could we do to mark our exploits? Spaniel had the answer and rummaged in his bag in the boot of the car and pulled-out some cheese, crackers and a mini bottle of wine for us all to toast our efforts in style: a grand day out and not a pair of the wrong trousers in sight - ok well maybe one as Graham was the only one to opt for leggings on the run!.. That said with my hamstrings like blocks of ice on the initial limb as I was blasted by the wind and whipped by the snow I could appreciate his logic in choosing a full leg covering.

I can now say I’ve been up and down the horse-shoe in both summer and winter seasons. Both were absolutely stunning, although there was more running to be done in the summer with the lack of ice underfoot speeding things up. I’ll definitely be back, either as a group or by myself as there’s still plenty of routes up and down and around the horseshoe for me to explore!

Oh and I properly killed-off my trainers on the run. I knew they were near the end of their life, but the battering of the babies heads well and truly finished them off!

Totally totaled!

 


Eat pies.
Drink beer.
Run far.

28th December: Winter Crossed.

Ah, what to do when you’re sitting around turning your liver into foi-gras over the week between Christmas and new year? I hear everyone ask.

Go for a 45 mile run comes the reply from precisely no-one, and to be perfectly honest I could probably have done without the last 13 miles of that myself... Yeah but that’s still 33 miles you utter masochist! Regrets? No, but yeah, but no.

Over most previous Christmas weekends I’ve entered races, including a double-header of trail races dressed as an ostrich, and last year a league XC race for my club the day after a 20k mud run, so doing something kind of like this isn’t entirely out of the ordinary.

I’d entered Second Wind Running's Winter Cross ultra for a few reasons: it’s local, I don’t have a race booked for January and it’s near as dammit in January, plus a healthy dose of FOMO as running buddy Luke had said he was entering the ‘fun run’ - they do a 50k race at the same time - along with Richard and Trevor in my running club Hook Runners... I had a blank week, what more could a boy possibly do?

Entering and talking about it persuaded neighbour Pini and Moose to come along for some shits and giggles as well, Moose for the fun run and Pini joining me in the full monty... I say shits and giggles but these two are properly focused runners very much at the top end of the field who would have a steely-eyed focus on placing at the sharp end of the races!

The course

Arising in darkness I drove the 45 minutes to get to the race base in the Meon Valley in the heart of Hampshire. Unsurprisingly from the race’s name, the course is in the shape of a cross, where you run the north leg first: 10k out and back on an old railway bed, before heading east for a 20k out and back on the South Downs, then West for another 20k leg on the Downs. At this point the 50k ‘fun runners’ get to call it a day, with those of us attempting to monster the full Monty heading south for another 20k leg on the former railway track.

Both races start at the same time: 7:30 and you are supposed to finish the 45 mile distance by 4:30, the basis of the timing is to race the daylight: you have from sun-up to sun-down to complete the course.

The event base of the village hall in Corhampton was the same place where I’d been for the Meon Valley Plod a few years back so I knew what I was in for on the course. The briefing was short and sweet and away we went into the unseasonably warm dawn air for a proper day out on your feet.

Smiles before the suffering! Hookers from LtoR in front: Pini, Moose, Trevor & Richard

This first northerly leg saw a mahoosive puddle after about half a mile, so following the principal of ‘you only get wet feet once’ I steamed straight through whilst others faffed and bottlenecked trying to pick a non-existent dry line. To this point I had been running with Luke merrily chatting away, but it seemed he left his big boy pants at home and tried to keep his feet dry... I was feeling good in my pace so I just kept on at the same rate once through the puddle, sure that Luke would catch me sooner rather than later, but unfortunately that time spent queuing put paid to any more running together.

I had walked to the start with Moose and had seen him make his way to the very front of the race, so knew he would be among the leaders from the off and sure enough, just after I’d gone through 2 miles the leaders came back towards us with him sitting in about 10th place... There was no sign of Pini though when I’d normally expect him to be coming the other way, then shortly before the turn a diminutive streak of silver fox shifted past at speed on the right: tactics. I figured that rather than getting caught in the race at the front among the 50k runners, Pini had decided to deliberately start at the back rather than go off too hot getting sucked in to racing someone else’s race rather than his own and suffer later on as a consequence.

At the turn I passed Luke, Trevor & Richard all pretty close together and not far behind me so I figured I’d be caught and passed by them some time just in to the second leg.

On the 10k return leg I spied a ‘Run 1,000 Miles’ buff - a Facebook group of which I’m a member so I had a chat with the lady wearing it who had clocked-up 1600 miles this year even with losing 8 weeks to injury and was rounding off the year in style today. Truly an awesome effort!

After the flat blast of the 10k on the railway bed, the Eastern leg was the one that promised views, including a climb up ‘Old Winchester Hill’ with its Iron Age fort and settlement on the top. Unfortunately for the chance of any panoramic vistas, the low cloud that was accompanying the balmy temperatures for the time of year obscured most of them in murk.

Down the other side of Old Winchester Hill and we were on to the second climb ready for the turning point. On here Pini came hurtling down the slick chalky mud path towards me and warned of plenty of mud on top... He was not wrong: progress was slow as grip was at a premium in the ankle deep-slop: skid marks from those who had fallen were all over the place so it was a case of ‘carefully does it’ till we topped-out and a jog to the aid station.

I’d been needing to ‘hail the prophet’ for some time so at the turn I took the chance to commune with ‘Mustapha Leak’ around the corner behind the aid station - unfortunately as I blundered around the undergrowth my right foot snagged on a root nearly felling me, but with other more pressing things on my mind I carried on about my business, grabbed a handful of Jaffa Cakes and was off once more.

On the way back I passed Luke, Trevor & Richard once more - all a similar distance behind as before and carried on trying to maintain a decent steady pace. Reaching the aid station it was difficult not to think I was halfway through the race having completed 2 legs, with the first being that much shorter than the others, although I knew that marker would come soon enough, but my focus was solely on this final out and back on the Downs.

To qualify for the last leg and complete the 45 mile race, you had to have finished this third leg by 2pm which is an average of around 12 minute miles, or 6h30m total time for the 50k (31 mile) course. This was my challenge, but I was confident of reaching it having worked-out that my average so far was between 10-11 minute miles.

Grabbing a half banana, more Jaffa cakes and the traditional seasonal fare of a Creme Egg, like the Pet Shop Boys and the Village People before them I went to ‘go west’.

Through the centre of the village with its chalk bedded trout river swollen to bursting point by the recent rains, the climbing began. We were warned the climb on the out leg would seem to go on forever and it seemed pretty accurate. Also there was far more tarmac on this leg than before!

Early on into the climb the leaders of the 50k came hurtling towards me and Moose was sat in a comfortable 3rd place. Congratulating him he yelled back as he passed that he’d trashed his legs though and they were killing him!

20 miles in and a familiar red-clad sight began to appear in the corner of my eye as I was finally caught by Trevor. We ran together for a few miles chatting merrily away and wary of the pace discrepancy with Trevor now having caught up, I put it on front street to him not to compromise his race by hanging around with me if I was dragging him back! He replied that he’d been slowly reeling me in for the last 6 or 7 miles - in effect using me as his ‘rabbit’ and he was now just content to make it to the finish as he’d knackered himself-out bridging the gap!

Both Trevor and Richard had entered the race last year and both had had to pull-out with injury shortly before. In their training they had recced the route last year in prep before their deferrals and this year they had trained much the same... As a consequence it seemed Trevor knew half the field from people he had gone on group recces of the different legs organised from on the race’s Facebook page!

Something else Trevor has done that has made a positive impact has been to have some personal coaching. The power of a good coach and also being a willing coachee has been evident to those of us around him as Trevor has increased his speed all round in distances over the latter half of the year and went and ran his first marathon in prep for today, not to mention that following a training plan has made him lighter and stronger physically. I asked him what the main difference has been in doing this and he said it was the focus and accountability that the coaching had given him: you had to go out and do things in a structured plan, when otherwise you would not bother and if you are paying for something you are less like to waste it!

This out leg seemed to drag on interminably but eventually after a steady descent we were at the turn in a farm yard, where some, crisps, a creme egg and more Jaffa cakes was consumed before the last 10k of the 50.

In a bizarre twist, the return leg seemed to pass far quicker than the out. We picked-up another runner, Darren from Lansing along the way and the 3 of us chatted like fish-wives all the way to the finish (for them) and the last leg for me!

Making through the aid station marking the end of the leg for me (and the race for Trevor and Darren), I grabbed another creme egg, Jaffa cakes and half a banana and off I went again on to the old railway bed for the 20k of out and back along it.

I had eaten whilst in the aid station and had a chat with the Marshalls for about 5 minutes, rather than on the move, which meant my body had had a chance to cool-down whilst doing so before getting started again. Whilst feeling relatively fresh on a physical performance perspective, I just could not get going as I was aware that my right ankle was giving me a lot of gip to the point of preventing me to run properly or with any rhythm.

When I snagged my right foot on the root earlier in the race I suspect I had jarred my ankle and strained the ligaments as the pain was not a skeletal ache or anything internal, it was tied-up with the flexing of the ankle itself. This reduced me to essentially a speed hobble for the next 20k!

Come the turn I could not wait to get to the finish. This leg was absolute tedium, absolutely soul destroying as there was literally nothing to see besides dodging other trail users as you were in a railway cutting the entire time. All there seemed to be were the two banks either side, the trees growing on them and the occasional bridge to travel under… It was a chore trying to remain awake and not doze-off from the boredom!.. Thank heavens for podcasts is all I can say; something to distract the mind on this soul destroying section and give a focus on this last leg.

After what seemed like forever and a day I crossed the finish line - not being aware of the exact time as my Garmin had died on the final leg (stupidly I’d forgotten to charge it the night before), so I went over the mat in the frustrating time of 9:00:34… Needless to say if I had been aware I would no-doubt have been able to find 35 seconds over the previous 10k back section to cross the line squeaking UNDER the 9 hour marker!

Fading light!

When the results were published it was interesting to see how things shook-out… Whilst Moose finished an awesome 3rd in the 50k and Pini finished in an amazing 9th in the 45 miler, I finished in  55th place… But this is where the stats get interesting.

I placed 55th out of 59 in the race, however this doesn’t quite paint a full picture: 98 people started the 45 mile race. Of those 98 however, only 59 of us made the cut-off for the final leg, with all of those 39 other runners being credited instead as finishers in the 50k race! This meant in reality I finished 55 out of 98: such a lofty position is unheard of for me!

Back print on the Tee.

Having crossed the line with Darren at the end of the 50k race, it meant that I was fast enough to place at 61/164 in the 50k race, which again for me is immense: top 38% in a race! It also means that I managed a bizarre feat that when you just look at numbers without a context, I managed to place very well in one race and incredibly badly in another! Although at least I can say that there was the caveat of those in the 45 mile race had to be able to hit a tight cut-off to finish it… Incidentally the last person to finish the 45 miler would have placed 91st in the 50k, so not far below the 50th percentile, so I can at least kid myself that what I did was a little ‘elitest’ when compared to those on the ‘fun run’!

Medal on the hanger!

If anyone was to consider doing this race I would say it is a great run-out at this time of year. The event is well organised, marshalled, the course offers a challenge without being stupidly fiendish and the aid stations are well stocked. However this really applies to the 50k course rather than the 45 mile course: the extra leg for that is just mind numbingly tedious. Both Pini and I were questioning ourselves as we ran that last leg exactly why we had done so and what was the point, as all it equated to were ‘junk miles’: miles for miles’ sake, lacking in quality, substance or challenge. Moose had run the same organiser’s Meon Valley Marathon which included that southerly section and he had the same opinion of that leg in that race, which put him off from doing the 45 miler in favour of the 50k… So if I do ever return it will be for the ‘fun run’ rather than the ‘full monty. Very nice medal and shirt though!

Eat pies
Drink beer
Run far.