18th January: Anglesey

Anglesey is one of those places that is a pain in the arse to get to… From my gaff you drive all the way on the motorway to the junction for Chester in about 3 hours, then you’ve got a similar time to head west over North Wales pretty much until you fall off the far north west corner of the known land into what would say on an ‘olde worlde’ map: “here be monsters” with an image of a kraken cavorting in the sea… The reason for this 6 hour drive is the latest leg of the Endurancelife Coastal Trail Series: a jaunt around the farthest north westerly part of Anglesey; the farthest north westerly part of Wales. With these CTS races there are 4 distances on the day’s menu: 10k, half marathon, marathon and ultra… Naturally I’m taking the marathon option as per normal.

After around 6 hours of driving I parked-up close by the event base and slept for the rest of the night. The parking in Breakwater Country Park car park was not available to us this year, so I was stopped in an area as close to the registration tent as I could.

Last year once here, the rain started and did not stop… Well it did stop eventually, that eventually being 4 hours in to the marathon the following morning. As stunning as the scenery was and the location beautiful, as a consequence the run was a bit of a miserable experience at times: akin to running through an ankle deep puddle for 27 miles whilst being rained on for those first 4 hours!

Waking up the next morning the conditions could not be more different than last year, yes it was chilly, but it was looking like it was going to be mostly bright with sunshine and a light covering of cloud.

After some granola and coffee, I was on the way in to register when I bumped in to a familiar face, calling me out from the gloom of the dawn in an easily recognisable American twang: Theresa from October’s Glencoe marathon. She was running in the ultra, her first Endurancelife event and was looking forward to seeing part of Britain she had not yet seen whilst she is over this side of the pond.

Walking back to the van after registering I could tell that the weather should be fine rain-wise, but there was a bit of a chill wind blowing, which turned my mind to a bit of a problem…

As I drove up the previous night, upon passing Brum (a good 2 hours in to my journey) I had a nagging feeling at the back of my mind: I was not sure I had packed my running jacket: my protection from wind and showers. I distinctly remember putting my charged and synced iPod in the chest pocket, gloves in the side pockets and a buff in the map pocket. I distinctly remember putting the jacket on the back of a dining room chair... What I did not distinctly remember was picking it up and putting it in the van... And upon checking when I arrived, it was nowhere to be seen.

Fortunately I keep an old snowboarding jacket in the van, one with a detachable inner jacket, so I decided to improvise. You have to have a jacket for these Coastal Trail Series races as a compulsory kit item, so my only choice was to detach the inner and wear this… It may not be much use in a downpour, but it at least had a hood, would afford a barrier against the wind, plus fastening using poppers it meant it would be good at letting the heat out.

Don't we all look thrilled to be here at stupid o'clock on a cold winter's morn!

I lined-up with everyone else ready for our getaway, and in no time we were all galloping down the former railway line towards the seashore and the first of the day’s two climbs up Holyhead Mountain.

Onto the shore.

Only one way from sea-level: upwards.

With less than a month since the winter solstice, the sun was struggling its way upwards towards its low maximum and was beginning to give a little warmth through the patchy cloud, although not enough to take your mind away from the stiff chilly breeze from the sea which seemed to increase in its feistiness as we climbed further up the side of Holyhead Mountain.

Onwards and upwards.

Successfully over the top and on the way down we rounded South Stack and the lovely lonely lighthouse perched on the promontory of rock before breezing through CP1 and descending over some grassy heathland which was mercifully nowhere near as waterlogged as last year. That said, my trainers were almost sucked from my feet a couple of times by mud, so I made the decision to avoid any more occurrences of this by stopping to re-lace them and ensure they were as tight as can be.

Looking back at Holyhead from the mountain.

The first sight of South Stack lighthouse.

Passing the lighthouse.

Leaving the lighthouse.

Whilst sitting on the grass undertaking this it seemed most of the field had passed me. I had estimated my position going over the mountain at about half way through the field and with the steady stream of people passing by over the 5 minutes I must have taken, I figured my new position to be around 3/4 or lower… Which is more reflective of a normal finish for me!

A bit of trailporn.

I now had an incentive now to try and reel-in some of those who had passed me, so I set-about doing so without over-cooking myself. Before stopping I had been running at a speed a bit faster than most of them by the nature of being in front of them, so continuing at my previous pace I bade my time as I steadily caught up a handful of them, yo-yoing with some runners and gliding past others; although by being at a different speed to those around me I could see this run developing into quite a lonely race and with my iPod sitting a good few hundred miles away it was to be just my own thoughts for company… Anyway, with the constant roar of the gusty wind in my ears I probably would not have heard a great deal even if I did have my iPod on!

Run to the sun.

In to CP2 and the following tarmac stretch through the village of Trearddur then it was back on to the coastal path, undulating our way to the caravan park and the start of the southerly loop on the course. CP3 was pretty much at the most southerly point and at a notional 15 miles, once through this you know for sure that every step is now counting down to the finish.

A couple of the many coves we passed.

Last year due to the tide times and the surge being experienced from the recent storms the trek across the beach was a thigh-high wade bracing ourselves against the sea-wall to keep balanced, so I was prepared for more of the same… As we approached, from a mile away on the cliff-top path, looking down I could see the beach where CP3 is situated - and by the fact I could see there was a beach I knew it would be different this time around!

A bit of an easier route this time round!

Dropping down on to the beach the tide was a good 100m or so away from us rather than lapping around our midriffs, so it was an easy trot along the rocks and sand to ‘dib-in’ before crossing to the other side of the beach and climbing up on to the inland section of the course.

Crossing the beach.

This inland trail saw an extended section through what looked like a nature reserve, jogging along over the duck-boards that formed the walk-way, crossing styles and fences with the occasional squelch through ankle-deep mud. It was trotting through here that I was passed in the opposite direction by some of the other marathoners who were running the course with their dogs, which surprised me no end! They must have taken a wrong turn at the start of the loop  just before CP3 to end-up running this section in reverse!

Heading inland.

As I finished the loop and rejoined the out-and-back section I was not passing anyone still doing the outward leg, so I figured that the last person was at worst an hour behind me, so it was safe to say I was towards the back of the field.

Getting in to Trearddur again at last I was catching-up with a fellow runner, whose football allegiance was easy to ascertain by the Rangers scarf around his neck - I joked with him about being a ‘Hun’, which threw him a bit in being labelled thus outside of Scotland - so I told him how I follow St. Johnstone through the family tie to the city of Perth and had once been to Ibrox, the home of Rangers in the heart of Govan, to see St. Johnstone take on Rangers in the Scottish Cup.

At this point we picked-up another runner in Dewi and the three of us continued along until Dewi and myself forged ahead.

Dewi was pretty-much running on home-ground coming from just along the north welsh coast in Colwyn Bay. We passed the next couple of miles to the checkpoint chatting a bit about his local club which are in the Conference North, the same level as my team of Farnborough (Conference South) with Colwyn Bay recently being in the news through the resignation of their manager - former Premier League player and Jamaican international Frank Sinclair due to a financial crisis at the club with the loss of their main backers.

Passing through CP2 again for the final stretch of the run inland and our second ascent of Holyhead Mountain, we noticed how we had jumped about 10 places through not stopping longer than necessary at the CP and from the steady pace we had been making over the last couple of miles; clocking-in around the 10 minute mile mark and still feeling kind of fresh.

The course now differed from last year a little bit. In previous runnings (last year included) Endurancelife had not managed to secure permission from a landowner to take the most desirable direct route back across to the mountain, necessitating in a diversion back over roads until you get to the mountain’s foot. This year after a successful negotiation we had a new section to traverse, mostly of muddy fields whilst being stared at by some bemused cows.

It was along here that Dewi and myself caught-up with Paula, who was running the ultra having returned to full fitness following injury as part of her training plan for an attempt to set a woman’s world record timed ascent of Mount Kilimanjaro… Her race CV was as impressive in its difficulty as it was long, including time as a sponsored athlete for North Face. She has also changed her lifestyle of late to become a vegan and felt that her performance was beginning to reap the benefits, although the strict nature of the diet was still a learning curve for her… All the best of luck to her and in keeping clear of injury in the future having compiled a comprehensive catalogue of misfortune in those she has suffered so far including a nasty one from a surfboard!

As the three of us trundled along together across the fields, the bottom of the mountain was almost in touching distance when we had one final mud-patch to clear. The other two decided to skirt round its edge but me being me I decided to plough straight on through it… Only to find that it was somewhat deeper than I had anticipated and after a couple of paces both my feet became glued in to the sucking cloying mud at the same time. I could feel myself falling forward, so I stuck my hands out to avoid face-planting, and my hands sunk in to halfway up my forearms.

The sight of this had Dewi and Paula in hysterics, with Paula pulling out her phone and snapping away at the ridiculous sight of me on all fours wallowing in the mud whilst laughing.

As I had toppled in, I caught a glimpse of something just in front of my face, and as I extricated my hands from the quagmire I grabbed at what I had seen: someone’s trainer. This was a fresh loss from today as the inside was still clean and dry, not covered in mud as it would be if it had lain there for days or weeks in the winter weather surrounded by a herd of cows. At the start of the race we had been urged to pick-up any rubbish we found on the way, so my mischievous side decided that this would be the perfect piece of litter to carry to the finish - and hopefully to re-unite it with its rightful owner.

Out the other side of the field and we found ourselves on the climb up Mount Holyhead and in the final mile of the marathon course. We weaved our way up still chatting, with Dewi and myself knowing that the hard work was over once we had reached the peak, but Paula still would have to do the 10k course on top of the marathon with its double climb of the mountain still to be done.

Paula & Dewi

On top of the mountain in the beautifully clear crisp sunshine it was great to be able to soak-up the 360 degree view. At least the mountain rescue staff assembled up here for our benefit were not being rained-on today and the wind, whilst gusting strongly, was not making life too difficult for them or us competitors… And the sight of me with a third shoe on one of my hands amused them no end :)

Now all that there was to face was the final descent down the other side back in to Breakwater Country Park and the teasing diversion around the ponds when the finish line is in sight.

After a rock-hopping gallop down the mountain I crossed the line, shoe in hand, whereupon I was asked how on earth I came to be in possession of a trainer? I explained how I had come by it and if anyone had reported losing one… My enquiries found that someone had indeed lost their trainer, had decided to carry-on with only the one, then had slipped and turned their ankle shortly after continuing their quest for the finish line, and had to be medivacced off the course as they were unable to continue. I left the shoe with lost property in the hope that it did get reunited with its rightful owner - although I firmly believe the shoe should get its own medal as it did complete the course!

The trainer rescued from the muddy mire.

When I had finally recovered and got my breath back, I had a look at the times for the returning ultra runners and decided I could not really hang around for them to finish as only 15 of the field of nearly 70 had crossed the line so far (sorry for not being there to clap you across the line Theresa!) so I made my way straight back to the van to change and recover for the drive home.

As I hit the pathway back to where I was parked I saw a familiar face next to me… Paula! She had taken her time through the CP and had started out again on the last loop for the ultra, so I jogged along with her, with her attempts at cajoling me in to joining her in completing the ultra falling on deaf ears, and at the van I wished her all the best and she was off.

Today I was wearing the pair of Karrimor’s that I had damaged on their first real outing in the Gower marathon, and today had taken a further toll upon them, with the uppers on both shoes now split. This was a bit frustrating considering how few miles they had done so far, as you would hope to get at least 200 miles out of a pair of trainers before destroying them, but hey, I only paid around £25 for them and would be really gutted if it was the same to be said for a pair of Salomon’s or Inov8’s.

The death of another pair of trainers?

Having had he last 2 months of '14 wiped-out with recovery from flu leading to near wooden-spoon levels of performance in 3 of my final 4 marathons of the year, as you know from a previous post on here I had set myself a goal for 2015 of finishing in the top 50% of a marathon field, with no specifics or caveat's on when or where it would happen... Yesterday I placed 59/119 :) a shade inside the 50 percentile, but inside it nonetheless and a full 20 minutes faster than last year’s time… Looks like I'm getting a little less slow after all. It’s funny what happens when you put the hours in to training: you improve!

Eat pies.
Drink beer.
Run far.