UTS 50KM (Ultra Trail Snowdonia)

I’ve written about failure and learning from it in a previous post for my first attempt at the Swiss Alps 100. Unfortunately, I need to return to this theme again based on my DNF at the recent Ultra Tour Snowdon.

As is the trend now to preface lengthy e-mails with TLDR (too long didn’t read), I’m adopting the same for this blog post. Here goes.

TLDR

• Hot day
• Aid Station 2 time cut-off was missed by 17 minutes
• Electrolytes deficiency
• Changing fueling strategy
• Distance training does not equal time on legs in elevated terrains
• DNF

In the lead up

Let me open this story and talk of the lead-up, meeting of people, anticipation and the purchase of outdoor gear – who doesn’t like to peruse outdoor stores packed full of stock that only somewhere like Snowdon and Canada would have? 🙂

The drive to the Menai took just under six hours and I made sure this was a couple of days out from race day – something that I learned from my Berlin Marathon is not to arrive the day before a race having had a day of travel, minimal hydration with the stresses that travel usually entails.

Friday was my orientation day in Llanberis after a short 4km shake-out run before breakfast to see the Menai bridge.

Arriving in Llanberis at midday I parked away from the town centre and walked to the race village near the Slate Museum. I’d arranged to meet an old friend (Sean) and was looking forward to catching up to hear about the many races he’s completed in recent years, swap stories and generally relax. We did exactly that! The sun was beginning to feel pretty relentless with minimal cloud cover so after watching the 100 milers start their race we grabbed some pizza and sat in the shade indulging in the opportunity for more carbs.

Sean had entered the 100KM and had already undertaken the mandatory kit check and bib collection. The 50KM runners’ window to do the same had opened so we parted ways. The kit check was a strange experience in that only selected items were checked with the caution that spot checks may be undertaken at any point during the event. This seemed a bit of a pointless exercise and I’ll circle back to this comment later.

Having checked in and with my race number collected, I headed out from the race village and into the town of Llanberis on the hunt for an ice cream. The town is awash with outdoor shops and after three impromptu purchases I found my way back to my van – or four if you include the ice cream.

Returning to my AirBnb I re-packed my backpack having been advised the ‘winter kit’ would no longer be required, filled up the hydration flasks and bladder. All set and ready it was time for an early night.

Race Day

This is what lay ahead in terms of terrain and height gains, 55KM / 3300m vertical gain.

Unlike the 100KM racers, my start time was far more civilised. My wave assignment was ‘2’, 07:45. All of ‘us’ 50KM entrants were corralled accordingly and were sent into the wild following a dramatic and rhythmic drum ‘something’ and countdown in English & Welsh. Nothing beats that feeling of excitement when you’re toeing the line, listening to countdowns and feeding off the nerves of your nearby fellow racers.

I mentioned the ‘kit spot checks’ earlier. While waiting in the coral and looking around it was obvious that many packs were not full of the mandatory kit. My bag was full so I had a good idea of what it looked like. Personally, I think the race volunteers should have pulled people to one side with packs that clearly were not fit for purpose.

I headed over the start line to the sound of cheers from the crowd.

Leaving Llanberis it was not very long before the running switched to yomping. The poles were deployed and the terrain flipped from tarmac to gravel paths. The pack of runners soon thinned as everyone found their own rhythm.

What started as a herd soon became a snake as everyone weaved their way up to the ‘first turn point’ and descent. You can just about make out the snake of people in the picture below.

Along the way, I chatted with others and acknowledged a few hikers who were already out looking to get the summit under their belt before the midday sun.

Termed ‘the pyg track’, it’s the first turn where everyone heads back down to Gwastadannas. The highest peak in the photo is Snowdon and only another 90 metres of height gain albeit a short distance to get to. The descent begins with a brief step down then an uneven collection of rocks of varying heights and sizes, something that I find challenging to negotiate. Other runners however, confidently unleashed their legs into a rhythm, their shoes with magical powers to help them skip across these.

The path very shortly changed into a managed track with larger rocks which meant everyone could literally skip down them, myself included, occasionally pausing to let the other users ascending the track pass by.

Occasionally the path arrested into sections of angled slithers pushing upward leaving little grooves for precise footing and the odd hand holds. Poles were troublesome to use as they’d got caught in the grooves so I simply gathered them into one hand and stepped through methodically.

Occasionally, I stopped to soak up the views ahead to my destination and to look back and upward to where I’d come from.

Around 13KM at Pen-y-Pass I stopped briefly at the porta-loos. This was good as I was hot but clearly pushing enough fluid through me to keep hydrated. Leaving the high-impacting rock running behind it was now time to rest my feet on a softer narrow green grass path, scattered with small stones and rocks. Poles weren’t needed. The power of the sun continued to increase and the true delight of the Welsh scenery was laid out in front of me. The lush dark green grass fields, the foothills dotted with dry stone walls and the occasional farm buildings contrasted against a blue sky. Just delightful.

Further along this section, the route began to even out transforming to a smooth path that was bordered by vivid yellow gorse bushes, not far from shoulder height at times. Adjacent to a small river a few runners ducked to the edge and dipped their hats in and poured cold water onto themselves. I paused in the shade at the entrance to Cwm Dyli Hydro Electric Power Station and pulled out some flapjacks. The road’s incline reduced the runners I could see to a walking pace so I slowly ate and sipped on my Tailwind drink. Within minutes my stomach turned and became uncomfortable. I switched to water but the feeling wasn’t abating. The road crested and after a sharp turn right I found myself in the field where Aid Station 1 was positioned.

Arriving at the marquee I pulled out my hydration bladder and filled it back up. Still feeling a bit off I wandered into the tent looking for a sugary snack, unfortunately, the food wasn’t for the 50KM runners so I exited and set back off. What I hadn’t appreciated was that I’d crossed the first timing mat inside the tent and only became aware of this when a volunteer inside asked everyone to keep moving. Had I not been on the hunt for food I’d missed that completely as I don’t recall any signage directing people to cross it.

Exiting the field the route cycled through varying terrains and passed the Llyn Gwynant campsite and lake until reaching the Watkin Path road. It was a lottery of grass, squidgy bogs, tree roots – the shade was heavenly – up and over stiles, small gravel/rock farm track and bridal way pathing. Complete with a cow.

The volunteer at the road crossing warned us of approaching cyclists from another event running in parallel to ours. Once safely across it was time to head upwards, the second ascent of Snowdon was now underway. The shade of the trees and periodic streams provided an opportunity to try and control my body heat. Numerous cap dunkings and arm dousing took place.

The wooded protection was soon left behind to be replaced with a wide fire track, the higher part of the Watkin Path. Looking ahead I could see into the distance where the next stage of the race played out and there was no shade in sight. The small dots of colour from the runners’ clothing were just visible over the cascading waterfalls.

Leaning into my pole supports I found a better pace as my stomach began to feel a lot more comfortable and sipping water was no longer a struggle. During the ascent, runners were heading toward me at pace. Dressed in triathlon clothing with large numbers painted on their legs and arms they were definitely throwing caution to the wind. The track may have been a fire road but it was littered with loose stone, large stones and rock slab sections. One of these participants passed at a less frantic pace but to her defence, her knee looked like it had taken the brunt of a nasty fall.

Nearing the waterfall it was obvious that the locals and visitors use it to splash and play around in. Unfortunately, as tempting as it would have been to join them I was only able to stop for a couple of minutes to soak my cap and wet my arms.

At this section of the trail it was time to leave the fire track, take a sharp left and continue along a freshly made path that weaved into the foothills. Again, up head I could see the multi-colour snake of sports clothing and they were quite some distance away. My pace slowed and it was all I could do but just keep plodding. Writing this now and having dissected (many times) over the past couple of weeks where my mistakes were made – with the inevitable impact – it was on this climb where my discomfort began and my DNF was now in the post. (That’s quite a British phrase btw)

The gradient increased, and the wind picked up at times which cooled me, but my stride had reduced. I stopped at the base of the first of the two scramble sections where you need more than two feet to ascend, it’s more of a three and four-limb section to negotiate the climb. Looking back down the valley at the Miner’s trail I’d certainly come a long way in the heat.

Looking ahead at my first ascent I wasn’t looking forward to it feeling as dreadful as I did.

Days later I realised it was at this section where I had burned through the entirety of my fuel and my body was crying out for electrolytes.

Having passed this section I sat down and retrieved some dates and chewable electrolyte tablets. For the next 10 minutes, I ate slowly, sipped water and appreciated the stunning views.

Returning back to the track I found I had new energy and couldn’t believe how much better I felt. The next climb was an energy-draining one as it needed more scrambling upward but, I got through it.

Soon I found myself at the summit and posed for a photo – why not?!

Passing the congestion of the visitor centre I found a rock to perch on. I took a few minutes off my feet, ate more food and chewed more electrolyte tablets. The route from here was down a rough and occasional rocky track. A couple of volunteers guided me and other runners away from the tourists as we were now on our descent to the second aid station, not where the walkers were heading to Llanberis.

I found a pace and chatted with another runner, Charlie. At this point, my legs were returning back to feeling normal. However, I was distracted by conversation and happy to stride down – and not trot/run – unknown to me my DNF classification was now a done deal.

A few minutes from the aid station a runner appeared from behind and asked about cut-off times, neither Charlie nor I knew what had been published – such a silly mistake.

Entering the marquee I asked one of the volunteer support team what the cut-off time for the 50KM was, it was 3:45pm. I checked my watch, and it read 4:02pm. My heart sank. That was it. My day was over. I’d covered 34.5KM in 8 hours & 17 minutes and summited Snowdon twice but I was to go no further.

Quite a few runners soon arrived, their race too was over. The staff were overwhelmed with the quantity of people entering the tent and for many of the new arrivals the consequence of the race cut-off time was slowly sinking in. Transportation back to the race village was requested but the organisers hadn’t appreciated over 30 runners needed repatriating. We were asked if it would be possible to organise our own transport, it would be a great help. A few of us shared phones – the coverage and signal quality weren’t good – to call family members and friends. When my wife arrived there had been two 7-seater vans in the space of around 40 minutes with still another 12 people remaining. We dropped Charlie off on the way through and headed back to our AirBnb. The relief of getting out of the sun… I can’t describe.

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