How many times can you walk around Llanberis between 7am and 10.30am? Quite a few it turns out. My late decision to run the marathon meant that hotel bookings were slim pickings and we ended up staying in a pub about 10 minutes outside Llanberis. And just to make things more challenging, Fin my eldest son had to be in Warrington to train with the scholars side at 9am. I wrangled a bit with what I was going to do: go into Llanberis at 7am so I could get a lift with them or hang around the pub and get the bus? The fact that the Air B&B we stayed in wasn’t exactly cosy and the kitchen facilities were almost non-existent swayed my decision: I’d wing it in Llanberis.
Fortunately there was a working kettle in the accommodation so I was able to make myself a couple of instant porridge pots but when you’ve got a 15 year old asking ‘are we going yet, are we going yet?’ on repeat porridge oats get a bit stuck in your throat. There was no milk in the fridge where we were staying which meant no cup of tea and my pre-marathon routine felt like it was being thrown out the window. Words of doubt started to creep in as unhelpful voices started telling me it was ‘ALL GOING WRONG!’ The little habits that we mentally depend on sometimes feel like they have too much hold on us and I had to rationalise with myself that there would be tea or coffee somewhere in Llanberis at 7am. I also discovered that I hadn’t brought the tee shirt that I had intended to run in. It was a purple tee shirt to represent Action for Pulmonary Fibrosis, a small thing but again I started to think bad omens were creeping in and I was going to fuck it all up.
Gavin and Finlay dropped me off at registration, we said bye, they gave me good luck hugs and then I was on my own. And then I started walking. Llanberis isn’t exactly big. I walked straight up and back. I walked off to the right and found a loop. I walked down by the lake. I breathed in the early morning air. I looked at the local B&Bs and hotels with envy thinking how lovely it would be to still be cosied up in bed. Gav had made sure I’d layered up so I didn’t get cold and fortunately it didn’t rain. I discovered a public toilet which was clean and had space for me to apply vaseline on the areas of potential chaffing. I looked at my watch. I had used up precisely 45 minutes of my waiting time.
Back at registration I discovered a purple running tee shirt for sale. It felt daft to buy it when what I was wearing was probably absolutely fine but at the same time I felt like I needed to buy it and wear it. I know the whole thing of not trying or wearing anything new on marathon day is a ‘thing’ but that tee shirt being there felt like a sign. Right before bag drop off I was stripping off, putting my new tee on, fastening my number to it and weirdly I finally felt ready. I reasoned that I had been to the toilet enough that I needn’t jump into the queue or go back to the village for a pre-emptive bladder emptying. This was a mistake, I ran the whole marathon feeling like I needed the loo. Shout out to my pelvic floor for taking a total kicking and not letting me down.
I knew that the first section of this marathon was up hill and I was kind of prepared for that however I did not expect Pen Y Pass to go on as long as it did. There were points even as early as that where I wasn’t sure if I had the mental strength for the rest of the route. Seeing the people stretch out across and up the path ahead felt discombobulating if I looked too hard and it made me feel dizzy. Seeing a course elevation profile and trying to mentally prepare yourself and actually seeing that landscape rise in front of you are very very different. Not enough hills in training, I muttered to myself. I managed to run that whole section though and as I reached the top ready to descend I took my first audible gasp of many during this race. The views that stretched out before us were some of the most stunning I’d ever seen and I knew I was taking part in something truly beautiful.
The downhill continued to spiral into the valley and at the cross roads for Beddgelert we were sent to the right and on to an off road section by people dressed as giant traffic cones. The off road section sent us down a technical path where I embraced my inner pygmy goat and hopped and skipped over stones and rocks embedded in the path.
We then continued along a flat section, this part became a blur really. Passing people, them passing me, listening into conversations of others but mostly being blown away by the scenery. I had some discomfort in my stomach and I started to worry that I really needed the toilet. That with the intermittent tingling in my bladder made me wonder if I should stop, and yet I didn’t. I seemed able to push everything back down and keep running.
At mile 13 we were starting to lurch uphill again. I ran for as long as I good but eventually realised I was hot and my left calf was cramping. I started to power walk this section to conserve energy and to give me a chance to strip off the base layer that I had worn under the new purple tee shirt. No fucks were given as I stripped off to my bra and rearranged myself. I ran/walked this section and at the next station opted for some electrolytes which were being handed out in cups by the amazing volunteers, many of which were little kids.
Mile 15 came and went and the ground seemed to level out again and I started to feel the cramp ease off. I settled into a decent pace and really felt like I was cruising along. I was enjoying myself and starting to believe that I could make it to the finish. On this section I really started to notice the traffic. I’ve never run an event where the road has stayed open. The majority of drivers were respectful but one Mini driver became incredibly impatient, started to crawl over to the left and almost clipped a woman from Cornelly Striders. We all let the driver know our thoughts, her actions were completely unnecessary and yet she seemed most put out by the runners running an event that would have been advertised well in advance.
Between miles 16 and 18 I chatted to a lovely Irishman. We reassured each other that we were well within the cut off for mile 18 and that we were now within sight of reaching Llanberis. At 20 miles I didn’t think I could feel my legs anymore, I’d run the last few miles at what I felt was a comfortable but decent pace and now fatigue was setting in as well as more cramp: my arms, my calves, my hamstrings and my stomach were screaming at me to stop. But 20 miles means only 10k to go, there was absolutely no need to stop now. I disembodied myself from the discomfort and ploughed on. There was a shout of ‘cup of tea soon’. Yes I thought, that’s the kind of positivity I need to hear!
At mile 21/22 the subtle sensation of an incline started to creep into my legs. I stopped at the next feed station to take my gel, rally myself and push on. Up ahead there was an arrow directing us to the right but this arrow felt like it was also angled ever so slightly upwards. I turned the corner and saw where we were headed and the first words that popped into my head were ‘oh fuck offffff’. I had been warned in advance of this hill by my friend Stephanie, but I don’t think I had really appreciated what it would be like in reality. I tried to run the first part, I slowed to a jog and then realised I’d probably be just as quick to power walk it as Stephanie has suggested, and that I did. My fellow runners and all the spectators really got me through this section, we shared jokes about it, we shouted on those who were running it and continued to be amazed by our surroundings. My hamstrings really hated this hill but I knew I was now so close. Finishing was a reality now.
At the next feed station at the top of this monster hill they were having a party. There was music and laughter and cups of tea on offer, but I didn’t want to stop. I was too close, I needed to be done now. I reached the point where the descent started……and I just let go. My arms sat up high round my chest, I skipped and jumped and just let the path take me, doing my best not to trip and fall. And I laughed and smiled. I rounded the corner and there were more people in traffic cones. One of the cone women shouted ‘sprint finish’ at me, and that’s what I did. My little legs started turning over and over and I passed people as the line got closer and closer to me and then I was over the line. I’d finished my first marathon since 2014. I found Gav and Finlay and had the best hugs. I bumped into Arwel from Run 4 All Neath and had another hug, he had finished a long time before and was still looking fresh. I phoned my parents and let them know I was okay, alive and intact. I checked my fundraising page and realised I’d smashed my £500 target for Action for Pulmonary Fibrosis. My stomach was cramping, my calves were like rocks but my heart was full of joy for what I’d managed to do. I also exceeded my expectations with the time I ran but that wasn’t really important for me that day. What I got from Saturday was that I am capable of running a marathon, it’s not beyond me anymore. I managed to commit to a training programme and despite all the other shit life has been throwing at me over the last few months I still managed to show up and run while doing something good at the same time.
This was truly a bucket list event for me. I would highly recommend this event to any runner who wants to run something that is a contrast to a city marathon. The organisation was fantastic and all the feed stations were well stocked and supported by incredible volunteers. It’s also a very friendly marathon, it felt like there was very little ego around me. People were also kind in ways you don’t always expect. At the start I got chatting to a guy called Ron who had run this marathon many times before. I had been fiddling with a jumper I had taken with me to the start to keep warm and I was contemplating dumping it or tying it round me waist for the duration. Neither was ideal and I was telling this random man about my indecision. No problem said Ron. His brother was only a mile up the road. He would give the jumper to his brother, tell him my number and he would take it to registration. We ran together and chatted, he saw his brother, gave him my jumper and said see you later you’re running quicker than me. I didn’t see Ron again but my jumper was at the bag drop. A small act of kindness that really helped me as I got all stressed out on the start line. All the way along the route runners has nothing but kind words and support for each other. It’s also an inclusive event that provides an earlier start time for slower runners, meaning that the achievement of finishing Marathon Eryri is kept in reach for as many runners as possible.
I loved this race and as the dust settles and my legs start to feel less stiff and sore, I think I would do go back and run it again. There are some things I need to look at for future events. My nutrition strategy doesn’t seem to work for me right now, stomach cramps for 2 hours post marathon are not fun and ruin the post marathon snacking! I would also look to find more hills for training so that I would have more chance of running all the hills, even that bitch of a hill at the end. That being said I am giving myself the occasional moment to be proud of me and what I did on Saturday.
The ballot opens for the 40th Marathon Eryri on 1st December for October next year. Just saying….
Run My Own Way 