Ultra Trail Snowdonia 25km 2025

 

It was another sunny day in Wales, with the UTMB event pumping out the music at full volume on the start line through a weekend of racing.  Distances ranged from 25km (my race) to 100miles.  I wisely chose the shortest distance, a sub-ultra distance in what is an ultra-running event.  In terms of effort and sustained heart rate (and elevation) over time, this 15mile run was as hard as the 100km (62mile) run I did last year.  A run of only a quarter the distance hit me as hard something four times as long.  

We ran out of Llanberis in 3 waves (I was in the first), and headed straight up to Yr Wyddfa (Snowdon), which has a gradient often going up to 25%.  It took me 1.5 hours to reach the top, and another hour to get to the bottom on the other side where the first aid station was.  By comparison the first time I walked up Snowdon 10 years ago we took a leisurely 7 hours round trip.   But I'm in much better shape now.  So, after 2.5 hours on the trail I finally got to re-fill my bottles (switching from Tailwind to a weak-solution Naak) at the pump-up-the-music UTMB aid station in the quaint village at the bottom of the Rhyd Du trail from Yr Wyddfa summit.

That hour descent was one of the toughest segments of running I've ever done.  Tripping (and falling) was a constant hazard as the loose boulder and stone-step field of play was often loose, and always uneven.  Many people fell coming down, or twisted ankles, or suffered dehydration.  I avoided all the worst case scenarios, including not falling off a cliff, because there's one section along which a foot-wide trail perches along the top of a several hundred foot drop-off that I'd seen on a video a few days early, and that was only worse in person.  Using my poles to tap my way along the top of the cliff face (along a dragon's back spiny ridge 3000 feet in the sky) at one point it was so narrow that one of my pole taps missed the trail, and tapped off into the void.  Luckily I hadn't leaned too hard on that iteration, and quickly recovered my balance. Meanwhile the waves behind me (waves 2 and 3) were running along the spiky edge inclined to my left, whizzing past but not quite bumping me.  There's no way in hell that segment could come anywhere close to passing a health & safety review.  I honestly don't know why it's open to the public.

So, I cleared my worst fear (heights) quite full of courage and driven by the sheer need to just get down and by the time I got past the worst of it my knees and quads were screaming, rubbery and just plain unreliable feeling as I got down to somewhat more even and level pathways (it's all relative because there's really nothing even or level there).  What followed was typical Wales: often very boggy and muddy even on what should be dry sunny hillsides.  The water is constantly seeping out of everything, and it was as we ascended another pass, and gently descended down to Llanberis. 

Meanwhile we had to cross back over the valley and then navigate back into town along the paved road to the 'finish line' which is a long 1km section that lasts forever because you're right next to the finish line but you have to curl back around (as with so many ultras).  

My effort rating was 300 over 15 miles, as measure by Strava, and I maintained zone 4 heart rate close to 150 for the entirely, often going up to 170 or more.  My nutrition was 1 liter of water, 1 liter of Naak, and 1 liter of Tailwind, wtih 3 precision gels, 2 orange slices and 2 banana segments.  My preparation of trail tempo, hill reps, and weekend long runs with elevation worked well for this race.   It was well worth it, and I would absolutely sign up again!

The Way of the Runner retreat (2025, Dartmoor)

I'm still experiencing a relaxing buzzy sort of vibe from my time on Dartmoor this past weekend.  The whole thing is already sifting down into my memory comfortably as one of the most exhilerating things I've ever done, a completely fantastic retreat from start to finish.  

First there is the running. We had an excellent cross-section of weather conditions and on our first two runs (Friday evening shortly after arrival, and Saturday morning after breakfast) we had cool mist on the mountains, the backdrop for a heightened aesthetic seemingly perfectly coordinated for photographing the Dartmoor ponies.

(all photos by Adharanand Finn or Damian Hall)

Dartmoor runs from town begin with elevation gain, and that means a short jog up the Tor.  All the runs started this way, and I loved it right from the get-go, that pulsing, 'tip-tap' (as Damian put it) rhythm as you grind your way up across the sheep tracks and desire-lines to the top. 

Looking down over Ivybridge, Tom set up a 'jump shot' perfectly, and then we had a lesson on how to get down, with sage advice on foot placement and decision-making on tricky downhill terrain.  I took that first hard downhill really slow but once I got my head around it I was flying. 

By the time of our third run (the second run on Saturday, where we joked about doing 'double run' days and being 'hardcore') the weather had started to clear and you could see the tops of the Tors and Beacons very well from down below where Damian Hall led the hill-stride session. 

The hill-strides were up a not-too-steep hill and were meant to be done using an endurance (not sprinting) strid to better enhance your form and efficiency in endurance (ultra) events.  After a nice long warmup, we did seven reps in total, 6 * 20 seconds plus a bonus round of 30 seconds, and then a cooldown to the lodge.  I definitely sprinted a couple of the reps due to the inherent competitiveness of running with others.  

The beauty of doing the hill-strides with Damian was that he'd just given us his slide show beforehand and so we had all the images of his Barkley Marathons experience in our heads and were inspired and confident to ask him even more questions.

Before hill-strides we'd had a session on movement with an expert, and we threw balls at each other and did wall-facing squats and various stretches and exercises.  I learned that my ankles need to move (they do), and that this is a key part of running on the moors (and just generally).  It felt like a crazy (in a good way) yoga/pilates/dodgeball warmup that got me primed and recovered for the subsequent Damian session and Sunday long run the next day.

Sunday Long Run with me in my orange and yellow outfit

The fourth run, the Sunday long run, is the centrepiece of the whole retreat, taking the runners on a tour of ancient forests and wide open grassy mountain settings.  We did a massive power hike up a mossy boulder pile and that slowed us down a bit, but because the runs were such a beautiful mix of fast and slow, it all balanced out.  After gaining the height of the Tor, Colin or Finn would invariably steer us to the best and, importantly, the most fast and fun, way down to the bottom.  

It felt like flying, running down those hills and then they'd go back up again, but this time just enough for a quick pause before heading off flying again, the terrain often forgiving and even and fast so that you could just let your feet go.  It's the same reason why I said my run last year (also a The Way of the Runner event), when I did the Dartmoor crossing in one day with Finn and Colin, was the most fun I'd ever had on a run.  It's because they'd designed the route to be exquisitely engaging and unforgettable, like a thrilling roller coaster ride.  It's my Disney Land and Middle Earth all rolled into one, a combination of all the fun things in life together at once.

At the top of the boulder pile past the ancient forest

We even got a coffee break on the long run, and I had a Mars Bar and a Coke (in addition to the two gels and Lucozade I'd packed, practicing my ultra-nutrition strategies), and talked about running and eating with Damian before we headed off into the idyllic pastoral second part of the run which ended up with everyone swimming in a wild river (except for a couple of spectators).  It was fun to watch and a nice break. 

After the long run we were buzzing and stoked, and for lunch we had Ugali which I figured out is made of maize (I think) into white fluffy balls served with dal made of lentils poured over the top.  This dish was accompanied by kale or chard. 

Ugali

Every meal was vegetarian, and incredibly flavourful and nutritious in plentiful portions. After Ugali and a nap and a few cups of tea we went into Finn's slideshow about Kenya, Japan, and Ultra-running.  We got to see a big cross section of images that haven't appeared in any of his books, including Finn with short hair, and Finn running a 24 hour race (one image per hour) slowing down and then speeding back up to the finish.  There were great shots of histrionic Japanese runners in the famous ekiden races.  The Kenyan stuff was the star of the show, however, with the vibrant colours and scenes imprinting on the mind of the viewer at least as much as reading the books.  They'll stay with me for a long time.

We had a pub lunch after that, and socialised a bit more, and then I disappeared again (fully intending to come back up) down into my beautiful cool sleeping room and fell asleep to get up 9 hours later for our final early morning (6am) run on Monday. This was not to be missed because of the sunrise and the great weather. 

Final early morning run with views from Dartmoor

I would absolutely do another retreat again with The Way of the Runner and will be telling people about this for a long long time.

Susie Chan's Trails and Tribulations

Susie Chan's book Trails and Tribulations is in many ways the opposite of Allie Bailey's There is No Wall, though both authors start out describing their wild, partying, pasts.  On the back of Chan's book it says "You Never Regret a Run", while on the back of Bailey's it says "Running Won't Save You."  While on the one hand I have regretted a run in the past in which I got injured by pushing too hard through a niggle, on the other hand in many ways running absolutely did, and continues to, save me.  The thing I like about Chan's book is that it is actually about running!  

OK, so I have regretted a run but just one out of thousands completed in my nine years as a runner.  Chan goes through her own journey of starting out running for health (both physical and mental) reasons and quickly ramping up her efforts from her first race which was a half marathon, to her second one, which was the Marathon des Sables!  This is quite a jump, I have to say!  Chan is an accomplished marathon runner and can easily knock out a sub 3:30 marathon time.  My own goal was once to hit sub 3:30 so I can relate!  I never made it but we can dream.

The remarkable thing about Chan is that she is a dedicated volunteer and supporter of other runners and has volunteered at the Autumn 100 mile race many times.  She mentions Centurion's races quite a few times (and in this she is I think also in line with Bailey again, in their dedication to these events, as part of their community). One of the most resonant stories was her first 100 miler along the Thames Path and how after reaching mile 91 and overhearing her husband saying on the phone that it would take 3-4 more hours for her to finish, she went into flying feet mode to polish the race off in quick time.  That's hard to do.

Hard to do: the Marathon des Sables four times (once with her friend Sophie Raworth); a 12 hour treadmill distance world record; finisher at Badwater Ultra 135 miler; the accolades continue to pile up, and she still seems like a fun runner.  I like best her descriptions of runs that felt fun the whole time (including the Death Valley ultra), though I have to say I think the social effect of reduction of perception of effort has a lot to do with this.  It makes me wonder how an anti-social runner like Bailey does it?  I see Chan's strategy clearly, and I can honestly say I don't have that kind of support network, but I would like to have those fun all the way ultras nonetheless.  

My takeaway then is build your running networks and give back to the community by crewing and pacing your fellow runners; don't smoke while running; never regret a run; and stay positive.  I mean this, staying positive is incredibly important and it's all too easy to get sucked into cynicism when you start to see yourself (delusionally) as some kind of sub-elite.  Unless you're running 2:20 marathons, you're not sub-elite! To end this review positively, Chan has given a polish to my toolbox of mental skills for ultra-running: it never always gets worse; use the community; give back; eat; realise the pain is temporary; and stay positive! 

Autumn 100 2024

I can't imagine the conditions being better next year. In fact, they're more likely to be worse, as the weather this year wasn't really that bad.  Just a bit of rain on the day, and a few days of rain in the week before, but also a few days to dry out, and clear weather for me at the end of leg 1.  It was glorious when I pulled the plug, and that's probably part of the problem.  I looked around like I imagined Ken Fancett to have done when he almost DNF'd (as he told Elson on the podcast about Fancett), seeing everyone around me taking in the sun and lolling around by the riverside. I felt my manky, sore, wet, eroding, pinched-toe blistering feet and my trashed hips and my calves coated in thick mud and made a mental calculation of the damage I'd do if I kept pushing, and then I sat down on a bench in the sun and mentally called it off.  I sat there for a few more minutes and another runner sat down beside me.  He'd just pulled the plug too.  That was it!  I was done, after have run a marathon across tons of slippery mud and clay.  

I told a fellow club runner the next day that one of my discoveries of having begun the Autumn 100 is that I'm a 'fair weather runner.'  He laughed: "YOU!!?? A fair weather runner??!!  No way!"  It made me feel a little bit better but then he wasn't there to see, as I did, those lead runners coming back at me as I neared the checkpoint at the end of the first part of leg 1 at Days Lock.  Those men and women at the front are really impressive to see running along on the mud, balanced perfectly and speeding along almost as if it's not there, a kind of hovering mud-dance. 

The checkpoints were brilliant and I came alive during my brief interactions with the marshalls, who told me I looked fine.  I felt fine, I have to say, at least when I was at the checkpoints.  Those were a short 3 minutes though.  

Another great thing that happened is that I was in last place for around 10 miles or so before I passed a flagging runner.  I actually told the guy behind me to go ahead, pass by me as I'm pacing myself, and he said "I'm the sweeper runner," which made me laugh.  We had a good chat and he reassured me I had lots of time, ten minutes to spare at the next checkpoint.  So I had someone to run with!  

My pacing and nutrition were perfect, and by the third checkpoint I was on pace to the minute.  I checked in at 1:08, excactly as planned on my race plan.  I had downed the exact number of gels I needed to get down at that point, and supplanted them with sausage rolls and wraps as needed.  My stomach and legs were in good shape.  My hips and feet, however (and I guess you could say these count as part of my legs) weren't cooperating.  My use of poles helped in that final 6 miles to struggle on to the end, so that was a success as well.

I think the main overall failing for the day for me was my sock choice.  I purchased for the day a pair of DexShell waterproof socks, a pair of Injinji socks, and Injinji sock liners.  However I had never practiced running with liners and waterproof socks together so I didn't wear them on the day.  I think this was the fatal error.  What do you think?  Let me know how you did...

How do you train for a 100km race?

I had this question last night at track, and it got me thinking.  The answer I gave was short because my training plan was actually pretty simple.  Once a month, in the lead-up to the race, sign up for an ultra and run it as a training run.  Don't race it, but use it as an opportunity to get in a long run.  By doing this you convince yourself that you will be able to go the distance on race day.  Of course, practice your nutrition and pacing for your given goal (100km) race. 

With those ultras under your belt as a physical and mental base, you don't need to do a lot of 20+ weekly training runs. I find that those, if done too frequently, tend to just grind you down.  Instead, focus on weekly time on feet and mileage.  I count gym time as time on feet and, honestly, in addition to running practice ultras, the other big piece is doing strength training. I do hard/easy alternating weeks in the gym, with up to 5 strength sessions in a hard week.  On the easier gym weeks, you can ramp up the running mileage to make up for the time on feet short-fall, aiming to get 8-10 hours of training in per week.

Aside from the above (ultras as training runs and gym), you just go about your business as normal: do the Monday night runs and track with the club, and lead Sunday runs in the forest, and then run three more times per week totalling six times per week for an average mileage between 40 and 60 miles per week.  My highest mileage week was 62, and I didn't run more than 20km in one go that week.  My longest run overall through the whole training block was a 33 mile run across Dartmoor, in harder than race day conditions.  

Completing my first 100km non-stop took a long time to work up to. I would say it took me 5 years to finally reach my goal: from my first ultra in 2019 when I did part 2 of Race to the Stones (5h 30mins coming in 10th place overall), through my unsuccessful attempt last year in 2024, until this year's concerted effort to get organised and mentally optimistic with the explicit goal of completion.  So, it does take some time, and it's by no means easy.  But if you train right and are smart, you can make it look relatively easy on race day!

Race to the Stones 2024: 100km non-stop

I put my wife Diane right at the top of this blog post because she was the key piece of my ultra puzzle that I set out to solve in my most recent attempt at the Race to the Stones 100km non-stop.

Selfie at Base Camp (50km)

Just to run through the main things that came together (in addition to providing Diane with a detailed set of 5 checkpoints, in addition to the race's 7, where she met me, using the What3Words app and Waze): there was excellent weather, cool and partly cloudy, with significant portions of the day in optimistic sunshine; there was excitement at the start line due to lack of rain, and just the great general vibe you specifically get at this event; pacing at an 11/5 run/walk with low HR throughout (walking uphills); running downhills; the use of poles to maintain rhythm and power up the hills; and finally: eating enough (see me with food in my hands below).

Eatin a banana at base camp

My food situation went well, and I ate enough to get through (as opposed to last year where I crashed in part due to lack of an energy plan).  Base camp supplied vegetarian chilli with rice and garlic bread, vegan lemon meringue pie, and tea.  This was a full reset before heading out into part 2, and I had already set up a base level of calorie consumption that was borderline gluttonous and that had my stomach just a little bit upset.  I ate 8 mini sausage rolls, 5 bananas, half a Kendal's mint bar; six gels; and a litre of tailwind.  There's probably more that I'm forgetting.

On top of the big hill just past Foxhill

The first part of the course is spectacular, with all kinds of varied features.  The second half is simlarly stellar, and all kinds of names ramble by: Hackpen White Horse; Wayland Smithy, etc. But just the fields and rolling terrain alone are enough to keep you going, as the whole course tends to feel very remote.  You feel like you're 'out there' in the wilderness, alternating through the swaying wheat fields and remnants of forest. 

Heading into the night past Foxhill

One of the 'firsts' for the day (aside from finishing my first 100km non-stop) was doing a few hours of ultra-running in the dark.  I had trepidation going in, but was well prepared, and learned from last year to have a good headlamp, and to get your base warm layers on while it's still light.  Last year I was too slow and it was pitch black when I hit Foxhill (45miles).  This year it was a whole other story: a beautiful sunset with full sunshine at Foxhill where I pulled up a chair that Diane got out for me, and donned trousers and rain jacket. This in anticipation of cooling, and rain, and dark, all of which happened in short order (and a lovely cooling ground fog at the finish).

A sample of the ridgeway track

The course is in many places (especially at the end) very uneven.  There's one section 5-10km from the finish that is like a weaving multi-track nightmare rutted ledges that are extremely hard to navigate, especially in the dark.  Another success for the day was having my poles with me which, in addition to giving me that nordic cross-country rhythm, also gave me a lot of stability on these final horrible sections.  

It gets a bit better just before the end of the race which, at night, shows up as an eerie floodlight way off in the distance, with glowing chalk hills and rolling fog just scrolling along at your feet.  As you roll down those hills the excitement builds and you see people you've seen along the course, their faces lighting up, and their feet dancing as the energy levels rise again in anticipation of the finish. 

Ready with headlamp, and base layers (top and bottom)

I ran hard the final two miles, down that last hill, and across the little Avebury boulevard (it's amazing to be back in civilization) with its streetlamps and houses set back from the street, you run out to the cone, which is where in past years they'd take your photo at the standing stone (now we call it Race to the Cone instead), and the marshall tells you you have 2km to go, even though you're almost right beside the finish line, so you run back the way you just came, away from the finish line, hang a left, back across a little remote feeling field (back to that again), and around, and finally you see off in the distance the floodlights looking like a ship anchored offshore in the fog, and it looks like it's 10 miles away.  But by this time I had so much energy I was running an 8 min/mile pace, definitely feeling fast after a 16 hour shift of alternating 11 min/miles, sprinting (it felt like) and chatting to my fellow runners, as we moved across those final three sensor strips, and collected our medals. 

The medal (it says 100km on the ribbon)

I didn't run for the medal, but I do love to get a medal.  I was figuring out 'my why' on the drive up in the morning, when I was having a serious whine to Diane and threatening to only run half because "I don't want to trash my feet". My why was simply to finish 100km all in one go.  I kept it simple and I did it.   My goal was to finish, not to get a time, but I did push, hoping for a PB, which I got.  

To compare what it is like to run 100km over two days versus all in one go (as I discussed with Diane on the way home from Avebury at 2am, keeping the conversation afloat so we could stay awake, staring out at the blinding fog): I think they're both equally hard.  That is my hard-earned conclusion.  The two day 100km is hard because on the mental effort of getting through the night without really sleeping and worrying about the next day's run.  On the non-stop you don't have that, and you aren't as stiff, but you also have significantly fewer hours to make a recovery, which you do to some extent get on the two day.

Strava map shows moving time

The map above shows that I was moving for just under 15 hours, meaning my combined stop time was about 1 hour and 40 minutes.  This was for 7 of the race checkpoints and 5 for Diane's crew points, a total of 12 checkpoints, at each of which I took a few minutes.  Base Camps was 1/2 hour.  The remaining 70 minutes, then, were spread between 11 stops, which I feel is pretty good.  I didn't linger too long, just got a little rest to get the heart rate down, and got the Tailwind and water refills, and ate what I could.  By the second half that was really only gels and Tailwind.  I estimate to have eaten 20 gels total, and to have consumed 2 litres of Tailwind.  For a calorie burn of about 7000 for the day, this in the end is really what got me around (and Diane mixing and handing it to me).  Oh, and two litres of Coke at the RTTS checkpoints as well.  

This year's blister count is 1.  I had only one blister this year due to the dry conditions, of course it was a pinkie toe.  One little part of my body looks like hamburger.  The rest of me just aches, even now, two days later.  

The Most Fun I've Ever Had on a Run: Dartmoor Crossing 2024

 

Photo: Adharanand Finn

Earlier this month I ran across Dartmoor with a group of eight runners including Adharanand Finn and his amazing run leader Colin. It was probably the most fun I've ever had on a run. 

Photo: Adharanand Finn

On a beautiful sunny day, we set out from Okehampton fairly early, with some running right off the bat, and then a hike up to the first 'peak' of the day, one of four or five high points we'd be hitting as part of the new course being plotted by Colin.  There was some bedrock under foot, and so far things were pretty dry. The photo below shows one of many river crossings, a couple of which were a little bit tricky or technical, but also which, you just could have walked through the river if you wanted. 

Photo: Adharanand Finn

Right after that first 'summit' we set off downhill at a very brisk pace. I had my running poles with me, which had helped on the ascents so far, and I used them on the descents too, for the most part.  On the really fast bits or on tarmac I didn't use them though, just holding them in one hand.  This was my first real run with my new Black Diamond Z poles, and I think I like them even more than the Lekis I usually use, as the Black Diamond poles have a small lip on the handle that lets you pull the pole out of the ground just a bit easier. Not once did I have the 'stuck pole' phenomenon, even though the ground of Dartmoor soon turned soggy, gluey, and boggy. 

Selfie from early in the day

The reason this run was so much fun, and so much more memorable than most of my other ultras, is that I did is as a social group run.  I am a club runner, so I know firsthand the benefits to be had from these group runs.  The cameraderie of the gropu can make all the difference in adverse conditions, and effort seems much less when running hard in a group.  This was a *very* hard run that oddly didn't really feel hard, even though my average heart rate over nearly 9 hours out, was over 140, and I repeatedly hit 180 over the day.  Strava's effort rating was in the mid-300s, making it one of my hardest ever efforts.  But I was smiling at the end, and walking wasn't hard even afterwards (though it was hard to walk the next day!).

Dartmoor, early in the run

The hardest thing on this run was 'micro-terrain', by which I mostly mean the tufts of grass that grow up all over the moor.  These ankle-testing grass humps are an obstacle course through which you must constantly navigate.  A couple of times I inevitably hit one with my foot, causing it to go over a bit, but only partway.  I think the poles helped a lot here too, in stabilization.  But it was not just the grass tufts. It was also the long strips of boggy ground that cut across the path at very frequent intervals.  So, looking down across the long descent that delivered us from the first northern half of the Dartmoor uplands, it looked smooth, but when running on that same surface, it become a very rough uneven surface that was anything but easy going.

A very happy moment

There were many moments of easy-goingness too, as when Colin would stop to provide commentary on the many landscape features we came across, from mining scars of the mostly surficial historical tin mines, to the pagan-marred granite crosses that dotted the landscape.  We would stop briefly as a group to listen and comment and sometimes joke (as in "that's a lot of people below us", remarked Finn when standing on the highest peak in Southern England).

One of many peaks from the day

I learned a hell of a lot on this run, and consider it a breakthrough in my own running career. I fuelled perfectly, and it helped that we had Colin's wife crewing for us, as that provided water and many bananas, and my pack full of crustless quiche, which goes down oh-so-smooth.  I learned to eat and drink a lot, and to smile my way through the pain, and I gathered advice during my many chats with the ever-generous Finn, with whom I chatted many times throughout the day.  I now have my confidence to ask for what I need in my upcoming two remaining ultras this summer: BigFeats BigSea 50k near Swanage on the 9th of June 2024; and Race to the Stones 100k non-stop on the 13th of July 2024. 

Veloforte gels and bars

I also have a box of Veloforte gels and bars that I ordered after findig out about them last Christmas, and then seeing Finn eating them during our Dartmoor crossing.  These are the best-tasting gels I've ever used, and I can't wait to start my eating festival on the move in my next big runs this summer.  I'm also considering signing up for one of the running retreats he puts on next year, but they do seem to be filling up fast.  Jasmin Paris will be there, and I probably don't need to say much more than that!