endurance – Vegan Fitness Runner

A Hatchling is born

15th Sep 202315th Sep 2023 briggsy1981

Trying to encapsulate last week’s experience on the Dragon’s Back Race is like trying to bottle lighting, but then I like trying hard things so I’ll give it a go!

Ascending Llanidloes. Photo by No Limits Photography

I’ve been waking up at strange hours – around 4am – which would have been when my alarm went off on camp; ready to grease my feet, check for blisters, deflate my sleeping mat and repack my camp bag, have my breakfast of hash browns, beans and vegan sausages, grab a banana, get my kit checked and make my way to the day’s start line.

Of course I don’t have to do that now, yet it feels like I’m grieving its absence. Not just the strange routine, but the people too.

The day before we got the bus up to Conwy and the start of the race, the weather had been pretty standard for the UK – end of summer, schools due to go back. It was turning autumnal, nights drawing in and the prospect of a perfect, temperate climate upon the mountain tops of Wales.

But much like what happened to me in 2022 for my Macmillan Way run, on the Monday a heatwave struck.

This impacted me, the other runners, and the event organisers, in ways that we hadn’t anticipated.

It meant that on day one, despite running well out of Conwy Castle and up to Tal Y Fan, as the sun came up and started beating down relentlessly by the time I reached Pen yr Ole Wen I was moving much slower. I could see the half way check point below me at Ogwen Support Point, but the time was slipping away.

I had options. I could bust a gut and still reach the cut off if I really ran like the wind. But if I did that I’d still have to face the climb of Tryfan and the Snowdon Horseshoe, most likely not make the next cut off, and inevitably ruin myself and scupper my chances of hanging in for the full six days. The other option was to take on the half route, which this year for the first time has been renamed “The Hatchling Course”.

To put it in context, the full Montane Dragon’s Back Race covers 380km (236 miles), and 17,400 metres of height gain (57,087ft). As a Hatchling, you can choose to either run the first or second half of the day – so still getting in some serious mileage and vert by the time you finish in Cardiff.

For many runners, day one saw them off. The heat was brutal and stripped them of all reserves. To drop down to the Hatchling was, for some, never an option. They were here to become fully fledged dragons. That was their only goal.

But plenty, like me, took stock and reassessed. We still had another five days to get to Cardiff, maybe even in a more enjoyable way now that we were running half the distance.

In fact what happened next was unprecedented – where in previous years those who’d attempted the dragon and failed early on would go straight home, this year saw 134 Hatchlings complete the event, and 87 complete the full Dragon’s Back.

Although 45% of the 298 didn’t make it to Cardiff this year, thanks to the option of the Hatchling, 195 of the 298 starters did make it.

As I sat at the day one halfway checkpoint at Ogwen, I recruited my first fellow Hatchling Alison. She was ready to quit. She told me she wanted to just sit on the mountain and not move until someone had come and got her. I asked her if she’d keep me company for the rest of the week, no pressure, and we’d try and make it to Cardiff together.

That promise proved to be the best move I’d make.

Later that day I learnt that two of my other friends (people become friends very quickly in situations like this) had also come back to the halfway checkpoint having been beaten by the steep climb on Tryfan. Clarice and Ben became the next two in our team of five.

Graham came next, on day two. He’d timed out on day one, but was going hell for leather again and we met him on a steep ascent early on in the day. He didn’t look his usual self and the five of us sat and took a moment together on Cnicht.

Revived, we continued on together as, what one described as “a strange version of the Fellowship of the Ring”, the photographer even capturing what would then go on to be our “poster shot”.

Throughout the next few days we’d continue to wake ridiculously early, check in and meet as a group ready for the start line, and if not run together, know that we’d be looking out for each other. There were times when we cried with laughter – bum sliding down hills, or making jokes that are only funny when you’re totally sleep deprived and exhausted. There were times when we gritted our teeth, finding something, somewhere that would pull us through the tough bits. Alison had a knee injury, so did Ben – which later transpired to be a torn meniscus; my shoulder kept cramping from the weight of the pack and constant use of poles, and Graham and Clarice, like all of us were just downright knackered.

At the end of our running shift we’d have to make sure our camp admin was bang on. Eat, wash in a cold river, get kit ready for the following day, charge devices, check our Dragon Mail from keen supporters, sleep. I had a wonderful bunch of tent mates too – I was in a tent of international super talents. The runners I shared with were absolutely phenomenal; the likes of Sanna Duthie, Silvia Trigueros Garrote, Caru Coetzee, Margarida Bagão, and Catharina Rennie. Feeling comfortable in your tent makes for a smoother experience, I can tell you.

We battled through the searingly hot days, carrying more water than we’d anticipated to (training runs were not geared to hot weather), and we continued, one foot in front of the other over mountain ranges including Cadair Idris and Bannau Brycheiniog (The Brecon Beacons), where shade evaded us and our only relief from the heat was to dip our clothing in the rivers.

A special mention has to go to the crew on this epic race. From the water stops and half way checkpoints to the catering staff, friendly faces at the finish line, those who put up the tents and ferried runners from place to place, and everyone in between. This race is a logistical puzzle and race director Shane Ohly (he’s over on my podcast!) worked through insane conditions to make everything come together. A display of epic teamwork both behind the scenes and in the foreground.

Crossing the finish line at Cardiff Castle (all five of us made it) was a surreal and emotional experience. To become a Hatchling had become something more than I’d anticipated. No longer did I see myself as a failed dragon; instead I’d worked through a whole host of emotions and doubts to come through to the end as something better.

The Dragon’s Back Race is not just a run. For me, certainly it was a life experience that I’ll never forget, and from which I now have friends who, sadly for them, may never see the back of me.

I can’t write this blog post without special mention AGAIN to RAW Adventures and their recces throughout the year, without whom, I can hand on heart say I would not have managed to complete the race to Cardiff. Their support has been invaluable and I would recommend anyone with an interest in mountains, running and adventure to get in touch with them

Next I have to tell you that entries are now open for Ourea Events Dragon’s Back race 2024. Whether you choose to take on the full dragon or the Hatchling I can tell you with certainty that you will not regret it.

Crib Goch conquered

6th Jun 20236th Jun 2023 briggsy1981

It started with a nightmare. The evening before Operation Crib Goch (OCG), my tired quads were already twitching, but the nightmare was intense. Apparently I was mumbling and screaming in my sleep. Perhaps I’d built this up in my head far more than I realised.

For someone who will take on most things, Crib Goch had manifested into some kind of death-monster in my brain.

Naturally, on the morning of OCG – it was hard not to be excited. The sun was shining fiercely; I’d tackled Tryfan and the Glyders on the previous day to bolster my confidence, and it felt like that monster I’d conjured up might be quietening.

Friendly faces gathered at the Nant Paris Park and Ride, the Place To Be for mountain junkies, Duke of Edinburgh participants, Scouts, people carrying poles, ropes, and wearing grippy shoes.

Four Mountain Leaders for this RAW Adventures expedition – these people are like superheroes – human form, but with mountain goat/ballet dancer/fell runner qualities. You can feel safe with them.

And so, we began. From Pen Y Pass, toward the looming beast. We were taught the mantra “Crest is Best”, and our guides pointed out the line we needed to take.

There’s a school of thought that suggests if you don’t overthink it, don’t look down, don’t hang around too long, that it’ll be over before you know it. Well anyway, that was my school of thought. I like big rocks. There are hand holds, and I feel safe holding on. I have the strength to haul myself up, and I’d rather face big rocks than the dusty scree you can easily slip on – there was plenty of that later.

Up we went. Helen, one of the superheroes, reminded us to keep our nose, hips and feet in line. “Make sure you can see your feet” – that way we’d be more stable. The urge to hug the rock was great – but this was not the suggested approach.

Approaching the infamous ridge to Crib Goch, the Red Ridge, John, another of the superheroes looked at me, “Laura, try and remember to breathe.” Oh, what sage advice! Things are much easier if you continue to breathe, and I’d genuinely forgotten to do so.

Now I was breathing again, watching my feet, finding my hand holds and getting my groove. The ridge suddenly felt very do-able. Remember we had glorious sunshine. There was little wind, and if I did it again in higher winds, then yes – I’d be more nervous.

Ten minutes to traverse the ridge.

That was all.

Ten minutes. Ten intense, brain aching, gripping on for dear life minutes, but still – only ten minutes.

Next, more technical terrain. On to Snowdon, to complete the horseshoe. We got the poles out. Turns out I need to get a damn sight quicker going downhill (and there was I thinking I liked down!)

It’s fear, trepidation. It holds you back, tells you you’ll turn an ankle, fall, die. But when you can breathe, and gain some balance, tell yourself to just go with the mountain, you can move quicker. This is what I need to work on.

OCG wasn’t to be taken lightly. I’d never take it lightly. You need to plan, check the weather, have a good level of fitness and know what you’re doing, but it’s achievable and the rewards are massive. What a feeling. Kind of like you’re superhuman…..

And as for that monster – right now, he’s having a sleep.

Other things to note about the day:

Kate, super hero number 1 bagged up a human poo and removed it from the rocks of Crib Goch. Normal humans, please don’t poo on mountains. And if you do, take it away.

We picked off two empty Stella cans from the ridge. John peeled off a sticker. There was garish bright pink graffiti on one of the trig points. Again – not ok.

There was a queue of people waiting to have their photos taken on Snowdon summit. They could have just gone straight up to it from a different angle. The Brits do love a queue, don’t they.

It was hot. At mile 9.5 – unknown to me we were nearly back at the bus, but I was withering. That’s down to a lack of water. Always take more water.

I also need to give a special mention to superhero Jade, whose hat with its wide brim became a focal point for me in times when I felt myself falling back. That hat – was epic.

What does 50 miles feels like?

17th May 202317th May 2023 briggsy1981

When you push your body and mind to its limits, it can feel euphoric when you cross the finish line. You can also just feel exhausted!

I’m always humbled when it’s Marathon time of year – you know, all those inspiring people who’ve won a place at the start of London Marathon to raise money for charity and spread awareness for good causes, those who earned themself a holy grail ticket to run Boston Marathon because they’re just phenomenal runners, and all the others in between. With the rise of the ultra, it’s easy to forget just how far and tough a “normal” marathon really is.

I first ran one in 2009. It was then the Flora London Marathon. I was in my early 20s, before I was married with kids. I’d done the absolute minimal training, I certainly wasn’t a regular runner, and I hate road running. No surprise really that it took me 5 hours 35 minutes, and I felt very underwhelmed at the finish line.

That was well before I got any kind of real love for running. My trail adventure running came much, much later. As for road marathons – that was it for me. I’ve not done one since.

Now though, I understand the need for training. That you can’t just throw a pair of shoes on and hope to get a good time, or even to feel good at the finish. While a marathon is tough, really tough. How exactly does someone then go and run 50 miles?

I’ll try and explain. I’m a back of packer, but I know that all I need to do is throw one foot in front of the other. I can be quicker, that comes with very specific training, but at the point in my training for the Dragon’s Back right now, I know I just need to up the miles and the elevation. Really, the elevation is the killer here.

Training has been consistent but not quite where I’ve wanted it to be, given time constraints of family life and juggling work, dogs (not literally juggling them – they’re far too heavy), and children. I was ill in April too which threw me totally and messed up my plans for any quality running.

Talking to Dragon’s Back Race Director Shane Ohly over on the podcast – he had already told me, you mustn’t go into this event underprepared!

So when the Albion Hilly 50-mile ultra marathon popped its head up, I figured, I need to do this.

I know what you’re thinking. Not much training again. Why would you do that?

Here’s why. Because I’m going to have to do something tougher come September and putting myself outside of the comfort zone was necessary. For my confidence; to get the miles in my legs; and to just get some serious elevation – away from the flats I’m used to. This route would take us from Minehead up all the hilliest hills Somerset could throw at us – Bossington Hill, over to Porlock Weir, Webber’s Post, to Dunkery Beacon and back again.

This was a bit of a make or break moment. Could I actually cover the distance over 8,300ft?

I hooked up with a fellow runner, who was trepidatious about it too. We made a vow that we’d get each other round. Having that kind of pact makes it harder to quit.

For the first three miles we went off too fast. Ten minute miling maybe. That’s because there were runners up ahead who would break the course record – it’s easy to get swept along in that kind of frenzy. My runner partner and I however, are not those people! I pulled right back. I know my body and it takes me about five miles before I’ve got into any kind of stride. The uphills were walked, the downs and the flats run. We took photos in the sunshine. For 25 or 30 miles it was glorious.

Eating frequently and taking on fluids is vital. The weather was hot, and you can easily forget to fuel if you don’t feel like it. It’s a matter of forcing it down. With such wonderful checkpoint volunteers, they advised that one stretch would be an 11-mile uphill slog before the next aid station, and that we should eat as many Marmite sandwiches and pickles as we could before attempting it. I took their advice. I frequently ate.

Although this was a partly way marked course, you had to have your wits about you and navigation was key. We took a couple of wrong turns. Trying to ascend to the summit of Dunkery Beacon (highest point in Somerset), while having chosen the incorrect path, saw my mood dip and I snapped at my compadre – I was getting tired and we were going the wrong way.

After we righted ourselves and hit the top of the Beacon in dazzling sunlight, we sailed through the next few miles. The sun dipped and our next challenge was getting through the woods before nightfall. We made it, but with darkness comes new challenges.

It was hard to see underfoot. Bumps look flat, and hills look hillier, sheer drops you can’t see at all! I fell once, but luckily it was a soft landing. A good head torch gives you confidence in the dark.

I’d anticipated some niggles in my legs, and especially my feet, because I was trying out the shoes I’ll wear on the Dragon’s Back Race. The niggles never came. This told me that although I didn’t feel I had trained enough, what I was doing was paying off. If anything, it was my back and shoulders that were starting to stiffen. Wearing a pack and leaning into hills will do that.

The final eight miles were both a mental uplift and a total physical slog. By this point I felt nauseous at every sip of drink – Active Root sports drink – or every nibble of food. The pace was slow. My partner’s knee was starting to hurt. Nevertheless, by this stage, you know you’ve done it.

We powered on. We fast hiked the final mile, and finished feeling – erm, quite good actually. Euphoric? Maybe not. Knackered? Most certainly – it was 2.30am, after all!

Huge thanks to Albion Running for such a gorgeous event. The volunteers were fabulous and the food selection was dreamy for a vegan!

Albion also offers a Flat 50, and the 100 (if you fancy doing both hilly and flat!), as well as other fab races, which you can find on their website.