Charlie Jones
Snowdonia Marathon 2005
Fundraising for Alzheimer's Society
Story
hello everyone,
thank you all of you fine people who sponsored me in this year's Snowdonia marathon. It was a wonderful day and it was very inspiring when running to think of all of you, and how kind and supportive you've all been. Below is a report of the race, which i completed with my friend Ville, the flying Finn.
The rather soaked chap on the Start line informed us that Snowdonia Marathon is "the toughest marathon in Europe". This was interesting news and raised the odd eyebrow (marginally terrifying and quite exciting). About 1000 runners were taking part, and it was my fourth and Ville's sixth marathon.
Before the Start, there was an unusual absence of all the rituals that you normally see: there was very little stretching, no-one doing warm-up jogs, certainly no adjusting of sun-glasses and there was no music or PA system to get us all 'up for it'. The conditions were just so appalling that people were crouching in any shelter they could find, still half wondering if the whole event was going to be called off. However, the atrocious weather did create a resigned but weirdly-happy camaraderie in the crowd. There was also a lot of humour around as the bin liners that we had all been supplied with in which to store our spare kit had been converted into makeshift waterproofs, as many runners began the race looking a bit rubbish.
The route of the marathon encircles the base of Snowdon and what makes it so difficult is the constant up-and-down. We found it tricky to get into a rhythm or ever feel any consistency. We climbed the first four miles, up the Llanberis Pass, accompanied by terrible gusts of wind and horizontal hail, as if the separate sides of the valley were lashing icy bullets at each other. The pace was laboured and it seemed that everybody shared the idea to stick into a bunch for warmth and shelter. I'm not sure how the tall guys felt about everybody crouching to be on the lee side of them. We had watched the epic film Gladiator the previous evening, and our climb up the Llanberis Pass made me recall the scene from the Coliseum when the gladiators who barely knew each other defeated their adversaries by fighting together as a team. There was a soaked but fantastic atmosphere. After the first ascent, the course turned a corner at 5 miles and levelled off before gradually descending. For the first time, we could see the steady trickle of runners both in front and behind as the course wound its way through the breathtaking scenery. After a comfortable middle-section, we were through the Half Marathon at 1'59. It wasn't fast, but we knew that this race was not about the time and we had heard reports of the unbearable ascent before the finish, so we didn't really take much time to speculate about a possible sub-4-hour finish. The ups and downs continued and the mile markers seemed to become slower and slower to pass by. After 18 miles I spoke up and said to Ville that I was dreading the impending 'wall' as I felt like I was tiring. (For those of you interested, the 'wall' is the time when your body's energy stores run out of energy and your body starts breaking itself down to provide energy. This generally hurts a bit.).Ville said that he had already hit the wall two miles earlier. This was dispiriting and we re-appraised the harsh course and its effects on us. After 22 miles the course came off the roads and went onto unmetalled surfaces, which had become treacherously muddy with the heavy rain. A drinks station at the foot of the final and most demanding hill was manned by several people all wishing the runners a rather uncertain 'good luck' - as if the locals knew something we didn't. The final hill, in Waunfawr (which, interestingly, is Welsh for 'immediate cramp in your whole body'), was incredible. It went on, and on, and on, and on... Most people walked. Slowly. Ville's legs broke. He urged me to carry on, and i just about did. Heart rate climbed into the 190s and I could feel my knees screaming at me to stop. The sides of the filthy path were scattered in shards of slate and the barren terrain felt really bleak. An incongruous ambulance two-thirds of the way up the hill reminded me that civilisation still existed, and then I realised that a runner must have collapsed on the hillside, which scared me for a moment or two. For over two miles the ascent continued to over 1200ft. At the top the view was breathtaking (as were most of the runners). The low clouds and damp air made the mountains around look even more mysterious and wicked. Through 24 miles I now knew that I would finish. Then there was a long downhill back into Llanberis, which killed my legs, especially as each step had to be firm so as to avoid slipping on the grass. I ran through the Finish in 4'06 (376th) to a very welcome and steaming mug of tea, and feelings of relief and delight. Ville came in shortly after in 4'24 (557th) looking fairly ill but also elated at our feat (that's as in 'achievement', rather than our curiously blistered feet).
thank you all of you fine people who sponsored me in this year's Snowdonia marathon. It was a wonderful day and it was very inspiring when running to think of all of you, and how kind and supportive you've all been. Below is a report of the race, which i completed with my friend Ville, the flying Finn.
The rather soaked chap on the Start line informed us that Snowdonia Marathon is "the toughest marathon in Europe". This was interesting news and raised the odd eyebrow (marginally terrifying and quite exciting). About 1000 runners were taking part, and it was my fourth and Ville's sixth marathon.
Before the Start, there was an unusual absence of all the rituals that you normally see: there was very little stretching, no-one doing warm-up jogs, certainly no adjusting of sun-glasses and there was no music or PA system to get us all 'up for it'. The conditions were just so appalling that people were crouching in any shelter they could find, still half wondering if the whole event was going to be called off. However, the atrocious weather did create a resigned but weirdly-happy camaraderie in the crowd. There was also a lot of humour around as the bin liners that we had all been supplied with in which to store our spare kit had been converted into makeshift waterproofs, as many runners began the race looking a bit rubbish.
The route of the marathon encircles the base of Snowdon and what makes it so difficult is the constant up-and-down. We found it tricky to get into a rhythm or ever feel any consistency. We climbed the first four miles, up the Llanberis Pass, accompanied by terrible gusts of wind and horizontal hail, as if the separate sides of the valley were lashing icy bullets at each other. The pace was laboured and it seemed that everybody shared the idea to stick into a bunch for warmth and shelter. I'm not sure how the tall guys felt about everybody crouching to be on the lee side of them. We had watched the epic film Gladiator the previous evening, and our climb up the Llanberis Pass made me recall the scene from the Coliseum when the gladiators who barely knew each other defeated their adversaries by fighting together as a team. There was a soaked but fantastic atmosphere. After the first ascent, the course turned a corner at 5 miles and levelled off before gradually descending. For the first time, we could see the steady trickle of runners both in front and behind as the course wound its way through the breathtaking scenery. After a comfortable middle-section, we were through the Half Marathon at 1'59. It wasn't fast, but we knew that this race was not about the time and we had heard reports of the unbearable ascent before the finish, so we didn't really take much time to speculate about a possible sub-4-hour finish. The ups and downs continued and the mile markers seemed to become slower and slower to pass by. After 18 miles I spoke up and said to Ville that I was dreading the impending 'wall' as I felt like I was tiring. (For those of you interested, the 'wall' is the time when your body's energy stores run out of energy and your body starts breaking itself down to provide energy. This generally hurts a bit.).Ville said that he had already hit the wall two miles earlier. This was dispiriting and we re-appraised the harsh course and its effects on us. After 22 miles the course came off the roads and went onto unmetalled surfaces, which had become treacherously muddy with the heavy rain. A drinks station at the foot of the final and most demanding hill was manned by several people all wishing the runners a rather uncertain 'good luck' - as if the locals knew something we didn't. The final hill, in Waunfawr (which, interestingly, is Welsh for 'immediate cramp in your whole body'), was incredible. It went on, and on, and on, and on... Most people walked. Slowly. Ville's legs broke. He urged me to carry on, and i just about did. Heart rate climbed into the 190s and I could feel my knees screaming at me to stop. The sides of the filthy path were scattered in shards of slate and the barren terrain felt really bleak. An incongruous ambulance two-thirds of the way up the hill reminded me that civilisation still existed, and then I realised that a runner must have collapsed on the hillside, which scared me for a moment or two. For over two miles the ascent continued to over 1200ft. At the top the view was breathtaking (as were most of the runners). The low clouds and damp air made the mountains around look even more mysterious and wicked. Through 24 miles I now knew that I would finish. Then there was a long downhill back into Llanberis, which killed my legs, especially as each step had to be firm so as to avoid slipping on the grass. I ran through the Finish in 4'06 (376th) to a very welcome and steaming mug of tea, and feelings of relief and delight. Ville came in shortly after in 4'24 (557th) looking fairly ill but also elated at our feat (that's as in 'achievement', rather than our curiously blistered feet).