Might Contain Nuts
Early one Saturday morning, I
found myself at a local outdoor centre in the middle of the Brecon Beacons,
nervously awaiting the signal to start the ‘Might Contain Nuts’ 10 miler, a
somewhat ironic choice for my first trail run, given my intolerance to nuts.
At the finish |
Trail running is unlike any other
type of running and more akin to hill walking.
It takes away the safety blanket you’re used to with road running, and
pits you against nature in its purest form. The courses are generally
challenging, with plenty of climbing and a variety of terrain, from grassy
sloping fields, to rocky paths and bogs; this particular race took us part of
the way up Pen y Fan, one of Wales’ top climbs for walkers. The real challenge
though, is dealing with the weather. Up in the mountains, you have to be
prepared to battle against rain, wind, fog, hail, snow or even (although rarely!) scorching sunshine, all
within the space of a few miles.
Nervous Pre-Race |
There’s a strict kit list for
competitors, including compass, whistle, safety blanket and first aid kit and,
as we were handed our waterproof maps on arrival, I began to think I might be a
little over my head. Having said that, the
atmosphere at race HQ was convivial and everyone was so friendly that I forgot
my nerves, and before I knew it, we were off.
The first three miles took us
along a tow path, beside a canal in Talybont, a comfortable flat path, and good
way to get our legs into gear. I kept up a strong pace, near the front of the
pack and my competitive spirit began to kick in; how many other women were up
ahead? Could I overtake them? Maybe, just maybe, I could do well on this race!
Then began the climbing, starting
up a steady path along the side of the slope, until we embarked on the long
slog up the ridge. By this point, I was happy and not just a little relieved to
see that, like me, almost everyone was walking up. Running would have used more
energy for very little gain and even the fast-paced quick march was hard graft,
and painful on the calves.
By the fourth false summit, we
had donned our waterproofs and warm kit, we were being dragged sideways by the
rain and wind and the group had spread out. I had lost all track of my place in
the race, and was head down, aiming for the end. As we got to the check-point,
and I turned right, back down through a marshy field, I found myself thanking
the gods I hadn’t been stupid enough to sign up for the marathon or
ultra-distance, whose route continued onwards and upwards.
Becky and Lucy at the finish |
Second Place! |
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