Aiming high

I had approached Bradford 10K like a carefully timetabled military operation. When to get up, when to go for a jog, when to eat, when to drink, when to warm up... But I was a girl who wanted a PB and following the advice I was given when in Snowdonia, I was damn well going to give myself the best chance of getting one. I even went as far as shoving a gel down my gullet (yuck).

Crossing the start line, I tried very, very hard to avoid going out all guns blazing, keeping my pace within a predetermined range. This seemed to work well and I felt pretty good for the first few Ks. Reaching the hill (well this is Yorkshire!), I managed to gain a few places, before I launched myself into a kamikaze descent. Back on the main road, there were a couple of further undulations until we turned at around 5.5 km.

The main road back into Bradford is a very gentle climb and it just felt like an absolute grind from 6K onwards and I had to give myself a good kicking between 8 and 9km, as my pace slowed and my body started to strongly object. However, comparing the scrawl on my hand to the numbers on my watch, I knew I was on target so I picked my feet up and tried that little bit harder.

Finally I found myself in the finishing straight and although I tried to end on a sprint, I'm not sure if I actually managed to move any faster, with the last few hundred metres feeling like miles. Eventually crossing the line, Martin from the club steered me to the water station and made sure I didn't pass out!

Finally at the line and totally spent.

The race atmosphere was lovely, it was a large event, but not too large, and the marshals were all members of local clubs or familiar faces from Park Run. I was even interviewed live on Bradford community radio before kick off! As I ran round, it really spurred me on to hear my name being called, to see a familiar face, or to just get a 'Come on Queensbury'. It was also great to run in club colours and to feel part of a super friendly and encouraging team. 

My time of 53:47 well exceeded my 55:00 target and meant I had bettered by Leeds 10K time, from July, by a massive 3:12! As a rather long legged, youngish woman, I know there is still huge room for improvement but I have come a long way since those cold C25K days back in January. As I tucked into a large slab of malteser tiffin after the race, for now at least, it was job done. 

Proudly modelling my finishers t-shirt!

Falling in love

Standing on the summit of Snowdon, most of North Wales lay spread out before me. The landscape was bathed in a hazy afternoon sunshine, the high clouds dotting the scene with occasional areas of shade and I was completely awestruck. Why had I not been to Snowdonia before?

The Pyg Track running up from Pen-y-pass

The next morning was very exciting: the lovely people at Run Snowdonia had fitted me in for a guided run at very short notice and so at 9 am we met at Pete's Eats to discuss the day ahead, my main issue being how to go hill and mountain running on my own, in a safe way (with minimal faff and without a truck load of gear!).

Pete's Eats!

Tiny bivi bag!

We started off looking at the MWIS forecast and thinking about the information that could be gleaned from it, in terms of route planning and the conditions to be expected when out on the hill. Sarah then talked about planning logical points on a route, at which to adjust clothing and to make sure you took on food, for example, before you found yourself freezing cold on a windy, steep ridge. She talked about equipment and suggested some things I might like to add to what I had, including a tiny bivi bag, and also about the accessibility of items, such as food and gloves and trying to become really slick with everything you do. We discussed fuel and hydration in some detail, which I found very interesting as I have sometimes struggled with my blood sugar, particularly on long distance paddling trips. I think what I really took from the discussion was to approach a mountain run as light and fast mountaineering first and foremost - the running aspect was almost secondary. 

Llyn Idwal from the Y Garn ridge

Next was a mountain run with Gareth. First up was Y Garn - it was steep and I felt a bit pathetic that I was puffing and panting up at a walk but at least the rapid ascent gave wonderful views once again. As we crested the ridge we found ourselves shrouded in mist but as we descended the grass and stone slope, and discussed technique, it seemed to lift and we were afforded a clear view by the time we had climbed up again to Glyder Fawr and its amazing rock formations.

The mysterious summit of Glyder Fawr, with Glyder Fach in the background

On the plateau, I ran as much as I could, I wasn't fast but the terrain was pretty technical. Interestingly, where the rocks were larger, I found it much easier to cross them at a run than I would do at a walk. Skirting around Castell y Gwynt, the Castle of the Wind, we made our way to Glyder Fach and stopped for the obligatory photo opportunity at the Cantilever Stone.

Quite a feeling to have run up here!

The descent to Bwlch Tryfan was horrid, steep scree is about my least favourite thing in the world, but again, it was probably easier moving slightly quicker in light shoes than it would have been in my huge boots. Finally, the gradient eased off and I was able to run, although I was concentrating so hard on where I was putting my feet (fast and light!) and following Gareth, that it came as a complete shock when I found myself at a very familiar looking gate and suddenly back at Idwal Cottage. We left the car at 10:29 am and my phone tells me it took us 2:53:37 to complete the circuit. After some stretches, we headed back to Llanberis where we met Sarah for a debrief over coffee and cake. We discussed lots of things, including technique, training, PhD woes(!) and confidence, with me sucking up information like a big sponge!

It really was a fantastic day - the run was absolutely amazing and being guided up there allowed me to see that I was perfectly capable of doing such things in future, but I also learned so much about everything else. More than anything, the whole experience gave me the confidence to get out there and try and that's exactly what I did the next day!

An inviting ridge clocked from Snowdon

As much as I didn't want to, I knew I had to leave Llanberis by lunchtime to get back to Leeds in time for my climbing date with the Simple Chick. I thought about going on a train or round the power station, but really I wanted to make the most of being in the mountains. From Snowdon, I had been continually captivated by a ridge a few kilometres to the west and a study of the map indicated it could be easily accessed from the Youth Hostel via a bridleway at the top of the road. I knew that the cloud base would be low and that it was likely to rain, so I was not too fussed about going anywhere too high as I wouldn't see much anyway and because I was short of time, I thought the long ridge descent to the north would be reasonably fast and didn't appear too technical.

Bridleway to the col between Foel Goch and Moel Cynghorion and cloud down to 500m

After my run and bike ride on Tuesday, power hike up Snowdon on Wednesday and mountain run on Thursday, it is safe to say that my quads were in a little bit of pain, but I ran as much as I could, walked purposefully otherwise and used the whole experience as an opportunity to think about how to manage myself and my equipment. I purchased a tiny bum bag in Joe Brown's and put my gloves and some chopped up banana in it and realised that my normal waterproof, although bulky, fits over the top of my rucksack, making it easy to take on and off if I tie it round my waist.

As soon as I started to climb to Foel Goch, the rain began to come down heavily and I was reliant on map and compass to find my way, but I enjoyed the wet (underfoot) descent to Foel Gron, where the mist lifted a little. Carrying on to the north west, I came to a rapid halt when I saw a stone boundary very reminiscent of those in my PhD study area. I took a photo, before crossing a nameless top and climbing higher into the mist as I made my way to Moel Eilio. Here, there was (a denuded) prehistoric cairn and a shelter for walkers.

The majestic Snowdon ridge 

Leaving the summit, I checked my map to ensure I was heading in the right direction and tried to look for the easiest route down the slope, thinking about moving 'fast and light' where I could. As I descended, I finally escaped from the cloud and was rewarded with a view northwards towards Bangour and eastwards towards the Llanberis Pass. The old cobbled bridleway was a little quicker underfoot and I was soon back at the road end. Making my way down to the Youth Hostel, I tried to think about my descending technique, lean forward and gracefully zoom down - it was a work in progress! Despite numerous map stops and the study of various bits of archaeology, I completed the circuit in 2:22:34 - certainly faster than walking!

Back in the village, I rewarded myself with a well deserved recovery chocolate milkshake and a baked tattie with beans and cheese at Pete's Eats. I may not have gone anywhere overly dramatic, but I had gained the confidence to apply the mountain skills I already have and had had a lovely morning out, without incident or drama. Best of all, I had had that whole hill to myself.

By the time I drove out of Llanberis, I had knew I had fallen in love. Snowdonia, I will be back.

Another moment

As I climbed the moor, the wind turbines were still against a purple and orange sky, plane vapour trails criss-crossing behind them. Although the evening was unusually still, the turbines remained static because they are being decommissioned; the 23 currently installed being replaced by 8 huge 2.5 mW machines. Still climbing and concentrating hard on my foot placements, the colour of the sky changed as the sun set further. 

As I summited the hill, the clear air and the remaining light afforded views for miles - towards the Dales in the far north west and Ilkley Moor to the north east. Nestled in the valleys and on the lower slopes of the hills, were the twinkling yellow lights of the towns and villages of this part of West Yorkshire; Denholme and Leeming just below me, Keighley a little further away and the urban sprawl of Leeds and Bradford away to the east.

Everything about that moment, that view, that place, was spectacular; it was the end of a very long, tiring day, but in that instant I felt so alive. Being there, completely alone and experiencing something so special, reinvigorated me and I was firing on all cylinders as I once more turned eastwards and began to head for home. 

With some distance left along the track, it became increasingly difficult to find my way, so the headtorch came into play and I carefully picked my way along the familiar route that seemed quite different in the dark. As I descended the last hill, over the rough and  tricky cobbles, I was still buzzing as I drank in the panorama of street lights laid out before me. 

Reaching the road, there was no more need for a torch and I hammered down the last mile and a bit towards home, feeling immensely privileged to be able to be able to run out my front door and be on the moors in under 20 minutes.

That one moment made the hours of training worth it and it reminded me why I started to run off road in the first place. More than anything, I feel extremely lucky to live in this part of the world.

'My' moor