Last weekend I ran the 42 ish miles of Run To The Castle (How Hard Can It Be Events) as a volunteer sweeper. The race is predominantly trail with some road thrown in and takes the runners from Aberdovey to Harlech along the well – marked Welsh Coastal Path. My job was simply to keep everyone as safe as possible, ensure that no one got left out on the course and to collect any marking tape that had been left.
I volunteered primarily in order to give something back to running – it’s nice to be one of the many people hopefully delivering an enjoyable race day experience to others – and also because I am running the event as a paying participant in December and thought that a little course recce couldn’t hurt!!
So…..scene set. And we cut to 0500 on the Saturday morning. A desperate figure wearing running clothes is struggling against 65mph winds and driving rain in the pitch darkness, way lit only by van headlights, to right about 300 yards’ worth of heavy road works barriers that have blown over in the night on a twisting single track road somewhere in Wales. The barriers are to stop a van tyre from getting caught in the perfectly – sized and horribly deep trench that is gouged into the road. In the end the enterprise is doomed as the wind wins out and a very complicated 68 point turn has to be executed to find another route.
Upon arrival at the start ( a slight…geographical embarrassment…as I had intended to arrive in Harlech and get the train to Aberdovey) all was calm with Denzil’s (the Race Director) mother firmly in control until the news that the main road into Barmouth was blocked due to a fatal accident presenting problems to all of the marshalls from CP3 onwards. Anyway…alternate routes organised for Jon and Sarah who were manning CP3 and Katie who was to do a great job at CP4.
All was again quiet until a buzz in the atmosphere and plenty of noise signalled the arrival of the train – containing the vast majority of runners – from Harlech. Registration complete, race briefing given in Denzil’s irrepressible style and runners were shepherded out into the howling gales and driving rain for the start.
From here on in, this isn’t intended to be a race report – as I didn’t race – but is more an account of what I learned from running at the back of the pack.
- The weather cannot be controlled….and it was STINKING. From wind so strong that you gained a free sand facial, to a high tide and storm surge that bordered on dangerous, to being blown about on top of hills with what must have been a beautiful view obscured by low cloud it was very, very un – August – like in character!! I hadn’t worn a rain jacket since probably March but it was very firmly put on, and remained on for the entire 12 and spare change hours that I was out. With that in mind, all that can be done is chin up and get on with it.
- Walking – it is absolutely worth learning to walk fast and purposefully if your race is going to involve a lot of it. Walking with resolve and determination rather than dropping to pottering / death march pace will save a lot of time. Unless of course you want to potter and enjoy the scenery and the day – which is fine too. BUT if you want to get better at walking – then it sounds obvious…but practice walking.
- Getting lost. Getting lost is an absolute kick in the whatnots because the last thing you want to do is put in extra miles or miss miles out and have the stress of finding your way back onto the course. But again, once it has happened, there is no point in becoming upset by it. Don’t let it overshadow the rest of your race.
- Bad patches and bad morale. This happens to everyone and it was interesting from a psychological perspective to see the ways in which going through a bad patch affected different personalities – grim and quiet determination, head down and wondering aloud why it had happened, swearing ……and I truly hope that I helped some people through them, be that by leaving them to it with just the occasional check on their wellbeing to chatting to pass some miles and encouraging running. Another small group of ladies running together worked brilliantly as a team, keeping each others’ morale high.
- At the back there may not be any jaffa cakes left!! Thank goodness for Denzil’s mother who saved me some, beckoned me into the shadows and handed over the contraband, wrapped in the lovely orange cellophane. Yes, I am easily pleased!! I am also a big softy as I ended up sharing them…..
- Don’t let struggling physically and / or mentally dent your enjoyment of what is around you as far as you are able to – some of the views were cracking (would be much better on a clear day, granted!!), we were looked at suspiciously by some Alpaca and I got to see and enjoy the phenomenon that is Yarn Bombing too. A village called LLwyngwril was covered in beautiful, bright knitted sculptures. It can also take your mind off the internal misery to appreciate all that is around – easier said than done, I know.
Ultimately there were only two DNFs in the whole race which was awesome in those conditions and it was wonderful to see everyone in safely, having achieved what they set out to do. All the runners found some last remnants of energy when the beautifully – lit castle came into view and they knew that Denzil was waiting with some cheer and most importantly a very heavy and very lovely medal. Hugs were dispensed, congratulations given (along with some runners thanking me, which was much appreciated) and, just like that, happy and satisfied runners disappeared into the night clutching their medals and full of pride.
I am sure that everyone who completed the race would very much recommend it (but not the filthy weather!) – a great course, with the lovely, friendly race atmosphere that characterises Denzil’s events.
I am very much looking forward to running the race for myself in December. After all….How Hard Can It Be???