CTS Stage 4: Admiring Anglesey

Bizarrely, I'm more nervous on the start line of this race than I have been for any of the series so far. This is the first time I've lined up unsure if I'm able to finish. Not because of training, but because of injury. 

I've had a six week gap since the last race in Dorset, a pretty brutal forty five miles. Training hasn't been great, taking a week off after the race then another two weeks off over Christmas, it's been stop start and that's being generous. But there has still been enough. 

The problem is that on my final training run on Monday this week, my ITB started playing up. It's been a minor issue for a number of years, but never enough to really cause major issues. On Monday, however, it was a sharp pain. For most, this issue manifests as pain in the knee, but for me it's at the point the ITB goes over the hip. When tight, it makes a crunching sound. When really tight, that really hurts. So on Monday I was stopping every few minutes to stretch it out, wishing there was a bus to take me home and knowing there wasn't. 

All week it's been sore so I've been stretching it every day and frantically trying to make it alright before the race, but I still woke up today with it being sore. I'm annoyed with myself that I don't have a more regular strength and stretching routine. Doing more core work would improve my posture and put less strain on the ITB and more stretching would keep everything feeling good. Basically I'd be better all round. But I don't do that and now I'm on the start line, injured, paying the price. 

Not much I can do about it though, so when the gun goes I set off with a smile. Thankfully the journey here was very easy and casual, arriving at lunchtime yesterday for some sightseeing in Holyhead (there's not much other than some archaeological rocks) and having dinner and meeting some others doing the race in my dorm. One of them snored heavily, but I still feel quite rested and relaxed, so barring the injury I'm feeling in a good place. 

The first section is down the farm track back to the car park for the Breakwater Country Park, our base for the day. The track is littered with massive puddles and as everyone is still fresh we try to go fast past them, snagging our clothes on multitudes of thorns at the side. We then get to the paved road and head down there back to the car park. 

I take this first section slowly. Slower than normal. That's my plan today. Just take it very slowly. Try not to aggravate the injury and hopefully I'll get to the end. So where normally I'd try to set a good pace on this flat road section, today I don't. I let a load of people pass me. 

We get the car park a few minutes later then turn left down to the beach. It's nice to be in nature rather than the uninspiring start on road and as we double back to the start line along the coastal path I settle into a rhythm. I stumble over the pebbles in the little bay, then over a little rise onto the flat coastal section framed by Holyhead Mountain looking in the background. It doesn't look too bad. 

What is bad however is the wind. The weather report has the temperature somewhere around five degrees with a wind chill to bring it down to a high of zero. The winds are expected to be around teeth two miles an hour. Oh, and some rain. So the weather should be caning us today, but I remind myself of hiking up Scafell with my terrified brother this time last year in rain that turned into a blizzard and fifty mile winds. We were fine then, so I'll easily be fine today. 

It is a pretty hammering wind, though, and whilst I'm pretty damn warm now, I'm pleased I put on a windproof fifth layer. I'll be toasty, not to mention with my ridiculously ugly trapper hat.  I pull up the hood and let the wind hammer away, laughing at it. 

We soon pass by the other side of the start line and divert around the side of the mountain. The path goes slightly up then just turns into a bit of a technical trail going around the side. I'm behind a guy wearing Skechers GoRun shoes. Sadly, they don't seem to be doing him any favours. He's going along very tentatively and there's soon a line of ten of us behind him. The grip on those shoes is ridiculously bad (albeit damned cushy). I love technical trails, but as I promised myself to take it easy I stay behind him, figuring it's slowing me down which will only be a good thing later in the day. 

After a couple more minutes, though; I can't handle it anymore. I want to have fun, damnit! So as he goes around one rock I leap over it and take the lead then slam down the trail on the other side, it curls back uphill on the other side, but halfway up I turn around and see I've already put a hundred metres on him after about a minute. I want to go slow, but I want to enjoy it as well. 

The trail heads back upwards, past a quaint little rock shelter, and has some stunning views back down the drop beside me to the sea below. The wind is fairly buffeting, but not to a point where it much of a problem. It's still fairly dark and cold, being only nine in the morning, but it looks like it may not be too bad a day. 

We take a sharp bend up the side of the hill now and there are a couple of steep ascents in a row that thin the field out somewhat. Nearer the top I suddenly remember in the briefing the race director said we wouldn't be going over the summit on this section so I get a lump in my throat thinking we may be following the wrong route. I get out my phone and double check and as far as I can tell we're still going alright so panic over. This bit we're creating now certainly feels like a summit though...

We turn to the right, away from the hill to go down the other side. There's some nice paths over the tops of the hills and leading us a couple of kilometres dos the coast to the South Stack Lighthouse. We approach it from one side, then go over a hill to look down on it before heading the other way and looking back on it. It's definitely interesting to look at, a lighthouse perched on a tiny island of rock. I'm surprised it's still standing as it looks like it must take an absolute beasting from the winds and sea spray on days when the weather is twice as bad as today. 

Down the other side and soon enough we're at the first checkpoint at around six or seven kilometres. Trying to keep with my slower pace, I stop here to grab some crisps and fill my water bottle. I also stopped on the hill a couple of times just now and all in all it seems to be working. I can feel the injury twinging at points, but I just ease off every time it happens or stop and take a photo. So far it's worked. So far I still feel quite fresh. Also, stopping now for some food has helped me feel like I've got more energy than if I just have gels. Not to mention less sick. 

From here it's down the road back towards the flat part of the island coast. Each step jolts my hip a little but I find that by taking it a little easier and running on my forefoot it's a bit less painful. Either way it's a matter of going down gingerly rather than barrelling down. Far too early in the day for that. 

At the bottom of the hill we carry on following the road around. It's nice and easy going so means I can settle into it a bit easier for a while, though the wind is still a bit chilly. After a couple of kilometres we move back onto the coastal path and some lovely boggy bits in the wind. I turn around to try to get a photo back to South Stack but it's a bit too far away. Oh well, at least it's keeping me slowed down a bit. 

At this point another person goes by and his phone suddenly bleeps out and tells us all how fast he's going in minutes per kilometre. It's really great to get out into the scenery and nothing says 'nature' better than a Garmin beeping away at you, does it? I bite my tongue but wonder if he does that on a normal run. Maybe he likes to sit on busses and play music for all to enjoy? I remind myself how glad I am that, whilst I do track my miles, I'm not so compelled by it that I forget to enjoy being out in the fields. 

For a while it's been a matter of simply putting my head down and getting some of the early miles in easily and casually to test out and see how I feel with my hip. I notice that it also means I'm not feeling anywhere near as shattered. The next five kilometres of so pass by pretty easily as we go back and forth around the coast, dodging mud and sea spray pretty inefficiently. I don't mind. I weave my way in and out of little bays that remind me ever so slightly of the ones back in Banks Peninsula in New Zealand.

As we found a corner back onto the road we find ourselves at checkpoint two. A quick stop here and the volunteers are pretty cherry which is nice. I'm still in a chatty mood so have a bit of a laugh with them as I fill my water again then head on my way again, saying I'll see them when I'm back at this checkpoint on the return loop. 

There's a few more little dips in and out of bays on roads here then I find myself on a promenade. The beach blow looks perfectly runnable so I'm surprised they've not got us running down there as they normally do, but I'm not going to complain. It's quite a long promenade and there doesn't seem to be a lot going on in the accompanying town of Trearddur, though it looks like the town goes on for a bit behind. It's a nice view out to the sea and the sun has now fully come out, meaning that although it's still cold and windy it's a clear and lovely view out which is great considering what the forecast was for. 

At the end of the promenade my legs are feeling the fact that I've had a solid kilometre or two on pavement after a stop/start beginning. Unfortunately we stay on road but it's slightly uphill to get over to the next bay so I take the time to stop for a walk and stare at the sky. Still feeling pretty good as well so all in all pretty happy. 

Over to the next bay and a couple more kilometres on road before finally turning off down to the flat coastal path again. A couple of people start wandering over to the middle of a field lost. From what I can see the one leading is doing the ultra and lost, the follower doing the marathon and probably near the front of the field so it's funny to see the difference in how they both look to be processing the information of not knowing where they are. The first guy just looks like he's in a daydream, the second looks uber focused and rather stressed. They both look around and when they see me I point them the way I'm going. One guy sprints off in relief, the other potters back to the path looking a bit like a sheep. 

As he gets to me I joke that it's easily done as I continue on. He looks fairly flustered as I pass by. I go through a gate and down through a boggy section. Unfortunately I misjudge it and nearly lose my shoe in the bog. Luckily it hangs on but my gaiter springs off so I stop to attach it again and Mr Sheep passes asking if I'm okay. I say I'm fine then set off chasing him. A couple of minutes later he stops and stares at the ground. I ask if he's okay, he says he is and I wonder whether or not to stop a minute and chat. 

I then look at his blank face once more and decide if rather pootle on. Straight after I see someone coming in the opposite direction, at speed, with a race number saying ultra. I'm guessing this is the race leaders coming back. The first couple are less than a minute apart and looking dead serious. The third guy is hanging back and looking pretty damned laid back. 

I saw this guy at the briefing. He's wearing a small vest and shorts, no bag and barely looks to be carrying anything. At the briefing I looked at him stretching and thought he's either a machine or a bloody idiot, probably the latter. Seeing him coming back the other way I realise it was the other way around. I shout with a grin he must be freezing and he says he's feeling great with a casual grin. I wish I could look so damn casual!

As I saw them coming from a different path I turn right, the opposite way, and head further along following the coast. It's more of the same for a while here, quite flat but really nice paths along the coast. Not very taxing, but a bit muddy so keeps you interested. It's great to go off daydreaming for a bit and about three kilometres later I hit checkpoint three, still grinning. 

I think a lot of people visualise the finish line at races, which I definitely find myself doing a lot, but it's been a bit different on this series. As the distance is smaller than I've been used to on some races last year it's not quite as stressful on each race. The stressful bit is thinking ahead to doing one every three weeks. It's not the race itself, it's the getting there that takes its toll. So I find myself drifting off and thinking of the finish line after eight months of hard work, rather than the finish line on the race I'm in at the moment. It's still five months away, but I'm really looking forward to it...

At the checkpoint I again take a minute or two to eat some crisps and say hello. Another woman comes up and asks in a very serious manner whether or not there is a toilet around. She even looks around the corner. The marshals tell her there isn't but there's some woods about a mile further along. She looks pretty disgusted so, to hide my grin, I head along on my way. 

It's another little walk along a bay and at the end a steep step up to run down a farm track for a kilometre or so, leaving the smashing of the waves on the coastline. Then come the woods the marshal mentioned and some wooden walkways over marshland. I'm instantly reminded of the Suffolk event and the same sort of walkways. 

There's quite a bit of not to dodge through and as one guy passes me he exclaims how horrible it is. I laugh as I pull myself out of another boggy bit. I'm quite enjoying the change of scenery myself. Sadly it doesn't last too much longer, only going for a couple of kilometres before heading back down country lanes and farm tracks. 

It's nice to be out of the wind for a while. There are less people around here and the sun is still out so again I just plod along for some easy kilometres until I head back onto a track and find myself in some serious mud. There's a couple of other guys up ahead who look to be struggling quite a bit and I care no better. I've managed for most of the morning to keep my shoes only fairly wet, but that all goes down the pan at this point. 

There's a lot of tentative steps to try to avoid losing a shoe here and for the most part it works. A couple of tricky moment where the shoe is half off and I'm half a step in a bog half a metre away but other that it's fine. The funniest part is just trying to decide which bit to go on. Do I go left on this bog or right? Which one am I most likely to sink into? Answer: the one I didn't pick. 

It goes on like this for a couple of kilometres then I see some people in the distance coming the other way and realise I must have reached the point I saw the leaders earlier. They look lost and are pointing in both directions so I point the correct one from afar. Surprisingly they do see me and go the correct way with a thumbs up. 

I come out of the bog here and back onto the dry(er) coastal path, then up to the gate and over the road. I'm now back on the same stretch all the way back to the second checkpoint. After a short while over the boggy confusing section where people got lost earlier I'm back on the road. This is the long section again around the bays, which I'm guessing some people might find a bit boring but to be honest for me it's perfect right now. 

It's a chance to check in and make sure my hip is doing okay, which surprisingly it is, almost feeling better which is a huge morale boost. It's also a chance to pick up a bit of speed that was lost over the boggy sections and soon enough I find myself on the little hill over to the big promenade. 

At this point a trio of people pass me. The one at the back is a woman wearing a similar waterproof to me, but it's done up. I'm pretty sure that underneath there is a woolly hat. I'm positive that on top there is a very thick warm hat with side flaps, which she has actually tied up. All in all this means that her head is nearly a foot higher than it normally would be, making her look a bit like an alien. Maybe that's a bit rich of a description considering the ridiculously ugly trapper hat I'm wearing, at least she's going for a look other than 'oddball' like I am. 

Either way, she runs on and I make my way down to the promenade for a slow run across. Again, as I reach the other side it hurts a little having fun without stopping for a while, but that soon eases up as I carry on up a hill a bit further on. In my head for some reason, I remember the checkpoint being just by the end of this, but I'm obviously remembering wrong as it's still a while off. 

Sure enough, though, it does appear twenty minutes later. The team are still as happy and chatty as earlier which is nice as a smile goes a long way on a day like today. I fill up my water, grab about half a packet of crisps and a bit of banana that somehow doesn't look manky like they normally do at checkpoints, and walk on. 

I'm passed by a girl who looks like she's only started running five minutes ago, which is a bit of a shock after the gnarled marathoners and even more gnarled ultra runners I've spent the whole day looking at and I find myself inadvertently doing a double take. 

Then I click that the checkpoint must have been where we join the half marathon. I pick up the pace a bit and find I end up running with her for a bit. As suspected she is in the half race, but is definitely feeling it having not really done any training at all. I wish her well; then plod on my way. 

From here we can actually see the hill in the distance looming ahead. It doesn't actually look to bad but it does look a bit steep from this angle. It looks to only be a couple of miles away, but of course looks can be deceiving and we don't seem to follow a bird’s eye view at all. 

Instead we weave in and out of country lanes and muddy paths. Even though I've been quite good with food all day, I do find that I'm starting to feel a little bit queasy. I've only had three or four gels, but coupled with only crisps it's easy to find they don't sit well. Luckily, as I had a nightmare with food at Dorset, I've brought something extra today. I find a clear field and take off my pack. 

Wrapped up in my waterproof trousers I have a couple of little savoury pastries. I've not tried them before but they looked good in the supermarket yesterday and surprisingly have survived the day without turning into a mush. I grab the nicest looking one, a cheese and ham puff and toddle along on my merry way. It tastes great and makes me feel a hell of a lot better almost straight away. How much of that is psychosomatic I'm not sure but I don't really care either. 

Unfortunately the field is followed directly by a boggy path through quite high bracken. This makes it hard to keep hold of my pastry and my balance at the same time so I begin to have visions of my lovely pastry falling in slow motion into a mud puddle. I then get visions of the fact that if it really happens it won't be in an arty slow motion sequence it will be in an even more unsatisfying single second ending in a splat. Followed by expletives. 

Luckily for me that doesn't happen and I come through the other side of the bracken, joking to the guy behind me about it. He laughs as well and we end up running together for a bit and chatting. Luckily my stomach completely settles after this so I can run along as well and having someone to talk to makes it all go a bit quicker toward the hill. 

Not long after, we reach a narrowing as the path goes beside a fence. There is a guy hiking along next to it and he mumbles something to Dave ahead of me, who doesn't hear and carries on ahead. As I reach him I desperately try to get ahead as I don't want to be stuck behind a hiker for this whole path but he doesn't seem to want to let me and has a massive thirty or forty litre pack on so I end up having to contort and squeeze through past him. 

I then hear him ask a question, which I also don't hear, so turn around to ask him to repeat it. I then see, much to my surprise, that he has a race number on and is doing the marathon, despite being dressed entirely as a hiker with massive pack and track pants. He asks how far and I say four or so miles just over the hill. 

He then points down and tells me he's lost his trainers. I stare in disbelief. He really isn't wearing any shoes. No wonder he looks so miserable. I ask him how and he just repeats that he lost them. I ask if it was in the boggy bits and he non-committingly grunts. I'm flabbergasted that he's managed to lose them but have to bite my tongue and carry on rather than say anything. He looks like a smart arsed comment is the last thing he needs. 

Instead I run ahead and catch up to Dave to tell him. He doesn't seem as shocked as I am but I just can't fathom how the guy could have lost a shoe then not thought "What a shame, I'd best grab my shoe from that bog I just stepped out of", is confusing the hell out of me. The fact he then let his second shoe go missing is beyond fathomable. 

So we carry on plodding and end up staying together all the way to the base of the hill. The tracks here are mostly just bog interspersed with hard packed trail and zigzagging their way around until finally we reach the base of the hill. We pass a stableman tending to his horses and pass through his gate then head up the incline. 

It very quickly becomes steep, but not so steep it's unmanageable. We start talking about injury and it turns out he's actually got the same issue I do so has had to take it easier today too. Unfortunately for him it's still twinging quite badly. Mine does feel good so I end up pacing ahead a bit up the hill as he wants to take it a bit slower, whereas I feel like I've got quite a bit of energy after my pastry. 

Hills are my favourite thing about running, so I quickly set into a rhythm. It's a tricky one as it's very easy to fast hike it too fast up a hill, run out of breath and end up crumpling every couple of minutes. Likewise it's quite easy to dawdle. So I put my hands on my knees and use them to propel forward, making sure to measure my pace and luckily this time getting it right at a comfortable speed upwards. 

The first section plateaus and we get a great view back towards the town so I take a minute to take a photo before carrying on. As I do another runner goes by, really trying to run at pace up here. Fair play to him, he looks like he'll manage it. 

I set off again and all of a sudden there is a sharp turn up to the left as I make my way to the summit. I pull down my hood as I'm getting quite warm now and the wind has finally stopped for the first time all day. 

There is a fairly steep trudge upwards for a couple of hundred metres. At points I'm grabbing on to rocks and grass on the hillside to pull myself up with, but as far as hills go this one isn't too bad and without too much fuss I come over a lip to be greeted by the Mountain Rescue guys. 

Luckily they're grinning rather than waiting to cart me off so I grin back, thank them and take a look around. There is a great view up here of all around in all directions so rather than go straight down the other side I take a moment to drink in the view and catch my breath. Unfortunately though, the preside of the hill was just protecting me from the wind and I now get absolutely hammered by the winds coming off the Irish Sea so don't stay too long. 

I head over the other side, past the one mile to go sign, and start my way down the hill. There are a few people going down fairly tentatively here and I'm quite keen to get out of the wind so just down past them. 

The hip is actually feeling pretty good at this point so I suddenly find myself really giving it everything down the hill here and passing a good ten people or so, mostly people about to finish the marathon and a bit knackered. 

Not me, though, I feel great as I hammer downwards, knowing full well I'm going to regret doing so but not caring. It's nice to just let loose for a bit. The rocks and trail aren't excessively technical but I do have to keep an eye on them to make sure I don't topple over until I reach a more structured path and can really move down until I reach the bottom. 

There are a couple of marshals grinning and encouraging me as I turn off away from the sign pointing to the finish and head back to the car park instead. It's much easier to get down the puddled road now without fifty odd others barrelling down jostling for places next to me. 

The farm track pops out onto the road and I'm suddenly passing loads of competitors who've finished heading back to their cars and start to doubt myself. A few clap and encourage me and I ask one if this is still the right way. She laughs and tells me it is then laughs even harder at my bright blue Bermuda shorts. 

I carry on past more and more people and about halfway down Dave jogs casually past with a grin, so I'm guessing his injury is feeling better which is good to see. I'm feeling the pace on the downhill and am quite shattered so it's my turn to let him go on ahead. 

The long car park road doesn't do the area any justice so I'm quite pleased when I reach the end and turn off back down to the beach. It was great getting all the encouragement from the finishers but felt a bit weird as well with ten kilometres still to go. 

So I head back down to the beach and hobble over the pebbles, over the lip and onto the flat section with the hill looking ahead exact the same as it was several hours ago at the start. The wind is still hammering into me so I pull my hood back up but it doesn't feel as cold as yesterday. Whether that's because it's actually warmer or because I'm just more used to it I'm not too sure. 

I'm really feeling quite knackered here though and check my map to see exactly how far it is as I head back nearer to the point we pass the start line once more and begin heading up the hill. I really feel quite drained and can't much be bothered, but just keep telling myself it's only because I went too hard and if I go a bit slow I'll be fine again soon. 

As I get nearer to the hillside I still feel crap but manage to catch a couple just as we start climbing. I ask how they're doing and say it's not long now. The guy tells me it'll be even quicker if I carry him which gives me a laugh. 

For some reason as soon as I'm on a gradient again I feel good so I start to pick up the pace a little going around the side of the hill here. Bizarrely, I meet the same guy in Skechers and pass him in almost the exact spot. As if thought earlier, he passed me again not long after it became flat once more and I figured he was a road runner and given the flat terrain today I wouldn't see him again. Again, it takes me a minute or two to get around him but I do so with a smile. 

On up the gradient past the little shelter once more and in the distance I see Dave. As he mentioned not being so good with hills I pick up the pace a little to catch him and chat for a few minutes. He seems to be faring better than he was earlier on the other side of the hill which is always good of course. 

We chat briefly about feeling the ups and downs of running these events as I mention feeling great on the downhill and terrible just after and as we do we reach the long of turning to go up the hill again. 

We start to talk about the cut offs and the fact neither of us really looked at them. The sun is going down slowly, though I think we've still got at least a couple of hours, which is when they based the cut offs on, so I think we're alright. As we go over a small false summit Dave questions how far I think we've got left. He thinks about three miles and I agree. We can see the summit directly in front of us so figure it's just straight up and over this time. I'm loving the fact it's only gradient all the way to the end and it's not going to hurt my hip or even my legs any more. 

Then there's a right turn. 

Just before the climb to the top there is a farm track with some mountain rescue guys on it. There was a relatively steep section for the last minute or two and I notice Dave has dropped behind again, so I ask the guys, more for peace of mind, if I'm still in plenty of time before the cut off. He just says not to worry and that they'll look after me. 

I grin and take the right turn, which leads up to some more mountain rescue guys before dropping down the other side. I catch a couple running together on the descent back down, thinking I've not got that far to go. Then it plateaus. There is a well-kept path that's flat going between the ridges of a couple of the hills and around the other side of the far one the path carries on past a little power station looking thing then over and down further. I begin to accept there's still another section to go and I won't be popping over the summit just yet. 

Around the side of another little hill I see South Stack Lighthouse once more and realise where I went wrong. I still need to come all the way back out here to the first checkpoint again before doubling back and going over the hill. I also remember the briefing, and that the race director said this was about four miles in, so I figure it must be only another couple to go. 

There are a lot of rocks on the cliff just above the lighthouse, which means I not only get some proper trail after the flat path, but for once whilst staring down at my trainers there's a lovely view in my peripheral. 

I drop down the steep trail to the road, take a turn up the hill again and the checkpoint is just there. The marshals start shopping and cheering, telling me to keep running. It's a great boost and I have a bit of a chat about how I'm feeling and how far is left. They offer food but as I'm so close I decline and carry on.

As I passed one couple on the way up the hill then another one just after, I'm keen to keep at least a bit of pace up and can see them behind me chasing so get a move on scrambling up the other side. There's now a fairly long section of well over a kilometre of, again, flat paths until I'm approaching the power station thingy again. 

I see something odd here, though. A pair are approaching from where the mountain rescue guys are above, then at the point where the out and back paths meet and diverge, they stop and talk in the distance. Then the guy carries on ahead to the checkpoint and the woman runs back a bit then squats in the middle of the path. This itself isn't too odd, though most women tend to prefer not to do this out in the open from what I gather. Also, she's just that bit too far away that she looks like she might be on hands and knees vomiting, but I can't really be sure. It also feels a bit voyeuristic and creepy so I look at the view the other way. 

What is odd is she then gets up and carries on running backwards. I want to run ahead to catch her and tell her she's going the wrong way. It looks like she might be giving up and trying to run backwards to the start, but doing that may very well take longer than carrying on. Unfortunately she's too far away to hear me or me to catch so I let her wander off, still with no idea what the hell she's really up to. 

I plod on the other way around the hill and on checking behind me still have a clear gap between the couple who I'm now positive are chasing me. I mainly only want to beat them now because they are chasing, otherwise I probably wouldn't care. After a while I meet the path coming up from the marathon route earlier and go over the lip where I stopped for a photo before and saw someone attempting to run up the hill. 

Knowing I'm quite close I put my foot down. I want to keep the gap as much as possible on these flat bits as I know I'm unlikely to be caught by anyone on the hills, either up or down, unless the race leader got severely lost hours ago. 

As I hit the final climb there is an older woman up ahead. She's doing the marathon and lets me past, whereby I cheerily exclaim that there's not far left now. She wails in response "Oh, please let that be true!"  I calmly tell her that I've been past already today and did she see the mountain rescue guy fifty metres above? He's at the one mile to go sign but it's very windy so she should prepare herself. The look on her face suggests she listens as far as "Do you see...", then pressed play again and blocked me out to wallow in her misery. Oh well, she'll find out for herself how damn windy it is in a minute. 

I reach the top, hood already up, smile at the Mountain Man before a quick look around and begin the descent down. I'm feeling quite queasy all of a sudden for some reason, but figure I'll be done in ten minutes so will be fine without eating anything. The woman with the massive headdress from earlier is tentatively coming down the other side as well and I wonder how she avoided her head being blown all over the shop on the top of the hill screeching like a helium balloon that's been let loose. She's a bit nervous descending so lets me past and I hammer on down, passing a few other marathoners as well. 

As I reach the well-kept path I'm glad to be close as the queasiness is putting a slight taint on my finish. I make my way down the final hill then turn off for the finish. I'm expecting it to be thirty metres away but as usual I'm wrong and there's a couple of zigzags before I finally cross the line, exhausted but happy. 

Overall, it was a good day. Slower than I'd like I guess, but easing off in the beginning made quite a difference later on and meant I enjoyed the whole day a lot more than if I'd pushed it harder. So it also meant I smiled all the way around. As you can clearly see...

The guy who I couldn't tell if he was an idiot or a legend by wearing next to nothing casually making his way around the course? He put himself firmly in the latter camp by two things. Firstly, he had enough time to casually joke with me as he went by rather than grimacing seriously. Secondly, he won the race. The guy with no shoes however firmly stays in the idiot camp and I've no idea if he finished. 

Next up? South Devon.

Here's the tracking: