27 October : Marathon Eyryri

I love it when a plan comes off! 3:19:03, and 70th place - the figures came in bang on target. But of course that's very far from the whole story so I'd better go back to the beginning:

The six o'clock alarm was a bit of a jolt, but we were off and out by 7:15, into a pleasantly warm, breezy morning. The weather looked harmless still as we drove along the North Wales Coast, and the northern tops of the Carneddau were even clear. Turning down towards Llanberis though, white and grey cloud spilled over the hilltops and it was pretty clear that there wouldn't be a meteorological miracle today!

Everything went well at registration, and after taking the dogs for a quick exploration of the woods, it was time to set off on the walk up to Nant Peris. The organisers lay on buses, but it's less than two miles to the start and the walk does as a warm-up. Running is such a glamorous sport, I thought, as I walked up the valley wearing my knotted bin-bag. There was a headwind, but no rain yet, and the bin-bag came off as soon as I reached the starting pen. Five rows back, left hand side - all as planned.

The man with the hooter set us off about 6 minutes after 10:30 (it's crazy how many people can be late!), and about 1200 of us shuffled out under the banner and over the mats before making the 180 turn out onto the road. The first mile was too quick of course - it's flat after all but I soon got into the groove and watched as maybe 150 runners streamed past. Past the pub, where there were plenty of spectators, the first hint of a climb begins, and it wasn't long before the road began to get steeper. I dropped a gear or two and a few more came by, but there are 2.5 miles and 800' to go to Pen y Pass so no need to panic just yet! As the road steepened, so the early enthusiasm waned for the runners around me, and soon the places were coming back again. The climbing was just hard enough, and by the top, I was ready enough to take on some water. Part one done then, and although a bit slower than I'd reckoned on, I'd rather be too slow than too quick at this stage!

The wind had been blowing against us more and more often as we had climbed, and making the turn around the head of the pass, it was strong on our backs - bad news for the 8 miles south to Beddgelert! A few grumpy walkers, denied road access past Pen y Gwyryd, tramped up the road: you can always tell a walker - they hate walking too far! Still, the view was still there, all the way down the Vale of Gwynant, and as I turned to the south I could see streams of runners coming down from the pass - the road taken over by people in short pants and vests while the traffic waited for a change.

So, Part Two had begun - Control, Control, Control. That was the word I needed. The word I didn't need was Pain - but remember Phantom Sore Calf Muscle? Well, maybe it wasn't so phantom after all. It had started giving me jip from about the third mile and was now on fire. I thought about exit strategies - no phone signals after Beddgelert - but would I even get there? I decided I'd have to run at least a quarter of the marathon. More enthusiatic runners came flying past me - all the way down to Nant Gwynant. More pain - then I thought about all those long midweek runs - the ones I'd done with Helen when the race seemed so far away - the mad evening runs with the club sessions sandwiched in the middle - and the long solo efforts nearer the race. No, I wasn't going to chuck that away until my leg actually fell off! I got a gel down and hoped for the best.

At about 8.5 miles, I reached the next water station. I'd averaged about 7:35 pace overall. It was about here that Sore Calf Muscle gave up the ghost and became happier. Magically, I didn't drop the pace as the road flattened, and runners started slowing in front of me. I passed the first one, wondering if it was going to be alright after all. A guy from Blackburn, the bloke in the dayglo shorts, then small groups - all going backwards, and me not. At about 10 miles, I noticed the grey sky ahead. Rain. Just to cheer us up, there were 3 girls dressed as nuns by the roadside. Now it's got to be my day!

The next thing I remember is the rain falling as we came into Beddgelert. It hadn't put the locals off though, and the streets were full of people. Another water station (all brilliantly organised I must say with the volunteers shouting out the contents of the cups they were holding). I tried running with the drink for the first and last time - much better to walk a few paces and get it down your throat instead of down your vest!

Now for the dreaded stage three - the long road to Waun Fawr. The hill kicks in as soon as you turn the corner in the village and everyone slows. Drop a gear, Concentrate. I tried to ignore the struggling runners up ahead, and the insistent footsteps behind me as the gradient steepened. Half a mile further on, I'd passed lots of runners - but the footsteps were still there. They belonged to a guy from Salford running his first marathon. We stayed together for the next seven miles. We were doing fine, 7:30 pace up the two-mile climb, passing and passing - the only other person that kept up was a guy on a bike who told us the pace. My new friend told me he loved uphill, hated downhill, and I did lose him for a while over the top of the climb, but he caught me again. I took on drinks at all the stations, and the miles flew by - despite a minor collision involving me and a 4X4 towing a caravan! My elbow made a satisfying thump as it hit the wing mirror.

We reached 20 miles in 2:30, just a bit quicker than the plan for a PB, but I was feeling so strong now I was sure it was going to happen. A sore quadricep, some blisters, and a nagging doubt about that last hill was all that was going to derail me now. Even so, the overtaking was giving me masses of confidence. One guy in front said to another: "make room for the freight train". I felt more like an elderly Brabant but I'll take any encouragement going! My new friend left me at mile 20 - he said he was going to give it a blast as he wasn't sure if he could run much further! I acquired a new one though, a lad called Graham who worked hard to pass me - I tagged him as soon as he came by though and we got to Waun Fawr together.

Onto Part 4 - the climb. Wind it Up - rhythm, drop a gear - and have a chat, why not?! Two lasses shouted "come on Graham!" as we began the hard work. "Is your name Graham?" asked Graham. "No", I said. "I wonder how they knew mine was?" he said, puzzled. No time to work it out, though, as I took on my last drink and went to my lowest gear. It felt so slow! It was Graham's first Snowdonia, and he asked abut the climb. I was so glad I'd memorised everything - just a mile and a half and 600', then the same distance and 200'. Even though it felt so slow, I was still gaining places - lots of them - everyone else was slower, or walking, or walk-running. We disappeared into the fog. Nothing to think about but the slap-slap-slap of trainers on road. Graham disappeared backwards into the gloom. And then - right on queue, the tarmac ran out, the road levelled, and I was up on the windy heights heading for Bwlch y Groes. The rain was getting heavier, the wind strong and blustery, but mostly on my back. On the track, I passed yet more runners. It's amazing how they were so encouraging and found some breath to spur me on. The top of the pass came unbelievably quickly - I knew I was on for 3:20 or less if I could run the descent well.

And yes, it was great. Arms windmilling, legs at full stretch, I hurtled down - it's not really that loose and there's some useful grass to absorb the impact on the first half - curious about speed, I found I'd reached sub-5 minute pace on the steepest parts. Landing at the bottom was hell last year - but this year it was round the corner, kick off up the hill into the village, and catch the next guy. On the corner, three small lads held their hands out for High Fives - and they got them!

So to the last part. This last mile is odd - there was no-one in sight now, and althogh I knew I was on the right road, I was still glad to find the marshall at the road junction. This is it now - one swoop down to the road, past the Mountain Railway, and finish.

Paula was waiting on the roadside as I came down, doing all sorts of embarrassing things like clapping and waving and punching the air - not because I'd come anywhere near winning anything or even being all that good a runner - but just because it had been such a fantastic 3 hours and 19 minutes.

Past the finish line, I collected my treasured coaster, waited for Graham to finish about a minute after me, then got that fantastic cup of tea in the tent. It was throwing it down with rain, and the tent began to fill up. My brain was functioning at a reduced level - but what a wonderful feeling. Not just to have finished, but to have somehow distilled all the fun, hard work, good company, hopes, goodwill from so many people, into something wonderful and worthwhile. A marathon. A small thing in the context of almost anything, but worth having nevertheless. An old man came up and talked about Ron Hill - I said I'd beaten him in a race once - and we both laughed.

The Snowdonia Marathon is a great race - a challenge, a thing of beauty, an embrace between friends and strangers, a glorious sum of so many inelegant, sweaty, bin-bag clad parts - but it is only a race, and I guessed Paula and the dogs had waited long enough to start their day. We went off to the Bryn Twrch for some great soup and even better beer, then headed off to sunny Llandudno for a walk on the beach underneath the magical Welsh sky.

26 October: Calm before the Storm

Right, that's it. No more weather forecasts! I never really pay much attention to them until it's nearly time to do whatever it is I'm doing anyway, but it's been interesting to record them, if only to show how unreliable they can be! Looks like some windy (from the SW) and showery conditions to start, degenerating in the afternoon, so I'd better not hang about too much on the first half.

My body seems to be playing ball a bit more than it has done over recent days too. Even though I know it will do it, if not why, it still annoys me that it develops all of these phantom afflictions.

Last thoughts before I go and pack my kit are:

• I've trained for it
• I'm fit, and ready
• If anyone should get on OK in rain and wind, it should be me
• I like rough, wet descents
• The worst that should happen is that I don't finish, or finish in a ridiculously long amount of time. Hardly cause for a week of national mourning, whatever.

Check in later on in the weekend for the results!

• I will smile.

26 October: Yr Wyddfa

Snowdon gets a lot of bad press. From hillwalkers especially - but mostly from the kind of hillwalker with romantic notions, who spends the week dreaming of themselves wandering lonely as a pumpkin, then get to Pen y Pass at the crack of noon on a Bank Holiday Sunday, climb the hill by one of its shortest routes, and wonder why it's busy. There will be complaints about too many people, the railway, and the cafe.


Especially the cafe. The old "Snowdon Hotel" was, it's true, a pretty ugly lump and it's now been demolished, with a modern glass-fronted building costing something like £10million being build to replace it. Snowdon is a big mountain, and it's pretty easy to avoid it if you don't like it - and it does help make the summit slightly less crowded than it would be otherwise.

If I have mixed feelings about the cafe, I don't about the railway. It's great, isn't it? The Swiss have them in the Alps, and here's Wales with its very own brilliant piece of transport engineering. True, it all went tits up the first time they tried to get a train up it, but it's done pretty well since, and I like the friendly little trains, heard or seen from all sorts of places especially on the western flanks of the mountain. From the east, you'd hardly know it existed.

It's busy on Snowdon - well, yes, naturally. It's not busy all the time though, and all it takes is a willingness to get out of bed a bit earlier than usual and even on a sunny bank holiday weekend you can park, climb the hill in relative peace and quiet, and get to the pub before everyone else at the end of the day.

There are some great routes too - from Gwynant, you can climb Yr Aran and follow the south ridge to the summit. We did that a bone-chilling day in December once, with snow above 2000' - it was so windy on the summit it was hard to stand up yet just around the corner it was fine. From Llanberis, you can climb Moel Eilio via the very same pass that the marathon uses - then continue over the long grassy ridges of Foel Grons, Foel Goch and Moel Cynghorion to reach the cliffs of Cloggy and eventually the summit via the last stages of the Ranger path. Back to Llanberis over the cliffs of Llechog is a much better way than the pitched path. It's a long route, and one we did on an April day so warm it could have been August. We met hundreds of people between the Ranger and Llanberis paths, but less than a dozen on the rest of the walk.

Even the popular routes on the east side, the Pyg and Miners' tracks, are full of interest and great mountain scenery - but nothing can beat the classic horseshoe over Crib Goch, Crib y Ddysgl, Yr Wyddfa and Lliwedd. Crib Goch is I think even better if you use the quiet north ridge to reach the knife-edge summit, and not difficult at all if you can cope with the exposure. It can be a bit trickier to find the easiest way over the pinnacles and up Crib y Ddysgl, but whatever happens don't miss out Lliwedd as most people seem to - it's a great place to be on a lazy summer afternoon. I've enjoyed great conditions on Crib Goch (usually I don't like to be up there if it's bad!) - but the weirdest time was definitely on our Welsh 3000s trip in 2006. We set off at 4am to climb Snowdon - it was throwing it down and literally blowing a gale (3 out of our team of four got blown over yards from the summit of Snowdon as we set off towards Crib y Ddysgl) - and just as we were contemplating an early exit via Bwlch Coch, it all suddenly stopped, just past the pinnacles. We crossed the knife-edge in complete calm and dry, with just fog swirling around us, befoer exiting down the North Ridge, and back into the maelstrom. Perhaps there is a God, after all!

None of these delights are are on the menu for tomorrow of course - but in wind and rain, I'll still be able to imagine the hills above and draw on the energy they give me every time I set out on them to make it a better day.

25 October: From Misery to Happiness Today

Today's update: Weather outlook: slight improvment, with a first pulse of rain due to move through in the the early hours and the second not due until evening. Aches/pains: left calf still complaining.

My run today wouldn't even be worthy of a mention had it not been the least comfortable 3 miles I can remember running for months. Tired, achey and fed up just about sums up how I feel at the end of it.

So, it comes as something of a relief to get an artificial injection of energy courtesy of Craig and Charlie Reid, the Proclaimers, at Llandudno in the evening. Crazily, it's the first time I've set foot in Wales since the Spring. Sadly, there's a support act - some misguided up-themselves youths who haven't got a good song or musician amongst them. The audience go crazy and applaud everything wildly, and I begin to wish I was as drunk as everyone else seems to be. At 9 o'clock, though, the least-up-themselves-band-in-the-whole-wide-world come on stage and deliver a cracking set filled with testosterone, strong scottish accents, political ranting and big glasses. God knows how they get percieved as some sort of cuddly novelty act with strange accents - Rolf Harris they are not. The North Wales theatre is a great venue, but a bit incongruous for the energetic show tonight. Last time we saw the band it was in the village hall in Portree on Skye, full of kids out of their minds on cheap cider, and it was a top night out. Even with the posh seats, it's still good tonight and a reminded that energy is not such a scarce commodity when you put your mind to it.

I've only got one part of the race left to think about now - the part where runners are dumped at the bottom of the big hill, past the turn for the Llanberis route up Snowdon. There will be no sprint finish. There may barely be a finish at all - it's just over a mile to the line, and it will, come what may, be painful. But, it will be a Celebration. It will probably be pissing it down, but I'm going to make sure I forget about everything except enjoying the countdown to the line. I'm on my way, oh yes.

24 October: Busy Doing Nothing

Today's phantom afflictations: pretendy cold; sore left calf muscle. Actually the sore calf is real. Not life-threatening though. Weather forecast for Saturday: heavy rain.

It's a lovely day again, which makes it all the more annoying that the weekend is going to bring the first serious weather front for weeks. It's the same for everyone though. Although I take the usual bike ride to work and back, I decide not to do anything else. I feel tired and in need of sleep so spend a lazy evening doing very little after a slow day at work.

All the more time to ponder the most dreaded part of the race : not dreaded by me, I have to say, but by most. At about 21 miles, we reach the friendly village of Waunfawr. Much friendlier than a village whose name means "large bog" has any need to be, but then they know what is coming to the runners who by rights should be looking forward to the closing stages. It's no longer a marathon, it's a five mile hill race after the world's toughest warm-up! It starts as soon as we turn off the main road - and follow lane up a steep hill. This goes on for just over a mile and a half and 600', and is followed by another mile and a half with a further 200' of up. Before it's done, the tarmac has evaporated and we're on a stony track going over the pass at Bwlch y Groes. Turn right at the top and you're on the skirts of Moel Eilio, part of a fine long ridge walk from Llanberis to Snowdon and vastly preferable to the fast pitched path that almost everyone uses to get between the two. However, we're not going up Snowdon, or even Moel Eilio today. No, we're going to descend 900' in just over a mile. To start with, it's still a stony track, and therefore fast and fun to run - after that, there's a tarmac section which is dangerously fast on tired legs.

The key to getting up the hill is going to be to Wind it Up. An immediate change of gear, before lactic strangulation, is the only way it's going to be possible to run up all the way- get it wrong and it's a mandatory walk. Even at the slowest possible pace, anyone that runs the hill has a big advantage over 90% of the field, so running at any speed is all that is needed. Down the other side, it's time to Let Yourself Go - you're racing mostly road-runners so it's really easy to make up a lot of places by picking a fast line and avoiding the slower runners in front. All of which leads up to the hardest mile of all - after all that winding up and letting go, there'll be barely enough left in the cupboard to run another mile - so it's a good job that is only a mile!

23 October: The warm-up!

The weather is still bright, cold and clear, with very still air. The bad news is that the outlook for the weekend has suddenly changed: warmer, wet, and windy is now the latest forecast for Saturday. Still, as it helpfully says inside my new running jacket (from the wonderful Howies) - "Rain is not the enemy". Although it can get on your nerves a bit after 3 hours or so.

Today's phantom injuries and afflictions include my ongoing mock-cold, a pain in my right foot and a sore finger - both of these seem to have been acquired during the night and if it goes on like this I'll start believing that Fungus the Bogeman is real.

Having not run at all over the weekend, it's time to go and find my mojo again. Tonight's club session is intervals at Gadbrook Park, 5x1500m, which at first glance doesn't seem all that suitable with only 4 days to go before the race, but I want to do something reasonably sharp and it's so much easier to run with the group than to plod out into the darkness alone.

I run the first rep on the watch keeping strictly at half-marathon pace, and as it turns out Sophie is running at the exact same pace. She does a really good session, each rep at the same steady pace - although I do forget how much work she is putting on and start talking to her at one point. It turns out to be a really good boost to my confidence, as this pace feels very easy indeed compared to the intervals I have been running, and I won't even need to put in this much effort in the early stages on Saturday (it will be harder later on!). Mary kindly presents me with half a dozen eggs afterwards - I love omelettes so I'll definitely have those cooked up for tea on Saturday night!

I now have to confront the part of the race which is going to be the crux of the thing on Saturday. The 9 miles from Beddgelert to Waunfawr are going to be tough. It'll be about Concentrating on the Job. It will also mean being ready for the climb out of Beddgelert. It's hardly steep, in fact nowhere is it a climb you'd look at and think "hill" with just about 500' in just over 2 miles. But it will come as a shock to the system.

After mile 14, the road undulates again, losing a couple of hundred feet altogether, and the landscape opens up - we're between the southern slopes of Snowdon and the long ridge of Nantlle, with Mynydd Mawr a big separate hump on our left, past Lyn Cwellyn. Leading up to it, we have the Rhydd Du railway to keep us company on the other side of the road, and pass the carparks for the popular routes up the gentler western slopes of Snowdon. Miles tick by slowly here, and strength of will is the only thing that will keep me positive. The big test is yet to come, but it would be so easy to lose heart and slow on these endless, back-of-beyond miles. The aim is to arrive at the bottom of the big hill with something left, but not too much, as it really is only one hill to run before the finish, and while places are cheap within the last six miles, time isn't.

22 October: ...and rest

A third day without running: a cold one too, damp and foggy - the weather prognosis is still good though. As usual, my body is playing tricks on me, with a nearly-cold, an insistence on feeling sleepy, and a headache today. The legs never lie though, and for the first time in weeks there's no tiredness in the muscles. I practice not forcing anything on the bike ride to work and back.

Now I need to think about the second part of the race: mile 3.5 to 12 - Pen y Pass to Beddgelert. This is going to be all about Control - a bit like an early-hours pee, it's going to be easy to lose concentration and direction on the first four miles of the descent, start feeling a bit too overjoyed about an early resolution, and get left with a lot of clearing up to do lower down.

On the other hand it can't all be about holding back: I'm going to need to get back some of the time lost on a slow start. Half marathon pace should be about right. This is also the part of the race where we start to meet traffic (the road will be closed as far as Pen y Pass) - and where race-followers start to make themselves heard. I won't have the benefit of Lindsay's poetry recitals this year either, so better concentrate on the fantastic scenery down the Vale of Gwynant - surely one of the most beautiful valleys in Wales, or anywhere.

This is where the road starts to pass through trees, a change after the bare slopes of the Glyderau and Crib Goch on the way up to Pen-y-Pass. By Llyn Gwynant, the road levels out. This is going to feel hard after nearly half an hour's descending, but it's going to be important not to let the pace drop too much. As far as Beddgelert, it's the easiest part of the course, and while I want to have plenty left for what lies ahead, I don't want to have to make up too much time on the hard road onwards.