The Snowdonia Marathon is a wonderful race. No doubt about it. 26.2 miles in a challenging circle around Snowdon, with steep climbs, fast descents, thronged villages, and quiet roads through the best countryside imaginable. I ran it last year in glorious sunshine, enjoying every minute of the exercise, the scenery, the happy conversations with other runners: the cup of tea handed to me by a lovely lady at the finish. This year's going to be different. I want it to hurt. Well, a bit, anyway.
But before we begin, let's get one thing straight. This is not going to be either a perfect training plan or a record of one. I'm not training for a marathon, or even this one. I never train for anything in particular. It takes so long to train to do one thing that six other things come along and mess up the training plan. What I hope it will be is a story of 12 weeks of fun, hard work, and haphazard encounters amongst which, if we look really hard, we might just find a strand leading to October 27.
So why is this race special to me? Partly of course because of where it is. I've spent some of the happiest and most rewarding days of my life in North Wales, ever since my first visit as a teenager. I stayed in Youth Hostels and walked over most of the big mountains in the bone-dry summer of 1984. I slithered down Pen yr Ole Wen, got jelly-legs on Tryfan, fogged out on Snowdon. I nearly expired from thirst on the Rhinogs, and from hunger on the Aran ridge. I wound up back at Chester bus station after a wonderful couple of hundred miles.
Also, Snowdonia was my first marathon - just last year. I didn't even mean to do it. It was all Lindsay's idea. We were 2/3 of the way through the Welsh 3000s on a lively, gale and fog ridden day. Actually, we were 2/3 of the way up Pen yr Ole Wen, the first time I'd been on the unforgiving south ridge since 1984. And we were knackered. And wet. And hungry. "Wouldn't it be lovely to do something easy", she said. When I asked what she had in mind, she said something about 26 odd miles on the road, and I agreed without thinking. A few weeks later I found myself running most of the marathon with her, until she disappeared out of sight on the final climb. She'd disappeared because she was was prepared, and I was palpably not prepared. I still had a whale of a time though.
So, I just had to enter it again this year. And this year, it's business!
Right then, better get on with some training....
But before we begin, let's get one thing straight. This is not going to be either a perfect training plan or a record of one. I'm not training for a marathon, or even this one. I never train for anything in particular. It takes so long to train to do one thing that six other things come along and mess up the training plan. What I hope it will be is a story of 12 weeks of fun, hard work, and haphazard encounters amongst which, if we look really hard, we might just find a strand leading to October 27.
So why is this race special to me? Partly of course because of where it is. I've spent some of the happiest and most rewarding days of my life in North Wales, ever since my first visit as a teenager. I stayed in Youth Hostels and walked over most of the big mountains in the bone-dry summer of 1984. I slithered down Pen yr Ole Wen, got jelly-legs on Tryfan, fogged out on Snowdon. I nearly expired from thirst on the Rhinogs, and from hunger on the Aran ridge. I wound up back at Chester bus station after a wonderful couple of hundred miles.
Also, Snowdonia was my first marathon - just last year. I didn't even mean to do it. It was all Lindsay's idea. We were 2/3 of the way through the Welsh 3000s on a lively, gale and fog ridden day. Actually, we were 2/3 of the way up Pen yr Ole Wen, the first time I'd been on the unforgiving south ridge since 1984. And we were knackered. And wet. And hungry. "Wouldn't it be lovely to do something easy", she said. When I asked what she had in mind, she said something about 26 odd miles on the road, and I agreed without thinking. A few weeks later I found myself running most of the marathon with her, until she disappeared out of sight on the final climb. She'd disappeared because she was was prepared, and I was palpably not prepared. I still had a whale of a time though.So, I just had to enter it again this year. And this year, it's business!
Right then, better get on with some training....
1 comment:
Great blog Marcus. I'll be sure to bookmark it.
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