Ras-Y-Mast, Wales, 27/11/05
This was my first multi-terrain/ hill race and I felt a mixture of excitement and apprehension as we neared its remote starting point in the car. Snow lay on the surrounding hills and a watery sun shone through hifh cloud. On the ground, melting snow and sticky mud caught out more than one vehicle as they attempted to park on the steep hillside off the road. The sound of revving engines and voices rose into the cold midday air in an otherwise still and quiet rural landscape. I had travelled down from London to run as part of the Sri Chinmoy AC team with Roger from Cardiff, who would also be running, and Ed from Bristol who would be cycling.
We gathered with the other runners shortly after the finish of the junior race. The race director's breath hung in clouds as he addressed us in a lilting Welsh accent. Most of his words were carried waway on the breeze to the hills before we had a chance to hear them, until the word 'go', loud and clear, generated a burst of friendly jostling and animated chatter as we started off up the first hill.
We gathered with the other runners shortly after the finish of the junior race. The race director's breath hung in clouds as he addressed us in a lilting Welsh accent. Most of his words were carried waway on the breeze to the hills before we had a chance to hear them, until the word 'go', loud and clear, generated a burst of friendly jostling and animated chatter as we started off up the first hill. The ground was wet and stoney to begin with, but gave way to deep mud and splashy puddles as we turned a corner following a farm track into the fields.
Snowy hills unfurled invitingly before us and I wondered where our destination, the mast of the race title, could be. My attentions was soon consumed by mu feet, howerver, as the path headed steeply downhill. The mud was thick and slippery from recent snowmelt and hid loose stones and rocks. In high spirits, we charged down the track into woodland and splashed through a stream at the bottom. From there the gorund sloped up hrough tussocky fields and out onto a road. The gradient continued and I began to struggle somewhat, especially when I waw where the road was leading - to a steep exposed hillside and the bright grey sky above. Once there, the hill reduced me (and many other runners!) to a walk, hands on thighs. We were rewarded a the top vy a panorama of low, snowy hills and distant rain-fraying clouds. The going eased for a while before climbing steeply afain to the mast that marked the 'mearly halfway' point. Skirting the mast my legs felt tired and unwilling, but the sight of a lonf descent cherred me. i passed a cyclist heaving his bike over a stile and he soon overtook me on the descent as gravity pulled us faster and faster over the ground that blurred beneath our feet. I caught hasty glances at the rolling, snow-covered landscape below us to the right as my descent became less controlled and my eyes watered. We turned a corner into a farmyard where the owners had put up balloons and a colourful sign to welcome us (the race, I presumed) to the farm. I had barely a moment to read it and register surprise at the bright, artificial colours after focussing for so long on snowy grass and the mud under my feet. The continuing gradient pulled us on past some bystanders taking photos of the runners, through an extremely boggy field and over a (by this time) welcome stretch of road. A light misty rain fell but with no noticeable wind it did not feel cold. Soon we were passing the 5 mile marker and reached the final hill, the same we had descended near the start. I struggled cheerfully up the familiar route, through stream and mud as fast as my legs would go. Try as I might, I did not seem to be making much headway, but the runners in front of me did seem to be getting closer so I pushed on. Up the final tarmac path to the finish line I was elated to still be in one piece!
pic: Amelia just after crossing the line (photo by Balavan)
Roger had finished in 10th place in 47.55 and Ed had finished second cyclist in a time of 51.18. We managed second team place overall and were generally pleased with our results! Roger had knocked 5 seconds off his previous best on the course, Ed had written well on a testing course for bikes and I was just very happy to have finished, not last, in just under an hour. Whilst the uphills had been punishing, they had brought with them the delights of a few seconds of magical, fleeting beauty at the top and the sheer joy of hurtling back down as fast as you could go. I enjoyed it immensely as had almost everyone else I saw or spoke to.
An atmosphere of relaxed satisfaction filled the gnetly buzzing prize-giveing ceremony. Happily, we ate mars bars and talked and drank steaming hot tea. My lungs felt stretched and clean from breathing the cold, wintry air outside. The race winners collected their prizes and we ambled back to the car as it all drew to a close. A few cars had to be shoved out of the mud on their way out of the field and the sun dipped lower behind darkening woods as we made our way home, sore but happy!
