Taking stock of the Dragon

Reflections on my experience of the 2021 Dragons Back Race

It was the knights of the First Crusade who spread the legend of St George, the Englishman who slayed the dragon that demanded annual human sacrifice. Perhaps fittingly St George was venerated by Pope Gelasius I and later chosen as England’s Patron Saint by King Edward III for his bravery in the face of terrible suffering. Facing the dragon in 2021, there would be plenty of suffering, and many sacrifices, but unfortunately for this Englishman at least, significantly less conquering.

I was one of 120 people whose competitive aspirations fell at the first hurdle in Dragons Back (DBR) 2021. I missed the cut-off at Pen y Pass by a mere 20 minutes on an absurdly hot first afternoon in Snowdonia.

There were perhaps multiple “excuses” — the anomalous 30 degree weather that led to full dehydration, an overly relaxed start near the back of the assembled field, a 15 minute wait at one of the early checkpoints, taking a false turn on Glyder Fach to a sheer cliff that cost me nearly half an hour, taking a relaxed 30 minutes at the support point, and cut off times that had been reduced by one hour since 2019. Despite all of this, it was a chastening experience.

In the raw edge stemming from failed expectations there are perhaps some observations for the future…

Lesson 1: Train appropriately, this is a MOUNTAIN ultra

In the 12 months leading up to DBR 2021, I clocked more running miles than in any other year of my life — 5,000km averaging around 100km pw over the course of the year. The principal objective was volume and tolerance of accumulated fatigue, with the secondary benefit of saving a year’s worth of tube and TFL fares! Mainly consisting of road and light trail runs in and around North London up to a max of 60km, a couple of recce days in Wales were added almost in after-thought. Day 3 was experienced under the fabulous tutelage of Kate and RAW Adventures, and Day 5 with friends over a sunny weekend in late May. Job done, I thought.

But it was most certainly here that the fruits of failure were laid. DBR just isn’t a “running” event. Sure, you need to be able to run for decent distances, but this is a multi-day MOUNTAIN ultra-marathon, not just a mere multi-day ultra-marathon. One word, serious differences.

Differences that really only dawned on that first morning as I climbed out of Conwy onto the surprising heights of Foel Fras and Carnedd Llewellyn, and then fully as I frazzled with everyone else on the zombie march up Tryfan and the scramble up Glyder Fach and Glyder Fawr. In the bewildering maelstrom of sweat, tears and a heart rate in upper zone 4, I made the mistake of veering right on Glyder Fach, ending on a precipitous cliff ridge. Judgement was so impaired at this point that I did fleetingly consider traversing the apex along to the ridge path almost 100m to my left, but thankfully survival instinct prevailed and I descended to cross beneath the outcrop and land belatedly back on the course. It was here in this very section that my competitive DBR aspirations crumbled on the scree around me.

Training for DBR does not require substantial speed. It doesn’t even really require you to be able to run for 3 or 4 hour stretches. It requires a strength and resilience that is born only of long days in the field, hiking, or moving at pace over rough ground. It requires epic preparation. It also pays to know every inch of the course. There is no panacea, and intensity is no substitute.

Lesson 2: Have a solid Plan B

This year was extreme, even by Dragons Back standards. One third of the field failed to complete Day 1 in time, and a further third similarly on Day 2. Ultimately less than 25% of the 380 starters completed the full course. The world’s toughest mountain marathon really lived up to its billing.

Rhynogs basking in “typical” 30 degree Welsh sunshine

Engaging with the DBR is a drawn out process most often requiring a full year of preparation. With regular communications regarding the event, regular subscriptions to pay the substantial entrance fee, and communities forming across social media the event becomes the singular focus of many minds and most running-related conversations. Training is all geared to a singular aim and the race usurps all other events.

The jarring contrast therefore between a long period of expectation and sudden failure was a crushing blow. A year’s preparation to be non-competitive just 10 hours from the start. There would be no photo of me with one hand between safety and the abyss on Crib Gogh. There would be no Dragon with my name on it in Cardiff.

For weeks I had been telling people that the real fascination of this challenge was the uncertainty of its completion. But deep down that was a lie…of course I would complete it. How could I possibly fail when all I had to do was press forward? It didn’t even need me to move at running pace to hit the cut offs…

In this maelstrom of emotion, it is not surprising that many people made the decision to withdraw completely. As a competitive beast it is tough to linger around those who have more successfully navigated the challenge. Arriving at the Day 1 campsite and being asked “will you run tomorrow” added further temptation. With no dragon to aim for, why stick around?

Whilst this was a valid question, I am glad I made the decision to continue, ultimately only departing with injury after finishing Day 4 (because it’s a much easier decision when you are non-competitive). There would have otherwise been much more retrospective soul searching.

No matter the preparation, with so many exogenous elements (this year the extreme heat), an early exit from the competitive list is always a possibility — after all it happened to three of the race favourites this year. A clear strategy is needed in the event that it happens (barring injury of course), so that you have reason and meaning to continue, or at least that you are firmly content in any decision to leave. Without a guiding objective these decisions become more subjective in the moment and can easily be regretted later.

Lesson 3: Learn how to run downhill

Day 2 was every bit as savage as the first. Temperatures soared ludicrously beyond 30 degrees and athletes fell like flies. Setting off into the Rhynogs felt slightly foolish with only 2 litres of water — and it was a furnace. Gently lulled into a false sense of security by the Roman Steps, the landscape changed dramatically and became a giant’s lego store. Lava fields of boulders and scree defined the climbs and descents, requiring all four limbs at times for traction. Each and every water source was sought for solace and respite — both “cap fills” and full on dunking where possible to keep cool.

Perhaps the stand out moment of that second afternoon was however watching the race leader descend the Rhynog Fawr across one of the “lava fields”. He appeared to be on an afternoon amble across Hampstead Heath, upper body perfectly still, feet moving at pace, thighs and glutes almost effortlessly doing all the work, descending at an incomprehensible pace.

Mountain running is somewhat like swimming — a discipline where fitness will get you only so far, and a major dollop of technique is required to be competitive. The downhills are certainly not resting periods in the Dragons Back. Learning to run downhill effectively is a huge part of conquering this race.

Lesson 4: Capture your inner Jay Rayner

On Day 3 I was feeling strong. Marching out from the camp almost as the course opened, I was on familiar ground for a change having recce’d this day with Kate in the spring. That particular recce had lulled me into a false sense of confidence — it felt measured and easy, and I finished with a real spring in the step. It was with confidence therefore that I jogged through Dolgellau and commenced the climb up to Cadair Idris.

The morning was joyously cool and a strong breeze blew in from the East. Discovering new found rhythm up to Mynydd Gwerngraig, the early peak before Cadair, I was suddenly passing lots of people including (joyously) my good friend Fred and continued to progress well over the summit and along the ridge. But as the day wore on, the tide turned in familiar fashion. Fred (equally joyously) passed me on the descent to the water point. On the main road in the valley my body was starting to stiffen and runners were passing me in increasing numbers. By the time I was descending from the (pointless and) gruelling out-and-back I knew that the last 6 or 7km to the support point in Macynlleth would be slow and painful. And although I arrived with 45 minutes to spare, it was in an almost hypoglycemic state.

Eating whilst running is hard. I’ve never really had to do it through most of my running “career” mainly running shorter distances on the road — just a few gels for half and marathon distances. Ultra running is of course a different discipline, the degradation in performance is significant and continual when failing to refuel. In a fatigued state it is surprisingly easy to miss this.

During a recce of Day 3 in the spring with Kate at RAW, she had been keen to ensure we all ate frequently and we consequently finished feeling fresh and strong. Every 20 minutes is key to maintaining sufficient energy input. Alas, all too frequently my gaps were measured in hours — chewing without saliva, and just not feeling like eating being two of the largest impediments. It requires a strong discipline to keep eating when you feel you cannot.

It is therefore also critical to choose foods that are not just high in calorific value, but things that you would normally love to eat. Don’t be tricked into thinking it’s all about technical “race food” — the choice is entirely personal. Salty savoury foods work best for me, as do gelatin based sweets such as Percy Pigs.

Lesson 5 — Forget your Myers Briggs profile and make friends

Common wisdom would dictate that you enter this race as an individual and you do your own thing — fast when you feel good, and slow when you don’t.

I experienced both extremes during the course of this race. Endless isolation on the first day as the field spread prior to the support point. I donned some headphones and engaged myself in the commentary of the final day of the fourth test match between England and India thinking this would be a valuable distraction. It wasn’t.

On the second day I stormed out of the support point and was thankfully joined by Colin Green and Dean Connolly. We navigated the various challenges of the baking Rhynogs as a team, collectively pushing each other to maintain as much pace as possible across the terrain and rewarding selves with multiple pints of soft drinks at the pub just before the finish. Similar pattern on day 3 (alone) and day 4 where I joined up with the exuberant Marcus Pletts whose entertaining discussion made a tough day literally fly by.

Welcome rehydration at Penmaenpool following a tough day in the DBR office

Being isolated on the hills, even when you are running well is really tough. If you enter this race seeking a finish rather than competing for the podium, this is most certainly not a race to do alone. Either enter with someone who you know will be a support, find similarly paced people during the recces, or find a group whilst you are out there. Running with others is an integral part of this race.

Some final practical thoughts

You have plenty of time to contemplate the “question to the answer 42” during DBR. Tread that start line with positive energy, even if you are uncertain of finishing. During the low points you will crave certain things, most often a sugary drink. Use some of the weight allowance to fit in sugary drinks like coke or lemonade for the support points on day 1 and 2, and then purchase more for the following days in Macynlleth on day 3, and Llandovery on day 5. Don’t call at the Texaco garage as you enter Macynlleth as it will likely have been stripped of cold drinks by earlier runners — there is a coop and other sources literally metres further on. Take a water filter and chlorine tablets for days 1 and 2 where water sources are scarce and (if the weather is hot) you are likely to run low. Take ear plugs for sleeping, and maybe some night nurse — tired bodies does not always mean a tired mind and who knows who will be scratching around in your tent at 3am.

This is an epic race. It is epically organised. It demands epic preparation. It requires epic resolve. It delivers epic opportunities. And it was an epic experience that has fuelled my appetite for more, and improved, ultra distance running. “It always seems impossible until it is done”…one day hopefully, it will be done.