What goes up...

My first blog post as Ellie Dominey. Here goes...

I ended the last post by stating that Ellie Dominey would be more successful and less injury-riddled than Ellie Sutcliffe and, touch wood and whistle, so far that is proving to be the case. My first race as a Dominey, the Llanberis fell 5k, whilst on our “mini-moon” in Snowdonia, yielded a pleasing victory. We drove up to Wales on Wednesday 15th July to start a 10 night mini-moon there (our actual honeymoon will be in Iceland in September). We just fancied going somewhere quiet and peaceful where we could chill out, enjoy a moment of calm after the hectic few weeks leading up to the wedding, and, of course, enjoy each other's company as husband and wife. This did not mean that amidst all the relaxing and prosecco swilling there could not be a bit of running and racing thrown into the mix.

I mentioned in my last post that doing the Snowdon Twilight uphill race had seemed to do wonders for my dodgy achillies. It in fact proved to be somewhat of a miracle panacea of a cure as since then I have had no swelling or stiffness in it and no pain at all upon running! I can only assume that something was trapped inside – it certainly felt that way, and resting wasn't doing it a lot of good – and that stretching it by running uphill has released it and made it more mobile again. Not a conventional cure but, as it appears to have worked, I have nothing but praise for what I am calling the “mountain method” of healing.

And so I lined up on a beautiful, sunny Wednesday evening in Llanberis high street a little more confident about the behaviour of my unruly and defiant left leg and raring to race. Matt and I had been given race numbers '1' and '2'. He let me have number one, “ladies first”, what a gent! Wearing number 1 on my vest has never brought an analogous result on the few occasions I have been privileged enough to be given it in the past, but maybe tonight would buck the trend? I figured that as I didn't have a cat in hell's chance of placing in the top 10, let alone the top 3, at the main Snowdon Race on Sunday (it's loaded with international and national fell running talent and the standards are probably higher than any other race I've competed in), I would give it everything tonight at the 5k and then just enjoy the main race on Saturday.

The first mile of the race was entirely up hill and I was surprised at how fit I felt. I anticipated having to walk some of that first mile but, as it was, I posted an 8:28m/m split for it and felt relatively comfortable. One other girl had gone out hard from the gun but I soon realised she had overcooked it and I began to reel her in, passing her just before the 1 mile point and the brow of the hill. From here we were entreated to a flat section of running, even a little bit of downhill, before the route kicked up again to Hebron and to intercept the Llanberis path on the lower slopes of Snowdon. But, what goes up must come down and now came the part I most dreaded: an insanely steep and fast descent, on tarmac. I knew my achillies felt ok until this point, but I wasn't too sure how it would feel after subjecting it to forces 10 times my body weight on this 1 mile long, harsh, steep descent. But I was winning the women's race, so I had no choice but to go for it. For all I knew, there could have been some master descenders stacking up behind me waiting to pounce! Apparently I actually increased my lead on the descent and finished in 22:31; a respectable time on a mountain 5k involving 800ft of climb and a bit of a boost that my current fitness levels are not as dire as I feared! The race numbers proved lucky - I was 1st lady and 1st Dominey, Matt was 2nd Dominey! I was 10th overall, Matt was 20th overall... there's kind of a pattern emerging there!

Having just crested the first hill, running towards Snowdon on the Llanberis 5k fell race.

Husband and wife dream team!

On to Saturday, but first we were off to Llandudno to check into our hotel for the next three nights, which was on the sea front, right at the top, with sea and promenade views: a real treat. We ate out both night and, on the Friday night, we went to a Mediterranean restaurant and I decided I wanted to have mussels. Yes, I know what you're thinking, and my husband said the same: “Are you sure that's wise, the night before Snowdon Race?” “Yeh yeh, it'll be fine. I've had them loads of times before and never had a problem”. Well, you can probably guess what happened next.... It wasn't pleasant. Being violently ill at 15 minute intervals from around 9pm until 2am. I soon became so weak and shaky that I couldn't even kneel over the toilet, I just collapsed in a pathetic heap at the base, shivering and convulsing. Snowdon Race suddenly seemed like being yet another DNS. The one thing I will say for food poisoning though (and believe me, I'm fast becoming somewhat the expert having now had it 3 times, in addition to the Norro virus once), it soon passes. Once your body has rid itself of the evil substances within, you soon stop being ill and start to feel better. The problem is, you are empty and weak. I woke up feeling pretty bloody naff and not in the mood for any breakfast, but I knew if I were to have a chance of making the start line I would have to start replenishing everything I'd lost sharpish. I resigned myself to forgoing my last chance at a proper cooked breakfast and settled for plain toast! The start time for Snowdon Race is 2pm; normally I hate afternoon events as I struggle to get the eating balance right between having enough energy to get me through, but not overdoing it at lunch so that I feel sluggish. This time I was grateful: had it been a morning start there's no way I'd have made it! I necked that toast like a trouper and, after some fresh sea air to ensure it stayed down, we checked out and headed off to Llanberis.

View from our seaview hotel room in Llandudno. 

We checked into our holiday cottage for the next week, which was in Fachwen; a lovely little village on the opposite shore of the lake to Llanberis, with stunning views of Snowdon, the Eilio ridge and the lake. As coincidence would have it, it soon transpired that we were renting the cottage of a couple of local fell running legends – Joan and Dennis Glass. Joan is a former 3 time winner of the Snowdon Race (1977, 78 and 79) and a pioneer for women in the sport in the 70s and 80s. She and her husband were the founders of the Moel Eilio fell race, now a firm favourite on the fell running calender and the second biggest in the area after Snowdon Race.

The amazing view from our holiday cottage in Fachwen, looking over Llyn Padarn, Llanberis and Moel Eilio.

Post-race prosecco rehydration at our holiday cottage.

At 2pm I lined up on the start line which was in the high street this year as the race was celebrating its 40th year and so the start was put back to its original place. This was not ideal for me: it made the race over half a mile longer, and all of that extra half mile was on flat tarmac – yuck! I felt surprisingly strong on the ascent, considering the state I was in sprawled in a pathetic heap on the hotel bathroom floor not 12 hours previously, and made good pace to the summit, churning out a steady rhythm. I didn't push as hard on the steeper walking sections this time, opting to save the legs and the energy for the descent, and I arrived at the summit in 1h06m. This was 7 minutes slower than my Twilight uphill only attempt and 4 minutes slower than my summit time from the 2011 Snowdon Race; however, when you consider that the extra half mile at the start would have taken at least 3 minutes, this time wasn't actually that bad.

About half way up Snowdon on the Snowdon International Fell Race (10.5 miles / 3300ft)

Three quarters of the way up, heading up to Allt Goch.

I was nearing the summit when there was suddenly a huge amount of congestion on the main path. As I got near it became clear that one of the female runners – I later learned an English international athlete who had been in 3rd place – was being tended to by marshalls. She had sliced her head open by falling onto some rocks at the start of the descent and there was blood everywhere. On an already queasy stomach and not being a lover of the sight of blood, this pretty much tipped me over the edge. My legs suddenly went wobbly and I felt rather unsteady, so I took the decision to just pootle down steadily, enjoying the experience and views, and to spare myself a similar fate. I have seen lots of trips and tumbles and injuries on the mountain, but this one really shook me up. By the time I made the turn around she was just being taken away by mountain rescue, but the pool of blood on the path was a stark enough warning alone...

The descent down Allt Goch on the scree - the part I dread most, especially on jelly legs!

A brief moment of cheer came in the form of passing friend and Exmouth Harrier Rich Bishop. I summitted 2 minutes ahead of him, so we high-fived as I turned around and passed him near the summit. “You'll get me on the descent”, I hollered, and, sure enough, in no time at all he came flying past and went on to register a super time of 1h42. I trailed in 14 minutes later, having been overtaken by over 100 runners on the way down! My overall time, a rather naff 1h56m, was 20 minutes slower than my 2011 effort, but I was in one piece, my legs felt good and I lived to fight (and race!) another day, having enjoyed the experience tremendously for not having been operating at my limits for a rare change! A few swims in the lake later and my legs felt good as new!

The best way to recover from a hard mountain race? Open water swimming in a freezing cold lake!

Next up? Well, I was entered into the inaugural Scott Snowdonia Trail half-marathon the following weekend. It was meant to be a swansong to our time in North Wales on honeymoon and I entered it when I was running descent mileage around February time. With my achillies niggle, that mileage had dropped off to less than 13 miles a month, let alone in one go, and so I made the sensible decision to DNS. Annoying, but it would have been more annoying if I'd ran, injured my leg again, and set my recovery back by months. Instead, we did the Penrhyn parkrun, at aNational Trust estate near Bangor, where I again surprised myself with my fitness levels to finish as 1st lady and post the 3rd fastest female time on the course of 19:49.

I now want to capitalise on the swimming and cycling fitness that I've been working on and so my next event is a duathlon, followed the week after by another sprint tri. More about those in the next instalment! For now, it's goodbye from me, Mrs. D!

Ending my time as a Sutcliffe on a high!

It's now one week on from my Snowdon Twilight Uphill race experience and my legs have just about recovered! What a cracker of a race it was, being all the more sweet as I went into it after 2 months of no running due to (yet a-sodding-nother) achillies injury and expecting very little of myself. Yes, I know what readers will think: running up a mountain with a dodgy achillies, really? But my thinking for going ahead with the race was six fold:
1) I needed (and wanted!) to go to North Wales anyway to deliver a bridesmaid dress to Sarah, my bridesmaid who lives in Llanberis.
2) I had paid for the entry and couldn't get a refund on it: didn't want yet another £20 to go down the drain on a DNS.
3) I figured, in my present state of (non-existent) running fitness, I would be walking rather than running most of it anyway, thus not compounding overuse running injuries.
4) I also figured that my left leg was so buggered already, what harm would it do if I broke it some more as I'm not running on it at the moment anyway (yes, I do realise that this skewed way of thinking is probably why I am perpetually injured...)
5) I have enough non-running related stuff going on over the next few months to distract me if I did screw myself up completely and so I had mentally prepared myself to accept the consequences of potentially damaging it some more.
6) This is the first and only race on Snowdon to go uphill only and finish at the top (well, the first one that has been open to anyone and not purely to elites on an invitational basis) – an absolute dream for me as I hate the downhill part – so I sure as hell wasn't about to miss out on a chance to be a part of Snowdon Race history!

Enough justification, so I thought, to give it a bash.

So, what did it entail? Well, quite simple really: start in the lakeside field where the annual Snowdon Race starts and run to the summit of Snowdon up the Llanberis path. 5 miles, 3250ft of ascent, with the added twist of it being run at dusk so that you also raced the sun to the summit, which in turn entreated us to the most marvellous sunset views from the top. (Think glowing orange sky over Anglesey to gawp at on the jog back down).

The event did not disappoint. It was far more low-key than the main up and downhill event in July, with a small but select crowd of 103 runners assembling on the start line. We were counted through the start by marshalls, checked that we were carrying all the mandatory kit – headtorch, waterproof, gloves, hat/Buff – and then we charged off towards the mountain.

A small but perfectly formed field assemble at the base of Snowdon ready to race to the top!

Considering my abysmal build up for this race, I had absolutely no expectations of performing well. I most certainly didn't plan to be competitive at the front end of the ladies' field, knowing full well that some experienced fell and mountain runners would be toeing the line, and I resigned myself to having to walk some of the sections that I previously scampered up with ease. My main concern was that I would make the 1h05m cut off at Clogwyn station (three quarters of the way up) and be allowed to continue to the top. I know, I know I always undersell myself, but this time I really did fear this would be a challenge too far. When I say I haven't been running, I mean it! A DNF at Welsh Castles relay, followed by a week of hobbling at a walk, closed the book on my last attempt to run. Since then, I've just been cross-training, biking and working on my swim: I figure I might as well use the enforced rest from running to work on the weaker of my triathlon disciplines! (Which, by the by, appears to be working if today's 400m time trial PB is anything to go by!).

The one positive of going into a race with the 'complete' rather than 'compete' mindset was that I was totally chilled out leading up to it and really looking forward to running an event out of my area, where I knew nothing of the fellow runners (and they knew nothing of me!) and where I could just slot into the pack and run my own race: no pressure! Well.... no pressure, that is, aside from the usual amount I heap on myself once I toe that startline and the adrenaline kicks in! I suddenly found myself scrutinising (and doubting) the contents and weight of my Camelbak: am I carrying too much water? Did I really need to pack that extra Helly top for the descent or could I have just managed with my windcheater? And I found myself scrutinising my own weight: look at all these ultra-skinny fell types around you; you're going to be hauling about a stone more bulk up that mountainside than these other women. Are my shorts tighter? I'm sure they are. My thighs are definitely bigger: bloody Chris Hoy cycling legs. I feel heavy and sluggish: definitely shouldn't have had that extra spoonful of pasta at lunch. Shouldn't have had pasta at lunch at all: idiot. Hate evening races: all that waiting around and worrying about being hungry and having low blood sugar come race time, I've now gone and consumed too much. Oh well, too late to do anything about it now.... oooh, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1: we're off!!!

The usual manic charge and jostling for position along the 0.40 mile opening stretch of flat tarmac. Quick check of the watch: 6m/m, what the hell?! I'm meant to unfit and starting conservatively. Over the cattle grid and, bang, we hit the hill. “Here we go, the fun starts”, I share with a fellow competitor who is alongside me at this point. “Well, we wouldn't be here if we liked the flat tarmac I guess”, he offers back: that's one of the things I love about mountain running, the camaraderie and banter (did I really just use that awful word?!) between runners, all there sharing a common love and a common goal.

Snowdon, via the Llanberis path, is a run of three parts. The first third is horrendously hilly, the opening section on tarmac, then the hill continues up steep, rugged steps until level with Hebron; the middle third levels out and is surprisingly runnable, you scamper past Halfway House and are just beginning to establish some sort of rhythm and then, BOOM! The fun really starts. You approach Allt Moses, followed by Allt Goch. You can largely forget running for this entire mile long section, save for a very brief moment of respite as you head under the railway bridge at Clogwyn.

A quick check of the watch as I passed Halfway House read 29:30. Hmm.... the first half covered in under 30 minutes; surprising. However, never being quite sure whether it is exactly halfway, if it is halfway in terms of height gain or in terms of distance covered, I promptly dismissed any faint glimmer of hope of getting anywhere near my previous summit PB (set in 2011, before injuries kicked in and when I was training descent mileage and hills every week) of 1:01:56. Knowing that the toughest section was to come, I figured I had likely gone out too hard, was imminently to blow up and would pay the price for my over-exuberance later on!

Just before halfway, on the flatter middle section.

A brief boost came in the form of seeing Moira shortly before halfway. She informed me that I was third female at that point and I was flabbergasted! In the mad-dash start I had totally lost sight of where I was in relation to others, and, to be honest, I hadn't paid as much attention as usual as I had ruled out a podium finish from the get-go. Shortly after, a little wisp of a lady effortlessly floated past me, only serving to reaffirm that she was pacing a sensible race and I, clearly, wasn't. (Also reaffirming that my recently acquired chunky, muscular triathlete's body is not the ideal physique of an uphill mountain runner!) On the more level, runnable stretches, I found that cardiovascular fitness was letting me down and I as looking forward to the steep sections for an excuse to walk. Once I hit the steep sections, my back and quads and calves would start screaming and I was praying for it to level out so I could run again and give my back a break! (Mental note to self: much more core work needed.)

The stream of runners snakes its way ever upwards towards the summit! (I'm on the far right, in the yellow!)

As soon as we reached Clogwyn we headed into cloud. At the start, the race director had mooted the idea that there might be a cloud inversion waiting for us at the summit and so I was hopeful. Of all my Snowdon summits whilst living in North Wales, I have never been fortunate enough to be entreated to this spectacular sight: maybe tonight would be the night?! As it turned out, it wasn't to be; just the usual grey mist. Luckily I know the mountain well enough by now to know when the summit is drawing near and when to time my final push. I managed to pick off a guy in the final 100 meters as, suddenly, without warning, Hafod Eryri (the summit building) appeared through the clouds and there was the finish line! Glacing again at my Garmin it read 59:46, with approximately 20 meters left to run. My final spurt ensured that I crossed the line in just under the hour: 59:57. My first ever sub-1 hour summit run and a new PB! What the hell? Garmin, are you drunk? Stop teasing me like this. But no, apparently it was confirmed by the results: 4th female, 3rd senior female and 30th overall in 59:57. I should be satisfied, right? It way exceeded even the most optimistic of my expectations. But I wasn't. The first thought: could I have found that extra 1 and a half minutes to claim the third spot? The second thought: if I can do this on no running training at all, what could I achieve if I was actually able to string together a decent spell of training and wasn't injured all the damn time?

The great thing about finishing at the summit is that you could have a panad and a post-race natter with all the other runners at the top before jogging down at a leisurely pace. Entry fee included a cuppa and a flapjack!

The beauty of racing at dusk: we were entreated to this stunning sunset over Anglesey on the descent. 

Ah, the injury. Did it aggravate it? Bizarrely, no. I didn't feel it at all and, the next day, it felt less stiff upon waking than it has in months. Furthermore, all the swelling in it had apparently subside overnight. The rest of my legs were trashed: walking downhill was virtually impossible, stairs were a total write-off for the next three days and I generally felt as though I'd been violently beaten up down some back alley and left there for dead. But it was DOMS: that much missed ache that gently lets you know that your body has been put through something tough and it wants you to look after it for the next few days. A nice, satisfying ache and NOT an injury.

We were allowed to jog back down the railway as it doesn't run after 6pm and I paused to savour this most amazing, peaceful moment where I sat down on a rock to appreciate the view and all I could hear was my own breathing. Pretty special. This was interspersed with moments of other runners catching me up (I was only shuffling to protect my leg!), stopping to run alongside for a few minutes and have a natter, share experiences etc. All in all, the summit finish concept worked superbly: it gave you a completely different experience of the mountain. 

So, what now? Well, firstly, there is the small matter of my wedding on July 11th. That will be succeeded by a honeymoon which, rather conveniently, will take place in North Wales.... just whilst the main Snowdon Race (uphill and down) happens to be on. It would be a shame not to give this a bash, given that my achillies came off the Twilight race so well, right?! ;-) Then, one week later, I am entered into the Scott Snowdonia Trail half marathon. This entails running up Snowdon and back down again, but with the added delight of running an extra 5 miles on the trails around Llyn Padarn afterwards. This one is not so set in stone: it's one thing getting away with an uphill stomp to the summit, then relaxing in the cafe with a panad before trotting down again at a leisurely pace, but 13 miles would be longer than I have run in one go since January 2014, so probably not a wise plan to even start.

Otherwise, our honeymoon will entail lots of open water swim training in the lake – doubles up as active recovery for the post-race leg aches and pains too – and generally lots of day-tripping, walking and relaxing in the beautiful Snowdonia.

So I completed my last race as a Sutcliffe on a high - metaphorically and physically; you won't find a finish line higher in England and Wales at any rate! The next blog post will be brought to you from Ellie Dominey. I plan for Ellie Dominey to be injury free and achieve greater things than Ellie Sutcliffe so far has. Here's hopin'! Watch this space!