A savage woman...

“And the good news is that the lake temperature this morning is at 12 degrees, so we’re just within the legal limits for the full 1000m swim to go ahead.” In what world this was “good news” I’m not too sure; it certainly wasn’t good news in mine! We were all gathered in the transition area in the pouring rain for the compulsory safety briefing on day 2 of the Snowdonia Slateman Savage double triathlon weekend. Yesterday’s 400m swim in a 13 degree lake had been cold enough; I was not too sure whether my body could take 600m more swimming in even colder waters! I was already shivering, having been stood for 40 minutes in transition, racking, being briefed and waiting for my swim wave to start. The one saving grace was that with an outside air temp of 10 degrees, that might make the water feel warmer!

The rather grim and wet view from Moira's garden in Llanberis on race day.

FYI, here's what it looks like on a good day:

I signed up for the Slateman last autumn, shortly after completing my first – and, up until this weekend, only – open water triathlon in the Cotswolds last September. I love Snowdonia, having done all my undergraduate and postgraduate study there, and I’m deeply fond of Llanberis, having been fortunate enough to live there with Moira and Sarah in the last year of my PhD studies. It was in fact during that year, 2010, that I took up running, having previously been a keen horse rider, and so I try to return there to visit my ‘Welsh family’ and to compete in mountain races whenever I can.

Slateman is a festival of triathlon races over a weekend, with junior, mini-sprint, sprint and standard distances on offer. There is also the chance to compete in both the sprint on the Saturday and standard on the Sunday and to do the double: they call this the Slateman Savage. Me being me and never one to shy away from a challenge, I figured that if I was going to drive 6 hours each way to get there, I might as well make it worth my while and do both. Also, it worked out cheaper to do both and you get an extra tee-shirt, so I’d have been a fool not to, right?! Hmm….. maybe not, as I was about to discover…

An unseasonably cold April, which saw snow right down to the base of the mountains, meant that ice melt trickled into Llyn Padarn – the venue for the lake swim – and made the temperature of the lake plummet to way below average for the time of year. Just a week before race day, the temperature was recorded at 9 degrees: this is below the legal BTF baseline, meaning the swim wouldn’t be able to go ahead. I had mixed feelings on this. The swim being my weakest of the three disciplines, from a competitive angle, this would have played to my strengths. But from a personal satisfaction point of view, I had signed up for a double triathlon, not a duathlon, and the iconic swim in the cold mountain lake is all part of the challenge. I’m not sure I’d have felt the same sense of accomplishment had it been cut completely, or had it been cut short like it was the previous year. A few days of sun though and it just about crept up to legal levels, so it was all systems go.

Here we go again! Who needs a lake when you are already soaked from the rain before starting?!

I struggled to find a rhythm on the Saturday swim. The coldness took my breath away, not helped by the fact that I’d forgot to have a pre-race puff on my inhaler. I was disappointed with my swim split of 9:23 (self-recorded on Garmin), but having seen the winning times, they are slower than expected too, so maybe the course was longer than the advertised 400m.

T1. Day 1.

T1 went well, I even managed to get the wetsuit off slickly – aaaah, that satisfying ‘THLWAP’ sound of it pinging off over your ankles and feet. Helmet and race belt on and go go go! It had started raining just as I got in the water to swim and by now it was pouring and I was feeling the cold. I worked hard on the four mile long climb up Llanberis Pass to get myself warm. I was nearing the top when the elite men, who started in wave 1, (five minutes before us elite and ‘savage’ women in wave 2), started to appear over the brow of the hill. Wooooooooooosh – that unmistakable sound of speed as they hurtled down the other side on their tri bars, obviously not planning on using their brakes too much! I was just starting to warm up and get into a nice rhythm, picking off rider after rider and not getting overtaken myself, and then we crested the top and began the fast, steep, windy descent down to Pen-yr-Gwyrd. I hated this bit. With the pre-race briefing caution – ‘careful on this descent, particularly on the sharp left hander halfway down, as we had a very nasty crash here last year’ – fresh in my mind, I was feathering my brakes cautiously the whole way down. All the men, and annoyingly a few women, that I had overtaken on the climb now started to come back past me. A tight, nasty U-turn at the bottom and we turned around and retraced our ride: woe betide anyone who hadn’t pre-selected a climbing gear on the descent as the U-turn was short and sharp and then we were climbing steeply straight back up! Up out the saddle and start re-overtaking the people I had already once overtaken for a second time!

Concentration face: focussed on the summit!

Still smiling here, climbing the pass on day 1!

Then the descent to Llanberis. 4 miles downhill, then a 1.5 mile flat stretch into transition. Now came the part I was dreading: the top club level male athletes from wave 3, who started 5 minutes behind, were now beginning to catch me. The Pass was closed to traffic on the Saturday, as it’s very narrow and athletes were ascending and descending simultaneously, but I’m not sure which is scarier: a car or bus that you can hear coming and tuck in for, or fearless, testosterone-fuelled males on their flying machines, who approach stealth-like from behind without warning, who give you barely an inch of room as they pass you and who are taking every risk they can on the wet, greasy surface to get down faster. Hmm…. Jury’s out on that one. Halfway down, starting to shiver in the wind and rain and then – what the hell? It can’t be, oh yes it can – a hail storm. Terrific. Just what my already cold, exposed wet skin needs: hailstones pummelling it. My left leg that was hanging low was shaking in the cleat, my teeth were chattering, my fingers were rapidly going numb, and I was not having a great deal of fun. Thank goodness the hail shower was short lived, and I was soon down onto the flat section and working like stink just to warm myself up.

Apols for the face - I was telling my Mum that I was freezing and had just been hailed on!

T2 and then out into my comfort zone: the run. Both runs take place on the trails around the lake and disused Dinorwig slate quarry. I know these trails like the back of my hand; I’ve run them countless times whilst living in Llanberis. Knowing how long every climb was definitely helped me to know when to push on and when to hold back. I felt strong, the legs felt fresh and I was pleased with my run time, which was only 7 seconds behind the winning female. Day 1 done. Ice the legs in the lake, hot bath, refuel for tomorrow. 7^th female and 47^th overall / 369.

The wooded trails around Lyn Padarn are just the best place to run!

Approaching the finish on day 1.

Feeling strong to the end on day 1.

The forecast on Friday had shown Saturday as wet but fine for Sunday, promising full sun for the morning. My plan had always been to race the sprint on the Saturday and then just see how I felt the next day. My main goal for day 2 was to enjoy it, particularly the bike, which I was really looking forward to as it’s a truly spectacular 52km circuit of the Glyders mountain range, with epic views of Snowdon, Moel Siabod, Tryfan and the Glyders: it would be particularly enjoyable in the sun….

Race morning, pull back the curtains: dry! Hurrah! Not sunny, but dry. That’ll do. Get up, get my kit ready, do battle with the fiddly race number stencils again as I had managed to partially rub them off in bed overnight. Breakfast time. Enjoying my cereal and coffee in Moira’s conservatory with its spectacular view of Snowdon, which has a clear summit for a welcome change. A few clouds are appearing. Meh. Summit now obscured. More clouds appearing. It’s suddenly gone very dark. What’s that noise? The kettle? No – it’s rain! It’s sodding rain on the sodding roof. I don’t believe it! Maybe it sounds worse on the roof than it really is. Step outside. Nope. It’s hammering it down. FFS. It was meant to be sunny today! Snowdonia – you fickle wench – I want my money back!

My motivation levels take a sudden nosedive. I was never hoping to be competitive on day 2 as the full distance race always attracts a top quality field, with a handful of full-time triathletes, so my plan was to enjoy it. Hmm, that was looking increasingly less likely now that I was apparently in for another day of being cold and wet. Leave it 10 minutes. It's 8:30am, don’t need to go down yet, briefing not until 9am.

8:40am. Still raining.

8:45am. Still raining.

8:50am. Raining harder than ever.

Oh, for crying out loud. I’ll have to put my wetsuit on now and walk down in it, as I’ll never get it on down in the field if it and I are already soaked.

8:55am, walk down to the field. It’s a muddy, boggy mess. Luckily I am racked right at the front, near the bike out exit, so I don’t have to negotiate as much mud in my cleats as some competitors do. I spot my friend Vikki with whom I have done a few early season, freezing cold sea swim sessions at Budleigh. She is an amazing swimmer and is probably one of the happiest people on the startline to hear that the swim will be the full 1000m. When I tell her the water was cold but calm yesterday, she’s disappointed: the choppier the better for her as it would play to her advantage as a strong swimmer. We agree to differ.

40 minutes of standing around in the rain and I am cold before I even enter the water. 5 minutes in the water bobbing about on the deep water start line and I’m colder still. Not even the perfunctory pre-race wetsuit wee can warm me up this time. A rendition of ‘Oggi oggi oggi’ by the organisers in their boat to get us revved up, the hooter sounds and we’re away. I’m aware of Vikki’s legs next to me on the startline firing into action like pistons and she’s off and gone; out of sight into the murk of the lake within seconds. My God that first buoy seems a long way off.

The amazing setting for the Slateman swim in Llyn Padarn.

This longer distance on day 2 actually allows me to establish a rhythm. After the scrummage of fighting for the best line around the first buoy, I find I am now working my way through the pack, trying to hitch a ride on as many feet as I can along the way. My hands and feet are cold (not allowed to wear neoprene gloves and socks if you want to place top 3), but the rest of me is not too bad. Round the second buoy and turn for home. Suddenly I am aware of a fellow ‘Savage woman’ competitor swimming alongside me to my right. She keeps trying to push me left and off course – I am on a good sighting for the exit and not budging from my line thank you! We come up to breathe facing each other at the same time and I give her a warning stare through my swim goggles! Eventually she decides to go around the back of me, but does so by attempting to swim over the top of me. No damn way! I ain’t having that. So my right leg gives her a polite warning nudge to back off! I don’t see or feel her again after that and I swim hard for the exit!

It’s a long run to T1 in bare feet through boggy mud, sodden grass and sheep poo. I totally stuff up T1. Can’t get the wetsuit off my legs (wearing calf guards today and it grips to them like Velcro). Finally get it off and realise my fingers are so cold they can’t manage fine motor tasks very easily. Putting on my cycling shoes suddenly seems like being faced with a 10’000 piece jigsaw (never had much patience for them). Decide to spend a bit longer today and make sure my gloves are on properly and to put my OMM Kamleika waterproof on too. Ok. Done. Helmet on. Grab bike. Run for the exit. Balls. Have forgotten my race belt and number. Prop bike up against fence. Peg it back to the rack and retrieve belt. Total time spent in T1: 3 minutes. Appalling.

Despite having a waterproof on, I am already freezing. Being in the lake for over 20 minutes meant my core body temperature was much lower than it was at this point yesterday. I have gloves on, but they are fingerless, and saturated with cold water anyway, so not much use. My rain jacket was already soaked in transition and I am wet and cold underneath it. I dig in on the climb up the pass to try and get warm, but don’t really manage it. I am dreading the 6 mile long descent down to Capel Curig. Then I hear sirens behind me. I share an exchange with a female competitor I am overtaking at the time: “That doesn’t sound too good”. “No, it doesn’t”. I’m thinking, ‘if this ambulance is heading to the scene of a crash on the descent, I don’t think I can handle seeing what might lay ahead’. As it was, it pulled in to Pen-yr-Pass car park, so likely attending a walker or climber who had come a cropper on Crib Goch than for a cyclist.

Finding the going even tougher on day 2 in the cold rain.

Unlike yesterday, where we U-turned at the junction at Pen-yr-Gwyrd and headed straight back up, today we keep descending all the way to Capel Curig. Although this part of the road is a more gradual downhill, I still have sufficient speed – particularly in the conditions with lots of deep sections of standing water and road side flooding – to not need to pedal. I’m getting colder and colder. The rain is seemingly getting heavier and heavier and the wind stronger and stronger. I am shivering uncontrollably and rapidly becoming fixed in position on the drops. At one point I think I am applying pressure to the brakes but I’m not slowing: I realise my fingers are completely numb and I cannot judge how hard I am braking. I think to myself: At what point do I become so cold that it’s dangerous for me to continue? I don’t want to quit – I NEVER EVER want to quit – but what if I am simply unable to function and can’t carry on? Then, in the next thought, I reasoned, Well, I haven’t seen any recovery vehicles, or even any marshalls since the top of the pass, so even if I do stop, I’ll just be stood roadside, still cold and shivering. Might as well keep going and try to get warm.

Finally, after a descent that seemed never-ending, I got to Capel Curig. At this point, you turn left onto the main A5 and the road starts to steadily climb all the way to Llyn Ogwen. I tried to move the left hand shifter over to drop down onto the small cog ready for the climb, but I didn’t have enough feeling or strength in my left hand to move it. I tried bringing my right hand across to drag it over, but I couldn’t even do that. I took the decision to stop, dismount, change gear, jump up and down a bit and shake my hands out, trying to get some blood flow back into my fingers. I gave myself a damn good talking to: ‘Now toughen up! You’ve got a rain jacket on for God’s sake! Some of these women passing you are just in tri suits. Now stop feeling sorry for yourself and man the hell up.’ It seemed to work. I hopped back on, started to climb, got out the saddle and pushed harder than ever, and slowly, slowly, I started to feel a bit warmer. I knew I had friends looking out for me at Tregarth, about 25 miles in, so that buoyed me. If I still felt rubbish then I would allow myself to pull up and have a quick boosting chat with them before continuing. My competitive streak had deserted me about 10 miles previously and made way for a need to just survive and get back to T2 in one piece, not hypothermic in the back of an ambulance!

By the time I got to Tregarth, the sun was out! It wasn’t enough to make me feel warm, but at least I had stopped the violent shivers and shaking. Sian and Nigel were there, holding a banner saying 'Go Ellie'! I rallied after this and put the hammer down for home. My cold, numb fingers had led to further problems however: I had dropped 2 of my 3 gels, so I had done the 1000m swim and 52k bike on just one gel. Not enough, no where near enough. As I got into T2, I remembered I had put a tiny flapjack square in the transition kit, so I made sure to grab that. I shed the Kamleika jacket: the sun was out now and I would get warm going up the 1000ft zig-zags climb on the run. What I didn’t notice until the marshal on the ‘run out’ exit informed me, is that I had no race number on. I had pulled it off along with my jacket: idiot. She said to just continue, so off I went.

Running on sodden, freezing numb feet again, I headed out of the field and towards the majestic Dolbadarn Castle, munching my little piece of flapjack but still feeling hungry. It was gone midday by now; my last bit of food – save 1 gel – was cereal at 7am. I also needed the loo. I’ve never ever needed the loo in a race before, but having taken on quite a bit of water on the bike and not having lost any in sweat (ha! Chance would be a fine thing!), I really needed a pee! Hmm, time lost weeing versus time lost having to slow my running stride down due to discomfort. I bobbed down at the side of the main road: seriously, if you want to be a triathlete, leave your dignity at the door people!

The climb up the slate quarry zigzags seemed relentless. I have run this climb  A LOT in training runs – it’s probably my favourite running route of all time, up the slate trails and around the lake – and I have never had to walk any of it. I did today. I usually run well off the bike, and indeed, my legs felt surprisingly good, but I just had no energy. I needed fuel and was running on empty. I started to feel a bit faint, my breathing rate sky-rocketed, and I had to walk every hill from here on. It was a fight to get home without keeling over.

Running through the mighty slate quarries. Very dramatic scenery!

And in front of the Quarry Hospital and alongside the lake, with Llanberis on the other side.

I wanted that finish line to come so badly. I was still not warm, and felt ravenous, weak and wobbly. All the kids were high-fiving competitors down the finish funnel, but I didn’t have the energy. I staggered across the line and dived into the array of food that was on offer. Crisps, mmmmmmm, crisps. And chocolate! Yeah! Gimme, gimme, gimme. The announcer: ‘Well done Ellie Dominey; you are a savage woman!’ I did not feel too savage at this point, I felt rather weak, knackered and pathetic. But my tee-shirt – the all-important tee-shirt – told me that I was. I had done it. The double. There were times out there when I wanted to quit the sport, when I vowed I would never do another triathlon again. Hell, poor old Canondale was even up for sale at one point, but I did it. I overcame the extreme Snowdonia weather on both days and survived.

Knackered, but mission very much accomplished.

I saw my friend Vikki, who had placed an incredible 5^th lady in a highly competitive women’s field. I wanted to stay to watch her get her prize, but I felt so awful I just needed to go back, eat some proper food, have a bath and lie down! What I didn’t realise at the time was that I had placed 3^rd female overall in the Savage! My combined time for the 2 days being 4h54m. I missed my chance to step up on the podium and receive a fantastic array of prizes and a superb slate trophy. That is a big regret. Luckily, Vikki collected it all for me and I picked it up from her today. Possibly the hardest earned trophy in my collection – I had to really dig deep for this one. It has taken pride of place on my shelf in the gym, there to remind me that although I am physically not the strongest, I am mentally quite tough. Perhaps worthy of the ‘savage woman’ title after all?!

Happy with my haul :-)