Two months after winning at the Slateman, this would be my second race of the Adventure Triathlon Series in North Wales. The Snowman bills itself as “the toughest triathlon in the UK” and whilst plenty make that kind of claim, I knew taking on the longest “Legend” distance needed to be treated with respect. I came into the race off a good block of training, along with a few cycling challenges like the Dragon Devil Ride and Struggle Moors Sportive, so was feeling uncharacteristically confident and injury free. As always the main aim was to give a good performance and feel I’d pushed myself as far as possible, but after first place at the Slateman I was hopeful this would turn out to be enough to earn another win…
Snowman is based at the Plas y Brenin Mountain Sport Centre, just outside the small village of Capel Curig in Snowdonia. On arrival, I was surprised to find transition in a tarmac car park (I’d been expecting the usual wet field) along with the luxury of proper toilets in the Centre instead of the usual oversubscribed portaloos Having a proper building as a base meant spectators had the luxury of somewhere to shelter if the weather turned traditionally Welsh too!
The 1900m swim would be two laps in Llynnau Mymbyr (choose your own pronunciation) – a very scenic lake with surprisingly warm but unpleasantly brown water. As the 7am start approached, the wind started to gust strongly, causing bikes to rattle in transition and the inflatable buoys marking the swim course to be blown almost horizontal. This made for an ominous atmosphere whilst waiting in the shallow water, slowly sinking into warm, slimy mud underfoot, until a claxon sounded and we were underway. I tried to follow a couple of people’s feet who it turned out had both probably set off a bit hard, and by the time I settled into my natural pace was cut off from the fastest athletes, but also ahead of the main chaos. What followed was a very civilised and relaxed swim, albeit with extensive sighting required as the was creating choppy water and constantly blowing us sideways.
After a stumble out the water over uneven rocks, and a relatively smooth T1, I heard I was in fifth place heading out on the bike. This immediately turned into third as I overtook two athletes adjusting their shoes, and I tucked into the aero position for a battle with the headwind. Initial progress was tough and the approach to the top of Pen-y-Pas, shrouded in low turbulent black cloud, felt like we were entering the gates of Mordor. However, once the descent to Llanberis was out of the way conditions lower down were much better and the heavy rain forecasted never quite materialised.
Whereas at Slateman I’d made my way into first place early on in the bike, this time it took me 45 minutes to see another bike and catch second place – who turned out to be part of a relay team with an incredible swimmer who had been several minutes clear of everyone else. I felt strong and was having one of my best ever rides – attacking corners well using familiarity with parts of the course that had also appeared at the Slateman. But looking up the long climbs, I still couldn’t catch sight of anyone ahead. I knew I was facing a serious battle this time – the athlete in front must be having an equally good ride.
In fact, I started to wonder if he even existed – perhaps I’d miscounted athletes I’d overtaken or heard the wrong information at the start of the ride. But after 2 hours 38 minutes of cycling – which included a record top speed of 52mph, a lone bike waiting in transition confirmed I still had someone to chase. The race announcer named him as James – last year’s winner and course record holder – who was approximately two and a half minutes ahead. Whilst I changed into run kit, the announcer helpfully detailed some timing splits so far – apparently I had cut the gap from four minutes at the start of the bike. When I heard I’d taken another 20 seconds off with a faster T2, I set off on the run optimistic that I was closing in.
I felt great at the start of the run, which takes place entirely on off-road trails. Usefully, the first eight miles were straight out and back, giving me a chance to recalculate the gap to first place at the turning point. On the course profile this section had looked flat, but that had been totally distorted by the 870m climb of Moel Siabod to come at the end. In fact, the first few miles were a challenging combination of uphill, driving headwind and rain. I jokingly asked a marshal “does the guy in front look tired?” and she replied “absolutely knackered, you’ve got him”. Friendly volunteers are always encouraging so I probably shouldn’t have believed her quite so much, but it gave me some naïve optimism…
I decided to push myself hard in these opening miles to see how much I could close the two minute gap. My heart rate was unsustainably high, but this at least provided some warmth without having to dip into my backpack for the waterproof layers that had been mandatory to carry. Disappointingly, at the turning point the gap had grown nearer to three minutes. Not only that, but it was the first time I’d managed to see my competition – he looked far from knackered and a natural runner. The good news was it took quite a while to meet third place coming the other way, which suggested I had a comfortable 20 minute cushion. I was in a separate race with James off the front and decided to carry on with the kamikaze pace as my last chance to put any pressure on.
By the time I’d got back to Plas y Brenin, ready for the big climb up Moel Siabod, the gap had grown further to four minutes and I confirmed to my dad “I’ve got no chance” and he understandingly replied “I know”. In the background he’d been chatting to James’ parents and looking up his past results – a much more impressive CV than mine and a man who includes the Brownlees amongst his training partners. It was only ever going to take one stronger person to turn up and make winning impossible – no matter how well I performed – and despite having a great race it was clear to both me and Dad that I was simply chasing a superior athlete.
I mentally accepted second place, but was still absolutely loving the race. It had been more fun to race well and be beaten in a close contest than it would have been to win comfortably without the competition. Now I just wanted to finish the huge climb without injuring myself for races to come. I was surprised that I had to walk almost from the start – I’d done plenty of hill training but had never run up anything like this before… Whilst the earlier marshal had been encouraging, the first one on the mountain bluntly told me “I’d like to say you’re catching him up but you’re not”. I simply replied “I know” as I imagined James running past that same marshal like a mountain goat a few minutes earlier and how my exhausted trudge must compare.
Despite walking, my heart rate was consistently above 180bpm, in part from pushing too hard before the climb. Surprisingly, race adrenaline made this feel OK whereas I’d normally be gasping for air and desperate to rest. Although I recorded a new personal worst mile split of 15 minutes, I was at least encouraged that I was (slowly) overtaking athletes from the shorter “classic” distance race.
Then, from nowhere, one of these shorter distance athletes said “that guy up there is a legend athlete too”. We were in thick cloud at this point, but the figure he was referring to was only about 100m ahead (still a good minute or so on this gradient). I’d been expecting James to come past on the downhill return leg at any moment and was already thinking what congratulations to offer, so was totally confused that I could have closed almost all of that four minute gap. To be honest I suspected this was fake news, but it gave me a bit of extra motivation to put in a surge of effort and see who was right.
Fortunately for me, I’d been wrong and this was the race leader. We exchanged a few words and agreed we’d need to be careful on the descent. By this point it was looking pretty treacherous – slippery, steep and rocky. The cloud was so thick we only had about 20m of visibility so I wasn’t sure how far was left to climb. I felt caught between wanting the mountain to go on as it was gaining me time and just wanting the effort to stop! As the summit came into view, my watch let me know I’d broken my personal worst again with a 17 minute mile. There was no psychological blow this time though – I realised now that everyone was suffering equally on this challenging “run”.
I was rewarded with a jelly baby from another friendly marshal at the top, recording a 20 second advantage over James. After over four and a half hours, this was as exciting a race as I’d been in. Not having much experience of technical trail running I knew I could easily lose the lead I’d been chasing all day on the descent. My chances weren’t helped by twice losing the course in the thick cloud – each time having to shout out to helpful hikers whose silhouettes I could make out in the distance to point me back in the right direction.
I couldn’t afford to check behind where James was – every step needed complete concentration to avoid an injury. I did my best to pick the right lines, running on grass instead of rocks where possible and thanking all the athletes coming up the relentless climb for their encouragement. Although not as tiring, running downhill was much tougher on the legs, with my thighs complaining at the effort of braking down the steep gradient. Towards the bottom of the mountain I paused and took a glance behind – I couldn’t see anyone else descending and for the first time believed I was going to win the race.
I was relieved as the trail finally flattened out in the final mile and could start counting down the remaining distance. I repeated a few more nervous backward glances until I could see the finish line, where I tried to control my celebrations a bit despite being massively pumped up. After fumbling the finish tape at Slateman, I wanted to make a better go of things this time…and managed to drop it twice. That’s one discipline I clearly don’t train for…
I ended up with a winning margin of nearly six minutes, which disguises how close the contest was until the very end with various shifts in momentum. I was also pleased to clock a new course record by eight minutes. I think it’s understandable that I wouldn’t promise the post-race interviewer that I’d be back next year to break it again, given how hard I’d just pushed to set this one!
Three days later I can still barely walk and stairs are definitely not my friend – that final downhill run certainly took its toll. But it was all worth it – Snowman was a fantastic event to be a part of, with friendly marshals, a hilly but TT-friendly bike course, a uniquely challenging run and beautiful scenery throughout. Leaving with another oversized slate trophy was just the icing on the cake to make this one of my favourite triathlon experiences so far.