At 2.05 precisely, a loud piercing whistle marks the start of
the race. 826 people who were crammed onto the small railway
bridge are now free, frantically running through the streets of
Tywyn. We can already hear the train.
A brief run through town brings us to the
real reason we're here. To run alongside the Talyllyn Railway and see if
we can beat the train on its journey to Abergynolwyn and back. The
terrain turns from tarmac to fields, to farm tracks and trials. Most of
this is covered in mud. In fact, all of it is covered in mud.
Every so often we hear the trains whistle,
and miles into the distance we can see steam rising out of the valley
floor. Spectators lean out of the tiny train screaming and yelling as if
their lives depended on it. Willing us through the mud.
I see a guy carrying 5 gels. Almost
everyone is wearing huge 4 wheel drive off road shoes. Nobody is
talking. Preparing ourselves.
At 7 miles we are halfway, but the hills
are coming. Anyone with aspirations of beating the train must be way
ahead of it by now. By this stage, those of us in midfield have already
been caught by the second spectator train. Go on. Twist the knife.
We start up the narrow trail along the
first hill and two things happen. One: I'm glad I wore my huge 4 wheel
drive shoes. Two: I wish I'd brought 5 gels. Everyone is slowed
to a single pace along this treacherous section of the course, there's
simply no way to overtake. The mud is so deep in places, it's almost
funny. Everyone who tried to run this in road shoes will testify to
that.
The race organisation is second to none.
Marshalls are hanging off hillsides in the pouring rain, doling out
sports drink. Pulling people from the mud. Overhanging branches are
painted red. Bright red rocks poke through the mud. For the life of me I
can't work out if I'm meant to avoid the red rocks, or run on them.
We run past the picturesque Dolgoch falls.
Wow. “I'll come back and look at that properly one day”. Then we're off
again, edging slowly towards the flatter section of the course and my
quintessential “Race The Train” moment. Mile 12. I'm pretty battered by
now, but I hear it. The unmistakable sound of the train behind me. It's
the second train, but I don't care. We pick up our pace, running
alongside the train for as long as we can manage before it slopes off
into the distance.
1hr 47 minutes into the race,
the first train will have arrived in Tywyn and the front runners
will be on their second pint. But we plough on, almost grateful
to the Health and Safety Wombles who shortened this years race
by a mile.
I cross the line in
2.08.57, 483rd
of the 826 starters and head straight for the beer tent. “Mines a
Guinness..and where do I sign up for next years race”?
Everyone should do this at
least once. |
