2024 Dragon's Back Race Report - Part 3/3

I pushed back the tears and banished the emotions to a deep, unknown location - via a well-trodden path.*  I traded my mournful expression for a determined grimace and fixed my attention on the first climb of the day. The hope that this day would be the most runnable so far pushed me forward, despite the pain persisting in my right shin. “This is different”, I remarked to an unknown runner as we negotiated an incredibly steep but beautiful woodland descent.  Using the trees for manual leverage and trusting my quads’ growing resilience, I was surprised to pass plenty of people on the way down.  Maybe this would be a good day after all.

I was delighted to see Ben Clough out on the trail for the first time and to see their foursome in action.  Asking what I should call them collectively, Ben said he'd been calling it The Pain Train. I climbed aboard for a mile or so, and they explained how they had found strength in numbers, carrying each other emotionally through lows. Maybe this was what I needed, I thought. They certainly seemed to be having fun.  But I’m a solo runner at heart, and knew I needed to continue this journey on my own terms, so pressed on.

I made some poor choices over the next moorland section.  What appeared to be miles of runnable hilltops on the map, was actually a tussock-laden, leg-breaking, slog fest. With ankles screaming from the constant twisting and turning, I should have eased off the pace, but instead, I worked even harder out of frustration. To compound the matter, I'd stopped taking regular Voom bars and Precision gels, which had been working so well for me. On the descent to Elan Village, I bonked hard.   Arriving at the support point a quivering mess, I took my time to make the most of the previsions in my dropbag. Fifteen minutes to eat some tinned fruit, a bag of Mini Cheddars and a massive Bakewell flapjack and I started to feel a bit more human.

Despite the calorific boost, I was in a very low place mentally as I proceeded along a road section approaching Drygarn Fawr. Despite seeing lots of people on the trail every day, most of my interactions had been fleeting. Here, though, I met Dave Moulding (215) and we struck up a conversation. After telling him I wasn't doing great, we chatted for over an hour as we moved along. Later, I realised that for the first time in days, I wasn’t thinking about the race, my aching limbs, or my self-pity.  Dave had kindly and skillfully distracted me from myself, and I was just enjoying running with a new friend. The trajectory of my day changed for the better.  What an absolute hero of a guy.

Moving more efficiently now, I was met by a videographer notable for his piercings, curly hair, and a gimbal-mounted camera. He ran ahead of me for a while, skipping masterfully over technical ground whilst seamlessly operating the cam.  He was an impressive runner! About an hour later I was taking this picture when he came flying past me in his car and parked at the top of the hill.

“LOOK AT THE VIEW!” I shouted through the wind as the cameraman climbed out of his vehicle.  He burst out laughing.  Puzzled, I asked what was funny. 'I thought you shouted 'FUCK YOU', for driving past you up the hill”.   We had a good chuckle about it.  I took a moment to thank God for the vista and was reminded of the great privilege it is to get to do things like this.

I was warned strongly not to trash my legs on the final road section to camp, but that’s no fun.  I ran as quickly as I could and made it home in under 11 hours for the first time that week.

Getting into camp I finally saw tentmates Steve and Darren in daylight.  It was nice to say hello properly and know what they looked like! There was a pub right next to the field we were camped in, which was very tempting, but with the ominous fifth day looming, I chose bed over beer.

Day 5 – The Brecon Beacons (44 miles, 10,499 feet)

The penultimate day of Dragon's Back Race presents a genuine risk of a DNF, even for very capable runners. “Time to go to work”, I said to Darren as I emerged from my compartment 15 minutes earlier than usual following a 4:15 am wakeup call. Darren and I were the only two in the tent still in contention for a Dragon, with four unknown tentmates having gone home early. John and Steve, still sleeping, remained stoically on course to complete the Hatchling. By torchlight, we taped feet, packed our kit and offered encouraging words to one another. I was 7th in the breakfast queue.

“Like clockwork” I boasted to myself as I left the start line heading down the asphalt road… in completely the wrong direction.  What an idiot!

Pain is a constant companion through the latter stages of multi-day events and those who endure are those who can suffer well. Each day brought a different ailment and I was running on max paracetamol dosage by default. Calf was the issue today. The knee pain of Day 2, the shin issue of Day 3, and the ankle problem of Day 4 had miraculously vanished. I made the choice to ignore the discomfort, assuming it too would pass.

At Llandovery there is a fancy-looking cafe where a big crowd of dragons had stopped to enjoy coffee and cakes.  I had other priorities.  Directed by one of the DBR crew, I took a detour a few hundred yards down the road to the public loo. Trying the door, I realised I didn't have the necessary twenty-pence piece for access, only notes.   “Mate, do you have 20p?” I franticly asked the same crew member, “I’ll literally pay you £10 for it”. He benevolently extracted a 20p from his glove box saying - with a knowing nod and an appropriate amount of drama - “Go do what you need to do”. Legend.

I enjoyed greeting The Legend with a fist bump at every subsequent passing (road passing, I mean).  The man who had previously spotted my cross tattoo and the lovely lady who looked like my mum also kept appearing on the route, offering a smile and an encouraging word.

I was pushing hard again (stop it) and enjoying the freedom that the penultimate day brings. There was nothing to lose and I really wanted to be back to camp before dark.

Just before the main support point there was a sketchy river crossing where a few people took an unexpected swim.  Shortly after I accidentally led the leading female, Jo Meek, off course into a load of dense bracken when my watch had a GPS spasm. I don’t think it cost her much time, but she didn't seem too happy about it. Awkward.

Arriving at the support point with Rebecca Perrett, I got to witness her being treated to a surprise visit from friends and family. The joy was palpable and I found myself getting quite emotional as she embraced her loved ones.  Don't underestimate the difference family back home can make to a runner, whether in person or over the phone. I was so grateful for the amazing support of Abby and our boys, and I really did miss them at that moment.

As I sat in the support point, dwarfed by Fan Gyhirych, I prepared mentally for the long stretch ahead. Arguably the second half of Day 5, which takes you into the heart of the Brecon Beacons, is the toughest part of the whole Dragon's Back Race. As anticipated, the climbs were unfathomably steep and relentlessly long.  The sun was starting to come out too, forcing my temperature much higher than I was comfortable with.  I plunged my cap into every cold stream I encountered and enjoyed an ice-cold Doctor Pepper at the road crossing, first on my neck, then down my gullet, before destroying a massive cheeseburger on the move.  As John Shields came past I wondered what an elite athlete would select from the van.  “Just destroyed three chocolate bars”, he informed me.

Fueled up, the ascent of Pen-Y-Fan felt strangely triumphant.  Yes, it was hard, but the realisation that this was the final big summit of the event made it quite a euphoric experience.  With the sun getting lower in the sky I got some rare, golden, mountaintop views. I was happy.  This is what I came for.

Be warned!  The final section along the river to the camp at Talybont is awful!  What looks like a gentle descent on the map is impossibly technical and slow.  Furthermore, the sharp valley and tree canopy conspired to cocoon a pocket of thick, humid air.  About a mile from camp, I passed the most idyllic-looking pool complete with a cascading waterfall and I wanted, with all my heart, to stop for a swim. But I was chasing the sunset.  Maybe I’ll return one day for a dip.

With the finish line in sight, I once again saw the woman who looked like my mum.  She gave me a smile and a little cheer, as had become routine.  “You’ve been here all week. I've seen you at every crossing. Who are you supporting?”.  “My two sons are running together” she said “Joe and Alfie Pritchard”.  “The Brothers!” I blurted out, “they are very lucky to have you”.   I didn’t tell her why it meant so much to me.

I celebrated the finish line with my 5-year-old’s favourite dance move, The Judah, as my family watched along on the livestream at home.  After shaping love hearts to the webcam, one of the volunteers, Lucy I think, came over to me quietly and said “I'm so glad you made it.  I’ve been praying for you”.  She had seen my bible verse on my bio and was kind enough to make the effort to pray for me.  I was really touched. People are great.

There was a celebratory mood in camp with people staying up much later and more loudly than on previous nights. The general agreement is that if you can overcome Day 5, you have practically made the finish line.  It’s been compared to the final day of the Tour De France, but a procession down the Champs-Élysées it is not. Although flatter than all previous days, it’s still 40 miles of trail and road to overcome before reaching Cardiff Castle.  After being reliably told by the race crew that people had DNF’d on Day 6 previously, I avoided the festivities and stuck to my boring, but effective, routine.

Day 6 – To Cardiff Castle (40 miles, 4,265 feet)

With the familiar sound of Running Out of Time by Paramore sounding on my iPhone alarm, I rolled over feeling a sharp pain in my lower back.  This was the return of the back issues I had been fearing in advance of the race. Aghh.

Adopting my technique of "try to ignore it," I put on my final set of clean running gear, packed my stuff and headed to breakfast.  Having not paid much attention to my race status throughout the week, I glanced at the leaderboard to discover that I had a cumulative time of about 61 hours. Before race week, I’d thought that under 70 hours would be a good time, so I resolved to set that as my target.

Having taken additional time to express gratitude to all the race crew members, I began my journey feeling elated and inspired by the entire experience, determined to reach the finish line that I had dedicated so much effort to reach.

On the first ascent, I was delighted to catch up with Dave. I expressed my gratitude for his assistance on Day 4, and he reciprocated with some kind words.  We wished one another well as I headed off, feeling moved by the moment.

Soon after I reached The Brothers, at which point my usual stoic resolve was in tatters. “Morning boys. I met your mum.  She’s amazing. You're lucky to have her here supporting you” I said as I marched past.  I explained that my mum had died while I was in my 20s and that they were really blessed to have her with them. They didn't need me to tell them, they were grateful already. Top lads. As I strode ahead up the hill I shed a few tears for my mum.

As the landscape shifted from rural to suburban, I enjoyed pushing the pace and feeling my lungs properly open up for the first time.  My back was very painful by now and affecting my gate, but it hurt just as much walking as running, so I figured that I’d be better off just getting it done as quickly as possible and hope to avoid a full-on spasm attack.   Moving at pace, I was delighted to see the Pain Train ahead.  “Here comes the Speed Demon”, said Ben with a grin.  We exchanged greetings and resolved to see each other at the finish line.

Over bridges, along highways, through industrial estates and into the city of Cardiff.  A rugby team playing their Saturday fixture.  Kids having a kick about.  A couple out for a romantic walk.    Dog leads blocking the path. The return to civilisation was jarring. I felt like an unkempt, smelly visitor from another world. 

Just after 3 pm on Saturday morning, I turned into Cardiff Castle to the sound of music, a large crowd cheering, and the announcer congratulating me as I crossed the line after 69 Hours, 44 minutes and 33 seconds running the full length of Wales.  I had done it.  I had completed the Dragon’s Back Race.

After a little celebration at the finish line, I didn’t know what to do.  One of the kind volunteers asked me if I wanted to go into the crowd and get a beer or something.  “Too many people” was about all the words I could get out.  She led me to the safety of the athlete village area where I retreated to the food tent and sat alone, triumphant, with a bowl of chips.

 Dragon’s Back 2024

69:44:33

39th place overall

*As someone who has wrestled with diagnosed depression I’m not advocating avoiding difficult feelings, but in this race context, negative thought patterns can quickly become toxic and even race-ending.

**Let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us, fixing our eyes on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of faith. Hebrews 12:1