“Caz. It’s Morag. Can you come outside please? It’s about Carz!”
I was in the camp tent, on the morning of day 5 of DBR, and Carz was in the med tent. I was being told by our medic friend that Carz was not allowed to carry on due to a possible stress fracture! Morag wanted me to come and emphasise this seriousness to Carz!
The tears flowed like the streams of day 1. Not the trickle like they’d been in Aug, but in full torrent. Our dream was ending, but it was totally the right thing to do. As hard as it was. There was no choice. And it wasn’t just us bawling our eyes out!
The problem being is that I really didn’t want to carry on without her. This was our adventure. Not just mine! My feet were painfully swollen, but not only did I have Tash on my back, I also needed to get Carz to the finish now too!
We had already said before starting that if either of us had to drop out, we would carry our little teddy bear me’s which Rach had made. But I always thought that it was going to be me stopping, not her. Carz took hers off, and handed it to me. And told me to go. I didn’t want to leave, but off I went to catch the first MPV before I had too much time to think. I hate goodbyes, and this was one of the worst. “Carz, I’m gonna get you a f***ing baby dragon!”
At some stage here, I’d said to Shane, “Stupid f***ing race!” He was a bit shocked, but realised the meaning of it! Phew!
The MPV took me to Llandovery, and more importantly the bakery. I needed something to cheer me up from this daze. The many staff there were like a well-oiled machine, and I was out in a jiffy with proper coffee, pork pie, chicken bacon bake, and a ‘chocco pan’!
As I came out I met Lani Paul. A guy I’ve sort of known from his attempts in ’21 and ’23. He was back for his third try! We chatted like we were long-lost friends, and we gave each other a massive long hug. What a guy! He never did make the cut-off at Storey Arms! Absolutely gutted for him, and for his mate Gus!
Quick bus to the support point, and I was one of the last to get going as I got busy talking to Sy and the lovely Ourea crew. It was a painful climb up Gyhirych, as my feet were in agony. I got going a bit more over the top, and eventually came across a young teary-eyed female runner. “Do you need a hug?” I asked. “Yes please.” I crawled to the floor, and we hugged, and both bawled our eyes out for what seemed like 10 minutes as other runners passed by!
I eventually carried on, and somehow felt at times that I was being carried by the wind. I shouted at Carz and Tash when I found it hard. I could hear both of them, and others, shouting and willing me on.
Seeing Glenn and Sy at the Storey Arms waterpoint was like the Waterboys reunion tour, and we bantered our way up to Corn Du and Pen y Fan like it was last year’s DBR. This really spurred me on, and I managed to pass a few other runners on my cheeky little shortcuts.
The last day run-in. Well, I could talk all day about this!
More hugs and tears while waiting for the bus. A pint and a roll with Mair at the White Cross Inn, and seeing Simon and Ann……again! The getting lost on the Taff Trail, as I really didn’t have a clue where I was going!
The listening and singing to Radiohead with Martin Clark. The finish line! The emotions. The tears. The hugs. The support. The seeing of those I’ve got to know finishing this goddamn journey! They’re absolutely shamazing!
And why? My why was an adventure with Carz. And boy did we have one, which I still did to the end. She was with me all the way. Woop woop! And so was Tash. And so was everyone else I felt I was carrying who hadn’t made it thus far. That’s my why.
Will I be back? Yes, in fancy dress, on the waterpoint! But who knows?
Thanks to the family, the friends, the runners, and the amazing Ourea team, for all the support and love.
Ever got that feeling of jumping into the unknown and being completely unsure how you will land? That’s the feeling I got entering the Dragons Back Race. 6 days of adventuring down the mountainous spine of Wales, 240 miles, around 57,000ft.
This was a big swing with an unknown hit or miss for me. I have been running 6 ish years and only ever DNF’d at an event where I came second overall. This took courage to enter, courage to train for and courage to attempt with the outcome so unknown. You need a good proper why to put yourself through this one and mine had been brewing for a while.
Not many people have a Dad like mine. The thought of 6 days adventuring together down Wales really is a blessing, one I know I won’t get in a hurry again. My Dad has completed the 5 day version of this race and he knew what it took of him back then – the fact that he was coming back for more to do it with me – well, this shows the proper top guy he is.
With our bags packed (over and over again!) we headed to the start with some bouncing bunny enthusiasm! Dad was in fully dragons back bubble swing and I was soaking it in. I did feel a little nervous but much less so than I thought I would – for this was not a race, it was an adventure of a lifetime. But was the training going to be enough? Who knew.
Day 1 – Conwy to Nant Gwynant
Weather was set to biblical. Great. I love the technicality of Snowdonia mountains but I’m not quick on the wet rock and have a bit of a history of ankle rolling. We got to the start line in Conwy castle with family cheering from the castle walls. This was it!! I had dreamt of this day over and over and finally it was here. Red flares sent us on our way out of the castle, the sky was a beautiful red near Conwy mountain and was ok until we started hitting higher ground, then the wind certainly picked up!
Dad and I stayed together and were hiking/running to keep us both in check. Someone had told us that out of the first 40 that get into camp from day 1 – only 10 of those finish the race. This had to be a conservative start.
The Carneddau’s were horrendously cold – Dad was hypothermic but stopping to put on an extra layer was going to cost us getting colder. Keep moving, keep moving.
The descent from Pen y Olwen was one I’ll remember; I’ve never seen it so wet but it was where I met Seems – “Oh you’re Seema!” I said as I saw her name on her bag and remembered a friend Mart talk about her. She had attempted it last year and was back to tame the big dragon. We instantly made friends and her love of the mountains shone through.
We hit the road and saw Rhyds, Rach and the kiddos cheering us on; a quick hug hello and goodbye to the support point. No faffing, admin on point and we started climbing Tryfan – one foot in front of the other, keeping each other going, that was our motto. I took a little tumble off the Bwlch but nothing too severe thank goodness, we kept eating and chatting over the Glyders and down to Pen y Pass. The weather was so bad that the route had been diverted up the Pyg track instead of Crib Goch – bottles refilled we started the climb up to Snowdon. We got chatting to a guy called Greg who I’d met last year marshalling, the time passes fast when you’re with like minded people and certainly sped up climbing the Pyg.
Snowdon ticked – weather was biblical – was now just a case of traversing Y Lliwedd, ticking off Gallt Y Wenallt and a long ol descent down – Dad and I had reccied this several times and it was the least fave bit. Day 1 finish line felt like day 6 finish line for me as Dad and I held hands crossing the finish line with beaming smiles! I couldn’t believe we had got through day 1 cut offs with the weather the way it had been!! Some good food, more admin, alarms set for 4:20am and into our sleeping bags. Reality of the brutal terrain we had run through was heightened when overhead in the darkness was the whirring of a helicopter for people left on the mountains.
Day 2 – Nant Gwynant to Dolgellau
An early alarm and not much sleep – the reality of camping life yet we still had smiles beaming on our faces.
Legs were grateful for a bit of downhill road before starting the long climb up to Cnicht. I felt slow and began to feel the pressure of cut offs – I had no idea what time it was but knew we hadn’t been hanging around so should be ok. We hit the water point in good time and in good spirits, refilled the bottles and off we went!
Some long road before hitting the Rhinog ridge aka hours of desolated rock wilderness. I love it as I have great memories recce-ing with Dad but the remoteness is sometimes a little daunting to me as a mother of 2.
We had recced some pretty epic “shortcuts” which meant we still hit the checkpoints we needed to get to but would often be greeted by “where the hell did you two come from?!” and “I thought you both were about 20mins behind!” I could sense the little smile on Dad’s face!!
Thank goodness for his lines really as I had been maybe talking too much and eating less making the last two hours really very tough. I couldn’t claw this back and had gone too long without food – a 3 mile flat road section to finish was not in the bank and I was finding it hard to run so power walking it was. Was super grateful to Seems who had stayed with us the whole way and we crossed the finish line all together. I remember being pretty sure I looked quite ghastly when James looked at me as if he’d seen a ghost! But there was no energy to care, no energy to refuel and barely enough energy to walk to the tent – I got to bed and dreamed of waking up with a bucket of energy to run again.
Day 3 – Dolgellau to Machynlleth
I was ravenous at breakfast and consumed scrambled egg, hash brown, veggie sausages and a good proportion of beans – I felt starving. Dad was a happier bunny to see me eating and I felt a new lease of life. Hurrah! Cold weather kit implemented – a bigger pack to carry – thank goodness for a big breakfast!! We started the run out of camp and the weather seemed ok – “have they got it wrong?” thought Dad and I.
We climbed up towards the Cadair and coats on, wow, the weather was horrendous! This was a case of keep moving and keep eating for survival, not for the race. Dad got in the shelter to put an extra layer on and his oh so warm gloves – with holes in them!!! Down to Aberglynolwyn water point and greeted by friends Ed, Lenny and Kev, an hour or so under cut off. Some much needed coke in the café and a bacon roll for Dad, we set off with Seema by our side.
Half an hour later and Seems was in a world of pain, I was channelling my strength through her as she battled to overcome some deep hip pain. She continued on with a friend behind as Dad and I carried on up to the windy Tarren G with the smell of Mach getting closer.
A very good kind friend greeted us when I was leaving part of my soul on the trail – Tim you kept me distracted from the start of the aches and I’ll forever be grateful for the company into Mach. A little cry on Sue’s shoulder as we passed her coming into Mach and I knew I needed to eat – Dad and I hit Greggs for some warm food then off to the support point.
A huge highlight of these days was seeing Trish P at every support point each day – I was proper fan girling and she soaked it allllll up! Trish is like a female Dad, boundless energy and turns you in and out of a checkpoint like a snap of the fingers. In and out we went!!
The mental battle was overcome and we were heading on the never ending path towards Pumlumon. It was super blowy on the top but running down the other side we were actually passing people! We ran into camp, hand in hand, just about in daylight and with more energy than yesterday. It was all downhill from here right?
Day 4 – Pumlumon to Rhandirmwyn
The alarm was earlier as camp admin was taking longer on more tired, aching bodies, the medic tent needed a Bernard’s watch to piece us back together. I held back the tears as Dad’s overflowed, we stared at each other’s swollen tired feet perched up on boxes in the medic tent. This is what we came for.
This was the easier day, so everyone kept telling us. A 3 mile route diversion was added but actually the path was rolling and pretty runnable. One problem though; now I couldn’t run. The pain throughout this day was so unbearable I felt sick. I couldn’t pick my right foot up properly without the tongue of my shoe grating into the front arch of my foot.
I promised myself to keep shuffling, that pain is temporary and I’d kick myself if I let Dad down. We made the decision to get to the support point of Day 4 to give ourselves a fighting chance to recover somewhat and make it to Cardiff together. A couple of miles from the support point and I was in absolute agony, barely shuffling and getting nowhere fast.
What was happening? The tears flowed at the support point; I had let Dad down. Dad embraced me with open arms and said to see how we feel by the morning. We got on the hatchling bus (like having salt in a wound) and got back to camp earlier which allowed us some extra time to sort admin.
A visit from Rhyds, the boys and some friends had more tears flowing. Not the ending to day 4 we wanted but we were still in the game.
Day 5 – No Start (Beacons)
The alarms alarmed and on waking so did the pain in my foot. I couldn’t bend it or really weight bear but you know, who needs a foot to get up the mountains anyway?
I had come here for an adventure with my dad and the party was only just beginning. Breakfast in the medic tent and medic Mourag welcomed me in “it’s not looking good” she said as I tried to mask the throbbing pain when she lightly touched my shin bone.
Yeah yeah I thought, I know, the pain has got worse but it’s day 5 which means only two more running days until Cardiff castle. I had come for the pain, I knew it was going to hurt. No journey like this was ever going to be easy. I had read countless blogs about pain management and the pain cave. It was just a mental battle.
She touched my ankle again and the harsh reality pierced through my fairytale vision of Dad and I finishing at Cardiff castle together. “I’ll go and get your Dad” she said. This was all just a bad nightmare.
My legs felt fine and I had built myself to be a bloody tough brick house over the months of training. This could not be happening. I couldn’t let Dad down, not at all. He was breaking himself.
Mourag had told Dad that I couldn’t continue and the moment I then saw him, so many words were spoken through so many tears. My heart poured out, I was so sorry for letting him down. I was sorry that he was the one who had to continue. I was sorry that he had to endure more pain.
We shared tears together on the realisation that our paths had to split before they would be reunited again. Dad took my teddy bear and strapped it to his bag to carry on day 5 – to carry Tash and I over the Beacons.
My body was tended to in A&E but my mind was still very much in the Beacons with Dad. The feeling of the breeze, the sound of his footsteps, him calling out as he reached the summits. I could feel the pain in his stride but his spirit ignited.
To be struck hard by injury and a hospital corridor was like a bat to the face after having no perception of time, the day or anything else for almost 5 days. The time between here and Cardiff castle felt like eternity.
The Finish Line
Every time I imagined Dad crossing that finish line I would cry. What I didn’t expect to gain from this race was a whole new perspective of my Dad ❤️.
Although this man loves running, continuing to fight when you are so knocked down, tired, broken and emotional is bloody tough. He could have stopped at any point but he chose to continue to the finish; for me, for Tasha, for friends that fell along the way.
I love my Dad and I had the best time adventuring with him and seeing him cross that line made me so grateful to have him in my life. Seeing what he went through for us, the man is literally my hero.
Last Reflections
Dragons Back isn’t a race. For most there, it’s an adventure of mental grit, determination and some luck that breaks you down and redefines you.
For me, reflection has been much less about the running itself; it has been about taking on a challenge that was far greater than I could ever perceive and having the mental toolbox to overcome obstacles when I thought I was done. And I’m proud of that.
The DNF? I’m trying not to see it as such, I gave the race everything I had and more. Yes, I “did not finish” but coming back in a brace boot and crutches does not mean I did not try – it’s a jigsaw piece to a bigger puzzle and it’s not where the story ends.
Thank You’s
Wow, so many people to thank! This effort took a team!
From immediate family support to messages from all of you’s! From borrowing kit (thanks Martin and Nikki) to the endless DBR tips for anyone that would talk to me (Nina, Martin etc). For running buddy company (thanks Tracey for our walks) to tech support (Tim).
To the epic Ourea event team for seamless behind the scenes operations. To friends I gained along the way to Cardiff – especially Seems and Greg.
Lastly to just all of you – for the messages of love and support to all of you who believed in me – thank you.
What do you get when you enter one of Caz the Hat’s events?
Some ups (well, lots of ups), then the downs, some boggy bits, some technical bits, and of course an exciting and slightly zany route.
But that’s where the Dip-Dab is a little bit different – there is no route!
You get a map marked with lots of points to get to – plus this time a warning of high bracken! (and he wasn’t joking).
So where do you head? The Waterwheel? The Pointy Rock? Or to the Back of the Cavel? (There was a lot of chat about “the cavel” after the event – turned out to be “the cave!”)
The Format
This year’s Dip-Dab was across 2 days – 4 hours each day to get to as many checkpoints as you can.
Start: Llanerch in the heart of the Gwaun Valley
Landmarks: Mynydd Dinas, Carningli, Cnwc yr Hydd
Out to: the “tiny tree” on the far side of Foel Cwm Cerwyn, worth 80 points!
Staggered starts, 2 minutes to study the map and plan your route, and then you’re off – running alone or as a pair.
A couple of miles in and you start seeing fellow competitors across the hills – sometimes tracking the same route as you (a carrot or stick), sometimes heading elsewhere (Why are they over there?).
Moments of camaraderie on the hillside to work together to find the kite… before the competition kicks in again and you’re off to the next checkpoint.
Always questioning your choices: time vs distance? route vs terrain? points vs what’s left in the legs?!
Day 1 – Clockwise Gamble
I chose a clockwise route – different to most – with a plan to hit the remote big points early (including the cavel) and then see how it was going on the slopes of Carningli.
But by the “large boulder” (which boulder?) and “foot of crag” in the truly high bracken, legs and time were running out.
Decision time at 5-Ways below Carningli – what’s doable without going over time? Decision made: down rather than up. Scooped up 70 more points and back.
Finished 7 minutes inside the time
18 miles covered
Legs pretty spent (right decision – still tomorrow to come!)
Missed two CPs, including “rock in pond” (and yes, that did involve you also getting in pond).
End of Day 1: 3rd place – 50 points off the young Swansea legs leading with a fast clean sweep. 10 off second, also a clean sweep but with a 40-point penalty for going over time.
Day 2 – The Push
Surprisingly okay after a rest (unlike Kev and Lenny who stayed a little longer at the Globe 🍻).
Strong start up to Cnwc, then spent too long locating the “depression” (20 points). Onwards to “tree rock” (50 points), where local knowledge helped. Briefly linked with 2nd place before he bounded off up Feddau.
A slip-up at “small waterfall” (60) – too high, leading to an interesting gully slide. Then across to the “tiny tree” – sweet 80 points!
Next: the dreaded hidden stream (40), somewhere in the mire west of Tafarn y Bwlch. Lots of wobbly circles for 5–10 minutes (there are several hidden streams!). Finally found it (thanks to others).
One more checkpoint, flagged by Arwyn “pretty in pink,” then down – 14 miles, all done, well inside time and just before the rain. 😎
Results & Thanks
Everyone back safe, with tales of trials and tribulations, laughter and smiles pouring over the maps once more – where kites had been hidden, luckily found, or so-close-but-missed.
All washed down with tea, squash, toast, and of course cake.
The hidden stream eluded 1st place, costing 40 points.
2nd place got them all.
At the top: two young racing snakes tied on points, Swansea boy taking it on time across both days – with a bespoke glass Dip-Dab trophy.
Me? 3rd place, just 10 points behind – happy with that.
Big thanks to Caz, Carz and Rachel ❤️ – and Tim for the dibbers and the supportive words:
“If you’d just got to one more checkpoint on Day 1… but guess you already knew that.”
Fancy It?
Come on team – it’s a great event right on your doorstep. Why not give it a go in 2026?
Distance: Just shy of 125km Elevation gain: About 6,000m Location: One of the most jaw-dropping places you could wear trail shoes.
The Build-Up
The build-up to the race didn’t go to plan. I had tanked a race a month earlier and came here to exorcise some demons, if possible.
The race starts at the sensible hour of 23:00 in Cortina d’Ampezzo. The whole town was out to watch — which was either touching or slightly mad, depending on your caffeine intake. But this was Italy, so naturally everyone was having a post-dinner espresso.
I’d qualified into the second elite group — close enough to the front to avoid a 1,600-person wrestling match to get started, but far enough from the real elites to avoid delusions.
Right in front of me? Courtney Dauwalter, Ben Dhiman, Josh Wade, Andreas Reiteter… I was not going to be racing these people.
Early Miles
They bolted like startled deer. I sensibly let them go and tucked into the second group, ticking off the first climbs and wishing I could see any of the scenery everyone talks about.
First crewed aid station at 42km — I’m in 30th, feeling good. I foolishly told my crew:
“Once the sun’s up, I think I can catch 10.”
This is the kind of confidence that only ends one of two ways: glory… or a slow public unravelling, usually dissected on the Pembs Ultra WhatsApp Group.
Passing Courtney (Briefly…)
A caffeine gel kicked in on the Tre Cime di Lavaredo climb, and I even passed Courtney. This, I knew, was either a great sign… or an act of pure idiocy.
The sun was rising, the legs felt fresh, the scenery was incredible, and my playlist blessed me with:
Walking in Memphis
Say It Isn’t So
Thanks for the Memories
I charged the descent like the finish line was at the bottom.
The 6km douche-grade climb after that — not flat, but not a proper hill either — felt like a marathon of mild suffering. Into the next aid station, now in 20th, I tried not to look too broken.
Trouble at Forcella
Then came the Forcella climb, and it all went sideways. Bent double, hands on knees, hoping to vomit, I resorted to some well-worn tricks:
Gels
Electrolytes
Negotiating with myself to run 10 steps, walk 20
Somehow, the legs worked again on the descent, and I clawed back places, joining a group of four.
From 85–95km, I was working hard climbing through a valley that was heating up quickly. Out of nowhere, Courtney floated past me smelling of bubblegum, offering the high praise of:
“You’re doing so good.”
And then she was gone — not to be seen again until her post-race interview.
Into the Best Scenery
The back-to-back crewed stations at Col Gallina and Passo Giau were welcome, though the section in between felt like climbing through wet concrete.
The tourists looked annoyingly happy — and for good reason. This was the best scenery on the course! Even through the graft, I was grinning like an idiot.
The Final Push
The final stretch had a few nasty surprise climbs — perfect for inducing a quiet tantrum.
Running alongside Altra athlete Ugo in 16th/17th, we skipped the last aid station and hurled ourselves into the 10km descent with mutinous toes.
Cortina appeared after 14 hours 20 minutes. Top 20 in a stacked field.
I found a tree, lay down, and fell asleep for 40 minutes… The glamorous ending to achieving your goals.
A coastal race in Cornwall in January — close to 165km and 4,500m (don’t believe UTMB, you’ll be annoyed when you’re not at the end at 160km).
We were nestled perfectly between two named storms — one had already churned the place into a mud pit, the next one waiting in the wings to hurl us into the sea. I don’t swim, by the way.
The Road to the Start Line
Back in June, a fresh-faced NBLR-to-be, I was hobbling around Pembrokeshire with a freshly pinned hip and a vague hope of starting this race. So to find myself on the start line, actually wanting to run through the night, felt like a win already.
This race is aptly named for its attritional rate — 50% don’t finish. But those folks clearly haven’t been on a Wednesday night NBLR winter sufferfest.
I’d trained hard, mostly sliding about doing repeats between Amroth and Pendine on the Welsh Coast Path — the “field of dreams,” assuming your dreams involve wet coastal running and questioning life decisions.
A Fast Start (Too Fast…)
It kicked off fast. By “it” I mean I kicked it off fast — a bit like I was running a parkrun and the winner got free pizza. The first 20km is technical, but I was buzzing to be near the front. Naturally, I paid for it.
Eventually, I settled into a group of four and hit the first crew point — aka espresso station number one. Double shot, obviously.
Things got damp, dark, and daft from here. Cramp crept in — partly because I ran too fast, partly because my hip still has hardware in it.
Into the Weather
By Penzance, I’d shaken the cramps and found the three runners ahead of me tucking into snacks. I nicked a bite, legged it before they noticed.
Fergy (RD) appeared to warn us of incoming weather. I didn’t put my jacket on. I should have!
Lewis Ryan and I slipped away from the others in the bad weather and were now up front, sloshing through the soggy miles. My shoes surrendered somewhere near Land’s End.
Land’s End and Beyond
Cue big aid station stop at Land’s End — shoe change, caffeine, and food. A quick chase after Lewis ensued after he got out of there first. Bad idea. Stubbed a rock. Quad exploded. Brief meltdown. Considered stopping. Didn’t.
Then came the nastiest bit of the course — 25km of Mordor between Botallick and St Ives. Honestly, I think Tim Plumb designed that section just to see if people would cry. I nearly did.
I kept glancing back, convinced I’d be overtaken. Every puddle became a shortcut. Every noise was someone coming from behind to pass me out. I was running scared.
The Final Push
From St Ives, the path eases off. The infamous Dunes of Doom and The Bitches hills came and went — sounding scarier than they were. Soon after, I saw the last marshal who greeted me with the best thing I’d heard in a day:
“Congrats Dave, you are now off the coast path, turn right, follow the road.”
I still thought I was going to be caught! So the last kicker to the line was one last kicking for me.
2nd place! It was more than I had ever hoped I would get out of it.
St Dogmaels to West Dale-ish Start: Friday 13th June, 12:00 PM End: Saturday 14th June, 16:17 PM – 28 hours 28 mins Distance Covered: 81.49 miles
The Setup
Friday the 13th – usually lucky for me. Not this time.
The goal was clear: 100 rugged miles of the Pembrokeshire Coast Path, from St Dogmaels to West Dale. The weather promised variety — and delivered it in full: sun, rain, a dramatic overnight thunderstorm, and a sunrise that felt anything but hopeful.
The Crew
Hel: Planner of all things, queen of logistics (and yes, we saw you sneak that nap at Porth Clais 😄) Susie: Solo cheer squad and jellyfish hat wearer, always cheering — definitely doesn’t need the megaphone
Support Runners / Lifesavers:
Sam: 42-mile legend, overnight angel
Domi: Pacemaker and encourager
Kiri: Cheese connoisseur and spirit booster
Tim: Holder of world’s nicest chips and lighthouse comrade
Karen: Surprise morale bomb
Dave: Master of mangled feet
James: Stepped in when descending was impossible
Matt: Support for Sam and photo poser extraordinaire
The G Unit: Mike & George – Flag-bearers and gods of pure encouragement
Family:
Luke (The husband): My rock. Endless support. Surprise appearance at 1am with Tyler and Bleue the dog. Told me not to stop, but also respected my decision. Oh — and brought me a kebab in bed when I couldn’t move.
Tyler (Teenage Daughter): Hug machine. Made me cry at the start line. Told her mates and teachers about me. Turned up at night with Luke. Best comment: “At least I got a Mr Whippy out of it.”
Telephone Support:
Emil (my brother): Surprise source of encouragement and disbelief.
Callum: Called before and after his race (which he smashed and won!). I wish I could remember the gibberish I said to you.
Trig: Confidence builder, belief bringer, always in my corner.
Nobblers
To the ones I didn’t get to see on the route — I’m sorry I missed you. The messages in the social media groups were incredible. I went back and read every single one. They gave me strength, made me smile, and reminded me that this effort was shared — even from afar.
Miles That Flew
St Dogmaels to Moylegrove Everyone bolted from the start. I stuck to the plan — hang back, be smart. I was literally the last one running up that first climb. But I felt amazing. Slightly ahead of schedule by Moylegrove.
Moylegrove to Newport Buzzing. Domi joined in. Felt strong and optimistic. Naively thought the hardest bit was behind me. (Spoiler: it wasn’t.)
Newport to Lower Fishguard Chats, cheese, good vibes. I felt completely in control.
Lower Fishguard to Pwll Deri Rain began. Still invincible. Flag-bearing Tim handed over to Sam near the lighthouse, as planned. Spirits were high.
When It All Turned
Porthgain to Whitesands The weather broke us. Torrential rain, zero visibility, thunder and lightning literally cracking over our heads. Sam asked if it was dangerous — I said no, just before nature answered with a deafening “YES.” No shelter. Just keep moving.
I messaged Luke: “My brain is telling me to stop.” He reminded me: “You don’t want to.”
Feet ruined. Humour gone. First tears came. My brain started whispering lies. But I pressed on.
Whitesands to St Davids Checked into the CP with a pot of noodles and left in tears. I was falling apart. Noodles hit the hedge. I hit a low I didn’t know existed. The wheels? Not just loose — they were falling off.
Deep in the Pain Cave
St Davids to Solva This bit is a blur. Brain shutting down. Sick. Cramping. Blistered. Wet. Exhausted. I knew I wasn’t eating or drinking enough, but my body rejected everything.
Reached the Solva CP and said to Sam: “That’s it. I’m done.” She’d heard it before — but this time I meant it.
The crew rallied. Food forced in. Coffee. Dave worked on my horror-movie feet. Socks. Shoes. Sent on my way again.
Solva to Newgale Slower than a snail. I lay down at times. Pain was constant. But worse than physical pain was the disappointment in myself.
G Unit met me on the trail. All light, no pressure. But my knee gave out. Couldn’t descend steps without sitting. I didn’t stop crying until I knew it was really over.
The End
Newgale. 81.49 miles. My first DNF.
It didn’t feel how I imagined a DNF would. There was no shame. Just acceptance.
Reflections
I didn’t fail. Yes — I didn’t finish the 100 miles. But I did not fail in showing up. I did not fail in giving everything. I did not fail in listening to my body and owning my decision.
Lessons Learned
You don’t grow from what goes right. You grow from what goes wrong. I learned more in those dark, cold, emotional hours than I have in any finish-line photo.
The expected time? Our own expectations? What if it’s – I’ve got a shot and I’m going to take it.
GB Beacons 100k was not my A race. In fact, it wasn’t on the race calendar at all. I had entered their Isle of Skye race but life happened – Plan B was made.
I’ve been thinking a lot about life lately. As a cardiac nurse, I’m often reminded how short life can be. This was rooted when we lost our wonderful friend Tash recently; she had a huge, authentic soul for adventure and it was always a fun laugh to be in her company.
This race was never about a start and finish line. It was about a newfound freedom; do YOUR best. No comparison. Thank you, Tash, for leaving me with a piece of you that I’ll forever be thankful for.
Start line vibes were fine, for it was not a race. 90-odd miles in my legs the week before confirmed this and I was happy for a long day out in the mountains – it’s summer holidays for the kids and as much as I love them (most of the time), training can get a little tiiiiight to fit in. A bit of a slog start along the road and some canal path, but I was already relishing in the freedom of a long day out. The weather was a little hot but bliss.
The first tops – Pen Y Fan ridgeline – you know those moments and feelings you just want to pocket for another day (or even the end of race day)? I felt alive, empowered, and a bag of gratitude on my back to be in the mountains at this moment in time. I powered the ups and soared (well, my version!) the downs on the next Fans section, keeping it all steady and enjoyable. There was to be no pissful performance with pissful fuelling – plenty of pisses needed.
What I do love about races is that people are there from all walks of life, and I love hearing their stories. Jamie, Charlie and I made a great team the latter half of the race and I was grateful for their company when the wheels fell off a tad as the stomach said no to food. Poor hubby Rhyds had been chasing me round all day and missed me at every aid station – with a stash of gels that I actually wanted. Doh!
But I still had fire. It wasn’t over until it’s over and I wanted to finish this race the best way that I could. For me, for Tash, for my family.
3rd female baby!!!!
First ever trophy – yes, I celebrated a little victory but also some problem solving. We pause, we learn, and we grow.
Find your freedom. You’ll be more able than you can ever dare to believe!
Day 5 (evening, it’s getting dark and I am still on top of another bloody mountain)
So here I was, scrabbling around in my pack in the dark on the top of the Beacons, the waves of panic competing with the waves of nausea as my stomach lurched from hunger to God knows what.
“Where the f*%k was my head torch?”
Flashback to charging it the night before, was it now sitting back in the tent, all smug and charged whilst I sat above a very steep, very technical, very dark descent with only an hour before my race was over with no torch?
Finally, I felt the hard casing of the torch in a random pocket in my race vest and it felt like my last chance had just been handed back to me.
3 miles away in the valley the glistening lights, warmth and tea of evening camp called as well as the big red clock ticking down to the 10pm cut off…. Torch on, I can see again…the race is still alive.
I had clicked the enter button to Dragons Back Race in 2021, and 35 months later I finally started it due to a succession of back injuries and I can’t even remember what else. Would have loved to say that gave me the time to get to the start line in the best physical shape of my life, it didn’t, but I did get to the start line and knew this was my only chance at this race.
The Dragons Back race is a 6-day, self-navigation, mountain race from north to south of Wales, a long way and as many mountains as they could possibly get in. Everyone I knew who had actually completed it were heads and shoulders above me, standing in Conwy castle at 6am at the start of Day 1 I knew I was “punching”.
Fast forward 5 days of running, falling, cuts, scrapes and one sprained ankle and I was in bits. Had seen Tim and Aubrey who had come out to support earlier that day and the lip was definitely a bit wobbly.
But I did make it down that night and I did make it before cut off (just) to be greeted by friends Carz, Rachel and Mike who were working on the event (lip wobbled a bit then too).
The prelude to day 5 were 4 days of hanging on, day 1 was amazing, ticking off the first 20 or so miles, loads of overtaking, feeling great, I was actually doing it after all this time….hell yeah! That was until the most innocent of holes coming off the Glyders beckoned my ankle in and I found myself on the floor, with an ankle rapidly increasing in size with waves of faintness, for a good while I thought it was all over, but it got me to the end of day 1 and thanks to medics strapping it every morning, it wasn’t over yet….. Day 2 was wild, Rhinogs, rock, mud and a torch finish. Days 3 and 4 I loved, less elevation and familiar from recent recces, I felt I might actually be able to get to Cardiff. Seeing Caz each day at the support points was always a highlight, he steadied the nerves….
After very little sleep and food it was finally the morning of day 6 and just a long 40 odd mile chatty hobble to Cardiff Castle, to family, burgers and beer…. Bliss.
The Dragons Back Race simultaneously breathes life and fire into you but at same time it drains you, the running is one thing, the elevation another, the terrain from the vertiginous drops of Crib Goch to the wildness of the Rhinogs and the endless bogs of everywhere else, it strips you down. Throw in muddy camps, wet tents and damp sleeping bags with minimal sleep this was tough. But this was what we had come for.
It’s a very personal race, people do it for so many reasons and have vastly differing outcomes, there are so many issues to overcome, navigation, blisters, nutrition, broken bones, through to just good old exhaustion. There are hundreds of stories about each Dragons Back race and they are all very different, but they are all epic.
If you really want it and can find the time to train obsessively for a few years then go for it, but if you can’t train obsessively for whatever reason and still want it then go for it anyway. As they say, “It’s not the size of the dog in the fight, it’s the size of the fight in the dog”.
“You’ve done it Mike, got yourself in the lead just in time to f*** it all up.”
I popped my Beast cherry back in 2023 with the Bach. Twelve months later, with more trail miles under my belt, I tried the WoD edition of the Beast and survived. So when the UltraBeasT made its reappearance this year, I was determined to get the full set of finisher’s coasters.
I reconned the extra loop to Drygarn one evening with Mike Monroe. Considering the freedom to get to the checkpoints using a route of your choosing, we theorised that there was a quicker line than the suggestion on Caz’s map.
Come race day, the first leg through the woods was fast and hectic as usual. The other Ultra runner in view soon disappeared over the horizon.
After many stream dunks of my bucket hat and some water top-ups in Newport, it was time to scale Carn Ingli. Iestyn, a fellow Ultra entrant, breezed past me like a mountain goat—also looking resplendent in a hat of the bucket variety.
We kept trading places for a few miles until we crossed the stream at the base of Feddau. Iestyn shouted that I was going the wrong way as I started half-climbing the hill. I replied that I was trying something different and hoped that I hadn’t chucked a top 3 placing away, as he ran out of sight in mere seconds.
After a long, uphill slog I tied up with the “Golden Road” that sits atop the ridge and was rewarded with ground that could be covered at thrice the speed.
Approaching Carn Alw, front-runner Josh came into sight. At the dib, Martin confirmed he was leading, so it was full gas up to Drygarn. I took the longer but less boggy line to the south and managed to leapfrog into first—Iestyn hot on my heels as I turned for home.
Being in the lead was an unfamiliar and ultimately unenjoyable experience. Without the carrot of runners ahead, there was only self-doubt and the indignity of “f***ing it up” occupying my thoughts; imposter syndrome personified!
Overheating and shedding my lucidity with each mile, I marched unconvincingly up to Feddau and Cwmcwerwyn. I arrived without company and permitted myself some momentary belief that I might actually win something.
Tying up with the Beast and Bach runners was a welcome distraction through the woods back to the village. Running into town with the Beast Buggy, horns blaring, is a memory that will persist for a very long time. I finally allowed myself a smile.
In the last 100 yards, I spotted Tim Mills on the pavement, and through more luck than judgment, we shared the crispest high five Maenclochog has ever witnessed.
The best part of the day was being greeted at the finish by a contingency of animated NBLRs. It was lovely to win—but it underlined how much more enjoyable it is to enjoy the scenery and company…
Billed as ‘a 3-day mountain journey with two nights camping and a variety of courses to choose from’, the GL3D 2025 did not disappoint. Excellent weather provided glorious vistas, quality courses led us through interesting and varied terrain, and top-notch craic maintained a positive vibe as always!
Being relatively new to running—and definitely a newbie to organised race events—the past 3 years have been a thoroughly enjoyable and educational introduction into multi-day mountain running. With varied length courses on offer and the freedom to choose your route ad-hoc, there’s less pressure to meet cut-off times.
The formula is simple: on registration you’re issued the weekend’s course map, an electronic ‘dibber’, and an emergency GPS tracker. The course map reveals the secret overnight camp location.
Day 1 starts at the event centre. Complete your chosen route within generous allotted times and finish at the overnight camp, greeted with smiles and a complimentary beer! After making camp and food, there are various evening activities including talks, films, a pub quiz, and even massages for those sore legs.
Day 2 offers circular routes finishing back at the same camp—rewarded with free cake on completion.
Day 3 heads back to the original event centre, with reduced mileage and elevation to ensure a timely finish.
My Course: The Wainwright
I chose the ‘Wainwright’ course, averaging 27km and 1800m elevation per day—personally achievable without stress, while still considering the conditions over three days. My goal was a fun, fulfilling weekend rather than chasing PBs.
Day 1
A beautiful circumnavigation of Blencathra: Bannerdale Crags, up the valley to Skiddaw House, over Lonscale Fell and Latrigg, then on to Castlerigg before reaching the overnight camp below Great Dodd. Superb conditions, well-defined paths, steady elevation, and good open fell for navigation made this a highly enjoyable opener.
However, below Mungrisdale Common, following the River Caldew towards Skiddaw House, I had a moment of complacency—a rolled ankle! It crunched but was still weight-bearing, so after a quick food break I pressed on with caution.
Day 2
A stunning loop over Helvellyn, down Grisedale to Glenridding, and back via various Dodds to camp. Huge thanks to the incredible medical team who strapped my ankle and made sure I had an exit plan if the injury worsened.
I reassessed at lunchtime by Grisedale Tarn. Everything felt good, conditions were again perfect, so I kept going. Little did I know that in the next few hours, a trail apparition would appear—an image of Jesus Christ, no less, worthy of comparison to the Turin Shroud!
Day 3
The finale focused on Blencathra (Saddleback), an iconic Lakeland fell with a formidable ascent from any direction. The weather held up—cool breezes at altitude helped regulate temperature. The route: a slow, steady ascent via Blease Fell, then a technical descent via Doddick Fell ridge, ending with a warm-down along the River Glenderamackin back to the event centre. A five-star finish!
Final Thoughts
The GL3D is a brilliantly run event catering to all experience levels. Whether you’re looking to build confidence, practice mountain navigation, or simply enjoy running in the fells with solid logistical support, I thoroughly recommend it.
This event is a fantastic opportunity to explore and appreciate some of our most beautiful upland areas. A must-do for any trail enthusiast!
