Every Path is the Right Path - My Story of the Dragons Back Race

Whoooosh, the world turns grey as I'm momentarily looking up at the sky. The sole of my right foot catches my eye as it flies above my head. Bang! I hit the long, steep, grassy slope which is now a waterfall after hours of heavy rain, with all the force on my left shoulder. In the same movement, I roll down the hill like I used to as a child and then spring back to my feet without breaking stride. I have somehow not made contact with the rocks scattered beneath the grass. Quick mental check; have I got any injuries? No. Is all my gear in the same place? Yes. I recalibrate my cadence again, quicker steps and landing with a full foot when changing direction. My line was too aggressive. The line we choose is ours to find in this race. We pick our own path across Wales with the help of a recommended route.

I'm at full speed again now, hurtling towards the bottom of the hill as I see the run out to a broad plateau. I'm flying through the mist, cycling my legs underneath me, as I pop off a moss covered boulder and get some air. I can feel someone behind me as I hit the plateau and check my over my right shoulder. As I do I'm immediately thrown forwards. My left leg is mid thigh deep in a bog. I've missed the tussock I was aiming to hit that I saw in my peripheral vision before I turned, and come to a complete stop. I pull myself out, fingernails into soft moss and mud, lick my wounds and take the next step on this unrelenting journey across Wales.

Welcome. This is around 10am, on day one, four hours into the toughest mountain race in the world. The Dragons Back Race, a six day stage race from Conwy Castle on the North Coast of Wales, to Cardiff Castle on the South Coast. It is 380km with 17,000m of vertical ascent across some of the most brutal terrain in the world. It was a tough start, but I was rising to the challenge. (Spoiler alert) Fast forward 72 hours and I would be making the tough decision to retire from the race. But let's rewind briefly for a moment. How did I get here?

The Journey

I first saw this race back in 2012 when it came back on the calendar after its hiatus since 1992. It is a monumental undertaking, and is most definitely a postgraduate race if you want to compete at the pointy end. At 38 and with years of mountain experience and ultra running in my legs I felt ready to cross the world and give it my best shot. You never know who will turn up on the start line, so I have long since come to peace with simply fulfilling my own potential, and not attaching such value to a position in the field. However, my sights were set on getting myself as fit as I could to see where I stacked up against some of the best mountain runners in the world. I signed up 9 months out from the race and every session was planned through the prism of the Dragons Back. I raced well in the early part of the year coming 1st at the Northburn 100km and 2nd at the South Island Ultra 100km. These races were off the back of big blocks of hill and lactate threshold work respectively. It gave me enormous motivation knowing what was in store come September 2024.

In the 3 months leading up to the race I ran 1700km and over 100,000m vertical with 3 down weeks built into that time. The final month was spent in the mountains in Europe. The trails, landscapes and mountain culture is unparalleled in the criss cross of borders between Italy, France and Switzerland. The Aosta Valley in northern Italy, Chamonix in France and Colfosco in the Dolomites were key training locations that provided beautiful lines joining passes and peaks. Several sky race GPX files were sought and used to test the body over tough terrain in these areas, a highlight being the Dolomyths course.

The final pre-race dance was in Zermatt in Switzerland for the Matterhorn Ultraks 49km Sky Race 9 days out from Dragons Back. This event was predominately run at an altitude of over 2200m asl and had a total vertical of 3600m. It was a really fun trail with some fast starting Europeans. As the race wore on I came through the field, being careful with my energy as this was definately a B race. The final 3km saw us drop 1000m vertical into Zermatt with the Matterhorn towering overhead at the end of the valley. Dust was flying from the trail as we dropped like a stone to the finish. I crossed the line in 22nd overall from a field of 700 and feeling pretty fresh. I had no muscle soreness in the days that followed and knew I was physically ready for the biggest voluntary challenge of my life. There was all the other prep for an event like this in the months, perhaps years but certainly weeks and then days preceding. Nutrition, recovery, foot care, electrolyte balance, clothing, shoe choice and on and on and on. The details are perhaps for another blog post. Let's just say that side of things was dialled.

Highest point on the Alta Via in the Italian Alps

Lining up under the walls of Conwy Castle and hearing the Welsh choir sing "You Will Never Walk Alone" before the grand depart was an emotional moment. My brother was a Liverpool fan and this was their song. I found myself choking up on the line as I looked to the heavens and thought of Elliott, "love you mate, miss you everyday". The race director counted us down and we were off. Within minutes those same heavens I gazed at to feel the energy of my brother, who passed by suicide 10 years ago, opened with full force. Running those first few hours had me feeling overwhelmed. A surreal moment, "I'm here, actually racing along the Dragons Back" despite the pouring rain. Until a whoosh...and bang brought my attention sharply back into focus.

Breaking the Dragons Back, or Breaking me?

Let's dive back into the bog where we left my thigh on that first day. This was a 6 day event, pacing was key. But I hadn't come to this event to walk through Wales. The terrain was such that it forced you to consider slowing to a walk at almost every step. It was slippery, technical, rocky and boggy. For me, the joy was in racing across this ground, to dance and continue relentlessly forwards. At times it felt like you were hunting an invisible prey, or being hunted. Using everything in your toolbox to move through the landscape as efficiently and as fast as possible while knowing this would continue for 6 days. To adapt to the landscape and try to be flexible in your style to connect with the terrain and not fight it.

I'm across the boggy plateau and down another hill and then I cross a road after a support point and begin to ascend quickly up towards Crib Goch and on around the Snowdon Horseshoe. By now some sun is poking through and as the view gets a little airy on the ridge I catch glimpses of the lakes below in the Snowdonia National Park. The rock has dried a little and the route is in great condition. I've become so used to the terrible rock in Aoraki/Mount Cook where you pull off dinner plate sized segments as you attempt to navigate a good route. Here there are no such issues, every handhold is bomber. I have never been on such terrain in a race in New Zealand and its such a joy to use all four limbs to monkey your way up steep rock, again choosing your line, the occasional marshal saying "maybe that way would be good".

I'm with Ryan now, a strong Welsh runner taking the hard route back to his hometown of Cardiff. We work in tandem around the horseshoe choosing different lines and sometimes calling out to each other from the other side of the ridge, "this way looks like a good line mate!!" or "Nope, stick to your side". As we begin to leave the rock and spot the campsite below in the valley I let the legs find flow and fly down the final grassy slope. I fall a few times but it's soft and I bounce up each time. It's been a tough first day. That day on its own as a stand alone event would be impossibly hard for some, and I'm not even sure that we would race over that terrain or in those conditions in New Zealand. It clocks in at 52km and 4400m vertical to most of us in camp, mostly off track while navigating in pouring rain and with low cloud cover. Im 8th.

Then: Get camp gear. Make recovery shake. Make electrolyte drink. Wash in river then full submerge for 5 mins. Remove tape from feet. Get dry. Lots of warm layers. Put on recovery tights. Chips. Soup. Tea. Chat with people in the mess tent. Check messages from friends and family. Check feet again. Charge Watch. Prepare sleeping bag and pad for bed. Clean bag and bottles from the day. Another recovery drink. Dinner. Another dinner. Pudding. Another pudding. Read map for next day. Stretch. Take magnesium. Earplugs, eye mask. Try to sleep. (I fail at this last task haha).

It's day two. I haven't slept too well. But I still wake with plenty of energy. The legs are not stiff or sore and the three helpings of breakfast go down well. Morning ablutions complete, bags sorted and then it's time to keep heading South.

It's a faster start to the day with some easy roads and hills in the first 10km or so. I'm moving really well, actually a lot better than the first day. I can feel myself making lots of micro adjustments to the very specific terrain of the Welsh mountains. Im descending with a lot more fluidity. Then Max King and Simon Roberts catch me. They started the day a little later as they were 1st and 2nd on the first day. Its intoxicating to feel their energy as they come through. I let them pass and exchange a few words then we drop into a descent for the next few kms. I can keep with them as we pass a stream of runners who started earlier in the morning. It's a running career highlight to run with Max in particular. It's after the water point that they run a climb that for me is a power hike and I see them gracefully move off ahead. Its not long before im in another great group of runners. I'm the odd one out as they are all Scarpa athletes but I feel the pace is more where I'm at in the race. Its a joy to move in unison through the landscape. It's also brutal and intense and its taking me to a place in my running I haven't been for years. It feels so good to be working with Gabe, Lewis and John throughout the day. At times one of us drops off and then reconnects with the group later down the trail. I'm taking it pretty easy on the climbs where Gabe and Lewis are just demons but then open up and enjoy the descents and find myself coming back to them again. Its all a calculated risk though and I'm hoping I'm getting the balance right.

I pass Brooke (who I coach) and Kate during this time and its a real boost to see Brooke looking really strong and moving with purpose along her journey. I'm stoked she has found someone in Kate that she can bounce off. The words "to go fast go alone, to go far, go together" will become something I reflect on later in the week. Right now though, I'm in the Scarpa hunting tribe and we are tracking towards the finish of day two as efficiently as possible. A solid day at 61km and 3700m vertical. Im 7th.

Camp: Straight in the river and repeat above.

It's day three of this 6 day epic across the whole length of Wales. I haven't slept well again and I'm definitely tired today. The legs are still not sore though and I'm moving around camp well in the morning despite the mud! I know this is where the event starts, can you still run on tired legs? Its what I've done all this training for. It's an easy first 5km and initially I'm feeling a little creaky but I'm able to get some kms in at 4:30 pace before we hit the slopes of Cadair Idris. An 800m climb. Easy peasy. I've been smashing mountains bigger than this for months. But as I run the beginning of the climb I notice that the legs are feeling off. I'm feeling a little off generally actually. I start to power hike and hit another gel even though its not time yet. More tailwind. Perhaps I'm dehydrated? Its not a low like I've experienced in an ultra before. Just a lack of power. This time Max and Simon come past and fly straight off into the mist.

It's getting cold now, I'm not moving so fast and the rain starts as I get closer to the summit. I keep eating and drinking trying to ride out the low. Then I'm moving so slowly that the gloves and lightweight jacket have to come out. I tag the checkpoint on the top of Cadair Idris and think to myself, "lets go, time to get the legs moving down the other side". They come back to life briefly but then I find myself stabbing around with my feet on technical ground, running with no finesse and flow. Now the Scarpa boys go right past me and yell at me to come along, but I've got nothing. Shit. I'm in big trouble. I can't see them as they disappear. I'm disconnected from the race now. I'm in amongst slower runners who set off earlier and I'm scratching at ideas to get my body moving faster again.

Trying to get some speed off Cadair Idris

It's been hours now since I felt energy and power in my legs. It's a desperate feeling. We hit the road and I try to pick the pace up again, willing myself to move. My throat is scratchy now, and my glands are swollen. I think at the time its the 15 litres of tailwind I've already consumed this week. I hit the water point and buy a coke and a mars bar. I inhale both and hit the road to try and get myself moving again. It's coming and going now but the energy isn't flowing like it should. As I hit the official support point I know I'm really in deep shit. One of the marshals who I had gotten to know asks me what I'm doing there so late. He quickly realises I've already dug very deep and helps me put my refilled bottles away and shouts as I leave, "you can DO THIS!" I can still hear his voice.

As I leave that support point to set my sights on the evenings camp the wheels come off. I now can't run the flat ground or the descents. My legs have no power left in them. Even the aerial display of some fighter jets screaming past my head can't get me going. Initially I'm angry as I try to summon the strength to run over and over again. It's punishing. It's pretty easy terrain too. Perhaps the easiest of the race so far. I know that if this wasn't happening I would be getting some good speed through here. But alas, that is not my story. I begin to cry. I can feel that my race is slipping away. Its taking an enormous amount of energy to keep moving now. I know that I can walk to the finish of day 3 and still make the cut offs. I do that. I march, then I stumble, then I walk, then I try and trot again and then I walk. A downhill appears, great, I trot but can't really place my feet properly and I'm now aching all over so the downhill is too much to run again. My mind just can't comprehend how quickly things have unravelled. We have already done a huge amount of climbing now and I'm just desperate to get to camp when a final hill comes into view.

Said hill.....

It's an absolutely stunning evening but the sight of the hill brings my emotions to the surface. I've tried to bury the tears throughout the day as I haven't found that letting that energy out helps in a race. But now as I walk up this hill, with the West Coast of Wales in perfect light, I am sobbing. I hear click, click, click, click as I realise a photographer is capturing my pained face. As I fall down the final paddock to the road and then into camp I can hear Brooke scream my name. I haven't caught and passed her and Kate today. I try to break into a shuffle, but I'm completely broken. I cross the line and am in a lot of physical and emotional distress. 69km and 3500m vertical on day 3, and I'm now 13th in the race, but I am completely shot.

Digging deep

Failure is a Bruise not a Tattoo

I slept terribly. Perhaps a couple of hours at most. I was aching. In pain. I realised very early in the morning that my race was done. It was such a hard thing to accept. But in truth the wheels were set in motion for that decision months earlier. The physical build up to the race had been incredible, but I had had a lot of stress in other areas of my life that meant my resilience was not where it needed to be. The scratchy throat, swollen glands and lack of power and energy were a precursor to a virus, which was really unfortunate. Would I have finished the race were it not for getting sick? Probably. But it misses the point entirely. This race and my running don't sit in a vacuum of their own, they sit within the larger context of my life. Things had not been in balance for some time leading up to the event. The stress I was carrying in my mind and body meant that when I did get sick, I didn't have anything left to give. This accumulated stress may have even played a part in me getting sick.

The words of my psychologist were ringing in my ears on the morning of the 4th day, "Remember the sunken cost fallacy Matthew". How deep do you keep digging if you know the odds are stacked against you? When is it wiser to abandon the original plan, and accept that it's foolhardy to persist. For me, in that moment, despite all of the time, money, blood, sweat and tears, enough was enough. I had given all I had and it just wasn't meant to be. I know some of you reading this will probably think, "c'mon, one bad day and you throw the towel in". But racing for me now is not about seeing how deep I can dig my own grave. Sure, there have been times past when previous trauma has powered me to great levels of performance. But at what cost? You can only keep striking at that match box for so long before it burns out. It is not sustainable, nor is it enjoyable.

Of course, initially it's a very hard thing to accept, "wait me.....this seasoned ultra runner just giving up?" It's like the person staring back at you is not one you recognise. I have time and time and time again buried myself so deep but this time I chose I different path. I didn't want my journey to be one of pain and anguish. A death march where I was summoning the darker memories to power me over harsh terrain. I had the intention of running light across Wales knowing the journey is always a mixture of light and shade, bitter and sweet. But I wanted this magnificent line to be in the spirit of positivity, of playing and dancing within the environment and with others. The race will break even the very best athletes body, but the mind must remain strong, be cheerful in the face of adversity. It must remain balanced, regulating the fluctuations of thoughts, emotions and feelings.

For me, with the stress I was carrying and everything that I had going on in my head, I lost sight of this, and I lost my balance. This is where the failure lays for me, and where the lessons are abundant and applicable across the length and breadth of my life.

Every Path is the Right Path

So I wanted to compete at the very top in the Dragons Back race and test myself and I wanted to see the whole of Wales, ultimately to finish. I achieved the first part but my path took a fork in a field in the Welsh valleys and here I am writing this blog post for a new venture. To see Brooke who I coach cross the line on the podium in Cardiff made me immensely proud. It made me realise that even though I need my own challenges, that at this time in my life I am getting just as much satisfaction from sharing my experience.

Brooke at the finish of the toughest mountain race in the world!

Once the sadness, frustration and anger subsided regarding my own journey ending prematurely, I have come to view my experience in a different way. It has brought to light blind spots, areas of my wellbeing I have neglected and for that I am grateful. Running and racing potential will be just that unless I continue to work to balance current stress and past trauma. Gone are the days in my mind when it was a badge of honour to see how deep you could dig. I want to see how fast and far I can go in this life while keeping sight of the light. I want to share that with others and this experience has shown me how much I love the process of coaching, supporting and guiding.

In every moment in life and in particular when times are tough, it can be hard to understand the why. I wanted to finish the Dragons Back but that wasn't my path. But the lessons and growth that have come out of that 'failure' are already bearing fruit. Having the courage to face failure, to stand tall amongst racing giants, to reach for my potential. To be open to learn from mistakes and to shine light onto my blind spots. To be brave and start Run Light off the back of such a personal disappointment.

I have learnt that we may never feel ready to step forward, and sometimes we are not, sometimes we fail, but we always learn. And in this way every path is the right path.

PS. In case you are wondering, and this may surprise those closest to me: Yes I would like to go back to Wales and try again one day. Watch this space :-)

Sometimes its good to stop and reflect :-)