PanCeltic
Over the recent years I have become increasingly drawn to the UK. We have so much to offer on this little island that I am only beginning to scratch the surface of it. From the Jurassic Coast to the Highlands of Scotland adventures can be found without having to travel too far. The same can be said for awesome events. Whilst there is still a pull for me to jet off to far flung parts of the world like I have done previously, the environmental activist part of me knows that it isn't sustainable and also there is no need when we can put on such killer races in the UK.
The PanCeltic race had been on my radar since following ity two years ago. It had a strong sense of identity which focused on retaining and celebrating the individual aspects of each of the five celtic nations. This, combined with the sense of community and shared experience was what attracted me to the event. On top of all of this was a breathtaking, in more ways than one, route that showed off some of the best british roads. When I saw this I was sold and my application was sent in for a place.
Preparation for the race revolved around the usual trio: physical fitness, dialled in equipment choice and mental readiness. On the fitness front I was coming off some great form from the Three Peaks record so I knew that I was in good shape. As this was my first road ultra there was a fait amount of new kit to test. The Mason Definition was set up in a very similar manner to the Three Peaks but with the off position tweak. I made an instagram video showing my kit breakdown which can be found below.
The final piece of the puzzle was getting my brain in gear. I hadn't had too much time to recover since the Three Peaks so I still felt very tired to the extent that I was nodding off whilst during the day etc. This isn't what you want when going into an event that relies on your ability to cope with sleep deprivation. This combined with a mild cold that I had picked up towards the end of a very busy terms teaching meant that I knew that I wasn't arriving at the start line of the best form of my life. This was a bit of a mental itch that I had in the week before that I couldn't really find a satisfying solution to. I tried tactics such as going through the route file and making notes of shop times/ key moments etc but this didn't really seem to work. I put a lot of pressure on myself to do well in these events and with the win a clear focus here I couldn't help but convince myself that I was setting myself up for failure. These are demons that many of us face whatever our target in cycling or normal life. For me, I just have to keep on falling back on the idea that I am well prepared for this and that at the end of the day (as it says in the race manual) “it is only a bike ride”.
The final week of term drew to a close and soon Meg was driving me down to the start just beyond Plymouth. After dropping our kit off at an AirBnb (one final luxury) we rode over to the sign-on at Maker Hights. It had that usual pre race mix of nerves and excitement that we all develop that love/hate relationship with. A few familiar faces calmed the nerves a bit but I was all but relaxed. The evening's entertainment saw a local band play whilst we sat around the campfire and exchanged stories.
Overnight the heavens opened and they didn’t seem to show any signs of stopping. I spent the final hour or so pre-race holed up inside trying to stay dry for as long as possible. Before long, however, the inevitable happened and we were called to the start where we waited anxiously, in the pouring rain, for race director Matt to wave us off. One rousing speech later and we were off. I slowly picked my way through that pack and moved to the front. I had a very clear goal which was to settle into a steady rhythm but maybe a notch higher that wise. The plan was to snap any elastic to second over the first couple of days and then try to hold the gap.
For the first 60km or so I kept the front of the race in sight, occasionally taking the lead. However 300Km flew by without any hitch, I was bang on my target average speed of 25Kph. I was just about keeping in my target average power range of around 200W but due to the relentless short steep climbs my normalized was way up on where it should have been at 246W for the 12 hours. (This gives a variability index of 1.23 i.e. very high). Now I’m not an absolute slave to the power meter but I do find it useful to help temper my efforts and keep tabs on how things are going. All in all however I felt like I was riding within myself and happily kept on trucking round Lands End through the night and towards CP1 at Boscastle for the early morning. This was the first time I checked the tracker and saw thatI had a small lead on my competitors so I only stopped for a water refill and disappointing brioche before heading off. My next target was the town of Holsworthy, around 75km down the road, where I knew that there would be a CoOp that would be open when I arrived. I like to have these minor attack points during races as they can help to pass the time quicker and also prevent myself from stopping too much. There I had my longest stop yet of about 20 mins where I smashed some yoghurt, chocolate milk and a bacon sandwich and loaded my pockets up with food for the day ahead.
Day 2 was speedy, with a nice tailwind I quickly made my way through the twisty Devon lanes and through Glastonbury for a quick lunch. From here I was on home turf and I had great fun blasting through Gillingham and over towards Salisbury. Where Meg had popped out of work to give me a wave as I passed through Wilton. From here I headed north and was pleasantly surprised by the technical nature of the gravel sector that had been put in to avoid the A-road up to Stonehenge. I was just starting to rain again and I was thanking the cycling Gods that I was going through it in the relative dry and that my 28mm tyres managed to stay inflated (tubeless for the win). Coming past Stonehenge I was greeted by a series of Dotwachers who had come out to cheer me on. This is always a real boost for me and I'm not sure how I would cope without it, by this point I must have seen around 50 people out cheering me on throughout the south-west. Breathtaking.
Heading back west it wasn't too long before the long dark set in and I fell into the monotony of rain and twisty lanes, I had no real concept of where I was and just trucked on following the little purple line on the map. By midnight I was soaked through and would have welcomed a B&B or similar but nothing materialized and I found myself riding down Cheddar Gorge at around 1 when I spotted a cave that would make a warm dry place to rest up for a couple of hours. The alarm was set for two and a half hours and I settled down into my bivvy and easily driften off. When I arose the sun was coming up and I was energized, through the Mendips progress was slow but I eventually made it through Bristol and onto the bridge into Wales.
Two large breakfast baps in Chepstow later and I was ready to start my day. The goal was Pembrokeshire but between that I had miles of bike paths and also some tasty climbs in the Valleys. The miles ticked by, now I knew that I had a strong lead of around 6 hours over my competitors. By the time I got onto the climb out of Pontypridd I was starting to tire a little. My Garmin flashes up that it needs charging, no problem I got the battery pack out. Its flat, again this wasn't a problem as I had a spare. A bit of faffing getting it out and when I check it is also flat. How could this have happened? I hadn't used it yet. Oh well no issue. I made the call to descent back down into Pontypridd where I found a cafe, ordered some food and planned to stay there for a couple of hours whilst things charged up. Maybe get some kip. It was only when I plugged my battery in that I saw that it had full charge. I must have checked the flat one twice…. Still I had my food and a 20 min nap whilst I let things charge anyway. I was soon back on my way but this whole episode must have lost me an hour and a half or so. Not ideal and it messed with me mentally. The following 50km or so was hilly and I kept stopping to change kit, refuel and check the route. I was cycling well, just being very inefficient. One last climb up over the Bwlch and then a long headwind descent in the storm which brought back memories of GBDURO last year due to the cold. From Port Talbot to Swansea it was a classic combination of bike paths and A roads. Pretty quick going but I was glad when it ended. At around 5pm I dined under the golden arches and managed to find a booking at the Travelodge in Pembroke this was around 170km down the road so I knew that it would be a long night to get there.
The Pembrokeshire roads were beautiful as ever however the constant headwind and rain was starting to drag a little so I retreated into myself a little and settled into a steady rhythm. My phone charger brooke as well so another hour was wasted trying to find another. I knew the roads down past Tenby from Ironman Wales which I raced in 2017 and the infamous climb on Saundersfoot stuck well in my memory. A few long hours of zombie mode and I arrived at the travelodge just before 2am. This was the first time that I had stopped at a hotel during a race and it was well received to be sure. Devices went straight on charge, I hopped in the shower and then gave my clothing a wash in the sink before rolling it up in a towel for a quick dry. I set my alarm for three hours.
When I woke up and looked at the time It was 0700 I had overslept by about 90 mins. This was frustrating as whilst it probably was needed I have never slept through my alarm and It could have gone a lot worse. I was out and riding within 10 mins and my legs felt fantastic. The quality sleep seemed to have done its trick and I was back to firing on all cylinders. Being cautious not to overextend myself I made my way to checkpoint 2 at Celtic Camping 1220km into the race. Here I caught up with the media crew for the first time in a couple of days and smashed some bagels, porridge and rice pudding. Before quickly making use of the facilities and heading off. I knew I had a big day ahead of me and I could afford to have another off day like day three.
It was a relief to turn east as I now had the wind at my back, this was the part of the course which surprised me most with its beauty. I didn't really know the lay of the land here and there were some awesome climbs which kept me motivated. These were intermittent with the tight twisty singletrack lanes with grass in the middle that we had become so accustomed to by now. Closing in on the evening I was acutely aware that the roads were suddenly getting very quiet. Then it came to me it was Thursday evening which meant that it was the Euro’s football semi-final. This afforded me the highlight of the race which was crossing the Rhayader mountain road down to the Elan valley at sunset without seeing a single car. This is almost unheard of for “Wales’s top driving road”. More than once I had to just stop and take in the beauty of the place. What's more, with the right tunes in my ear I won't be afraid to admit that I had a tear in my eye. I was on top of the world doing the thing that I love.
Once the sun dropped I kept on trucking until I found a slightly disappointing bivvy spot but you can't have everything. Two and a half hours of sleep later I got up and felt refreshed. I was acutely aware that in a couple of hours I was due to climb the infamous Bwlch-y-Groes AKA Hellfire pass. I had ridden this climb a couple of times in GBDURO so knew what I was in for. The real sting was that this was the start of a 95km loop via Welshpool that had us finishing by coming back up the other side of the Bwlch. In my mind I wanted to make sure that I was off this loop before second place had started it. To this end I pushed hard to the base of the climb then up and over to the other-side. The loop was on fast roads out to Welshpool but on the way back we were back on short sharp punchy lanes which slowed progress. Back past the lake and up the Bwlch for the second time I had it in my mind that that was essentially the last long climb.
My route checking could have been better as I soon found myself going up and over more climbs, this time a tiny mountain road with multiple gates known as the Ranges. What a stunner of a road! Leaving Snowdonia I was finally on the flat and into Porthmadog. Here I checked the tracker and saw that I had about an 8 hour lead. This meant that all I had to do was not have any catastrophic mistakes and it would be in the bag. I found a curry house around 1700 and much to the surprise of the waiter demolished my veggie biryani, tahka dahl, saag paneer, two pilau rice and two garlic naan. This took about an hour but I had time and was feeling confident.
The next section down to the Llyn peninsula was calm. There was a steady headwind but I just put on a podcast or two and settled into it. It was just about sunset when I got down to the headland. I count myself very lucky that I was gifted sunsets at iconic points of the route: Land’s End, Stonehenge, Pembrokeshire coast and the Elan Valley. This just topped it off. Turning north-east I was once again boosted by the wind and I made good progress with no need to rush. I just kept tapping away until I spotted a bus shelter around midnight 30km from Anglesea.
From here it was a case of just plodding on and making sure that I didnt do anything silly that would jeopardise the victory. Anglesea seemed to take an age and by this point I was too focused to really appreciate the scenery. To say my undercarriage was tender would be the understatement of the century yet there was little I could do about this. Eventually, I was back over the Menai bridge and on dry land. This meant around 40km or so to go these flew by and soon the final climb was ticked off and I descended into Conwy. All that was left now as a lap of the Great Orme. I savoured every moment of this. Its that curious combination of wanting to reach the end but not wanting the ride to be over.
I rolled across the line at around 2pm on Friday. 5 days 3 hours after the race start. The reception was fantastic and I was greeted by Toby with a chilled beer. Before long I fell asleep on the sofa only waking briefly to welcome in Chris and Paul who crossed the line in joint second place. What a display of sportsmanship!
The next few days were spent sleeping, eating and welcoming riders in as they crossed the line. It has been about a week now since I finished and have had a bit of time to reflect. This process is ongoing and some of the lessons learned may not appear until further down the line. Aside from the obvious things like putting my equipment through a proper test perhaps the biggest lesson learned was due to a mistake. After sleeping through my alarm at the hotel I felt so refreshed and my legs felt strong for the rest of the day. I now think that it was probably faster in the long run. I know from the past that two hours is enough for me to not feel too sleepy however going forward I think that more sleep may be the way to go for resting up the legs. At least the option is there.
Racing the PanCeltic was such a joy, the route took me through some incredible, unexpected locations. The people, however, are what made the event for me. From the incredible race organisers putting in thier time to pull of the race seemingly without a hitch to the loyal dotwatchers who were forever surprising me making me question why on earth they would be standing by some dodgy cycle path in the middle of the night in the pouring rain. Most of all, perhaps, it was my fellow competitors who inspired me, my race what as smooth as anyone could hope for but some of the other riders suffereds enormous setbacks but found the resilience to keep trucking on through the adversity. That is what the PanCeltic Clan is all about and what will be at the forefront of my mind going forward.