Cribyn Fell Race

The hail hits first. Sharp. Horizontal. No easing into it.

We’re stood at Cwm Gwdi car park, Brecon Beacons just before 12pm. Thirty five of us. Quiet, in that way fell runners are, no fuss, just checking kit, watching the sky, knowing what’s coming.

Then the clouds roll in properly. Temperature drops. Brief turns serious.

Full kit mandatory.

Waterproofs on. Gloves on. No debate.

This isn’t a race you blag your way through.

5.5 miles, 3100ft of climb. On paper it’s short, in reality, it’s not.

This one mattered. Not for position, I already knew where I’d likely be, but because it marked a start point, a line in the sand. Work to do ahead of the summers Snowdon Race. Fitness to rebuild. Edges to sharpen.

And the only way to do that… is to put yourself in to the grind.

We go! Straight into a climb. No easing, no rhythm. Just straight onto muddy, broken ground, turning into a hike soon after, the heart rate up early.

Legs are feeling it, I’m not fell fit. No where near but you have to jump in with both feet sometimes.

I settle into it anyway, no panic, just keep moving.

Checkpoint one, quick glance, quick word, move on. We were told at the start that CP1 was staffed by an ex headteacher, don’t cut the corner or she’ll have ya!

Then the turn, left and drop into the valley.

This is where it gets messy. No clean line, no obvious path, just tussocks, hidden holes, sheep tracks that appear and disappear without warning. Ankles working overtime. Eyes constantly scanning. Try and pick a line, adjust, react.

I angle off, roughly ten o’clock and committing to it. No second guessing. I need to get across to climb Cribyn. A small river crossing, then straight into the climb.

This is where it becomes a decision.

Short and steep, straight to the path, or longer, drawn out, but more controlled. Either way… it’s going up. I commit to a line, no dithering, just crack on

The wind’s now properly in, gusting hard. The kind that knocks your balance mid step. Hail still coming in sideways, stinging the legs to the point they go numb.

You stop feeling it after a while. Not because it eases. Just because your body has bigger things to deal with, climbing, breathing, staying upright.

Halfway up Cribyn, I check in with myself. Legs… actually feel strong. Surprisingly all the S&C, the graft, It’s there and holding. That’s a small win.

Then reality, sweepers behind me, I’m in last position, I had a feeling it would be the case with only 33 starters. No ego here, just work and get to the top.

Once at the summit of Cribyn, no celebration or lingering, it’s too windy and cold for that shit! Just control yourself in the wind and keep moving.

The descent is sketchy. Not technical in a flashy way, just relentless. Uneven ground. Loose rock. Wind trying to shove you off line, every step is deliberate.

Then it comes….. Jacob’s Ladder.

You look at it, you know what it is, you know it’s going to hurt! Quads burn, calves tighten, breathing ragged now and the wind taking your breath away. Hands on legs, driving upwards.

This is the point where it becomes honest, no hiding, just you v’s Pen Y Fan and the weather!

It reminds me of the military. That same stripped back place. No noise, no distraction, just effort and decision.

Pen Y Fan summit, wind still battering, visibility holding…. for now.

This should be the fast part, but it’s not. Not today.

Gusts knock you sideways, walkers appear out of nowhere, foot placement matters. One mistake here and it’s a problem, so you stay switched on.

Controlled aggression. When the ground allows it, you open up slightly, lengthen the stride, let it go a bit, then rein it back in, all the way down.

Back onto runnable ground, now I can move.

Stride opens, rhythm returns, you can finally run properly, and it feels good.

The finish appears, no fanfare, just done.

1 hour 50. I’m battered.

Legs shot, face and legs stinging, all I can think about… is a brew.

I loved it. Not because it was comfortable, it wasn’t. Not because I performed well, I didn’t, but because this is what it’s about, just you, the mountain, and whatever the weather decides to throw at you.

You carry what you need. You make your own decisions, you deal with it, it’s that simple.

There’s something in that, in a world where everything’s becoming easier, softer, more guided… this isn’t, and that’s exactly why it matters.

You don’t conquer the mountain, you just earn your way across it.

Sometimes, that’s enough.