My jaunt up Moel Famau

The alarm went off at 7:30. It was switched off but I was unable to get back to sleep knowing that someone else - Mark, to be specific - was packing his bag, donning his running kit, and making his way in the rain to the base of Moel Famau. So up Rich and I got, debating whether extra hoodies were going to be necessary, and off we went.

The extra hoodies were necessary. Rich took great delight in telling me every time the temperature gauge in his car dropped half a degree. By the time we were at the base of Moel Famau (the second car park - closest to the hill), it was cold.

Not that we needed that snowflake to advise us as the windscreen was white with hail. We took our time putting our headphones in, making sure our woolly hats were on straight, fastening our running belts, regretting wholly our choice of shorts as opposed to trousers...

My soundtrack for this run was Fleetwood Mac - 'Go Your Own Way', Placebo - 'Running Up That Hill' and Chicane & Bryan Adams - 'Don't Give Up'. Every pun intended.

I took the easiest route of course, with it being my first attempt. I started too quickly and ended up gasping quite quickly. But I levelled my pace out, controlled my breathing and carried on. As the wind got stronger and the hail beat me around the face, I admit I had to stop a few times and put my back to the weather. That hail was like tiny little needles all over me, especially when my skin was starting to feel red raw, even through my windbreaker. I also had to walk up the steep slate path only because running would have been risking actual death, it was so slippy. I ran where it was safe to, but I did start wondering when I'd get to the top. I was completely alone, not even the sheep had bothered to come out. I dropped to tie my shoe lace, then as I cast my eyes above, the cloud cleared and I saw the Jubilee Tower.

Victory!

At the top, I sought shelter in a doorway of the Tower, feeling pretty happy with myself, when a man appeared from around the corner, casually jogging along as if the terrain was a calm beach. He caught sight of me cowering amongst the rock, and yelled 'Morning!' whilst waving. These proper fell runners are truly insane.

The descent hurt more than the ascent because the hail was on the back of my legs, again like tiny little needles. I found it was easier to run like I was running through tyres, like footballers do in training, to try to avoid the rocks, but also to avoid getting into too much of a rhythm and running myself off the edge of the hill.





I was victorious at the end of the run and remained so for around 5 minutes but then the shivering set in and didn't stop until around an hour later.

It was totally worth it. I know it's not a huge deal to most people, but to me, running up that hill was a victory. And yes, it's a hill, not a mountain, which kills my buzz just a little bit. I think it's only about 6km at the most. Next time I'm doing it in dry weather, or at the very least, wearing trousers and waterproof gloves.