Steam Bunny Stomp 2014

Set amongst the Welsh valleys with the Brecon Beacons to the North and the Severn estuary to the south, Steam Bunny is a race that promises a stomp through some beautiful countryside and spectacular views. With 447 metres of ascent spread over three climbs, descents that would make alpine ibexes think twice (probably not actually) and names such as ‘Dead Sheep Alley’, Steam Bunny makes for a challenging fell race.

Having recced the route the week before, I was feeling fairly confident that I could slowly haul myself to the top of the mountain (three times) and swiftly scurry down again without too much trouble. I had also noted the best paths to take where route choice was allowed.

However, I’d failed to mentally prepare myself for the pretty horrendous weather conditions that were forecast. We arrived at Penyrheol and it was wet, windy and wild. Listening to the briefing before the start allowed sufficient time for my muscles to feel cold again, completely voiding my warm up. Then, stopwatches were set and we were off, running straight into the wind. I felt absolutely horrendous: my muscles were cold and the relentless wind insisted on stealing my breath. Fortunately, it wasn’t long before we turned a corner and the wind was behind us, giving a pleasant little shove from behind. This was enough to allow me to relax into a rhythm and then the weather didn’t bother me anymore, even the stinging rain that came later on.

It often takes me a while to relax into a race, but when I do I remember how fun fell running is! Steam bunny is a great route – the ascents up the mountain are steep (to the extent that I was on all fours in some sections) but not too long and when you reach the summit I find that you have enough left in your legs to quickly up your pace for the flat sections. On the recce, I was lucky enough to get a great view from the summit, but unfortunately on race day it was pretty grey and gloomy. Then comes the downhill, which I always look forward to. I love just letting my body fall and just hope that my legs and eyes can keep up. This is quite difficult when the terrain is soggy and your vision is impaired by the rain. In fact, the penultimate descent really put the ‘fell’ in fell running…five times in fact. But it’s still fun. The final descent was much easier underfoot and I found myself leaping comfortably from rocks on the uneven path. The last section was fast and flat to the finish, I was a little disappointed that there was nobody around to race to the line with though.

It took me about an hour and twenty minutes to run the seven (ish) miles. There were 36 people running that day and I finished second out of just five senior females. I left feeling tired but relaxed, with a huge bottle of Belgium beer under my arm. All in all, a happy bunny.

Steam Bunny Stomp

I had seen the man ahead of me and assumed he was a marshal. Who else after all would be on this wind battered hillside in the rain. Then I got closer, saw he was walking away and had a dog, and knew even before I asked him that I had gone the wrong way.

‘Have you seen any other runners? I asked.

‘Oh, no I don’t think so. Not recently. Not since I’ve been up here.’

I have to admit I think I swore, and turned around, jogging back along the track to find where I had left the course. Then I saw the marshal, down the hill on my right, far from the junction with the track, wearing black. I have seen more conspicuous trees in forests.

The race itself was a great course – along a track and up a steep hill near Pontypool in South Wales, then along another track which wound its way along the top. The wind was ferocious and the rain stung. I could feel myself being pushed back. Deep puddles sucked at my shoes. But it was going well; the uphills burnt but I was in third place, and the fourth far behind. Then I lost sight of the two in front and this is where it all went wrong.

By the time I was back on the course, diving steeply downhill over burnt heather and then immediately back up a stream bed alongside a plantation, I could see a dozen runners in front. The frustration gave me some energy but my breathing was disrupted and my legs complained at the moss clump hopping that had to be done on the next summit. Then downhill again steeply and up the last climb, the steepest, a muddy slope where everyone I could see was walking, nearly bent double.

I had studied the altitude profile on the website before the race and knew that this was near the end, and managed to find some reserves to speed up on the final downhill. Nearly slipping on some muddy rocks and taking an interesting route choice through a gorse bush are all to be expected on a fell run, and certainly played their part here. I was happy to see the finish, after a tiring 11km with 450m climb.

I am stuck between thinking that I should have been looking up, paying more attention to the route, or alternatively that it is ridiculous that the marshals wore black and sometimes weren’t at key intersections. The wind did prevent me from looking up that much, which was hard to contend with. And maps (on Google maps with the route drawn on) were provided, though I don’t know how much use these were. Next time I’ll do a recce, and I’ll be back for this next year – it’s a great distance and ascent for a race over what felt like a classic route.