“You’ve done it Mike, got yourself in the lead just in time to f*** it all up.”
I popped my Beast cherry back in 2023 with the Bach. Twelve months later, with more trail miles under my belt, I tried the WoD edition of the Beast and survived. So when the UltraBeasT made its reappearance this year, I was determined to get the full set of finisher’s coasters.
I reconned the extra loop to Drygarn one evening with Mike Monroe. Considering the freedom to get to the checkpoints using a route of your choosing, we theorised that there was a quicker line than the suggestion on Caz’s map.
Come race day, the first leg through the woods was fast and hectic as usual. The other Ultra runner in view soon disappeared over the horizon.
After many stream dunks of my bucket hat and some water top-ups in Newport, it was time to scale Carn Ingli. Iestyn, a fellow Ultra entrant, breezed past me like a mountain goat—also looking resplendent in a hat of the bucket variety.
We kept trading places for a few miles until we crossed the stream at the base of Feddau. Iestyn shouted that I was going the wrong way as I started half-climbing the hill. I replied that I was trying something different and hoped that I hadn’t chucked a top 3 placing away, as he ran out of sight in mere seconds.
After a long, uphill slog I tied up with the “Golden Road” that sits atop the ridge and was rewarded with ground that could be covered at thrice the speed.
Approaching Carn Alw, front-runner Josh came into sight. At the dib, Martin confirmed he was leading, so it was full gas up to Drygarn. I took the longer but less boggy line to the south and managed to leapfrog into first—Iestyn hot on my heels as I turned for home.
Being in the lead was an unfamiliar and ultimately unenjoyable experience. Without the carrot of runners ahead, there was only self-doubt and the indignity of “f***ing it up” occupying my thoughts; imposter syndrome personified!
Overheating and shedding my lucidity with each mile, I marched unconvincingly up to Feddau and Cwmcwerwyn. I arrived without company and permitted myself some momentary belief that I might actually win something.
Tying up with the Beast and Bach runners was a welcome distraction through the woods back to the village. Running into town with the Beast Buggy, horns blaring, is a memory that will persist for a very long time. I finally allowed myself a smile.
In the last 100 yards, I spotted Tim Mills on the pavement, and through more luck than judgment, we shared the crispest high five Maenclochog has ever witnessed.
The best part of the day was being greeted at the finish by a contingency of animated NBLRs. It was lovely to win—but it underlined how much more enjoyable it is to enjoy the scenery and company…
Mike George
