Mynydd Troed fell race

Race: Mynydd Troed fell race, shortened route (7k/550m)
Time/Position: 1:02:54 (38th from 80)
A disastrous start to this year's Welsh fell running championships. My decision to do the 10 mile champs yesterday initially seemed vindicated when our group of North Walian runners arrived in Pengenffordd near Talgarth in gale-force winds and driving rain. Several trees had blown down and the paths were pouring with mud and water. As I'd gambled, the race was shortened, and I hoped this would suit my tired legs. The initial climb up the northerly ridge of Troed felt anything but suitable and was characterised by a ferocious tail wind, which sometimes helped as it blew us upwards, but sometimes came from the side - knocking runners down like skittles and reminding me of the Borrowdale OMM, last year's Carneddau race and numerous other similar outings! I sought the shelter of the lee slopes and crawled up on hands and knees in places: torrential rain throughout, me in tried and tested full battle gear of thermals and waterproofs. The splendid well-defined ridge wasn't as bad, exhilarating rather than desperate, and I began to pick up a few places then took six runners on a superb, if slippy, descent to Cwm Sorgwm. Managed a complete somersault just before the ground levelled off. Then, disaster struck! On emerging at the road, I made the worst error I've ever made on a fell race and stupidly followed the tape of the original route all the way to the farm at Blaenau Draw, instead of just heading up the level road to the right. This lost me several minutes and completely ruined any chance I had, so I just plodded miserably back to retrace my steps to the road and tried to keep a reasonable pace going past several blown-over trees until the very steep second ascent of Mynydd Troed back up the SW slopes to the main summit. I began to tire on this, and lost even more ground as my shattered legs began to protest at what I've put them through this last week. The final descent was always going to be 'interesting' and so it proved as we got a right old battering descending into the teeth of the gale: my waterproofs acting as impromptu parapentes, blowing me back up the slope. More drama was to come, as John returned to the finish with serious hypothermia.