The Paddy Buckley Round: Lessons In Or Lessons From Failure?
So I messed this one up badly.
After 72 km and 5,500m of ascent, I got into the van and gave up. I’d had enough of the Paddy Buckley Round.
Before I get into what went wrong, let me first explain what the Paddy Buckley Round is. Stealing unashamedly from Wikipedia, the Paddy Buckley Round is “a long distance fell running challenge in Snowdonia, Wales. The route is a circuit of just over 100 km long taking in some 47 summits.”
On (admittedly) somewhat of a whim, I’d decided to do this particular ‘long distance fell running challenge’ in August. I’d been struggling to find the right autumn ultra that wouldn’t clash with Sally’s Dragon’s Back Race.
With these types of challenges, you can elect to do it with a team on the hills, or solo (in various ways). For me, the idea of doing it solo* appealed for a couple of reasons: one, it made the logistics easier, and two, it upped the level of difficulty.
*Just to be clear I was going what’s called ‘solo-supported’, meaning Sally could provide road support.
I’d heard that Paddy was generally an hour longer than the Bob, and that going solo would add an extra hour or two. With my 21 hour 14 minute Bob it looked just about possible. And I’d recced the route in parts at about 24-hour pace (admittedly only once).
On paper at least, it looked good.
As I set out on Wednesday 9 August, I felt physically prepared (if not super strong). Yet somehow, deep down inside, I wasn’t feeling that confident.
Now it’s OK to feel unsure you can do something - I felt like that on the Bob - but somehow the feeling of challenge I felt in attempting the Paddy seemed a bit oppressive.
With hindsight, I recognise my head wasn’t right. When things went wrong, and boy did they go wrong, I became overwhelmed by - rather than rose to - the challenge.
So where did it all go wrong?
“We learn wisdom from failure much more than from success” - Samuel Smiles
Now if I’m being honest, I’ve never liked this quote much. Admittedly, It’s largely true because success often goes unexamined, while failure is ruminated on at length.
But there’s more than a grain of truth here; the points of failure show you the processes critical to success.
So what did I learn?
Before I start, let’s be clear - there were bits of my Paddy attempt that went well.
In particular, the night section from Llanberis over to the Glyders was easier than I’d worried it would be. I’d fueled well, and was going strong on the ups as usual.
It was also a lovely clear night with a beautiful sunrise that caught the clouds in the valley.
Lesson 1: Pick your feet up
It was between Glyder Fawr and Glyder Fach that things first went wrong.
An innocuous trip on a loose rock left me on the floor with my right shoulder in the wrong position. There was no pain, and as I sat on the floor contemplating what to do, it popped back into its socket.
Not ideal, but as it didn’t really hurt (then), I picked myself up, dusted myself off, and carried on.
Lesson 2: Practice the technical bits (and ideally don’t dislocate your shoulder)
The descent from the Glyders, and going up and over Tryfan was when I started to lose time.
I shipped over 30 minutes against my 23-hour schedule with a combination of descending poorly, and - surprise, surprise - not being able to support my body weight on my right arm on the scrambles.
This is the second time this year I’ve descended poorly in a long event; it also happened at Lavaredo 120k. I know I can descend quickly because I managed perfectly well at this year’s Snowdon International Race. It could have been nerves due to the shoulder, but it’s something I need to get to the bottom of.
In any event, I clearly need plenty more practice in this section.
And while Ogwen to Capel Curig was relatively uneventful, getting up Pen yr Helgi Du wasn’t brilliant without the full use of my right arm.
Lesson 3: Carry more water than you think you need, and refill it when you can
My wife Sally, and my daughters Anna and Emily met me at Capel, and sent me on my way up Moel Siabod with fresh water and more food.
It was on the climb that I should have realised something (else) was wrong.
The flask of electrolyte drink they gave me was one of the nicest things I’d ever drunk. That should have told me something, and that something was that I was already dehydrated.
I was by a stream. I should have drunk all my water and refilled the bottles BUT I didn’t. That was a BIG error but wasn’t yet a fatal one.
It was the decision NOT to refill my bottles at the Rhosydd Quarry that was the fatal mistake.
I was worried about the water quality; despite having a filter cap on one of my bottles. Plus I thought there must be a better place further on to refill. It turned out there wasn’t and I had to refill back at Quarry on my loop back.
By then I was seriously dehydrated and this had caused me to slow down precipitously. Note: If you’re dehydrated it can take 2 - 3 hours to recover from the situation, so the die was cast pretty much then.
As I’ve usually been able to run without drinking much, I’d taken the decision to carry only 1 litre of water, especially as I was worried about the extra weight. I’d taken a risk and it had backfired.
Lesson 4: Recce Capel to Aberglaslyn multiple times
The other problem I had on Leg 3 was the cloud had now settled in on the tops.
Leg 3 is boggy and indistinct in good conditions, let alone in the cloud. I simply wasn’t familiar enough with the route to navigate without losing a load of time.
Between the difficulty in navigating and my dehydration, I had started to slip off my 24-hour schedule.
But here’s the rub, I only drifted seriously off schedule once I’d decided to quit when I got to Aberglaslyn.
Lesson 5: Take advance action to make it harder to quit
My primary goal was to complete the Round in under 24-hours and my secondary goal was to have fun.
I definitely wasn’t having fun, so once I’d felt I was unlikely to get around in 24-hours, I decided to quit. It made sense in my (clouded) mind at the time and truthfully, I don’t regret it.
But I’d made it TOO EASY for me to take that decision.
Once I’d decided to quit, I called Sally, who asked me to think about whether I wanted to rethink and continue. She also asked me whether she could let my ultra-running friends know I intended to quit. I’d said no.
Sally now has my blanket permission to not let me quit at the car, and to tell whoever she likes if I want to quit. I may also need someone in my crew who’d I’d be too embarrassed to quit and / or have a tantrum in front of.
Just to make it harder for me to come to that decision to quit. Note: It’s absolutely OK to DNF, but it’s also smart to make it harder to DNF.
And I’d made it too easy.
So what’s next?
I want to complete the Big 3 UK Round: the Bob, the Paddy and the Charlie Ramsay Round.
There I’ve said it!
So to me, the question isn’t, do I come back? Rather, do I come back solo or supported by my mates?
After some thinking about it, I’m going to come back solo.
This time, I’m going to follow the advice I’ve put down here: put some proper practice in on Tryfan, and re-recce legs 3 and 4. I’m also going to carry plenty of water, refill my bottles regularly, and set things up to make quitting as difficult as possible.
The extra work will build my confidence that I can rise to the challenge. Plus I’m also going to spend time in making sure I’m mentally prepared from the get-go.
And yes, preferably I’m not going to dislocate anything either!