THIS IS HARDCORE
Fearsome yet friendly. Harsh but hospitable. Excruciating but exhilarating. The Brutal is the Jekyll and Hyde of British triathlon. And it finally returned with a bang in 2022. We were there to face the Snowdon showdown…
After over eight hours of swim, bike and running, the moment I’ve been dreading, dreaming of and sweating over for months has finally arrived. I strain every sinew to push forward as my walking speed hovers at 3km/hr. The inclines are comically steep and the weatherbeaten path is as cracked as my mental resolve. But Snowdon is finally within my grasp and I can practically touch the summit. Job done, surely?
An athlete coming down from the summit runs in my direction. “Nearly there mate, just another hour to the top,” he smiles. I’ve been looking at the wrong peak. This is hardcore. This is the Brutal, and I’m ‘only’ doing the Half version. Time then to have a Snickers and a stern word with myself.
The Brutal was born in 2012 and has since become a regular and rightly acclaimed presence on the long- and ultra-distance calendars. Half, Full and Double Brutals are on offer over the weekend (the Triple will return in 2023), with the Double seeing athletes face 465 of triathlon’s hilliest kilometres over two days of endurance sport escapades. Mama.
Based on statistics (elevation gain, average water and air temperatures, etc) and athlete testimony, I once voted the Brutal Half the second toughest middledistance race in the world on these pages, admittedly from the comfort of my pastry-encrusted chair. The defunct TriathlonX was the winner, meaning that the Brutal Half should now take the top spot. But would it be a case of lies, damn lies and statistics? Or does the Brutal Half warrant its spot at the summit of the toughest-tri top-trumps pile? It’s time to put my money where my mouth is and find out…
EXTRAORDINARY EXPLOITS
“Daddy, you’re never going to finish this are you?” is my 10-year-old son’s parting (and possibly rhetorical) question as I depart for Snowdonia ahead of the race. And he has a point. My training has been as dishevelled as a night on the town with Russell Brand in 2006, with trying to recreate Snowdonia on my usual stomping ground of Somerset a fruitless task. I do the hilliest half-marathon run possible two weeks before and it ends up having 250m of elevation gain. And the Brutal? 1,350m on the 24km run, which is even more than the 90km bike leg which boasts an ascent of the epic Pen-y-Pass. Like that time I entered a hot dog-eating contest in Las Vegas, I’ve possibly bitten off more than I can chew here.
Boasting whistles, waterproofs, maps and much more, the kit list for the race is longer than my monthly shop (yet is sadly missing pork scratchings) and shows the demands placed on athletes by the Snowdon ascent/descent at the end of the run leg. It’s also emblematic of the care shown by the organisers, namely ultra triathletes James Page and Claire Smith, who live and breathe endurance sport.
Smith’s extraordinary exploits – being the first UK athlete to complete a continuous Double Deca Iron (yes, 20 irons in a row), quintuple irons in a gym, Double Ultra off-road irons – have gained almost as much coverage as her bonkers races on these pages. “I organise races that allow people to push their limits,” Smith once told me. “I love seeing athletes coming down from Snowdon absolutely amazed that they’ve finished. That’s what I get the buzz from.”
CRAMP TEST
For pandemic reasons, there hasn’t been a Brutal since 2019 and, among the trepidation, I sense the widespread relief and joy of this edition going ahead. After a well observed silence for the Queen, we enter the clean, clear and mild 18°C lake waters. It’s my first multisport event of the year and – with the mass of bobbing heads and excitement of the countdown – I’m reminded how much I relish racing.
The horn blares and the Brutal is back, with Half, Full and Double athletes starting in a single mass wave. I know the Llyn Padarn waters from the Slateman and, with the surrounding peaks of Snowdonia being graced by morning sunlight, brooding clouds and a spot of rain (this is North Wales, after all), there are few more scenic openers in tri.
After two laps and 42mins of uneventful meandering, I try to launch out of the water to impress the photographer. My left leg instantly cramps-up and I’m forced to lie down and crawl to the shore. Good practise for Snowdon, perhaps. I’m initially impressed with my sighting and directional skills, until my GPS tells me I’ve swum some 500m more than the 1.9km course.
The first of today’s four transitions is conducted at snail’s pace, the Brutal’s mostly ‘completing over competing’ ethos meaning I sport my laced bike shoes for maximum comfort. I’ve spent the last couple of seasons getting my bike leg up to mediocrity – i.e. neglecting the swim and run, entering sportives and buying some flashy wheels – and I know what follows will be a stern test of any second discipline gains I’ve made.
The two-lap bike leg begins serenely, a cycle path jaunt alongside Llyn Padarn before we take a sharp left south to Waunfawr, surely a character from the new Lord of the Rings series. “You alright?” I enquire of a racer sat on the side of the road after 10km. “Yep, just stopping for a sandwich,” comes her instant reply. This is my kind of race. And, despite the hardcore feats and chiselled calves on display, that inclusive and relaxed atmosphere continues throughout. Every pass on the bike and run (and I’m passed by plenty of people) comes with a ‘Nearly there’ or ‘Good luck’. I think I even heard athletes exchanging ‘textbook sighting’ praise in the middle the swim leg…
PAIN AND GAIN
The first climb of the day comes near Ceunant and it’s a beauty, the views extending to the Menai Strait and the isle of Anglesey, reminding us of how far we’ve ventured into Snowdonia and the varied beauty of North Wales. The required hi-vis jacket might be playing havoc with my furiously-honed aerodynamic profile, but I coast serenely along the quiet A4085 towards Salem and newsreaders’ nightmare Ffridd Uchaf, the biggest danger being my jaw repeatedly hitting the top tube from the high country scenery.
The peak of Snowdon mostly lurks out of view and above the clouds, yet occasionally it’ll pop out to say ‘I’ll be seeing you later, sunshine, so don’t get cocky’. On cue, in true Brutal fashion, there’s a sting in the tail at the latter half of the first bike lap, namely the ascent to Pen-y-Pass. The climb begins at Llyn Gwynant and doesn’t relent for 8km, a slow-burning and sapping sojourn that, while never out-of-the-saddle steep, slows my momentum to single-figure speeds. The payoff is the thrilling, brakepad squealing descent to Llanberis alongside drystone walls and the savage industry of the former Dinorwic slate quarry. It’s breathless stuff, and lap two follows in much the same vein.
“The road takes a skyward turn towards Fachwen, and I’m soon muttering something similar under my breath as my pace drops to a half-iron shuffle”
After four hours on the bike, my lakeside run loop begins serenely with a flat southern stint on a lakeside path before, once again, the difficulty ramps up in the second half. The road takes a skyward turn towards Fachwen, and I’m soon muttering something similar under my breath as my pace drops to a half-iron shuffle. The route then joins the Last of the Mohicans-esque trails used at the finale of the Slateman, before I return for my fourth transition/sit down of the day and prepare mentally for the Snowdon ascent.
FEET IN THE CLOUDS
I’m given a check by a medic before leaving transition, who informs me that the mountain is especially busy, with most of the 500,000 annual visitors seemingly on the mountain today. “Never let being scared stop you from doing things,” is organiser Claire Smith’s mantra when it comes to out-sized challenges and it’s something that I repeat once Wales’ highest mountain looms into view.
The climbing is relentless, the terrain increasingly jagged and my speed soon drops to 3km/hr pace. I begin to regret not joining my dad on the diesel train to Clogwyn Station, 75% of the way to the top of Snowdon, but that sit down, a nutty chocolate bar and an appreciation of the spectacular vistas soon banishes the mid-run blues.
Whether it’s the light mountaintop air or elation at reaching the summit of the cloud covered Snowdon, I decide to give myself a sub-10hr finishing target and now have an hour to descend 6km. Easy, eh? Nope, given the boulder-strewn terrain, sheer amount of hikers and my legs in tatters. By the end, I’m auditioning for Monty Python’s Ministry of Funny Walks, with my limbs unable to bend, my back the shape of a boomerang, and my toes scrunched into my shoes. I’m just glad I recently had my bi-monthly toenail cut.
I finish having burnt 6,000 calories and clocked an overall time of 9:52hrs, some 3:30hrs more than my usual middle-distance time – proof that the Brutal’s rugged rep is deserved. My watch tells me I’ve 2% of energy left so I use this energy wisely to buy a sausage sandwich, the best pint in history and a Chinese takeaway complete with a binbag full of prawn crackers.
I return to pick up my soiled tri kit before it’s classed as a biohazard and see a chap about to start the Full Brutal run, on which he expects to reach Snowdon about 10pm. Despite my weary legs and protesting perineum, I’m actually jealous and it makes me want to return next year for the Full. A seed has been planted. It looks like I’m going to need a head torch with a monstrous battery life in September 2023.
QUICK FACTS
DISTANCES
1.9KM SWIM | 94KM BIKE | 24KM RUN
ELEVATION 2,602M
MEN’S WINNER (HALF) LARS SCHAUERHAMMER 6:16:35
WOMEN’S WINNER (HALF) ELLIE HORROCKS 7:29:08
MATT’S TIME 9:52HRS
MATT BAIRD
Matt is 220’s former features editor and is now the editor of Cycling Plus. With the Brutal completed, his second aim for 2022 is to watch every single Nicolas Cage movie. A man has to have a dream, after all…