My first experience of The Fan Dance - It’s no dance, and I could have used a fan!
Summer Edition 2018 - Clean Fatique
They say it’s a lung buster, and they’re not wrong! You can’t stop for long; it would be too hard to get going again … but there are times when you have to pause for a moment or slow it right down to allow your heart rate to steady a little as it threatens to explode through your chest. And it’s savage on your muscles. Every single muscle! On the final descent I was determined to run one last time, though my knees were burning, my glutes were on the verge of cramp and my quads felt like they were seconds away from snapping!
The original Fan Dance is the unforgiving 24km SAS Selection test march staged over Pen y Fan, the highest mountain in the Brecon Beacons. The infamous march is the world's oldest Special Forces test and is used as the first major indicator of whether a candidate has the physical and mental aptitude to complete the legendary Selection course. The AEE Fan Dance Race Series event follows this course and is organised and managed by veteran SAS &SBS soldiers. It is one of the most prestigious endurance challenges in the UK, and the holy grail for participants is to beat the SAS selection qualifying time. (I didn't!)
I am unapologetically proud of what I achieved yesterday, especially given my lack of training. It never ceases to amaze me what you can achieve if you set your mind to it. I had so many people calling me bonkers, nuts, a loon; all meant with love and, to be fair, I do a lot of stuff that to most seems a bit odd. But I also had several people suggesting I pull out. On Friday, my boss called me in for a chat and asked, ‘you’re not really going to run up a mountain in 30-degree heat tomorrow, are you?’ and suggested I just didn’t do it. Not training properly was stupid. And the weather did mean the challenge was that much more serious. But, though I contemplated pulling out a couple of times and felt very nervous, ultimately I believed I could do it.
And I loved every minute! So, if you’re expecting a blog that talks of despair, the hardships, moments of wanting to give up … this isn’t it! It was brutal, there’s no denying that, but this is more a tale of how belief, attitude and sheer bloody mindedness can win the day. I came off that mountain elated, amazed at my time, and - though my skin roasted in the sun, my feet burned, every muscle in my body verged on cramping and pain from my blisters was searing - I was euphoric at my mental and physical capability.
I completed a 24km course over rough terrain, with 1000m of climbing, up and down Pen y Fan twice, Jacobs Ladder, with an 8kg pack, in 26-degrees scorching sun, in just shy of 4hrs 40mins. (Still awaiting official time). The fastest woman in Clean Fatigue took 3hrs 16 so I’ve got a way to go to improve but I’m up for that challenge. Being presented with my patch at the end was an amazing moment and as I stepped away, headed for base camp to devour a large burger, the emotion overwhelmed me and I cried ugly.
The original Fan Dance is the unforgiving 24km SAS Selection test march staged over Pen y Fan, the highest mountain in the Brecon Beacons. The infamous march is the world's oldest Special Forces test and is used as the first major indicator of whether a candidate has the physical and mental aptitude to complete the legendary Selection course. The AEE Fan Dance Race Series event follows this course and is organised and managed by veteran SAS &SBS soldiers. It is one of the most prestigious endurance challenges in the UK, and the holy grail for participants is to beat the SAS selection qualifying time. (I didn't!)
I am unapologetically proud of what I achieved yesterday, especially given my lack of training. It never ceases to amaze me what you can achieve if you set your mind to it. I had so many people calling me bonkers, nuts, a loon; all meant with love and, to be fair, I do a lot of stuff that to most seems a bit odd. But I also had several people suggesting I pull out. On Friday, my boss called me in for a chat and asked, ‘you’re not really going to run up a mountain in 30-degree heat tomorrow, are you?’ and suggested I just didn’t do it. Not training properly was stupid. And the weather did mean the challenge was that much more serious. But, though I contemplated pulling out a couple of times and felt very nervous, ultimately I believed I could do it.
And I loved every minute! So, if you’re expecting a blog that talks of despair, the hardships, moments of wanting to give up … this isn’t it! It was brutal, there’s no denying that, but this is more a tale of how belief, attitude and sheer bloody mindedness can win the day. I came off that mountain elated, amazed at my time, and - though my skin roasted in the sun, my feet burned, every muscle in my body verged on cramping and pain from my blisters was searing - I was euphoric at my mental and physical capability.
I completed a 24km course over rough terrain, with 1000m of climbing, up and down Pen y Fan twice, Jacobs Ladder, with an 8kg pack, in 26-degrees scorching sun, in just shy of 4hrs 40mins. (Still awaiting official time). The fastest woman in Clean Fatigue took 3hrs 16 so I’ve got a way to go to improve but I’m up for that challenge. Being presented with my patch at the end was an amazing moment and as I stepped away, headed for base camp to devour a large burger, the emotion overwhelmed me and I cried ugly.
Jungle wee spot post registration
Exactly this time last year, Sam and I were having a little weekend bumble around the Brecon Beacons and whilst picnicking on top of Pen y Fan, saw people with race numbers attached to them flailing about on Jacob’s Ladder and wondered what was going on. We’d seen the base camp at Pont ar Daf car park when we’d started walking that morning and so at the end of the day we investigated further. ‘We can do this!’ we thought, so some months ago we signed up for it. About three weeks ago we thought we’d better get organised at which point I realised I’d got the wrong day and Sam realised she’d got entirely the wrong weekend and was now double booked with a wedding (which of course took precedence). So, I was on my own, without my trusted walking buddy. (I missed you Sam!) Being on my own meant it was just me and my thoughts. The only thing stopping me from achieving this (apart from heat exhaustion, serious injury, slipping on scree and falling down a precipice) was my mind.
I’ve included some context at the end in terms of my preparation and suitability of fitness for this event (though anyone considering undertaking the Fan Dance probably shouldn’t use this as a benchmark for your own preparation), but in summary my starting point was an OK basic level of fitness, minimal training, dodgy muscles in my right leg, blister on my right heel, getting my period, and being very tired. So, after registration, I ate a banana, loaded up with ibuprofen and tried not to feel intimidated by all the super fit, focussed athletes surrounding me as we waited to sign on to the mountain and receive our safety briefing.
I’ve included some context at the end in terms of my preparation and suitability of fitness for this event (though anyone considering undertaking the Fan Dance probably shouldn’t use this as a benchmark for your own preparation), but in summary my starting point was an OK basic level of fitness, minimal training, dodgy muscles in my right leg, blister on my right heel, getting my period, and being very tired. So, after registration, I ate a banana, loaded up with ibuprofen and tried not to feel intimidated by all the super fit, focussed athletes surrounding me as we waited to sign on to the mountain and receive our safety briefing.
Load Bearers signing on at the Old Red Phonebox
Hovering around while the Load Bearing category signed onto the mountain, I watched as three who were a minute late had to do push ups, and 5 who came after that had their numbers confiscated. This event is run in the spirit of the original by ex-special forces and there’s no messing about! Kit is checked, rules are adhered to. Those disqualified from the event could still do the march, no one can keep them off the mountains, but they were out of the race and no longer under the supervision of the organisers.
The Load Bearers set off up the first ascent, then it was our turn - the Clean Fatigue category. I stood in the sun (it was still a bit chilly in the shade at 7.00am), performing the odd stretch, listening to the posturing of various groups of men, admiring the two older ladies who had decided to participate rather than spend a third year waiting at the bottom for their husbands to complete the race. Then the masses came, and it seemed as though I was surrounded by elite pro athletes, kitted out in all the right gear, super light bags (how had they got away with that at kit check?? I suspect some register the night before, have their kit checked, then empty some out in the hotel!) and suddenly I had a momentary wobble. I felt intimidated by all these pros and the mental strength I’d been building up to attack this task put its thumb in its mouth for a moment.
We all fell silent for the safety briefing and rightly so. This isn’t just pomp and fanfare. You must respect these mountains; they are not just insanely beautiful, they can be deadly. In July 2013, 3 super fit, experienced soldiers with active service under their belts, died on Selection during a particularly hot summer Fan Dance.
The first hour is really tough and if you let it beat you mentally, it can affect your whole race. From the notorious old red phone box, it’s a steep climb all the way up and around Corn Du to RV 1 at the summit of Pen y Fan. There’s no time for a photo at the top though; if you don’t reach RV2 – the half way point – within 3 hours you’re pulled out of the race.
So you keep going, straight into your first taste of Jacob’s Ladder … going down. This was fun! I could hear people behind me telling their friends ‘this is it’, speaking of how hard it is to get back up. As we descended, first the stairs, then the seemingly endless rocky path down towards Windy Gap (snigger) at the base of Fan y Big (snigger some more), I found my inner fell runner. She’s a cross between a mountain goat and a drunk kangaroo. Maybe a hint of Octopus at a rave. Anyway, I channelled her for a long while and we made good work of those paths, having a lovely time. It was a beautiful day, the scenery is gorgeous and I was so happy that, on the day, I was in exactly the head space I had hoped I could maintain.
The Load Bearers set off up the first ascent, then it was our turn - the Clean Fatigue category. I stood in the sun (it was still a bit chilly in the shade at 7.00am), performing the odd stretch, listening to the posturing of various groups of men, admiring the two older ladies who had decided to participate rather than spend a third year waiting at the bottom for their husbands to complete the race. Then the masses came, and it seemed as though I was surrounded by elite pro athletes, kitted out in all the right gear, super light bags (how had they got away with that at kit check?? I suspect some register the night before, have their kit checked, then empty some out in the hotel!) and suddenly I had a momentary wobble. I felt intimidated by all these pros and the mental strength I’d been building up to attack this task put its thumb in its mouth for a moment.
We all fell silent for the safety briefing and rightly so. This isn’t just pomp and fanfare. You must respect these mountains; they are not just insanely beautiful, they can be deadly. In July 2013, 3 super fit, experienced soldiers with active service under their belts, died on Selection during a particularly hot summer Fan Dance.
The first hour is really tough and if you let it beat you mentally, it can affect your whole race. From the notorious old red phone box, it’s a steep climb all the way up and around Corn Du to RV 1 at the summit of Pen y Fan. There’s no time for a photo at the top though; if you don’t reach RV2 – the half way point – within 3 hours you’re pulled out of the race.
So you keep going, straight into your first taste of Jacob’s Ladder … going down. This was fun! I could hear people behind me telling their friends ‘this is it’, speaking of how hard it is to get back up. As we descended, first the stairs, then the seemingly endless rocky path down towards Windy Gap (snigger) at the base of Fan y Big (snigger some more), I found my inner fell runner. She’s a cross between a mountain goat and a drunk kangaroo. Maybe a hint of Octopus at a rave. Anyway, I channelled her for a long while and we made good work of those paths, having a lovely time. It was a beautiful day, the scenery is gorgeous and I was so happy that, on the day, I was in exactly the head space I had hoped I could maintain.
Views across the Roman Road (to the left)
Then we reached the MST (Mountain Safety Team) point at the base of Cribyn and hit the roman road, which I’d been waiting for. This is where I thought I’d do most of my running. You hear the term ‘roman road’ and you think long, straight, smooth roads don’t you. No, not this one. It’s long alright. And reasonably straight. But it’s far from smooth. It undulates and it’s very rocky. I still ran as much as I could because if I gave up running I knew I had no chance of completing within the 5 hours I hoped for. I amused myself eliciting smiles from weary looking Load Bearers (some looking as though their world was ending) as they came towards me, already on their return journey, by grinning like a loon at them. Quite often this also earnt me a ‘well done’ or ‘nearly there’, which was incredibly motivating. The camaraderie on this event is heart-warming.
After a few KMs along the Taf Fechan forest trail, which provided both opportunity for jungle wees and a smidgen of shade for a short while - RV2 came into sight. I practically burst with elation. I gave my number to the DS, answered that, yes, I was safe and fit enough to continue, then stopped briefly to apply a blister plaster, top up the ibuprofen, slather on some more sun cream as it had all sweated off, eat some jelly babies and be on my way again, knowing I was half way done … but with the worst still to come.
Returning from RV2 back along the un-roman roman road was harder. It gradually inclines all the way to the base of Fan y Big so much less running than anticipated was achieved here. It was a time of just focussing on keeping going until I could drag out my positive attitude again. I passed one casualty who the DS had just arrived by quad bike to take care of. I stopped to take a photo for a guy of him and his dog Monty, as he sat resting, summoning up the energy to go again. As I dug in, topped up the tanks with regular nibbles on bounce bars, and gradually increased the pace again, I overtook a few people and the fighting spirit kicked back in.
After a few KMs along the Taf Fechan forest trail, which provided both opportunity for jungle wees and a smidgen of shade for a short while - RV2 came into sight. I practically burst with elation. I gave my number to the DS, answered that, yes, I was safe and fit enough to continue, then stopped briefly to apply a blister plaster, top up the ibuprofen, slather on some more sun cream as it had all sweated off, eat some jelly babies and be on my way again, knowing I was half way done … but with the worst still to come.
Returning from RV2 back along the un-roman roman road was harder. It gradually inclines all the way to the base of Fan y Big so much less running than anticipated was achieved here. It was a time of just focussing on keeping going until I could drag out my positive attitude again. I passed one casualty who the DS had just arrived by quad bike to take care of. I stopped to take a photo for a guy of him and his dog Monty, as he sat resting, summoning up the energy to go again. As I dug in, topped up the tanks with regular nibbles on bounce bars, and gradually increased the pace again, I overtook a few people and the fighting spirit kicked back in.
Expansive panoramic views of the Brecon Beacons
The views helped my mood no end. How could they not? If the views across the Brecon Beacons don’t captivate your spirit and uplift you then you have no soul, particularly on a cloudless day like today. It’s so damn beautiful! Panoramic views across the lush green glacial mountains in one direction, rolling hills and patchwork fields in the valleys beyond; views stretching for miles. Once again in a ridiculously good mood, I took to handing out jelly babies when the opportunity arose. Jelly babies are magic! They were gratefully received. Of course, I didn’t obstruct those who were utterly focussed on the task and force jelly babies upon them, but those that had stopped to double over or hyperventilate or just look despairingly ahead, were happy to receive jelly babies.
Rounding the base of Fan y Big, the ascent to Pen y Fan, and Jacob’s Ladder in all it’s pain inflicting glory comes in to view. I took it in, sized it up and gave myself a good talking to, reminding myself of my pre-determined strategy of head down, take each step as it comes and just keep going until it is conquered. “You’re mine, you bastard” I proclaimed (to the amusement of the guy behind me), and got on with the task. It’s long! It starts gradually, but one of those gentle inclines that is not gentle on the quads. Then it increases in steepness. Then there are several very nasty little gradient increases that batter your quads, glutes and calves all at once.
Rounding the base of Fan y Big, the ascent to Pen y Fan, and Jacob’s Ladder in all it’s pain inflicting glory comes in to view. I took it in, sized it up and gave myself a good talking to, reminding myself of my pre-determined strategy of head down, take each step as it comes and just keep going until it is conquered. “You’re mine, you bastard” I proclaimed (to the amusement of the guy behind me), and got on with the task. It’s long! It starts gradually, but one of those gentle inclines that is not gentle on the quads. Then it increases in steepness. Then there are several very nasty little gradient increases that batter your quads, glutes and calves all at once.
Conquering Jacob's Ladder
Just as I was wondering how much fatter my fingers could get before they actually exploded, the chap I was about to pass turned to me and exclaimed “my hands are so swollen”. “Mine too” I replied. “Oh, I thought you were someone else.” says he. “I know!” says I. We both laughed and went back to our own personal hell that is Jacob’s Ladder’s infamous ‘staircase’. A very steep staircase with very deep stairs. All this, in the blazing midday sun, after you’ve already done about 18km of the route.
I’d noticed something several times during the morning, but especially on Jacob’s Ladder … the smell of armpit odour (to be expected), boob sweat, farts and death wafting over me. OK, so the boob sweat might have been me, but not the others. People ought to be more considerate what they eat the night before a race! I’m sure one or two chaps had actually pooed themselves (I’ve got three kids, I recognise the difference between fart and poo filled pants)! It’s entirely possible; some don’t want to stop and jeopardise their time, some lose all control. As for the smell of death, I don’t know.
Summiting Jacob’s Ladder is a triumphant moment, deserving of a couple of minutes to recover before signing in to RV1 again and attacking the final stage back to the old red phone box. After a moment of disorientation, I braced myself and started running again – on and off. I had no excuse not to, most of it was level or descending. With the end in sight (bar a couple of hills), it was tempting to relax the pace a bit, feeling like you’re almost there, but there’s a deceptive amount of ground to cover before you actually reach the finish point.
I’d noticed something several times during the morning, but especially on Jacob’s Ladder … the smell of armpit odour (to be expected), boob sweat, farts and death wafting over me. OK, so the boob sweat might have been me, but not the others. People ought to be more considerate what they eat the night before a race! I’m sure one or two chaps had actually pooed themselves (I’ve got three kids, I recognise the difference between fart and poo filled pants)! It’s entirely possible; some don’t want to stop and jeopardise their time, some lose all control. As for the smell of death, I don’t know.
Summiting Jacob’s Ladder is a triumphant moment, deserving of a couple of minutes to recover before signing in to RV1 again and attacking the final stage back to the old red phone box. After a moment of disorientation, I braced myself and started running again – on and off. I had no excuse not to, most of it was level or descending. With the end in sight (bar a couple of hills), it was tempting to relax the pace a bit, feeling like you’re almost there, but there’s a deceptive amount of ground to cover before you actually reach the finish point.
Welcoming committee
At the top of the final descent, a welcoming committee of cows greeted me. My finish time would have been better if I hadn’t have stopped to say hello and take photos, but they were so pretty and all just looking at me! And in the absence of anyone waiting at the finish line for me, they were a good substitute. Actually, there were plenty of people – those who’d already finished and their supporters – at the finish line, cheering and congratulating me as I ran the last half mile down that path and through the gate to sign off the mountain.
I did not expect to enjoy this as much as I did and I’m sure it’s a lot to do with getting in the right head space. It was incredible and, despite the pain, I loved every minute! It’s no picnic. It is physically demanding, and you have to concentrate on where you place your feet on the rough, sometimes slippery terrain, especially if you’re running. Some descents are just too steep to run. Some parts of the route require extra care not to go over a steep edge. There’s one section popular with base jumpers where, the DS warned us during the safety briefing, if you go over the edge you’ll die. Or if you don’t you’d better finish yourself off when you get to the bottom or face the wrath of the DS when they have to come rescue you.
I have the utmost respect for those who entered the load bearing category. Doing that course carrying 15kg plus food and water on your back is hard core! But it’s a challenge I’ve now set myself! I’d also like to attempt clean fatigue again and get a faster time. And I’d like to do the winter edition. I’m not sure I’d ever be fit enough, or mad enough, to attempt the Double Tap though. Respect to those guys who are doing it all again today.
In summary, this event is mental! I mean, yes, signing up to it is pretty mental, but mental strength is as important if not more so than physical strength. Your body is so often capable of so much more than your mind will believe.
I did not expect to enjoy this as much as I did and I’m sure it’s a lot to do with getting in the right head space. It was incredible and, despite the pain, I loved every minute! It’s no picnic. It is physically demanding, and you have to concentrate on where you place your feet on the rough, sometimes slippery terrain, especially if you’re running. Some descents are just too steep to run. Some parts of the route require extra care not to go over a steep edge. There’s one section popular with base jumpers where, the DS warned us during the safety briefing, if you go over the edge you’ll die. Or if you don’t you’d better finish yourself off when you get to the bottom or face the wrath of the DS when they have to come rescue you.
I have the utmost respect for those who entered the load bearing category. Doing that course carrying 15kg plus food and water on your back is hard core! But it’s a challenge I’ve now set myself! I’d also like to attempt clean fatigue again and get a faster time. And I’d like to do the winter edition. I’m not sure I’d ever be fit enough, or mad enough, to attempt the Double Tap though. Respect to those guys who are doing it all again today.
In summary, this event is mental! I mean, yes, signing up to it is pretty mental, but mental strength is as important if not more so than physical strength. Your body is so often capable of so much more than your mind will believe.
Fan Dance 2018 - Done!
Final point … it’s pronounced Pen uh Van … not Pen why Fan as some ditz who stopped me on my final descent to ask which way and how far it was called it 😊
The context of my experience
To set the context of my experience, here’s my starting point in terms of fitness:
The shape I was in at the start of the day yesterday was like this:
The context of my experience
To set the context of my experience, here’s my starting point in terms of fitness:
- I sometimes – once every 2 or 3 years – walk in mountains for several days at a time, so I have experience of mountain walking
- I vaguely know the Brecons, having bumbled around Pen y Fan a couple of times over a weekend, complete with lovely picnic stops, and rests to admire the views
- I’ve walked up Jacob’s Ladder once before so it was not a complete shock, I had an inkling how tough it was going to be so could mentally prepare for it
- I regularly walk 3 miles a couple of times a week at lunchtime with a friend from work; I occasionally walk further at weekends
- My base level of fitness is OK. It’s not amazing, but it’s not completely shite. Muscle strength is better than cardio fitness (which is a bit shite)
- I hate running
- I cancelled my gym membership last week because I’ve used it maybe three times in the last 6 months. None of those times have been in the last month
- My training for this event comprised: 2x seven mile hikes around the Stroud valleys (each accruing 400m of climbing); 2x flat four mile runs; a few lunchtime walks; a 5 mile walk/run around the Stonehenge landscape; and, yeah, that was it. Because I am a bit disorganised and the event suddenly crept up on me.
The shape I was in at the start of the day yesterday was like this:
- I went for a final 5 mile walk/run on Tuesday morning then thought I’d give my legs a rest until the big day. Bad move. On Thursday I woke up and my hamstring in my right leg was completely out of kilter, not sure what was wrong, just really tensed up and felt like the muscles behind my knee were going to snap. This didn’t ease up and was still being a pain yesterday morning when I woke up
- My new trail shoes – normal running shoes are not permitted and boots (which are obligatory in load bearing category) are too heavy to run in – got their first outing on Friday with a lunch time stroll. During that stroll I developed a blister on my right heel. Wasn’t wearing the best socks and should have slathered compeed cream over my heels but didn’t
- Just before I set off for the Brecons, I got my period. Expected, but not ideal. You don’t want to know this I’m sure, but for women who are active, and who participate in such events, it’s an inconvenience that has to be accommodated!
- I couldn’t drive across to Brecon Friday night for early registration and a good night’s sleep as I was out in Bath with friends from work. I couldn’t miss it, as it was the leaving do for one of my first hires and I wanted to celebrate with him and the rest of the team. So, I got up at 3.30am, drove across to Pont ar Daf ready to register at 6.00am.
Recovery!
The shape I am in today is like this:
Post script – I took my camera out twice, once to pause for breath at the top of Jacob’s Ladder so that I could capture that pivotal moment, and once at the top of the final descent because I couldn’t resist the gorgeous cow welcoming committee. All other photos of the views were taken on the same day last year when Sam and I took Pen y Fan at a far more leisurely pace.
- I can barely move
- The end
Post script – I took my camera out twice, once to pause for breath at the top of Jacob’s Ladder so that I could capture that pivotal moment, and once at the top of the final descent because I couldn’t resist the gorgeous cow welcoming committee. All other photos of the views were taken on the same day last year when Sam and I took Pen y Fan at a far more leisurely pace.
