Human v Horse

The trail is ankle deep in mud. There are large U shaped holes in the ground. My brain is working overtime to relay information from my eyes to my legs to avoid breaking an ankle. I'm descending at speed through pine forest with shouts of 'Horse!' echoing behind me. 

Moments later I hear the heavy breathing of a quadruped moving at speed. The drumbeat of hooves on turf are replaced with the splashing and squelching of the sodden earth. I feel a warmth on the back of my neck, almost imperceptible, likely imagined. Turning my head I risk a fall, but I need to see my foe. I glimpse the auburn mount bearing down on me, helmeted rider perched atop.

I dive to the side of the trail just in time. The speeding steed is past in a moment. I watch as horse and rider gallop on and vanish into the shadows. 

This isn't a recurring nightmare - that's the one about leading parkrun and then getting lost - nor is it my experience of participating in an anti-hunting protest. This was how I chose to celebrate my birthday.

As with many great ideas, Green Event's Man v Horse race began as a conversation over a pint. In 1980 a barman at the Neuadd Arms Hotel in Llanwrtyd Wells overheard two men debating which would be faster over mountainous terrain, a man or a horse. The event was born and has taken place on an annual basis ever since. 

The race pits horses and riders against runners - male and female - to see who can cover the 24 miles and 4500 feet of ascent the fastest. A winning prize of £500 goes to the runner who finishes before the horses. This rolls over for every year that it isn't claimed.

The 2024 event fell on my birthday, and I entered with a group of friends. There is a relay option, but we decided to tackle the full course individually. Nearly 800 runners gathered on the start line in the village at 11am. The horses would follow 15 minutes later so that the large crowd would not cause them alarm. The time would be adjusted at the finish.

A light drizzle was falling as we set out along winding roads and onto the first hill of the day heading west. It wasn't long before I was removing layers due to the humidity. The rain stopped and the field began to thin out as people found their rhythm and we turned in a northerly direction. 

There were running clubs from all over the country taking part. The local Builth Wells & District were well represented along with runners from the north of England, Midlands, and many from my area of South London. People were happy to chat, and there was a positive atmosphere as we looked out over the verdant Welsh countryside. There were spectacular views of the hills and fields beyond the hedgerows laced with Foxglove, Ox-Eye daisies, ferns and crumbling stone walls covered in vibrant neon lychens.

Leaving the tarmac behind, we shifted onto the trails before climbing a steep stony path. It was at this point, just 3.5 miles and 36 minutes into the race when I heard my first shout of 'Horse!' Beginning far behind, the calls grew louder, approaching like a wave. I added my voice to the rolling tide that continued beyond and faded from earshot.

The first horse charged past, rider crouched low over the horses ears, gravel scattering in their wake. There were shouts of encouragement from runners despite the disappointment of being overtaken at such an early point in the run. Several other horses followed in quick succession as they took advantage of the steady climb and solid ground to up their pace.

On the descent that followed I managed to increase my speed enough to hold a short conversation with one of the riders before they galloped away. We arrived at the first checkpoint after 6 miles. Here there was drinking water for both runners and horses, and a sponge down for horses only.

I had come prepared with isotonic drink and various snacks including roasted cashew nuts, an apple, mini pork pies and fruit/seed chews. I grazed on these at intervals, ensuring that I kept the apples out of reach of the passing horses.

There was a bottleneck as we approached the Gellifelen stream where a horse was reluctant to cross. The rider sent us across hoping this would encourage his mount to follow - which it did, at speed as we hastily moved to the side.

We were now in the heart of the pine forests. The narrow track was wet and soft underfoot, great for the legs, but treacherous when being overtaken by a full size horse. I paced myself, stopping to take photographs and soaking up the scenery and birdsong that resonated all around us.

As we ascended another steep gradient on stony ground, a man fell grazing his palms and knees but thankfully with less damage done to his body than his pride. The sun began to emerge from behind the high grey clouds. Blue sky appeared and the temperature rose. I applied sun cream and put on my hat. It was June after all.

The organisers had done an excellent job of marking the course, and as we came over a rise in the ground we heard the cheers and applause of hundreds of supporters lining the upcoming hill. They cheered everyone who passed and gave us a much needed lift as trudged up the hill towards the half way mark.

At 12 miles the horses were required to undergo a vet check. This would ensure they were well enough to continue. It also gave us runners a chance to make up some time.

We now headed south. The second half of the race was even more stunning than the first. The emergent sun bathed the fields in its golden light as small white cotton wool clouds dotted the blue sky. Far from busy roads and built up towns, it was a chance to breathe in the clean air, enjoy the quiet and solitude, and to allow my mind to drift, far from the hustle and bustle of my usual city life. It was an opportunity to practice gratitude. A pause to give thanks for the moment, but also on this particular day, for my life and those I am privileged to share it with.

More horses passed me, but I was making my way through the field of runners having deliberately chosen a negative split. This meant less time to chat and take photos and more running. I let my legs go on the downhills and ran the uphills that I had been walking over the first 12 miles. It felt great to push myself, but the elevation was taking it's toll. My legs were weary and I was having to drink more water and take salt tablets as the temperature continued to rise. 

Into the final miles and we were treated to some of the most spectacular scenery of the race. Wales is a stunning country and on a sunny June day there aren't many places where I would rather be running. 

With a four hour finish in my sights I upped the pace. A long, winding downhill saw my times tumble to 7 minute miles. My legs a blur, arms outstretched for balance I had a huge smile on my face. That was soon wiped off, however, as I turned a corner and saw the gnarly ascent ahead. It wasn't quite sheer enough to require the use of hands on the ground, but they were certainly needed on my knees as I climbed, wishing I had brought some poles.

Once at the summit it was an equally vertiginous descent. I chose to unleash my inner Kilian Jornet, and enjoyed the shedding of my inhibitions as I flew towards the white tents and crowds of supporters I could see and hear in the field below. A tight turn left me with a view of the finish arch and I crossed the line just one minute over my 4 hour target, 138th human, behind 19 horses, but ahead of 42. 

The horses enjoyed fresh water and oats as we made do with beer and pizza, our medals around our necks, laying on the grass in the summer sun while music from a local band floated by. I hadn't beaten the horses, but the mane thing was I had a birthday I would remember furlong time.