We planned a four day visit to Llanberis, a stomping ground of mine in the sixties. The second day looked the best so we planned a run, but what to do? We fancied Snowdon but the climb of over 3,200′ was scary. Whatever, we filled up with porridge and scrambled egg and ventured out. Neither of us felt fast as we galloped through the town. The decision was to run to the halfway station and see how we felt. A steep tarmac lane quickly sorts the pensioners from the rest, and we passed most people! Then the track, a mass of slate stones, trip hazards galore. Ever upwards, over boulders, even chatting to people, many of whom were struggling. Lots of kids having fun. A steep finish always in view. Running up Snowdon is not for the faint-hearted.

Men!

The skill is finding the right pace. We are slow but steady, and we never stop. A man said to Ann, “Do you call that running?” Interesting how men often say things like that to Ann but rarely to me. Men can be so ignorant, unaware that Ann understands pace. We left him behind rather easily. The final quarter was tough, big boulders followed by steep scree. The clag came down and it turned cool. We struggled up the steps to the summit trig point. That took 105 minutes from the hotel, non-stop. Exhilaration followed, and a man in front took our photo. Down into the cafe for a coffee and cake. Then, the descent. This is the dangerous part for pensioners. However, we held up and chatted to people still wearily climbing but cheerful. It was fun.

Running up Snowdon

We did not fall and our legs stayed strong, at least as far as Llanberis. The run up the main street was a challenge. Kerbs and tired legs often means a fall. We feel so pleased, still able to tackle a big climb. It is like stepping back into a younger category, no longer decrepit but real athletes for a day. Weeks later that feeling still remains. We older people need confidence to face the decline in our bodies. However, keeping our muscles still occupies my thoughts but that is a post for the near future.