Sea2Sky

A Hobbit’s Husband’s Tale

Published: 8th January 2026

By Alexander Abbott

Ami & I met at the climbing wall in February 2019 (Valentine’s Day to be specific 🤮). Our first proper date was, fittingly, a 10km run. No doubt I had proclaimed that my hockey fitness would stand me in good stead to impress the lady with my speed and endurance. Unfortunately I was barely able to get a word out past my gasps for air, and my relative silence left Ami with the impression that I was not particularly interested in her at all. To top it off, in our first obstacle course race together – X-Runner, Nottingham – I was sick on the second lap.

Fortunately she was able to look past these embarrassing feats and six and a half years later (two of them married) we are still enjoying running-based adventures together. Whenever I do complain about how “I hate running”, Ami responds with “The foundations!”, referring to the very bedrock of our relationship which threatens to crumble at my hasty and insincere words.

Since meeting Ami, I have run numerous half marathons, a handful of 30kms, a marathon and my first ultra. It is that last race that I have happily accepted the invitation to appear as a guest on Ami’s blog.

The event was Sea2Sky, Snowdonia, Wales, capably presented by RunThrough Trails. At 53km, some seasoned experts (including my wife) would refer to this as a ‘baby-Ultra’. Nevertheless, it was the biggest single-stage running challenge I had ever taken on, and woefully undertrained as I was, I felt somewhat apprehensive. We were lucky enough to stay at the getaway holiday home of some friends, with James & Emily and the beagles Milo & Iris.

Nervousness and anticipation sum up the early morning before the race. I had visited the bathroom no less that 3 times before we had even started, and things still didn’t feel quite right. James and I (putting our ego’s firmly to one side) started right at the back of the race field, it took approximately 2 minutes of shuffling to reach the start line after the gun went. This will become important later.

The race starts by crossing the Barmouth bridge, an old railway bridge with a springy, wooden sleeper footpath on one side. You then take a left and head towards the town of Dolgellau. Everything is pancake flat for about 15km, lulling you into a false sense of security – easy, right?

It was during the first 10km that I began mentally surveying the local flora and grading the leaves on apparent softness, surface area, moisture levels, and likelihood of breaking apart in my hands. I was just telling James for what must have been the 5th time that I was “this close to diving off the path into a ditch”, when just then, like an oasis in the desert, a set of public toilets in a car park appeared. I was saved! A few minutes later, with James waiting patiently, we were back on our way, this time feeling good as we jogged into the first aid station. Coke, Costco tubs of brownies, watermelon and packets of salt and vinegar corn were my staple for the remainder of this race.

Shortly after Aid Station 1, you start climbing out of Dolgellau and it’s a steady plod to the main peak that you’re there to summit. Aid Station 2 is on a steep road at around 18km and provides welcome respite for those on their way up, with the exception of the poor chap I saw drop his bottle and have to jog a little way down the hill after it. Even more plodding, another 5-600m of elevation and you’re well on your way to the top of the mountain. 

It was at this point where James & I decided to demonstrate our relative inexperience when it came to mountain-based trail running. Thrilled by having conquered the ’Sky’ part of the ‘Sea2Sky’ race name, we spotted a stone circle at the top and broke away from the route to grab selfie and relish in our success! It should have been obvious at the time, when no-one else at all was paying the stone circle any attention, that this was in fact not the top, and that we had celebrated at a false summit, and betrayed our prematurity to our fellow runners.

15 minutes and another 50m of elevation later, we had actually reached the top of Cadair Idris. The view was absolutely stunning and Barmouth beach could be seen far in the distance, demonstrating how far we had come. “I’ve never been in a race where you can see the start and finish from the middle of the race before. It’s really cool”, said James. Cut to 10km and 2 hours later… “I’m not really sure I like that you can see the start and the finish from the middle of the race”, said James.

The wind was strong and bitter at the top of the mountain, so after posing for some much better photos and snacking on a cereal bar we decided to get on our way. A long downhill ridge that seemed to stretch on for at least 10km. I was delighted at this point to have got this far into the race with little to no complaints from my legs or joints and nothing more than a thin tubular bandage which kept the wind chill from aggravating my knee, and provided some small degree of compression. James clearly felt that his body was behaving better than he deserved, and decided to correct this imbalance by tripping off the platform at the top of Cadair Idris, skidding down on his bum, clattering into rocks and very nearly ending his race at the least accessible point at which aid could have been provided.

It’s fair to say that James showed his proficiency on the uphills throughout the race, particularly in the second half, with me favouring the descents much more. We never seemed to be enjoying the race at the same time, when one of us was up, the other was more down. But if anything it meant that there was always one to encourage and support the other. At one point during one of my highs, I bizarrely considered that we could be back within 7 hours total, if we just put in a 2 hour 1/2 marathon to finish the thing off… James quelled this idea with a look that said “You’re on your own, mate.”

At ~49km, and the top of a cruel 200m kicker, I overheard two guys ‘Harry & Henry’ talking about their desire to get in under 8 hours. A frenzy came over me, I had found fellow adventurers, the quest… it was on. I don’t even remember saying goodbye to James as we hurtled down the hill, a narrow winding track which was not easy to overtake on. Harry and Henry made a lot of noise which indicated to people that they should move out of the way. 

Through kilometres 50-52 we lost 270m of elevation down winding tracks with hairpins and one by one I left Harry & Henry behind. I burst out of the woods and hills onto the flat, with 3km to go. 

I can honestly say that the return trip across the Barmouth bridge at what felt like breakneck speed (actually only 5:44 min/km) was one of the hardest things I have ever done in my life. I have never wanted to stop doing something more, than trying to get under an arbitrary time at the end of that race. I, who am usually so keen to respond to marshals and members of the public when they offer their encouragement, remained silent across the bridge, with my eyes closed for most of the straight, reverse blinking to make sure I didn’t crash into anyone/thing.

At the end of the bridge I ran up (yes ran, yes UP) the small ramp onto the road which takes you down into Barmouth. The friendly Marshal cheered me on with “Well done! 600 metres to go!”. “600 metres” I thought, “One and a half laps of a track, think how many times you’ve run one and a half laps of a track. You can do this.” After what felt like 2 or 3 hundred metres, the next marshal shouted, “Nearly there! 600 metres to go!”. You WHAT? I honestly nearly ended the 8 hour quest right there and then. To this day I still do not know which of them was correct about the distance.

After flogging myself through the last stretch and onto the finishing straight I opened my eyes long enough to realise that Ami was jogging alongside me. “Oh, it’s you”, was the only greeting I could muster.

Upon crossing the line I held it together just long enough to bring my watch to a stop (3% battery remaining after 8 hours of low power mode GPS activity tracking – delighted with that!), before draping myself over the metal crowd barriers in front of Ami and Emily.

The quick finish had caught up with me and Ami declared that my white face and blue lips were not a good look. After a while with Ami supporting some of my weight from across the barriers and me insisting that I would be fine (only to collapse over the barrier again), a friendly medic came over to see if I needed assistance. Ami informed the medic that my name was Alex, to which he replied “Oh, that’s my name too!”. I was very keen at this point to demonstrate my alertness and lack of need of medical attention. To do this I roused myself just long enough to deliver an interesting factoid from one of the baby names websites we had been looking at in recent weeks. “Good strong name, that.” I said. “Defender of men!”. If anything this deepened Medic Alex’s concern for my current mental state and I was given yet another cup of coke to drink before being supported out of the finishing area.

Sea2Sky had been conquered in a time of 07:58:35 (Chip), 08:00:48 (Gun), highlighting the impact of starting 2 minutes from the front of the race!

Delighted to say that in 2026 I will be taking on my biggest challenge… parenthood Race to the Stones (100km), perhaps you’ll hear about it if I’m invited back.