A touch of housemaid's knee and the opportunity to record Ras y Moelwyn for BBC Radio Wales gave me a good excuse for not running it this year.
The race was won by Richard Roberts or Eryri Harriers in 1 hour 18 minutes and 55 seconds. Not bad for ten and a half miles and 2,800 feet of altitude.
His nearest rival was three minutes behind and the first woman to finish was Kate Bailey from the Meirionnydd Running Club.
As for the starter, this was the inimitable Mr Rashid, the baker from Blaenau, famous for his tasty Kurdish specialities - another of last year's competitors and unable to take part due to excess training (and collapsed arches)!
Huw Jenkins on the 2007 race
Ras y Moelwyn (the Moelwyn Race) is an arduous fell run from Blaenau Ffestiniog over the three peaks of Moelwyn Mawr, Moelwyn Bach and Moel yr Hydd - ten and a half miles, and a heck of a lot of ups and downs.
I'd always aspired to do a fell run but to do one on my doorstep was especially appealing. The term "fell running" sounds a bit too much like the Yorkshire Dales - "ras y mynydd" or "mountain racing" seems more appropriate.
At registration I can see this is going to be no leisurely stroll. My goal is to complete the course but the atmosphere is competitive albeit friendly. My plastic water bottle looks out of place among the purpose-built bum bags and knapsacks.
One of the experienced runners tells me to leave it behind, it's best to drink heavily before the race and not to forget to go to the loo. I'm also advised to strip down to my shorts but long trousers are all I've got.
As the starting time approached there was much running up and down the field, they must have overdosed on high-energy food. People exchanged comments about recent runs from distant parts of the country. About 120 of us gathered around the starting funnel. There was no starting gun, no "ready steady go", just a nod from the official and without any elbowing the party rolled into action, some a bit faster than others.
I was hardly in pole position at the start and set off with a conservative (as in conserving energy) stride. It was great to catch up with the rest as we bunched up to squeeze through narrow gates and stiles. But pretty soon it was open countryside and the real talent was rushing to the horizon.
That's nothing to worry about, I'm not thinking about the end but the moment. This is an exercise in free will, I'll run to the next rock and then make a decision whether to go on. In bite-sized chunks the prospect of what lies ahead is not so awesome.
The first few inclines I managed to run in short strides but as gradients grew steeper I relented to a dogged walk. Surprising how many people you can overtake with a dogged walk. I thought I was doing well as I pointed downhill from the top of Moelwyn Mawr. But at my back the fleeting footsteps of experienced runners I'd overtaken came whistling past me. No point wasting energy slogging uphill, they'd saved it and used their skill and experience to fly down the mountain, picking out safe footing on the most precarious of slopes.
Up the second mountain past another huddle of cheery marshalls encouraging you on. Once round the cairn and relentlessly downhill. There are moments of sheer fear and moments of delight as you break off from a piece of the cliff and sprint into a spongy field of relatively dry peat bog. Across the dam wall (I'm not swearing) of Stwlan and the water stop - 1 hour 25 minutes worth of sweat to replace.
From here things took a different turn for me. The simple process of placing one foot in front of the other became a dizzying effort. People I'd passed 20 minutes back overtook me. Including the Good Samaritan. I said my tank was empty and he offered me his orange drink and a pack of jelly babies. "Take as many as you like". I took three and was spurred on by the kindness and the comfort of soft chewy sweets. Ten minutes later the sugar effect reached my legs enough to catapult me headlong down the mountain for the final stretch home.
Two hours seven minutes after starting, I crossed the finishing line, some way behind the leader (1 hour 22 minutes). But for me to finish was to win.
I'll never forget the friendly atmosphere of officials and competitors. The camaraderie. The humility of the triumphant and encouragement of the rest. The breathtaking (in more than one way) scenery.
This was the 25th Ras y Moelwyn. If you have any inclination for these things, put it in your diary for next year. The London Marathon is pedestrian by comparison.
Report by Huw Jenkins.
