‘I may have cried a lot, but I did it!’
ON A cold November evening, 40 SAS candidates stood in a courtyard in Taff’s Well and prepared to take on a mental and physical challenge.
The temperature stood at two degrees Celsius and Storm Arwen had been battering Wales for 24 hours.
The event we were ready for was Mandown, a gruelling seven-hourlong fight against mental and physical obstacles which would include climbing a mountain, crawling through icy water and psychological torture. This is how it went.
Preparation Only signing up for the event, which was run by the Green Mile Training Camp, four weeks prior meant I needed to get serious about training – except I didn’t.
I carried on with my usual exercise routine of circuits, zumba and HIIT, telling myself that would be enough.
Exactly one week before the event, I joined trainer Josh at camp for a Saturday training session. An hour-and-a-half left me exhausted and more nervous than ever. Arrival I arrived nice and early to the venue in Taff’s Well.
I was handed a waiver to sign, which covered all accidents and even death, and told to stay in my car until I heard the signal.
Just before 5pm, the horn sounded and the event began. Forty of us candidates ran to the starting area. We were lined up in four rows and a roll call began.
I could see that many of these people were in excellent shape and I wouldn’t have been surprised if some of them were actual SAS candidates.
Then we were briefed on how the night would go, and given a number which was written on our arm, bag and hands.
Then came the kit check. If there were any issues, it was announced to the whole group, and a suitable punishment was given.
Watches and phones were left in cars and we were told to expect a time-warp – at no point would we be told the time during the event.
We were then given a Green Mile beanie hat. It was ours to keep, they said, if we completed the event.
If at any time we quit and said the words “man down”, we had to return it.
Warm-up Our first taste of what was to come was the warm-up.
Something I hate with a passion is running. I enjoy most types of exercise and regularly take part in spin classes, swimming and circuits.
But I can’t run. I can try, but ultimately, I cannot keep up with a steady pace.
So off we ran. Up and down a muddy hill. Already, I was lagging behind with a couple of others.
In between the running, we were also tasked with some squats, pressups and burpees. Then back to base we went.
Already, it was clear that I was one of the weak links.
Mountain After a couple of minutes to rehydrate and remove some layers, we started up Craig yr Alt.
The brave among the group may have called this a hill, but to me it was a mountain to overcome both physically and mentally.
We headed off slow and steady, which lulled me into a false sense of security. The incline seemed manageable and some of us even managed to chat.
Before long, I was running to keep up with the group. As I fell behind, staff noticed and told me to hurry up and catch up with the others.
But running is not my strength. “Are you giving up? Are you handing in your hat?” I was asked. “No, staff,” I replied.
“Can’t even walk up a f ***** g hill.” Eventually, I made it up to the top, where the rest of the group were already doing burpees and press-ups.
I joined in and was treated to bear crawls, burpees, squats, planks, press-ups and army crawls. My heart was still pounding from the run.
And then back down we went. While the run down the mountain was definitely less taxing than the ascent, my legs were still screaming at me and my ankles throbbed.
The bottom could not have come soon enough. By the time we got back to base, we had already lost four participants.
Station 1 We were split into four sub-groups for the remainder of the evening and this is where the torture really began.
My group headed to station one, which centred around 30ft-high ropes and a sandy floor.
We were hit with similar exercises and movements as in the warm-up, before being asked to climb the rope. I was not able to climb up, as hard as I tried and much to my embarrassment.
This station also had us running a loop through nettles and brambles, which got to me more than I care to admit.
Without the support of my teammates, I would have given up here. I certainly cried and let the pain get to me.
Perhaps the most challenging part of this station was working with giant heavy logs.
In groups of four, we held the log as we lunged, squatted, sat up and down, pushed it over our heads, and shuffled along in a line.
I felt so weak and out of my depth, but I stuck with it, despite one of our group throwing in the towel.
At this point, I thought about quitting and saying those two words which would get me a hot meal and a rest, but I wanted to push myself as far as I possibly could.
Station 2 Station two was just a short walk away. Here, we climbed down a muddy hill using just a rope, and plunged into an ice-cold stream.
My walking boots were soon filled, and that is the last time I felt my toes that night.
The run along the stream was uneven and I fell often. Anything above waist-height, we were expected to go over. Anything below
waist-height, we went under.
My hands were so numb, and my legs were ruined by the stones in the river.
An emotional moment happened when I was faced with a plastic tube which I would have to go through. For some reason, my brain was telling me that it was dangerous and I would get stuck.
Eventually, after a few tears and words from one of the staff, I made it through.
We ran through the course repeatedly until it was time to go to the next station.
Freezing cold and wet through, we did not have time to change as we had to run across the camp within a short period of time. Even this was challenging, and I cried frustrated tears that I could not keep up with the group.
Station 3 Station three was just as hard as the others.
We were each given a metal pipe to use for exercises including planks, pressups and overhead press. This alone would have been a huge challenge considering the fatigue I was already experiencing, but the staff had more surprises for us yet.
We were then asked to take the pipe with us up a muddy hill, with just a rope to help us.
Again, I was unsurprised to find that I was the weak link.
I was asked more than once on this station if I would like to quit.
“No, staff” I replied each time.
On the third cycle up the hill, we were shocked by loud bangs and flashes – staff member Chris was treating us to some psychological training.
After what felt like hours, it was over. We were given just a minute to grab our bags and have some water before running off to the next task.
Station 4 Station four was all about mental toughness.
We were told that we would experience 55 minutes of training to simulate what special forces have to deal with for much longer if captured by enemies.
A hood was placed over my head and blackout goggles over my eyes.
We were lined up in a sort of SAS conga line, and led blind around the station. The staff created loud bangs which sounded like wood against metal. Eventually, we stopped.
My hands were placed on a wall in front of me, and my legs spread apart. I tried to readjust how I stood due to discomfort, but my arms were immediately moved back by the staff.
Then came the torture. Headphones were placed on my ears and I was subjected to awful sounds of radio noise, screeching and repetitive clicks.
I had to keep telling myself that I would be okay and not to panic.
The sweet relief of the headphones coming off lasted only moments, as they were soon put back on once I had been repositioned on the floor.
The final time the headphones were removed, we were led down a bank into freezing-cold water, which was waistdeep.
Still blindfolded, we walked through the water and out the other side. Then we did it again.
Finally, when I thought I could not bear it any more, we were led to a fire, which felt almost too close. Despite the heat of the flames, I was unable to stop shivering. My legs and feet were numb by this point. I had no feeling in my hands, either.
End There was no time to change. We now ran back to the very start of the camp, where we were told to dump our bags on the floor.
At this point, there looked to be around 15 people left. I thought this was it and looked forward to a sit-down and a hot coffee.
But the staff had other ideas. They shouted: “Four people on each log. When you need to swap out, say change and someone will take over.
“We will be running up that hill. This will be your life for the next 90 minutes.”
At this point, I was not sure I could walk, let alone run uphill carrying a log. But I grabbed a handle and up we went.
After about 30 seconds, I had to swap. And then despite my best efforts, my legs refused to move. Numbness and sheer exhaustion took over.
I was asked: “Are you going to quit, 20?”
I nodded.
“I’m going to have to hear you say it.” “Man down,” I finally said. Afterwards After handing my hat to Josh, I was overwhelmed with relief and raw emotion.
I couldn’t help but cry as I was led back to the changing rooms by the medic.
“What time is it?” I asked. “11.38pm”
I had lasted for seven hours, and was so close to making it to the end, but I knew that I had made the right decision by handing in my hat.
I was given time to change into dry clothes and asked which hot drink I would like. Once I was dry, I joined some others in the hut.
I sipped coffee and sat next to a radiator, trying my best to warm up.
I ate a delicious vegan curry, rice, naan bread and mango chutney, and scoffed about half a bar of dark chocolate.
Before long, I was joined by one more person who couldn’t quite finish.
The finishers made it back at around 12.20am, after (I’m told) they were put in the plunge pool for five minutes.
In the end, 11 people completed the whole experience.
Recovery I was not able to warm up while still at the camp. I had my car heater blowing for the 30-minute drive back to my house, but I was still cold to the touch and shivering.
As soon as I got home (up three flights of stairs!), I ran a hot bath and put the heating on.
I was in the bath for over an hour, but I still was not warm. I slept in layers with a hot-water bottle.
The next day, I checked in with my injuries.
My legs were (and still are) battered by bruises, presumably from crawling through a river. Both my shoulders were sore and bruised. Every muscle in my body ached. I still felt cold. I was coughing up phlegm and my chest felt very tight. My legs felt like I had been tortured.
I was unable to hold my own body weight, or pull myself up to a seated position with my abdominals.
Reflection This is without a doubt, the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life. I’ve run a half marathon, swam 15km for charity and completed my (bronze!) Duke of Edinburgh Award, but this was next level.
I had done no training for this event. I was without a doubt the least in shape out of all the competitors. I’ve run on about 10 occasions since completing the Cardiff Half Marathon in 2019. But I still did it.
I outlasted men and women who were much fitter and much more prepared than me.
I may have been slow. I may have been told off and noticed by the instructors. I may have cried for most of the night. But I did it.
I’ve learnt that mental resilience is something I have. I’ve learnt that I’m stronger than I thought and capable of doing hard things.
Would I do it again? No, at least not for a long time.
Would I recommend it? Yes.
If you think you can outlast me, you can join the next Mandown challenge on April 30, 2022. Contact the Green Mile Training Camp for session times and more information.