Beachy Head Marathon - 27/10/2013

Beachy Head Marathon

Two ‘unders’ dominated my Beach Head experience, under prepared and under estimation.

I knew I was entering into the unknown with this race, but I was fairly confident that completion was inevitable providing I took it nice and steady and just sat back and enjoyed the ride. This was officially my 12^th marathon (official race stats) and I was relying on previous form and muscle memory to get me round the hugely undulating course. I hadn’t run a marathon since the London in April but I have been keeping myself busy with lots of shorter distances, and I was training harder at the gym and at home. I knew I was underprepared but hey, I have run 12 organised marathons and about 4/5 of my own ones too, I have competed in undulating hilly events in all types of weather so this wouldn’t be any different to any other marathons.

My second ‘under’, underestimating basically everything on this course, the hills, the weather, the drink/feed stations, my fatigue, the terrain, my fitness, mental preparation, and my strength. I cannot express how much this marathon killed me, 26.2 little miles accumulating into one huge ball of pain and mental torture. I would like to say I have over exaggerated a bit, but the pictures tell the story.

The weekend was due to be a windy one, I went up to the course on the Friday to check out the terrain and it was indeed blustery to say the least. Following the course round to about 20 miles or I pulled into a car park next to a meandering ox bow lake, the scenery is stunning, lakes, hills , countryside, cliffs, views of the see, just amazing. It had been raining for a couple of days so the ground was wet and muddy which coincided badly with the fact that I was going to be completing this run in my road shoes, slippery muddy ballerina Andy is sure to make an appearance.  

Staying overnight at my Mum’s I was full of excitement and dread in equal quantities, which didn’t help my insomnia, it was going to be tough enough competing in the race let alone on only 3 hours sleep ! Eastbourne is only half hour from my Mums apartment in Bexhill and the dry run the day before ensured there was no road works to slow me down, I would get there and register with plenty of time to spare. I hate rushing about and the night before a race I always check and double check my kit bag, everything was laid out for cold, wet and windy weather conditions. Double socks, double gloves, 2 snoods (one for bandana one for face), shorts, calf guards, trainers, knee tape, under armour long sleeve, wind jacket, charity vest, 2 Gels, 1 packet of shot bloks, sports drink for the journey up, cliff bar, and of course cocodemol and Imodium.

Waking up before the alarm at 6.30 I got ready and headed off, the sky was still dark, there was rain in the air, and the trees and bushes were blowing side-wards. If it was like that here what on earth is the wind going to be like on top of the cliffs of the seven sisters! I arrived promptly at registration and collected my number and timing chip, the start/finish arch had just been blown up and I took a wander over to see what hill was first to greet us, and there she was, in all of her grassy sheer glory, literally 20 yards from the start a sharp incline was to welcome us with knee jellifying and breath stealing steepness. There is no chance of getting in to your pace here, you just have to suck it up and let your thighs take a bashing from the get go, pump your arms, dig deep in the calves, and push on up to the top where the sound of the piper rings out in your ears, like a fanfare announcement that your pain starts here.

An hour later and I am standing looking up at the hill with about 1500 other fellow marathoners, it is still pretty cold and windy but I have dressed accordingly so am pretty sure I will be warm enough on the way round. On my left shoulder is Dave, I often see Dave on cross country runs and marathons, I first met him at the Three Forts Marathon which is another hilly affair, Dave must be in his late 60’s and typifies the people I see in these races, he makes it look easy, and not just for his age, he is genuinely a bloody good marathoner. We get talking and he tells me that he has completed the South Downs 100 this year, now 100 kilometres is a long way, but the South Downs 100 is in miles!! That’s almost x4 back to back marathons, it took him 27hours to complete including stops for food and rest, but no sleep, can you imagine running for 27 hours, its mind blowing, but it also proves to anyone out there that no matter what age you are, anything is possible. Dave is hoping for about 5 to 5.5 hours today, I am hoping for anything between 4 and 5, although to be fair the old adage of ‘just getting round’ is really my motto for today. The countdown begins as we are nattering and we quickly exchange ‘best of lucks’ before poising our fingers over the start button on our Garmins ready for the air horn.

And that’s it, off we go, a bottle neck quickly ensues as 1500 try to cram their way up a very steep and narrow hill, there are steps and foot holes on the way so there isn’t much clambering to be done and it soon gets a lot more spread out as we near the summit. Scottish bagpipes can be heard drifting rhythmically on the wind creating a surreal atmosphere, it is kind of like marching into war, almost foreboding but strangely subduing my mood, as if it is there on purpose to humble the nerves or relax any of my excited ‘start of the race’ acceleration and enthusiasm. The piper is in full Scottish regalia standing high on a copse as the wind breezes over his high feathered hat and carries his music to the ears of fellow racers further back.

The first few miles fly by, there are hills already, you are either running down or running up hill, there is very little flat whatsoever, and the ground varies between muddy, hard, wet, and flinty. The surrounding countryside looks out over hills and valleys and the paths wander through woods and fields. The first 10k is a breeze and times in about 50 minutes, I work out a quick calculation and reckon there is actually a slim chance I could make this in about 4 hours, I push on hard down hills with a new vigour that I might actually crack this in a decent time.

15 minutes later.

Bloody hell!! The weather has changed from cold and overcast to sunny and bloody hot, I am overheating badly and have no-where to strip off any layers, I take off my gloves and bandana and carry them round with me for the rest of the race, I haven’t taken any water with me and am relying on the next stop to come along sharpish, this is a schoolboy error which will bite me on my ass in the miles to come also. We run further into the woods and out the other side, up various inclines until suddenly the wind meets us like a smack in the face, its around mile 8 that I first get scared, although I have done loads of training, I have not put the miles in, I am treading water as the wind takes the pace out of me and my thighs are screaming as I try to push them forward, I start to realise that I am not even a third into this race and already my body is beginning to tell me to pack it in. A brief downhill with high sided banks takes the edge off of the incoming hurricane Jude and there is enough rest-bite to recharge and recover, there is also a feed station coming up where I soon devour a mars bar and refuel on water. Feeling replenished and a little bit less sulky and sorry for myself, I plough onwards and literally upwards to tackle the oncoming onslaught of inclines.

This course is beautiful, everything about it has a view, from start to finish we are running through, around, over and on the most amazing landscapes. At the halfway stage I still have enough consciousness to appreciate everything around me, I am even pointing it out to my fellow runners, I guess it’s about now in their own blogs they are talking about the guy who was annoyingly telling them to look how lovely the stream looks, or isn’t that farmhouse quaint. Checking my watch at this point and I have obviously lost some time, I am still on course for a comfortable 4.5 hours and am pretty chuffed with this, it has been hard work so far and much much tougher than I could have ever expected, but as long as the terrain stays the same I reckon I could carry on plodding and push for home nearer the finish. That is until …… until I get passed by a couple of guys, blue shirt says to white shirt ‘so the steps are coming up soon aren’t they?’ .. steps ?? steps ?? what bloody steps, hold up steps aren’t part of the plan…. White shirt to blue shirt’ nope they are a way off yet, but this is where the race actually starts now’ ….. what does he mean by that? Surely the race started when my legs turned to trifle taking in the first 6/7 hills, or when I was fighting through an invisible wall of marshmallow at the top of the cliffs, or when I was avoiding going for a burton skipping over flints and holes, or when I was sloshing my way through ankle deep mud and water, what does he mean it just gets started here?

We run over a small wooden bridge and turn into a village, a crowd of people cheer us on smiling and waving and giving out jelly babies, round another bend, past some shops and houses, and piff puff poof, this is what he means, the start of a hill bigger than that we have come across as yet, the worst thing is I can see it pulling away from me for miles and I still can’t see the top. I tiptoe jog slowly up the first half mile or so before I give in to my pleading legs and eventually walk, this is only about 15 miles in and I am spent, I am gasping for air and pushing down on my knees with my hands as I waddle my way upwards, this seems to go on for miles and miles. A worm like tingle starts to spread down my calves and pulse in spasms as cramp begins to settle in, I am definitely in a bad way and start to hope there is a van at the top waiting to take me home.

All I can remember between mile 15 and about mile 20 is the sheer pain, it got slightly worse after this for a while but for those particular miles it just all blurs into an amalgamation of utter shitness. The hills turned into steps that seemed to go on forever, I think there were two sets of them too, maybe 3?? I remember trying to pull myself up them with the hand rail wishing for it to all be over. You may be thinking why I do this, what could possess someone to put themselves through this, I am thinking the same thing too don’t worry. Around mile 20 I had to stop and lie down on the grass, I couldn’t run as cramp had taken over both my legs so I just laid in the sheep crap trying to pull my toes down, unusually not one person stopped to help, it was clear I had cramp but not one bugger came to assist. I picked myself up and hobbled on downhill, I didn’t even see the photographer who snapped a great pic which summed up exactly how I felt, eyes close, face full of despair, you can tell this is not enjoyable any more.

But what’s the point of giving up, I have run three quarters of this race know and I have a measly 10k left to run, I like to call this just a lunchtime run as it is what I used to run in my lunch break at work, it also makes it seem a lot shorter than it is and over a lot quicker. Ten kilometres and seven sisters between me and the finish line, surely the worst was over.

The next mile took 22 minutes, I felt faint and dehydrated, I had no water and I could see for miles ahead, the sight of cliff top hills and no feed stations, I get chatting to a couple of fellow runners who are struggling too, and we gain comfort in each other’s discomfort, safety in numbers and all that. I ask to have a sip of someone’s drink and this turn out to be just what I needed to get a bit of PMA about me. The floor seems to dip and rise as I stare down at it, trying not to look too far into the distance and realise the length still left to go. We are right on the cliff edge and the wind howling off the top is crazy fierce, thankfully it is behind us this time and is a welcome push in the back to help me put one foot in front of the other, at times when I am walking the wind actually pushes me to run. Looking up I can see the water stop on the next hill, shining like a beacon, like a mirage, offering a bounty of orange drinks and mars bars, I drink about 5 cups straight off and sit down to eat the food, I am not alone and a few of us are sitting in a stunned silence, when there is talk it is just of how bloody hard this race is and how no one is ever doing it again.

The final straight is upon us, from out of no- where I have a bit of pace about me, I have been taken on supplies and put some fuel in the furnace, plus I only have two more miles left to run, I start overtaking all the people who have run past me in the last 3 or 4 miles and I think at some point I actually cracked a smile, I even spot the photographer and manage a trademark heel click getting some good air to it too. The guy in front of me has run the whole race with his little dog, suddenly a huge gust of wind pushes the dog in front of him and the man duly stacks it to the ground, he is up and running before I get to him so I guess it was ok to laugh a little considering he wasn’t hurt.

I pass a marshal who announces the final mile and it is all downhill, for some reason a wobbly emotional chin appears, let’s just put it down to fatigue, the winding path turns a corner and suddenly I can see the finish, it’s down the big hill that we ran up at the start and 20 yards on for glory. I spot my Mum and Justine at the bottom and can hear Jessica shouting for me, I actually pick up speed and end up with a sprint finish, finishing in a time of 5 hours and 3 minutes.

Never before have I felt so drained and tired after a race, I totally bonked out between miles 18 and 22 and made too many errors, errors in judgement, errors of the conditions and terrain, and errors in my consumption of food and water, but most of all in the pure lack of putting the miles in.

So that’s it, not many smiles or laughs in this one, to be fair I think the only time I felt like laughing was when the guy fell over his dog, this was tougher than any marathon or ultra I have run, this is probably the only race I have completed and whole heartedly said I would never do it again, ever!

I update Facebook saying I have completed the Beachy Head Marathon and a couple of days later my friend Craig asks if I would do it with him next year if we trained properly for it, my reply, ‘yeah why not mate’.