Beachy Head Marathon is Mary’s absolute favourite marathon of all. For someone with 85 marathons under her belt, that speaks volumes about the sheer magic of the event.
Our very first outing at Beachy Head back in 2014 set the benchmark for what I like to call my ‘better’ run reports. Naturally, when I originally booked it, I hadn’t actually bothered to read any of the details. Unbeknownst to me at the time, Beachy Head is a tough old beast of a marathon:
- 4,000 feet of elevation
- 300 steps
- Stiles and gates galore
- A proper trail route… slick mud, chalky paths, hidden rocks, and woodland roots shrouded under fallen leaves
- A notoriously brutal second half
- Completely unpredictable seaside weather
And an event that caused me to lose a buff… two years in a row around mile 15—if you know, you know! If you don’t… be glad. Very glad.
Luckily for the readers of these reports, my notoriously relaxed approach to race preparation hasn’t changed much over the years. If it’s essential for a race, you can bet I’ve forgotten it: shorts, trainers, not signing up, or simply remembering what day the race is actually on. It makes writing these reports delightfully easy! I’m sure many in the club wonder not just how this idiot ever crosses a finish line, but how does he function in daily life. Is Mary his actual wife, or full-time carer?
Since that first fateful outing, Beachy Head has become a sacred fixture on our calendar—effectively serving as Mary’s birthday present every single year. It’s so important to her that I will even miss parkrun for it!
After my early confusion regarding the fact that marathons aren’t always on a Sunday, our Eastbourne trips have evolved into a glorious long weekend. We head down on Friday, race on Saturday, revel in the extra hour in bed thanks to the autumn clock change, enjoy a leisurely Sunday breakfast and a visit to a National Trust property or two, before we take a lazy drive home on Monday. I even book the hotel nearly a year in advance—proof that I can plan ahead when Mary and coastlines are involved.
After 9 years of running here, i thought my report wouldn’t have anything new to say beyond: we turned up, ran slowly (owing to my desperate lack of training), and enjoyed the glorious post-marathon baked potato with cheese, beans, and a sausage (vegan option available) while proudly sporting a lovely square medal.
Mary did her best to add some drama to the plot by taking a nasty tumble three weeks out. But rather than miss her favourite race—and aided by plenty of TLC (which autocorrect keeps trying to spell as alcohol) from her devoted husband, plus a strict running ban from her coach—she was right there on the start line. A bit scarred, a bit bruised, and under-trained, but with a promise to run the whole way with me… which she did!
Miraculously, I hadn’t even messed up my kit! I had more gear than ever. My trusty ‘Poo Pack Version 2!’ was stowed safely in my vest. On the drive down, I had a brief moment of doubt about that I’d my trail shoes, but thanks to previous footwear catastrophes (has anyone else ever attempted a marathon in two left shoes, or a pair of patent leather brogues?), I keep a permanent parkrun shoe box in the boot. I had three distinct shoe options. The trail shoes wouldn’t have been my first choice, but they would do!
My organisation was so on point, when I realised I only had one waterproof sock, I ordered two different pairs ready! I even had them in my case ready, so I could pick the most comfortable on the morning!
I did pack a lightweight jacket, though it was a distinctly ‘snug’ fit from a time when I was fitter and leaner (i.e., back when my Massey top didn’t look like a crop-top showing off my moobs).
And any missing items could easily be swept up at Morrisons, so everything was looking remarkably rosy.
At one point, my pre-race nutrition threatened to steal the show. My traditional pre-marathon fuel since Marathon #4 has always been pizza. Disaster struck, however, when the Morrisons café turned out not to serve pizza, combined with not wanting to drive to Domino’s, I settled for quiche, chips, and beans. Apart from the tricky spelling of quiche, there were no issues—and I am pleased to report the ‘Poo Pack’ remained firmly unused in the hotel.
Confidence was high! My run report was shaping up to take a fraction of the time to write and read compared to my race time. But three chips in…
Beep Beep… An email! Beep Beep… A text! Buzz… A Facebook message!
Storm Austin and Boelo were flexing their muscles! At first, we feared our race was heading down the same tragic route as the poor runners at Snowdonia (Eryri)—outright cancellation. But as I have writen this missive, the show was officially ON! The catch? The start time had been brought forward an hour to 8:00 am—a mere 15 minutes behind the Ultra runners—along with a firm reminder to strictly follow Coastguard instructions. The organisers, the timing crew, and Chris Foxall had all messaged.
A quick cross-reference of three separate weather apps suggested Saturday might just about be okay: light winds and a spot of afternoon rain. BBC Weather took a slightly more aggressive stance, predicting 40+ mph gales.
As it turned out, nothing could quite prepare us for what the British autumn had in store.
Mary usually complains bitterly about a 6:00 am alarm for a flat parkrun, but not for Beachy Head. One chirp from her phone and she was up, layering up in her pre-prepared kit. I, on the other hand, lazily picked over my pile of gear. Peering out the window, the sky looked dark but strangely clear. “Looks grand!” we thought, opting to stick with shorts. I decided against carrying the compression-fit jacket, reasoning there was no point hauling a coat that required a shoehorn to get into. My gloves made the cut, and I even contemplated packing sunglasses.
Leaving the hotel in the dark we arrived early enough to successfully nab our normal, highly coveted free parking spot near the start, just as we starting to be greeted by a genuinely glorious sunrise over the sea. Naturally, this was immediately followed by a trip to the portaloos—which appeared to be completely devoid of water for flushing. Ah, the glamorous side of endurance running.
If a lack of flushing water wasn’t enough of an opening drama, Mary decided to throw a massive nosebleed into the mix just before the off. But, true to form, she insisted she was still good to race.
While leaving our drop bag in the sports hall at the school Mary cast a longing glance at the merch stand—noting the new black hoodie colour for this year—before sensibly deciding against buying it. As she had enough Beachy Head Hoodies already! And black was similar to her Ilmington ones!
A little change to the start of this years race launched runners off in waves – spreading out the crowds on the first brutal climb and easing the congestion on narrower paths. So with the calm autumn sun shining down, we set off, tackling the first climb at a measured walk. My race strategy was simple: walk every single hill, and attempt to run the flats and downhills. But making sure we kept a sensible jeffing strategy, as my third week of absolute peak training run had reached a grand total of 9 miles (well ⁹its over a-third of the total distance! What could possibly go wrong?
True to her word, Mary stuck with me. Not really showing her desire to run a little more, and significantly faster!
She even put up with my genuine surprise and lack of route awareness as the first checkpoint wasn’t the one I expected! I was disappointed that it only had water! I swear that in the past it had biscuits! I also bemoaned my lack of sunglasses!
As we trudged up the hill eager runners, full of running appeared behind us. Initially I wondered how my slow run and walk had got us so far in front of such keen marathoners, and then realised that it was blue numbered ultra runners who join the marathon route after doing an additional 6-mile loop at the start!
We soon found the chalky downhill section towards the aid station I had been looking forward to! Mary ran off ahead as I followed behind! She opted for the chalk path rather than the grass bank like other runners – an executive decision I suspected was a thinly veiled attempt to feed me directly to the cows that loomed right over us!
Thankfully, the next checkpoint was right where it was supposed to be and had sweets, biscuits and pretzels as well as squash! Everywas right in the trail marthon world.
The run wound on… countryside views were lovely, albeit slightly muddy thanks to the week’s inclement weather, but thankfully running along the bluffs near the river wasn’t a boggy nightmare.
Then came a monumental discovery: the infamous rough concrete road up the colossal hill was gone! In its place? Brand new, smooth tarmac. Was it any better? Absolutely not; it was still every bit as soul-destroying. This naturally sparked debate with Mary over whether this was officially the worst hill on the course, given the total lack of a view and the sheer, vertical angle of the climb.
By the time we hit the Downs at the 12-mile mark, trekking toward the third checkpoint hosted by the local Sea Scouts, the lovely weather decided it had had enough of us. The sun deserted us completely as heavy clouds rushed in, bringing a sharp, stinging sheet of rain. Mary pulled on her jackel and sensibly zipped it up. Me? I didn’t think it was that bad! Which was lucky as my spray on jacket was back in the hotel room!
The run to checkpoint 4 is normally my favourite part of the route… long runnable downhills, lovely views, along bluffs near meandering rivers through woodlands (ignore that I have lost a buff here!)
Despite being under-trained and tired, I ran… to keep warm as the wind blew in rain!
Arriving at Litlington Checkpoint, I was disappointed that this year there was no band! It would have had to have been Wet Wet Wet! But that minor disappointment was replaced by joy… warm tea and coffee to wash down a fruit bun or sausage roll!
Once moving again, you face the hardest section of the run!
Trudging up the slippery path by the horse field, I managed to avoid testing the electric fence this year, before hitting the staircases!
Hundreds of steps going ever up. And then a stone stile to test your hip flexors—in previous years I have failed that test!
Before the descent down to the Seven Sisters Country Park.
Normally we have an ice cream here before tackling the climb, but today wasn’t the weather for it! It would have been washed away or blown away! Possibly both!
A bonus checkpoint just before the start of the climb to the sisters!
If I thought the weather was bad before, I was wrong!
Down the hill to the first sister, the wind whipped off the sea, bringing rain and hail horizontally. At the top of each of the sisters, I suddenly didn’t regret that my Massey top no longer fitted, as I had a little more ballast to stop me blowing over!
The coastguard and the safety checks of the organisers were spot on! The wind was powerful but blowing off the sea, so shooting off over the cliffs wasn’t a risk. Ending up in London, possibly!
Somehow the coastguard extra aid station was still on the top of the middle sister. We kept going! Running at times, as it was easier with the wind blowing you along.
In the gorse, we found a rather muddy runner who had taken a slip and a tumble! Trail shoes rather than old road shoes with little grip are always the right choice! After getting her upright and helping her up and down the muddy sisters with the use of a walking pole, we got her to the chalk slopes where she told us she was fine to continue!
The aid station at Birling Gap was not where I remembered it! But it wasn’t really needed for me, as I felt I was on the home stretch! Two miles of constant uphill to the bus stop at the pub before a glorious last mile downhill! Mary grabbed a bag of pretzels and jelly tots. They left everything in bags by this point, as it was towards the end of the race and the weather would soak everything. They didn’t need to dilute the squash! Just leaving a cup out, it was soon filled with water and ice from the sky!
The wind and the rain just wouldn’t let up. By moving the race forward, those speedier runners could have missed the lot! A very sensible decision by the organisers. I just need to be faster! I am sure that Chris Foxall only got a small smattering of rain and hail as he raced round!
As we crested the last hill, I glanced at my watch and realised if we could manage a last 14-minute mile we could get under 7 hours! One of our quicker times!
I forced a run! As the wind raced up the hill, blasting us with hail and rain, we tried to run down. The camber and now slippery surface meant feet slipped, but our walk-run continued. Like Bambi on ice, I glided between a group of runners as one slid sideways and used another runner to stop them hitting the fence! Mary was more cautious, happy to be nearing the end of her 86th marathon!
Two hi-viz marshals stood guard at the steps! I was cautious, as I had previously missed the steps before and ended the race tumbling and rolling towards the end, much to the delight of the eager teenage St John Ambulance volunteers. I felt bad that I dashed their hopes of dealing with a major casualty!
At the road, 100m before the finish, I realised not only had I left Mary behind, but the clock had ticked over 7 hours! So I waited to run in with Mary!
Collecting our medal, we quickly headed out of the cold to our finisher’s meal!
While my heroics in completing the run whilst being far from marathon fit are great, the real heroes of today were the hundreds of volunteers who marshalled the course! And possibly the weather resisting properties of dry robes, waterproof trousers and boots! The marshal have always been good, but to be so up beat and motivating in those horrendous conditions was awesome and the deserve a huge thank you from everyone!
Despite this easily being the toughest Beachy Head Marathon we have done, we are already booked in for next year at the early bird price and if Mary can squeeze in a further 13 marathons in the next 362 days maybe her 100th on the 23rd October next year? Would be great for others to join us for Beachy Head Weekend, Ultra, 10km and half marathon races are also available!
– Daniel Connolly