It has been 4 years since my last marathon. I can still smell the sweaty kit, feel the weight of the race pack and hear the groans of tired muscles as if it was yesterday.
Along with the thought of having to write yet another Beachy Head Marathon race report to bore my clubmates, injuries and the idea of once again building up the training had put me off. As the saying goes a marathon is hundreds of miles; the finish is the last 26.2.
However, as Mary has loved Beachy Head Marathon since first running it 10 years ago it has been an annual birthday present!
Despite this race being in the diary for 363 days, I have kicked the idea of any training into the long grass, over a big hill or three, hoping that by October, Mary’s desire to further her aim of getting into the hundred marathon club would pass for another year.
I was perfectly happy to keep on with my parkrun tourism and ‘enjoy’ a 5km run in different venues across the UK and hoped that this marathon weekend would turn out to be a great opportunity to run at a different parkrun venue on the coast.
Mary was not to be discouraged!
Despite my total lack of training and Mary having reached the heady distance of 8miles in her running, she was still all for giving it a go. A totally daft decision, but then what can I expect from the woman that married me!
So last week’s Ilmington run was both my training and kit test for Beachy Head!
I felt the running gods were sending us a sign not to run when Mary’s race number had not turned up in the post. I even offered to not run as well and just celebrate her birthday weekend at the seaside.
But no!
Instead, an even earlier start with a trip to the admin tent to collect her number and me to treat her to a new Beachy Head Hoodie… This ‘cheap’ birthday present is always more expensive than just a race entry!
Looking up at the hill at the start I could foresee the pain ahead! Not just the lack of training but 1300m of elevation change, 300 steps, 14 gates and stiles.
We had a race strategy in place… survive! Get round beating the sweeper. Being able to move on the Sunday would be a bonus. We weren’t running for a time… more just to finish.
As the hooter signalled the start of the Marathon, runners streaked off up the first punishing hill. By the time we were at the Sea Scout aid station they will have collected their prizes, posed for podium pictures and packed up.
Rather than get carried away Mary and I adopted our ‘Get Round’ Strategy from the start, so we jogged the first 20m until the first mile of hill and walked.
One advantage (or potential disadvantage) of wearing the red and white quarters is you are easy to spot and so it was part the way up the initial incline that Julie Flanagan, dressed in her MFRC zip top was there to offer an encouraging cheer; many miles later as we passed through a village she beeped her car horn and waved as she was doing her on course supporting of her husband Grahame. Thanks for the encouragement Julie.
Once we crested the first hill and the terrain levelled off we started to run, the plan being to maximise what limited running we had in legs. So for the next three miles we ran… Mary constantly reminding me we were running a marathon and not a parkrun so I needed to slow down.
After a warm up walk and a parkrun distance in (4 miles) the first checkpoint arrived. For us the briefest of stops as we had full race packs (even an emergency poo pack – better than a buff… If you know you know! If you don’t, you really don’t want to!)
The route out of the aid station narrows and heads uphill. By now the runners around us are adopting a similar walk / run strategy so if you get stuck behind a slower uphill walker you can wait a while.
Once the terrain flattened we jogged, on the chalky downhill we ran… by the cows mooing menacingly I sprinted.
Through the gate and into the safety of the second check point, to drink squash and marvel at vegan fruit pastilles as I waited for Mary. We had agreed to run this race together but on the rocky path with flint daggers jutting up, she took a more sensible and cautious approach to the down, unlike me!
After another challenging 4 miles, as we ran towards check point 3 through the clouds with my quads burning, I announced to Mary that my running was over! That I had no more to give. That as she still had running in her legs she should leave me! To run her own race.
Walking away from the checkpoint Mary voiced her worries about leaving me!
Not.. Would I be okay.
Not… Would I be sensible and retire at the next checkpoint if I was feeling worse.
But… What would I write?
What would I tell the children?
I told her that I would say it was all my idea for her to run on! That she hadn’t abandoned me in distress midrace!
So at the bush to restart running she started a slow jog. Maybe it was the worry that she would easily run off and finish showing my lack of fitness or maybe the sight of her ahead of me, my legs started again and once more we fell in step, slowly running any flat areas and walking the uphills.
Miles slowly passed. Before getting to checkpoint 4, Mary on hearing a farm quad bike behind her decided to turn to check how close it was!
Slip…
SPLAT!
She took a tumble… amazingly missing the chalk and flint lumps sticking up out of the path, choosing the muddiest and probably softest landing point. Despite skidding off to the side she just managed to stay on the path rather than taking a rather messy rapid decent downhill through the brambles and bushes!
After checking she was unharmed and in one piece we ran on. Me just ahead checking that we took the better trail.
SLAP! SQUELCH!! SPLAT!!!
A huge wave of mud passed over my head, into my hair on my shoulder, back and legs!
Apparently Mary, “slipped”and her foot landed in a puddle! Or more as I believe she stamped into a puddle of sticking mud (I hope it was mainly mud!) to coat me!
The music from the live band of checkpoint 4 can be heard as you head into Litlington village. Heralding vegan sausage rols (meat option also on offer) tea/coffee and sweet treats, but also marking the toughest part of the course! The stairway to heaven and the Seven Sisters!
Over the years of doing Beachy Head I have come to realise that some parts, even when I am at my most trained and fittest are, for me, unrunnable, even the downhills! So with poles out I trudged on, slowly ticking off the miles, knowing that hopefully I will have something left in my legs for the last downhill.
Leaving checkpoint 5 at Birling Gap it is just a parkrun to go! Admittedly 2 miles up hill to Beachy Head and then a steep mile down. Passing the bus stop at the pub I knew it was downhill all the way. But with legs that are shot and tiredness starting to overwhelm us we decided to take it steadily. Looking down into Eastbourne and seeing the finish arch I started to run picking my route carefully, making the stairs- not flying over them as in a past year. Avoiding the bollard that had slowed up the start and cross the line.
Mary was not with me!
For the last descent I had abandoned her! After spending so long recovering from ankle ligament damage she was taking no unnecessary risks on the final slippery slope. So a minute later she trotted into the finish delighted to complete her favourite marathon once more; 10minutes faster than 2020! Not even in our slowest time on this course by far!
I do wonder why I put myself through this pain and the pains that I know are yet to come as I recover.
However, as the medal hangs heavily around my neck and I enjoy the post race meal, I know I will be back again. Just next time with some training!