Once again, my confidence was low in the days leading up to an event. Illness following the MMM lasted ten days and left me feeling so tired and dizzy that I was beginning to worry that I was suffering from anaemia. I had not run more than 30 miles in total this month and a 10 mile run had left me exhausted.
The two bus, three train journey to Eastbourne was, thankfully, uneventful. This year a ticket for the connecting tube ride was included in my booking. I checked into the excellent Alexandra Hotel and then walked up to Duke's Drive to register.
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| Walking up to registration on Friday evening, the view looking back down the beach to Eastbourne pier. |
Usually, I take everything I need for the event. This year I reasoned that there was no need to load up my rucksack with race day food and drink, there are Co-ops everywhere and I had plenty of time to shop - Error No. 1. I was dismayed when the Co-op had neither buns nor fruit bread, nor did the next few shops I tried. After about half an hour wandering the streets, it became clear that I would burn more calories trying to find a suitable source of nutrition than I would get from consuming it and I gave up.
I watched TV in my room for a while then went to the Buccaneer for a pint. On my return I sorted out my kit. Instead of my usual drink degassing technique, of tapping the bottle, waiting for the fizz to die down and repeat, I left the bottles open on the dressing table overnight - Error No. 2.
I awoke on Saturday feeling better than I had done for a while, had an excellent hotel breakfast, then made my way to the start. As I had support from my sister Sandi, and as there were plenty of water stations, I reasoned that I need carry only one bottle of Coke. I would take water at the stations and Sandi would give me a second bottle of Coke around halfway - Error No. 3.
I parted with my down pullover reluctantly and made my way to the start line, or a fair bit behind it as befitted my expected time. This also turned out to be an error, the start was incredibly slow as many slower athletes had started far too near the front. It took me two minutes to cover the few tens of metres to the arch. Some sub five hour finishers had to wait six minutes while some eight hour finishers made it in seconds, hmmm! Whinge over.
Once on the first hill I made some effort and as the gradient slackened began to feel the joy of running. The first feed station at around four miles came quickly. Once I had had some water I was ready for carbs and I opened the Coke when I got going again. The night spent open seemed to have had little degassing effect and there was brown foam everywhere (fortunate that I had moved to the edge of the path). I managed to get the top back on before I lost too much, but wondered how easy pulling gloves over my sticky hands would be.
The glove question was soon answered. The strong wind began to bite and so I started to put the gloves on, five minutes later I was still trying to finish the job. I managed to get some sensible output from the Coke after a few more false starts
I soon recognised the open running to the next checkpoint. I did not see Sandi. I drank some water to dilute the Coke and aware of the fact that I had no buns was glad to see bananas on offer. I managed to peel half a banana with gloves (glued) on, but failed to manoeuvre the banana into my north and south. Another competitor kindly gave me some of his then a marshal helped me deal with another.
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| Alfriston, original image -Sussex Sport Photography.com |
I had been overtaking people steadily and continued to do so down to Alfriston and on the long ascent to the next checkpoint. I was beginning to feel a little tired and had some pain in my groin (why do I suffer from groin pain in trail races but not fell races?), all the same I was enjoying myself greatly. The nearly half way CP3 came and went, still no sister and I was now beginning to need the Coke's carbs. I chatted with a few people but didn't let conversation affect my pace. I monitored myself for inefficient stride length constantly, for as I crest an incline I often fail to re lengthen my stride and so waste energy while losing time.
I held my head high with my eyes on the horizon, the chalk downs drain very well and there was never more than a little surface mud. Compared with the Manx Mountain Marathon, Beachy Head is like a (very hilly) lawn and the occasional downward glance was all that was required to ensure safe foot placement. This maximises appreciation of the views and does wonders for morale. Runners started to come past me on the last descent before Litlington, I had expected this. As the slope diminished they began to bunch up as their exuberance wore off. I re passed several in the next half mile of flat running. I was looking forward to seeing Sandi and my Coke at checkpoint 4.
There was no band at checkpoint 4 this year, nor was there any sign of Sandi. There were hot cross buns (maybe that's where they had all gone). I grabbed two halved buns, ate one, washed it down with an orange juice and set off with the other half in my hand.
A turn right through a stile leads to some gentle uphill running across fields. Though feeling a little tired now, my 50k training has given me a good deal of "just carry on" endurance.
The gradients came and went, the path narrowed and widened, stones became leaves and leaves became stones, bare chalk, grass, a plank across mud, stones again. Time became something that existed outside of my world, a world that consisted of landscapes I enjoyed as I passed through like a series of living photographs.
Nearing the coast the way swung east and so began the steep, curving ascent of the first of the Seven Sisters. I picked my pace carefully and used my hands on my knees where necessary. I soon felt a burn in my calves, the feeling was almost welcome as different muscles started to take the strain. I was determined not to let the Sisters intimidate me and saw them uncoloured by the experience of previous years. I kept my eyes on the whole landscape and ran through it, I treated each ascent as a rest from descent and vice versa. I wore my tiredness like a shirt not a shackle and was soon enjoying this difficult section.
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| The Seven Sisters and Beachy Head with Belle Tout lighthouse. This photo is of another year and was not taken by me. |
I bent to the steepening gradient and plodded on to the crest of what I knew was a false summit (not even half way up). I took the next short descent as a welcome break rather than a cruel height loss and had soon caught another bunch of runners as the way turned upwards again. The headwind became ferocious now and I really became aware of how tired I was. I checked my stride and found myself capable of more so picked things up, passing more runners and cursing the wind (probably out loud) as I went.
The first buildings of Eastbourne came into sight above the horizon and I quickened my pace as the gradient first eased and then changed to a broad grassy descent. Last year my back hurt on this penultimate section, this year I kept my posture, bent my knees and let my thighs take the strain to make the best speed I could. I began down the final steep bank in a similar manner, the technique allowing a quicker pace and line. Soon, marshals were shouting at me to slow down and take care on the slippery chalk steps and I took their advice. I jumped from step to step with a "deadpoint" landing before accelerating over the last hundred metres of grass, onto the road and, finally, through the finishing tunnel by the school.
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| The finish, original image - Sussex Sport Photography.com |
Another cracking Beachy Head Marathon, I will keep coming back to this superb event as long as I am able to complete the distance. The marshals are brilliant, the crowds are inspiring, the piper is stirring and the course is both beautiful and challenging. Somehow the organisers and populace have managed to combine the support and facilities of a big event with the intimacy of a small one.
I collected my medal, handed back my timing chip and made for the nearest shelter from the wind and the light rain that had started on the way down Beachy Head. I put on a thin jumper and my waterproof jacket. I huddled in a shelter for a minute or two before making my way to where I had agreed to meet Sandi. She arrived quite soon which was fortunate as it was an exposed location and, bless her, she had my down pullover. We walked to the car and I got in for a warm, Sandi gave me a fleece blanket for my legs which were still bare as I had not the courage to remove my shoes.
Once warm we headed back to the café at Birling Gap, there was free grub at the school sports centre, but there can be huge queues - Error No 4.
Sandi had driven through the night so I went for a meal while she had a kip, "take your time" she had said. I changed into long trousers then entered the café . "Two eggs, beans and chips please," I said. "The kitchen closed at half two," said the waitress, "noooooooo" I said, "you were serving last year", "ununuh", she said. As I did not want to wake Sandi there was only one possible solution,.. drink some beer. I loitered with my pint, stood outside the bar, took a photo of the Seven Sisters, went back in and read every poster on the wall before draining my glass. It was still too early to wake Sandi so what was a caring brother to do but bite the bullet and order more beer.
I rejoined Sandi and explained that the measures I had been forced to employ, in order to spare her, might have a disruptive effect on the journey home. This proved true quite soon when the beer, only ever rented, proclaimed the end of the lease. I hopped out at a lay by and as I climbed down a steep embankment realised that I was now quite dizzy from low sugar. A garage triple sandwich made the world of difference to my well-being as we headed towards Oxford, services and a more substantial meal.
Sandi had another kip while I re carbed. It had been a great day and as if to round it off in style the services had both a Starbucks and Cool Jazz on the speakers.
My chip time - 4:42:39.05 (a PB by 11 minutes).
My thanks to Sandi, who remained cheerful despite a long drive, lack of sleep and frustrated route finding. Your support is appreciated, BHM would not be the same without you.
A history and description of the event can be found at: robin-web.co.uk
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