3rd May: CTS Pembrokeshire... A marathon Spudding session.

Back to where it all began: The Endurancelife CTS Pembrokeshire Marathon.

In October 2012 I ran this as my first ever organised marathon - and it hurt, boy did it hurt! Then it was part of my challenge to myself of running 12 trail marathons in 12 months, something I managed to drag myself across the finishing line in achieving and have not looked-back since.

On that initial marathon, if you discount the 2 middle-aged ladies who set-out early with the ultra runners and walked every step of the way, then I finished dead last with the final few miles spent having to fight the urge to curl-up by the side of the trail and cry like a baby!

Ok so I’ve improved slightly since then and here I am again in the village of Little Haven on the Pembrokeshire coast for another ‘first’… My first marathon as a canicrosser with Spud as my willing companion.

Since LSS & I found Spud in the on-line classified site ’pre-loved’ (his owner was unable to look after him through illness so she put him on there for adoption) he has become a much-loved addition to the family and a very willing running buddy for the 2 of us. In fact running him has been a really good thing to do as it takes the edge off his continual need to be tearing around at 100mph all day every day - being a cross between a border collie and a springer spaniel he seems to have all the energy of the collie combined with the stupidity of the springer… But in a very loveable huggable kind of way!

As soon as he was old enough we have been taking Spud out on increasing distances and he is certainly ready to be taking-on a marathon distance, especially as now at this time of year it is not too hot or cold and the conditions underfoot being trail will not be damaging to his paws.

LSS joined Spud and myself on the 2 & 1/2 hour journey way out west for the day and we parked for the night over in Broad Haven for some kip before waking at dawn and making our way to the event base and registering for the race.

Excitement at the briefing!

Briefed on the jetty in the village centre, once the hooter went we were off and from the back of the pack starting point, Spud and myself deliberately made our way as far up the field as quickly as we could on the ascent out of the village. Knowing the course here I was aware there is a pinch-point getting on to the coastal path above the village that could have seen a very excitable Spud held in a queue for a few minutes to get through the gate and running again, so it seemed the sensible thing to do to get out of as many people’s way as possible and let them overtake us along the coastal path.

The coastal path with the dots of runners stretching along it.

On to the coastal path under the sunny sky we wound our way along the sheer clifftops to St. Brides where we descended to its small inlet and rocky beach. From her we turned inland by the church at Check Point 1 for a trip across the western peninsula of this bottom left corner of Wales, via the hamlet of Marloes, to the sheep-poo strewn WWII Coastal Command airfield.

Skipping up some steps.

Once across the flat couple of miles of the airfield and through Check Point 2 at 9 miles you begin the 10k loop of the southern peninsula with the slow easy descent in to the village of Dale… As we hit the outskirts of it we passed a window cleaner working with his dog left in his van, a dog that was not too pleased at all these people passing him by and was very vocal about this. Initially I though he was just having a shout at Spud, but from listening after passing you could tell how many people were behind and how close by the torrent of woofs still to be heard as Spud and I plodded away onwards to the shore.

A 'refined' view.

Through the centre of Dale, being at sea-level it was the start of the ascent back up on to the cliff-tops, and the undulating slog around the headland. On one ascent with the temperature rising I saw through a gap in a hedge a large pond holding water for the farmers fields. With us still being a few miles from the next aid station I ducked-under the fence with Spud to allow him to drink his fill… The pool was absolutely teeming with tadpoles and Spud was straight in there belly deep drinking the water and attempting to eat the tadpoles at the same time!

Teeming with tadpoles.

Passing the Coastguard look-out point we approached the lighthouse and the cottages at St. Ann’s Head, crossing a field to get to it… Unfortunately this field was full of cows, cows that had been wound-up by the passing through their field of countess ultra and marathon runners, and now there was someone with a dog invading their territory.

The cows were split either side of the well-trampled path and as Spud and myself, along with another 2 runners approached them they took a big interest in me and the boy and began to close in on us. To give Spud his dues he was not fazed by this at all, as when he is running that is all he concentrates on (unless he sees a squirrel) so he was ignoring the attention of these large slabs of beef. At this point I slowed a bit to allow the other runners a chance to get away from us as the cows certainly were not interested in them and Spud and I attempted to ‘run the bovine gauntlet’ and get to the exit of the field.

I was looking ahead for an exit strategy. The fence the path leads you to is waist height with 2 rows of barbed wire on top and you need to take a right turn against it and follow the fence for another 100 metres before arriving at the gate to leave the field… Which meant the two of us were potentially going to be pinned against the fence at any point along there.

Maintaining a constant pace Spud carried on running and ignoring what was happening but when we made it through the cows they all converged in a group behind us and began to jog after us matching our pace in the direction of the fence. Looking around I could see there were 2 leaders of the herd that the others were following. Turning my head to keep an eye on what was occurring I could see they were now beginning to speed-up and as we hit the fence there was now a real danger of us being pinned against it.

There were some holiday makers on the other side of the fence who could see what was happening and started shouting at me to let Spud go… The fence was too high to hurdle although I could easily get Spud over it by picking and throwing him across. The thing is Spud was fine with the situation and had not confronted or caused any direct issue with the cows and letting him go would put him and myself in direct danger if he was to bolt and panic the cows.

By this time the other 2 runners were through the gate so were now safe and very relieved! Assessing the situation I took the chance that the cows were really just curious and allowed them to keep following, but when they got to within a metre of my back I took the step of firmly turning my body as I jogged and holding my arm out to them with my palm up I shouted a firm ‘no’ to them. This made them stop which bought us an extra metre before they began to follow again, this time keeping their distance… I covered the last 20 metres or so to the gate with my arm out behind me, palm up and repeating ‘no’ every few paces until we got to the gate and mercifully through it with minimal faff and fumbling of the catch! A close call - although Spud was completely unaware of everything that had gone on and just wanted to keep on running!

Looking back at the lighthouse.

Relieved to have escaped we took it easy on the last couple of miles to Check Point 3, finishing the loop of the peninsula 16 miles in to the race, with Spud taking on plenty more water at the stop. All the Check Points at the Endurancelife events have tubs of water specifically for the dogs to drink from as part of being canicross friendly events. With us humans running long distances we need to keep ourselves sustained with food, and the same principal it is with dogs - I had taken some high-value treats (to dogs that is) for Spud on the run - a bag of cooked chicken and a bag of chopped Mattesons sausage. As a reward for successfully negotiating the cows I gave him most of the bag of sausage a bit at a time to keep his energy levels up.

Gateholm Island.

From here it was a return to St. Brides along a different route that was mostly on the cliff-tops, passing the sight of Gateholm Island before a quick trip north across the western peninsula and hitting the coastal path once more which will be our companion for the final 10k or so.

On this final 10k, having given Spud most of the chicken I took the opportunity to start a new trend - you may have heard of ‘nutscaping’ where men take a photo of some cracking scenery with one of their hairy ’plums’ blurred in shot at the top well I’ve thought of going one step further but on a tangent; taking photos of cracking landscape with a furry Spud in the corner or the bottom of the shot and calling it ‘muttscaping’… So here’s some of our efforts from the last 10k.

Crossing the finish line half an hour faster than my last effort on the course, Spud had more than taken it all in his stride - in fact as I sat with LSS (who was there to cheer us in) on the grass by the finish to recover my breath, he was straining to go run and play with the other dogs who had run the half marathon or 10k and were all chilling-out in the warm spring sunshine with their tired owners!

A happy chappy sporting his bling.

A cheeky pint in the pub on the quayside followed, where Spud was trying to look as pitiful as possible to cadge food off those eating their lunch before the three of us made our way back up the hill to the fun-bus and the drive home. Once the motor was running, Spud finally gave-in to the effort of the day and curled-up in his travel cage and fell asleep immediately for the entire trip, and well deserved it was too!

Eat pies.
Drink beer.
Run far.

3rd May: Slaying my Welsh dragon

Marathon number 23 saw me journey down to the south west of Wales for the penultimate leg of the 2013/14 Endurancelife Coastal Trail Series in Pembrokeshire. This was a return to the scene of my first organised trail marathon back in October ’12. As my first, running this stretch of coast around Little Haven will forever make it special to me and having finished last time completely exhausted, it made me realise what running a trail marathon was all about. Yes, you could say the course gave me a schooling in what to expected in a trail marathon and how to deal with it, and it damned near broke me through my not being well enough prepared for the challenge mentally as much as physically, but whilst it may have left a large mark on my psyche, I prevailed over it… Well today I was back to slay my dragons from before.

Last time round I was sorely hampered through not having the right trainers. There had been plenty of rain in the lead-up to the event and the coastal path was a glorified slip ’n slide and I was not sporting adequate grip to deal with it, so this time round I had my Cheviot’s to cut through even the worst that could be thrown at me by the course.

I was determined that in this race I would not be last, with the 'lantern rouge' being the dubious honour for someone else. I was also looking forward to being able to run the section south of Little Haven on the coastal path (the section that had the beating of me last time through the footwear issue) and to taking off as much time from last year’s as I possibly could to show the course what I am more realistically capable of.

With the duff weather so far this year there were to be changes to the course from before. Gone was the 10k loop through Broad Haven to the north (and mercifully the hill that separates the Little and Broad Havens) with the extra distance being put on the southerly section of the course: The ultra runners doing two laps of the Dale peninsular to the mere one for us marathoners. The half marathon was to loop back on itself from just over 10k south of Little Haven along the route of the marathon course, with the 10k runners being bussed to their start point on the coastal path and all running home.

On the Friday night after dining on the food of champions: a large doner kebab with chillies, I made the drive westwards to the location, paying my 'Taff tax' on the bridge in to Wales (to enter Wales you must pay, but to escape it is free) and parked-up in Broad Haven to kip for the night in the same car park as last year.

Facing a good mile's walk to the event base in the next village up and over a large hill, as soon as I woke I left to register, munching some pre-race fuel of flapjack on the way. As I climbed the hill I could see signs for ‘event parking’ with marshals directing cars in to a field on the crest… Making a mental note I carried on down to the village hall and signed-in before making the return trek to the van and driving back up to the top once more to park, breakfast and change.

Not a bad view for a car park.

Walking down the hill once more I gathered with my fellow marathoners on the harbour wall for the safety briefing. It was pretty obvious that there was easily threefold the number from the season opening race of 2012's Coastal Trail Series and we all listened to the essential info, which did not tell of previous deaths on the path this year!

Being briefed.

Whilst listening and seeing how everyone else was dressed, I made the decision to go without my jacket and just run in a T-shirt over my base layer - I figured that it was warm enough to be worth the risk as there was little to no rain forecast and the wind was pretty non existent. Dumping my bag I bumped in to Luke who had been forced to drop-out of the rest of the CTS season after Sussex through his injury, although he was present to act as support crew for his wife in the half distance, repaying her for all the times when the trail shoe has been on the other foot.

James doing an 'I'm a little teapot' impersonation during his countdown.

Follow the leader.

Soon we had the count down from 10 and we were off, traipsing up the hill southwards out of Little Haven. At the top of the hill we ground to a halt as we had to queue to get through a kissing gate on to the coastal path.

The queue...

For the chance to run this!

By this point I was already feeling pain in the instep of both my feet from rubbing - Not carrying anything to remedy the problem I decided to ignore it and necked a couple of pain killers, as if I was feeling it now, I would be feeling it all the more in 27 miles time!

Some trail porn.

The section on the coastal path fell 1/4 to 1/2 way through the course last year and how wet the trail was under foot combined with my rubbish choice in footwear, I was unable to run barely more than a few steps, whereas now it was rock hard so I was able to properly run the undulations and savour the views of the rugged coast.

Looking back at those yet to overtake me.

Eventually the cliffs fell away and we found ourselves in the inlet of St. Brides, where as we scrambled over the rocks and shingle of the natural harbour a gaggle of scuba divers were gathering ready to go out exploring wrecks under the waves.

Having gone through the first checkpoint by St. Bride's churchyard and heading south across fields and farmland I was aware of the distinct lack of sheep around - there were plenty of signs of sheep having been there, but it seems they'd all been squirrelled away by the locals fearing the invasion of interlopers from outside, after all these cliff-top dwelling sheep are highly prized and sought after as they know from being close to the cliff edges how to dig their hooves in and push backwards.

The fields and paths gave way to the abandoned and derelict WWII airfield RAF Dale, with us running down its westerly edge then across the south, continually buffeted by the winds off the sea as we headed off on to the main difference from last year: the circuit of the Dale peninsular.

Approaching Dale.

Descending from the plateau of the airfield through the second checkpoint you could see the brightly coloured rows of houses stretching inland along the valley from the old port with Milford Haven looming on the horizon across the other side of the bay.

Watwick Point Beacon looming large.

Milford Haven on the horizon.

Through Dale we climbed back up on to the cliff-top path and journeyed past the Watwick Point Beacon which is used by shipping to judge where they are in relation to the safe channel of entry in to Milford Haven… Something that the Sea Empress failed to manage back in 1996, running aground not far from Watwick Bay and spilling 73,000 tonnes of crude oil in a huge ecological disaster.

The Blockhouse.

Past Watwick Bay saw us skirt around the coastal fortification of West Blockhouse that was built to protect the port of Milford Haven and its anchorages from attack by the Spanish and French.

It was assistance from France rather than an invasion that is commemorated shortly after the Blockhouse on our run around the peninsular. The path overlooking Mill Bay carries a plaque noting the site of Henry VII and his landing from exile in France and the commencement of his march forth to defeat Richard III at the battle of Bosworth Field.

The plaque in question.

Mill Bay ends at St. Ann’s Head where we ran past what is described as ‘the most remote street in Britain’: the terrace of 5 houses that line-up against the lighthouse and the helipad. At present these are for sale at a guide price of just under £1M - although they need complete refurbishment inside and out, and not forgetting the neighbouring light which might get on your nerves when its working!

You can rent out the control tower of the lighthouse for your holidays as the building has been converted into two cottages - with the tower commanding terrific views in clear weather.

The control tower.

The 'street' for sale.

From here we continued northwards to complete the loop, ‘dibbing-in’ at the checkpoint then heading back across the bottom of the airfield then inland to the point where the 10k runners had started from in their point-to-point journey.

As you passed the sign for the start of the 10k race, you could not fail to gain a psychological boost knowing you were closing in on the finish, entering in to the last quarter of the run. This final section run entirely on the cliff tops with the cracking views that this afforded. Ok it was pretty much the same route as we had run on our way out, but seeing it from this different perspective made it seem entirely new.

More trail porn.

As much as I was enjoying the run, my feet were really uncomfortable through the blistering, so it was a case of asserting mind over matter and trying to ignore the pain of each step, with painkillers having no effect now.

A bemused on-looker.

As the coastal path wound around, I could see Broad Haven in the distance getting closer so I knew the end was in sight and soon the coastal path led us in to the beautiful Bluebell woods that meant we were nearly back at the top of the hill at Little Haven.

The blooming bluebells.

Through the kissing gate again - this time without a queue and I was on to the road as it mercifully began its descent in to the village… Although there was one little twist in that the finish line was in the same place as last year, perched on the cliff above the harbour so soon there was another sign leading us back across to the left and over some fields. In front I could see another runner who had carried on past the turn, so I gave them a shout, which fortunately he heard and was able to get back at a cost of only about 100m extra journey.

It turned out he was an ultra runner - how gutting would that be to lose yourself completely after 35 miles and in sight of the finish?

Across the field and a few twists, turns, ups and downs and the finish line was in sight, with people lounging around on the grass soaking up some of the afternoon sun to applaud us tardy of finishers home - welcome sight and experience as always.

My legs felt pretty fresh, but my feet felt battered, the former probably because of the latter but taking a positive I'm hoping that's a good sign for coping with the extra distance of the Classic Quarter Ultra next month. I collected my bag from the drop and hobbled in to the sea like a fully clothed Reggie Perrin. The tide was out to its furthest extent as I waded in up to my knees to give my calves and feet a good soak as I figured an ice-cold saline bath might help to clean out any damaged areas.

Looking back on Little Haven from in the sea.

Having drunk my recovery shake I waded back to shore and suffered the inhumanity of the climb up what now felt like a mountain rather than a hill to the car park, where I rested, changed and inspected the damage before heading back to Hampshire to the remarkable sounds of Man Utd. losing to Sunderland at Old Trafford for the first time since 1967!

Upon arrival I attempted to upload the run from my Garmin, only to find it had corrupted so I had lost all my data :( I know my finish time and I also know that for mile 22 I put in a good low 11 minute time for that from looking at the Garmin as it ticked over, but everything else: nada! From looking up the problem on the Garmin site its a frequent glitch that people experience - an activity refuses to upload through corruption and the only way to cure is a master re-set. Of late I have had difficulty picking up satellite signals with it, so probably both are tied together.

I felt pretty strong in the latter stages of the race and that 22 mile time is a huge boost to my confidence and I am sure that without the continual pain from every step of the 27.9 miles I would have been quicker. That said, I owed this course a proper running to show what I am more capable of on the terrain. I may only have come in 74th of 97 finishers in 5:44:40, however I’m confident that I would easily have been 15 minutes faster without the feet problem which certainly held me back, and regardless I was over an hour faster than before - even if over a slightly different course and certainly a marked improvement on 3rd last - only beating 2 ladies who walked the whole route!

For the record, here's the lovely sight of my burst blistered insteps:

Right.

Left.

This race was not too sociable a one for me, only running for around a mile with one other entrant, and with the pain of every step I needed a distraction, so from hitting the runway of the airfield the iPod saw service from here till the end with a listen to Episode 300 pt1 of Kevin Smith & Scott Mosier’s ‘SMODcast’ with its true tale of the suicidal parrot (it has to be heard to be believed), followed by an episode of the BBC 5Live sporting panel show ‘Fighting Talk’.

On the eclectic shuffle I had the following accompany me home:

Weather Storm - Craig Armstrong
Dry County - The B-52’s
That Man - Caro Emerald
Vamos - The Pixies
Plastic Man - The Kinks
No Other Love - Blue Amazon
Why Won’t you Give me your Love - The Zutons
Strange News from Another Star - Blur
Darkside of the Moon - Ernesto & Bastian
When You’re in Love - The Proclaimers
Country Boys and City Girls - The Fratellis
Scary Monsters and Nice Sprites - Skrillex
Nice Guys Finish Last - Green Day
Embarrassment - Madness
Never Wake Up - Sum 41
Je te Reve Encore - KYO
Echoes - Marco V
Walk in Love - Energy Orchard
Lonesome Tonight - New Order
Spectators of Suicide - Manic Street Preachers
Promises - Sugababes
Digital - Joy Division

6th October: Relentless

Dear God, that was the singularly most challenging physical act I have undertaken in my whole sorry-arsed life: The Coastal Trail Series Pembrokeshire Marathon.

In preparation I had been out on a few long runs and as blogged before, covered the marathon distance off-road in anticipation, but nothing could have prepared me for what was in store.

After a day of doing some rewiring on a house nearby to me I packed everything into the trusty old motor ready to head west to Wales in the pissing rain. After a decent dinner I said goodbye to LSS a little later than planned and hit the road at 10:30. The rain hammered down the whole journey and I witnessed a casualty of the treacherous driving conditions when passing Swindon: a taxi had spun in the middle lane of the opposite carriageway of the motorway. It had only just happened and I hope everyone driving eastwards managed to avoid the car stranded facing the wrong-way in the road.

After 4 hours of sodden tedium, I pulled in to the car park in Broad Haven, the muster-point for the run. I clambered on to the back seat and setting the alarm for 7am curled-up under a duvet for some shut-eye.

With the weather getting colder, the duvet was not as effective as I would have hoped and I awoke before my alarm feeling a bit chilly so I got up to stretch my legs and had this wonderful view from the bottom of the car-park. You'd hardly think that there'd been 36 hours of continuous rain preceding this morning.

View Right

View Left

Spirits lifted I clambered back in to the car and changed in to my running gear. Seeing as the event was organised by Endurancelife, I decided to sport my shirt from their Real Relay in which I participated. I also wore a long-sleeved base-layer, support shorts and a knee support for my right knee as on my long runs I have been feeling a twinge from it so I figured prevention is better than cure. All greased-up around my vitals to avoid the demon chaffing and the possible knitting of butt-hair as sagely warned of by Smithy after his London Marathon experience, I chowed-down to a spot of brekkie of chocolate flapjacks and a few mouthfuls of supermarket own-brand energy drink, the stuff that wants to be Red Bull but costs the same for 1L of it as does a can of the Toro Rosso… And when you drink it you know exactly why it is so cheap by comparison! I packed into my back-pack my running belt that holds my camera and some gels, and my Vango 2L hydration system - already filled with High5 Zero Extreme berry flavour and all available space stuffed to capacity with gels and breakfast bars, off I traipsed to Little Haven

A pleasant walk of about 10 minutes along the undulating coastal road, past the delightfully graffiti'd place-name sign brought me on to the edge of the village and down a 1 in 4 gradient hill to the start which was still being constructed.

 
Those running the Ultra marathon had already been briefed and were warming-up ready for their off whereas all us marathon runners who had opted not to go for the early start tried to keep warm in the chilled morning air before heading to the village hall to register.

 After registration, still trying to keep warm, we all traipsed back to the start for the safety briefing. The nature of the courses on the Coastal Trail Series and the fact that they are run through the winter season means safety is taken very seriously by the organisers. You can only run it if you take along some survival gear in the form of first-aid kit, foil blanket, emergency whistle, phone, food for energy, an hydration system, and be suitably attired as well. This is before the briefing about the hazards of the particular course you are running on the day… And in this it's always cheering to be told of someone dying the previous year whilst on the course. Fortunately in our case it was not a runner, but a walker who was attempting to cross one of the numerous stiles along the cliff-top path, had stumbled and gone arse-over-tit ending-up a soggy red mess on the rocks below.

Chastened by the safety briefing making it clear that we really are out on a limb doing a run such like this - there is little support other than the 3 check-points, we awaited the off… And the race was upon us.

Remember that hill I mentioned we walked down to get in to the village, well as we left the start line backwards, we realised this was the first of the day's challenges and set the tone for the rest of the race. Everybody put a brave face on this fiendish climb and made doughty efforts to climb it at a jog, but near the summit only the truly keen and super fit were running, and off the snaked in to the distance leaving us envious lesser mortals to our own personal races and finishing in one piece.

The first section of the course was the route that those doing the 10k race later-on would be traversing. Heading north along the muddy puddled cliffs once through Broad Haven on a fairly easy undulation until we reached Druidston before heading inland and our first sight of the energy sapping glutinous slick mud that would characterise most of the course! The fields through which we were traversing had been well trampled and churned-up by cattle and so sodden were they with the rain that you were ankle-deep most of the time and struggled to make headway greater than a walking-pace with the risk of turning ankles and inflicting injury so early-on in the race.

A tarmac section offered some respite as we ran about a mile till we diverted back on to the footpaths. It was here I had my first fall. Descending a short hill, I was looking ahead paying too much attention to the hairpin right turn at the bottom which meant I lost my footing on the slick surface and found myself sliding downwards to the end of a 15ft drop in to a gorge and some rocks. Fortunately I was able to arrest my slide in time, but it made me see that the course and conditions certainly demand respect at all times.

We headed back in to Broad Haven, running through the car park that was filling nicely with those awaiting the 10k - all looking at us runners festooned in mud with some trepidation as they realised what they had let themselves in for. Across to Little Haven and past the start/ finish line and off we climbed back up on to the coastal path, and the start of the spectacular scenery, and the more spectacular mud. The path was so churned-up in places it was impossible to run as there was simply no traction to be had. It was hard enough trying to get up the hills at a walk the grip was so poor, that I had changed tactic from running 10k's and resting 10 minutes at the water stations to walking up the hills as I found it impossible and running the flats and descents. A lot of the time you are sliding around there is a mere hedge between you and the sea a couple of hundred feet below.

Some shots of the scenery can be seen below. It truly was a pleasure to be out running in this kind of surrounding. The sun was out to around 15 degrees but feeling hotter as there was no shelter from the glare. Not a wave to be seen down below, just you and the birds. It was pretty much just me by myself for the rest of the race as I was well and truly towards the back of the race, not that I was racing anyone other than myself.

My initial goal of beating my previous time for the marathon was on-track until the half-way mark, but the cloying mud had taken a big toll on my physically and I found I was walking more than running at times as I struggled with the terrain.

By the time the furthest point was reached, Gateholm Island (pictured below) my mind was turning to survival and merely completing the race. All thoughts of a time had blown away on the coastal breeze. As an aside, Gateholm Island featured on Time Team in its first episode of the 2012 series, digging-up what was a monastery on the far-end of it. From heading past it you can understand why it was chosen for its offer of solitude by the fact that it is only accessible by a tidal causeway.

 I managed to keep myself going by looking forward to my recovery shakes and an ice-bath once I had finished… The last leg seemed to last an eternity, although the ever changing views aground the cliff-tops certainly offered something to take the mind off the pain. Within a couple of miles of the finish my body had reached the point of exhaustion and the inner voice was telling me to stop and sit down and take a rest - the voice I know not to listen to and just fight on through it. Soon enough I was at the finish line, managing a steady jog for the last half mile or so and the tape was broken in a running time of 6h18m - Unerringly accurate a prediction when the organisers on their website tell you that you take your time for running a marathon and add an hour to it which will be the time you will roughly finish a CTS Marathon!

After crossing the finish line I collected my bag and wandered, or should that be hobbled, down the beach and stripped-off my mud splattered trainers, knee brace and support bandages. Bernard had not given me any real problems which was a relief, although he did not appreciate running on large loose stones. To give myself a good recovery I waded out in to nature's own ice-bath drinking my recovery shake and munching on a flap-jack. I stood in the very cold water for 10 minutes, bracing myself for the first agonising brush of a freezing wave on my ball-bag which soon happened!.. Once that was out the way I was able to relax and drink my shake with ease!

You never get this on a road race :)

Having successfully warmed-down it was time to go home... The problem was the car was over in Broad Haven, and I was still in Little Haven... With that big hill in the way. I really did not fancy another trek up that hill again along the road to the car park, so a bit of lateral thinking here, I'm wet, the sand is soft and flat - okay there's a small rocky headland that may need climbing over, but this route was certainly the most appealing method of trudging back to the car.

The flat walk to the car-park!