18th March: CTS Sussex - Marathon Mojo Relocated.

It has been a while, I thought you had hidden under a rock somewhere on the trails, skulking, lurking, proving nigh-on impossible to find for a fair few months as I slowly recover from plantar fasciitis and an accompanying loss of fitness… So good to once again feel the warm embrace of my marathon mojo!

The marathon field steaming off in front of me!

Fair to say I have not been feeling the love whilst marathoning of late, where a mere 2 weeks ago in the Steyning Stinger I struggled once more and lost heart in the claggy mud on the course. Although I was able to reconcile this with having run 4 miles, 10k and a half marathon over the previous 3 days - well I did not want to miss-out on having fun in the snow as its a once every 5 years occurrence down this way!

Chasing the horizon.

This morning I was fresh, feeling fruity having not really run for the last week and looking forward to the Endurancelife Sussex CTS marathon, even the fun-bus being in the garage with an engine knack so I could not do my normal trick of drive there the night before could not dampen my spirits.

Attempting to give some scale to the gradients we climbed.

Borrowing LSS’s car I awoke at sparrow’s fart and drove through the dawn to get to the event base at Birling Gap in the freezing cold conditions.

At least it wasn't muddy!

Walking to the marquee to register it was in to a bitingly cold wind, the kind that just rips any heat out of you. Whilst the car’s thermometer was reading -2C air temperature, the wind though was strong and Baltic which dropped the temperature to around -10C and by the time I’d walked the half mile into the sheltered gully where the marquee stood my fingers had frozen through my gloves. Returning to the car to shelter, mercifully with the wind at my back, I breakfasted, changed and awaited the briefing.

Approaching the last of the Seven Sisters.

The briefing had everyone huddled together like penguins for warmth in the marquee before heading to the start at the last possible moment and we were unleashed on the course.

The nature reserve below us.

With the wind at our backs we made our way up on to the ‘Seven Sisters’ and ran the rollercoaster of the hills to the nature reserve and headed inland, 4 miles ticked-off fairly quickly before a couple of minor climbs through the fields and woodlands that afforded shelter from the wind to the point hats and gloves were being removed to allow cooling as for the first time our bodies were able to properly warm-up. Through the first checkpoint and across a causeway and overlooking the chalk horse on a hillside you could feel the first small flakes of the forecast snow; there’s nothing quite like the sensation of a snowflake landing on your tongue and melting on it!

Horse chalk carving - apparently the result of a bet!

Traversing the causeway we hit the major climb of the day, 2.5 miles of almost continual ascent up onto the ridge that is the South Downs Way. We skirted around the feet of the Long Man of Wilmington - proof that our ancestors predicted people would run past here using ‘cheat-sticks’ or ‘wizard-staffs’ when they carved it into the chalk.

The Longman resplendent with his ultrarunning 'cheat-sticks'.

Once up on top the wind ripped into us and the snow, now bigger dry flakes, flew past us horizontally; gloves and hat were donned once more to protect from the elements… It was here as I topped-out and began to change from power-hike to run that I felt alive and full of enjoyment of what I was doing and really ‘in the moment’ as those into mindfulness would no-doubt say - I realised here that I had not looked at my watch for a good 4 miles as it really didn’t matter, I was drinking-in the atmosphere, the wilds of nature around me, savouring every step, hell even the climb up the hill had not seemed too bad compared to previous outings! As the plateau turned to descent over the next 3 miles I could feel I was running stronger than I had the last few months on a race-day… I also realised that at 2.5 hours of racing time had passed and I had not eaten anything beyond a handful of jelly babies at CP1, so on one of the climbs I chomped through an energy bar before arriving at CP2, grabbed another handful of jelly babies and started the mooch back to the coast.

The looming Beachy Head in the murk.

Today I did not seem to match the pace of anyone, so I was left to my own devices and to keep me company I donned my headphones to listen to the wittertainment of the Kermode and Mayo film review podcast (Hello to Jason Isaacs), in part something to drown the roar of the wind I knew I would soon be hearing for a good while!

Climbing into the snow flurry born on the wind.

The CTS Sussex marathon course is one of 2 loops centred on Birling Gap, so returning to the start point you know there’s a foray to Eastbourne over the cliffs of Beachy Head then back along the ridge of the South Downs; a slightly shorter loop than this first one just completed… As we homed-in on the coast and left the shelter of the woods behind at 16 miles, we were hit by the blast of the wind once more and the realisation that there was 10k of this to contend with; a good hour plus of exposure to it and battling the teeth of a near gale that bit ferociously with its icy fangs… The wind was hitting my left cheek hard and relentlessly and in a couple of minutes it was frozen, stinging in pain through the cold onslaught till it became numb before I could soon no longer feel it. Fortunately I had a buff around my neck as well as the one acting as a hat so I pulled it up over my cheeks, which was a first for me; having to run with my whole face covered through cold! I had my safety specs on so as not to be blinded by the flying snowflakes hitting my eyes and allowing me to keep my head up and see where I was running without the water on my eyes freezing, which was far better than people who I was passing with their hoods up and heads down staring at their feet so as not to have their eyes battered.

A rare selfie!

Dropping down to Birling Gap straight away we had the climb up the side of Beachy Head, watching the steady stream of 10k and half marathon racers coming towards us all looking exhausted, pained and battered by the cold wind; thousands yard stares on their faces as they concentrated solely on a finish and getting warm again. This mooch over the wide grassy slopes was great fun, leaning in to the wind on the way up the hills, then feeling the wind drop as you hit the bottom of the troughs.

Beachy Head and the lighthouse.

Once we reached the edge of Eastbourne and the final checkpoint we had the turn for home, the final 10k up on the ridge overlooking the coast with the wind mercifully at our backs. This assistance and the hard ground under foot made short work of the next few miles and the teasing approach to the finish where within sight of it you are led away for a final 2 mile loop… I had the music on shuffle at this point and was singing to myself - mercifully there was no-one around me to hear that I can’t carry a tune in a bucket as I belted out some Del Amitri amongst others, the final half mile accompanied by the Prodigy’s ‘Charly’ which made me cross the finish line with a bit of a boogie: big fish, little fish, cardboard box style!

A little more sheltered from the elements as Eastbourne approaches.

Not wanting to hang a round I made my way back to the car ASAP and got driving home as I had arranged to watch the last of the 6 Nations games in the pub with friends accompanied by as much filth I could eat off the pub-grub menu.

Today the course was an iron fist in a velvet glove; plenty of genuinely runnable sections and stunning views but combined with the bitter cold and wind it packed a mighty punch! I loved it - My neighbourino Pini insists that the harder the conditions are the more I take a perverse enjoyment out of the races and the better I do - he certainly has a point as its good to wear a finish with tough conditions as a badge of honour. More than anything though I’m just relieved to have found my marathon mojo again - yes the foot is still uncomfortable and not fully recovered, but now I seem to be able to get some pace going and I have hopes of getting myself ready for ultra season and the biggest challenge so far of the Lakeland 100.

Eat pies.
Drink beer.
Run far.

19th March: Coastal Trail Series Sussex

Ok, a few weeks back I strained my hamstring and it hasn’t really got worse, but at the same time it has not improved, so I went in to the Endurancelife CTS Sussex Trail Marathon with a healthy dose of trepidation and a very strong pair of neoprene support shorts to compress and hold my gammy hammy together as much as possible in the hope of making it around!

'Man at C&A' posing in registration.

Every time I run this race it seems to be different for me. Last time out I had the pleasure of traversing Beachy Head with LSS and Spud as they ran the 10k course and our paths converged. Previously I’ve had to brave gale-force winds, sleet and freezing rain… Today it was just muscle knack and the weather was looking pretty conducive for trail running - which was a bit frustrating as I knew I would not be able to push hard and do myself justice.

I followed my normal plan of driving-down to the event base for midnight and hunkered-down in the van over at Birling Gap listening to the howl of the wind as it occasionally rocked the van and to the patter of the rain on the roof as I settled-down to my slumber.

Waking the next morning I walked the mile to the registration marquee, passing the single file snake of ultra runners as they set-off on their adventure.

Ultra conga!

All registered and laden with my complimentary Endurancelife tech tee given to all competitors (I now have a sizeable collection of these!) and a Cliff bar I went back to change for the race.

Straight from the off and it was up the hill overlooking Birling Gap itself and on to the undulations of the ’Seven Sisters’ until they peter-out in the course’s low-point at the salt-marsh nature reserve. From this low the slow steady climb to the highest part of the course commences, punctuated by the first aid station at Littlington.

Just past Littlington we run across a causeway in a water-meadow that had been totally flooded over the winter with the torrential rains the area experienced, but thanks to nature’s ability to rejuvenate itself you couldn’t see any sign of what had happened.

Over the Seven Sisters.

From here we turned west and began our climb proper on to the exposed South Downs Way skirting along the feet of the ‘Long Man’ carved out of the grass covered chalk to stand watch over the valley, summitting shortly thereafter and enjoying the leisurely descent over the next few miles to the halfway checkpoint.

It was on the way down I could start to feel my hammy biting and at this point I had to drop my pace noticeably, letting CTS stalwart Luke with whom I had been running for a while and a few guys who were out on their final serious race practice before the Marathon des Sables - running in their full kit for that, disappear off in front of me.

Climbing.

The aid station is at the bottom of the hill, which meant a climb out from it to head back to the coastal path… It was on this climb I started to descend in to a dark place and consider quitting as I knew I would be passing the van and shortly thereafter the finish line. Quitting would break my consecutive streak of finishes. I know that every race completed brings you closer to the first you will start but not finish, but I managed to persuade myself to stay in the game and at least get back to the van, as here I could spend some time assessing how I really was.

It may only have been a matter of a couple of miles or so, but they were not fun in the slightest as I clenched my teeth and struck-out at the fastest walking hobble I could muster to get to the car-park… Once here I opened the van, took off my back-pack and had a few deep breaths.

I had a can of Red Bull lying around so I took my time to drink that and to give my hammy a good hard massage, really pushing deep in to where it felt tightest, then well and truly larded it with ‘Deep Heat’. Ten minutes had passed and already it no longer felt as bad as it had been - I was around 16 miles in to the race, so a matter of 10 to go, so I felt I might as well just crack-on but take it easy as I know the course and that the terrain underfoot was not going to prove tricky in any way… So off I climbed out of Birling Gap and made the ascent of Beachy Head.

View from the 'top' of the course.

Before I knew it I was at the climb in to the western edge of Eastbourne feeling no more the worse for wear from when I left the van, and the turn for home at the final checkpoint was upon me, so I just carried-on through it on a concerted charge ascending on to the path to the farm track along the ridge overlooking the channel, safe in the knowledge that the end was rapidly approaching.

It was along here that I caught-up with and passed fellow marathoner Cecilia, who as I passed let-out a sob… It was one of those moments when you know the person is not in a good state, and seeing her face, eyes reddened, I knew she was in a definite low, so I slowed to walk and talk to her.

Back along Beachy Head

She was really suffering but was determined to reach the end - which was only about 3 miles at this point, so I decided to just keep her talking to take her mind off the pain and get her to the finish line in one piece - it turned-out she was from Reading, one of the nearest towns to me and she was running the event with her fella who was in the Ultra. I think she was just struck by the pain and the demoralising sensation of watching all sorts of runners pass her and the ‘loneliness of the long-distance runner’ in moments such as these as you watch yourself moving backwards through the field… So the pair of us crocks just spoke of running, injuries and our philosophies on running, foodstuffs and the like - the easy common-ground for all us people on these silly adventures, and before you knew it we were both able to manage a jog at times, taking us both in to the finish in a not too disrespectful time considering we were both falling apart at the seams!

Beachy Head lighthouse.

This race was certainly a frustrating run for me in not being able to push myself, but also valuable in learning that sometimes you just need to take a break and a rest to assess things, manage a muscle and to then push-on to the finish. I know I have been through similar with tearing my calf muscle, but that was far more serious than this as it is just a ’strain’ so it was certainly a case of figuring out the limits of it and to work around it so it would not be worsened… Time for a bit of a rest till the next event and hope it heals as I’m really looking forward to my second visit to Exmoor and one of the tougher CTS courses down there.

Oh and hopefully I’ll remember my camera for the next run so I won’t be relying on my phone!

Eat pies.
Drink beer.
Run far.

22nd March: Sussex

Since I have embarked on this running odyssey (oddity?) my better half, LSS, has softened in her stance about running and has come to the conclusion that she might as well join in the lunacy, albeit over a shorter distance than me. The main motivator for her is as Father Time marches on, she can no longer eat as much cheese or chocolate as she wants without a consequential increase in arse-size, so for the first time in her life she feels she is now at a point where she needs to do something to avoid the dreaded spread of approaching middle age.

Just before Christmas LSS surprised me by announcing out of the blue (knowing I would be there running the marathon), that she had entered the Endurancelife CTS Sussex 10k as a focus or her running and was going to train for it with Spud, our springer spaniel/ border collie cross breed, as her running buddy - with the cunning plan that his 4 pawed drive would help to drag her up hills and get her around the course a bit quicker than if she was by herself... And now the day of reckoning was upon us.

Rather than following my normal pattern of driving to the run the night before, with LSS not wanting to leave a nihilistic teenager to look after our other 2 dogs overnight, we were up at sparrow's fart on the morning to drive the couple of hours to Birling Gap on the Sussex coast.

Dawn broke on the drive down and by 7am we were parked at the event base, located this time in a slightly different place to previous; perched on the top of a hill overlooking the marquee.

Looking to the event base from the parked van.

Walking down the hill to the marquee to register, Spud with his rather long and luxurious tail in his carefree way was just wandering along savouring all these new smells, watching the Skylarks rise and sing, when he must have touched the electric fence that bordered the verge with it, and with a yelp he jumped forwards having experienced the sudden unexpected voltage up his bum. He stood rooted to the spot and looked around accusingly as to who could have done this to him before correctly figuring out it was the fence and began walking as far away from it as he could!

The runners beginning to gather.

The two of us registered for our events before returning to the van for some breakfast and for me to get changed. In no time at all I found myself all briefed and waving goodbye to LSS and Spud as I hit the trail whilst they waited around for their later start in the 10k.

Blue skies were above us as we made our way along the undulations of the seven sisters, the weather far better than it was a couple of years ago when it was sub zero, blowing a hooly and alternating between sleet and freezing rain - the singularly most miserable experience I have ever had whilst running. Back then the temperature including the wind-chill was below freezing, but today I could tell that at some point I would end-up overheating as my dressing for winter weather would prove to be too much for balmy springtime.

The view once through the gate.

Going through the gate on to the Seven Sisters I found myself running with a Texan who was very impressed with the scenery, especially the sight of the beautifully white statuesque chalk cliffs. I explained to him about Beachy Head and its claim to fame as a suicide hot-spot, with plenty of people using the height and sheer drop to their advantage - something he found difficult to comprehend and certainly was not in the tour-guide he consulted!

Down.

Up.

And down again, repeat ad-infinitum.

I love traversing these undulations along the cliff-tops to the nature reserve and the turn inland, the continual switching from ascent to descent gives you one hell of a workout before the 'recovery' jog through to the nature reserve and the final climb to the first checkpoint… This course is very easy to nominally break in to manageable chunks with there only being 3 Checkpoints - this first section over the cliffs is followed by the inland stretch along a causeway in a water-meadow then a long slog up hill on the chalky path of the South Downs Way, past the chalk cutting sculpture of the ‘long man’ then down in to the forest paths undulating their way to CP2. From CP2 you have the longer 8 mile section back over the other half of the Seven Sisters, enjoying more of the undulations and the view out to sea. The final shortest leg of 5 miles taking us back inland following the contours of the ridgeway to the finish.

En route to CP2 I was yo-yoing position with a couple from America who are shortly to be returning across the pond to live in Florida and are spending as much time as they can taking-in all the marathon and ultra trail-runs they can before they depart. They told me a few home-truths about what we have here in Britain and not to take it for granted, it went something like this:

What we have in Britain is phenomenal. Whilst living in London, within 3 hours of travel should you want to, you can go every weekend and find a trail marathon or ultra to run. We are blessed with a fantastic variety of every sort of terrain from forest to mountain, from moor to coastal path, all easily accessible thanks to the country's comprehensive travel links be it the road or rail networks. Its not the same in the states, where you have plenty of runs should you want to, but most will be shorter distances and on roads, not forgetting with the States being so much bigger and spread-out, if you want a change in scenery then you have to fly to a different part of the country to find what you are looking for (or alternatively move there to live), so all of a sudden, what you can do in a day in Britain (travel there, run, travel back), then you need 2-3 days to do the same over there. As such the cost of doing this becomes astronomical, plus with only 10 days ‘annual leave’ in America it eats in to any holiday plans you may have, so you only tend to do one or two 'big' races a year if they are not local to you.

The two of them have fallen in love with the land of Britain, where all this beautiful scenery is compressed into such a tight package to get out and enjoy and they have chosen to explore as much of it as they can whilst here, which ironically is far more than most people born and raised here do… In short they believe, we should not take what we have for granted and appreciate what we have got and get out and enjoy it! with running large chunks of the countryside certainly makes it easier to see the beautiful landscapes… Although I realise that by you reading this I am already ‘preaching to the converted’ on this subject so as to speak.

One thing they find amusing over in the States is the trend for a ‘new’ distance in running events - what is loosely termed as an ‘half ultra’. These are neither a half marathon, a marathon or an ultra marathon - the latter has no definitive length as it only means its distance is longer than a marathon so how can you have a ‘half ultra’?.. And why would you want to run a distance that is more than a half but not much shorter than a full marathon that carries the kudos of neither?

By the time I reached CP2 I was beginning to overheat in the sun and the shelter from any cooling wind by the forest around me, so I took the time once through it to stop and remove my jacket to allow my body to cool down. I figured that once out on to the coast for this third leg the wind on the cliff-tops would certainly be cooler, but it would not be too much to cause an issue with me getting too cold and besides you can always put the jacket back on!

The way Endurancelife organise this event through its route planning and the start times of the various distances means that at my pace over the marathon course, I meet-up with the bottom 25% of the field of 10k runners at around their 5k mark. With this prior knowledge, I did not say anything to LSS, but I had a sneaky suspicion that I might be able to catch her and Spud up at some point along the course, so with this in mind I made a decent effort to get from CP2 to the part of the course where marathon and 10k meet.

Shortly after I joined the course with the 10k runners as they head back on to the coast from their furthest part inland, I found myself picking-off some of the slower runners. Running a long downhill sloping field with a rabbit legging it from one side to the other in front of me, I caught sight of LSS and Spud in the distance as they began the climb up through the woodland to the cliff-tops. I now had them in my sight so began to slowly reel them in, finally catching them as the edge of the cliffs and the sea beyond hove into view.

LSS & Spud: A smudge on the horizon.

I slowed down to say hello to the ruddy-faced LSS who was really suffering from thirst, so immediately offered her some refreshment from my hydration pack… We may have recce’d the route, but running it rather than walking it was proving to be tougher than anticipated for LSS, so rather than running-off and leaving her I accompanied both her and Spud on their run-walk down to Birling Gap and then up on to the grassy cliffs and the climb to Beachy Head.

Spud smiles for the camera.

It was a real pleasure to be running with LSS and Spud at their first 'race' and by being with them they certainly sped-up a bit compared to the pace they would have travelled at had they been all alone on the attritional climb up to the summit of Beachy Head... And after the long hard slog to the top of that, LSS was surprised anybody would still have the energy to throw themselves off the top by the time they had managed to drag themselves all the way up there!

The windswept duo about to turn for the finish.

The wind was beginning to pick-up now and with clouds coming-in to cover the sun the temperature was dropping, so when LSS and Spud veered left for the final mile back to the finish, I put my head down and upped the pace to attempt to get some warmth back as I battled with the hills and wind of the exposed cliff-top path. I knew my time now was going to be slower than previous efforts through taking the time to run with LSS & Spud rather than steaming-on past them, however it did mean I had some energy in the tank so-as-to-speak through not going as hard as I could for the last few miles.

Down the other side of Beachy Head.

Eastbourne beckons.

After the turn at the third and final CP on the edge of Eastbourne and the climb up on to the ridge I knew I was on the last stretch back to the finish, so ran as hard as I could over the fields and past the bemused spectators in the form of herds of cows, the iPod was on shuffle and the amusing rhymes of ‘Goldie Lookin Chain’ in my ears made me smile as I ploughed on and overtook a few of the marathoners who had overtaken me whilst I was with LSS and Spud.

Attacking the final hill after the teasing turn away from the finish line that you look for a couple of miles to be heading towards, I managed to catch and pass a couple of the ultra runners and on the home-straight I even managed to drift past a couple of the half marathoners… Eventually crossing the line 10 minutes slower than last year.

I had a look around for LSS and Spud at the finish but I was not surprised that they did not hang around for about an hour to wait for me as the wind and lack of sun was making it a bit uncomfortable for the exhausted to be there without being wrapped-up in several layers of extra clothing.

I made the walk back to the van and found the pair of them cuddled-up together in the back having a recovery snooze before I rudely awakened them… LSS had thoroughly enjoyed the run, and was rightly proud of her achievement in finishing her first event, and with the difficulty of the terrain it is certainly a case of jumping in at the deep-end! She also admitted that she thinks anyone doing the ultra or the marathon on these courses are certifiable from the pain she was feeling from dragging herself around the 10k! The first one will always be the hardest but no-one can ever take away the achievement in finishing. I look back to how I was feeling in the final stages of the CTS Pembroke some 2 and a half years ago and all the pain and suffering I was experiencing, and how it is now a distant memory… Running the distance has not become easier physically, just less hard mentally, and less painful now my body is used to it, and in the words of Jens Voigt, the recently retired pro-cyclist and former holder of the 1 hour record, I’ve learned to say ‘Shut up legs’, and keep on trucking :)

Snuggled!

Next up on the race agenda is the Pendine Ultra - my second ever official ultra.



The tunes on the iPod that helped me back over the last section were:

Greece 2000 - Three Drives
21 Ounces - Goldie Lookin’ Chain
America - Razorlight
Blues X-Man - Jon Spencer Blues Explosion
Hit So Hard - Hole
Head Gone Astray - Soup Dragons
DOA - Foo Fighters
The Woman I Love - The Hollies
Monkey Love - Goldie Lookin’ Chain
Duffryn Vigilante Squad - Goldie Lookin’ Chain
Bird Dream of the Olympus Mons - Pixies
Wait & Bleed - Slipknot


Eat pies.
Drink beer.
Run far.


 

23rd March: Sussex

The CTS Sussex was supposed to be the second course I had run as a repeat, with the CTS South Devon the first - but with the enforced course changes at that race, this was to be my first repeated course... Not bad in making it to the 21st marathon before this happened, and it goes without saying that I was looking forward to seeing how far I have come over the last year as a marathon runner… As such in eager anticipation I loaded last year’s run in to my Garmin so I could use it as a course and ’training partner' to measure myself against as I progressed.

Last year’s event was the first time I had managed to get round a marathon route without stopping to collect myself at the aid stations/ check points. This was born of necessity more than anything else for to have stopped during that race would have resulted in hypothermia with the sleet, gales and sub-zero temperatures! Although through that necessity it proved to me it was possible to drag my sorry arse around a course without having to resort to 10 minute breaks at aid stations!

Following my usual stratagem I drove down to the Birling Gap event base for my midnight sleep... In case the place-name rings a bell, Birling Gap has been in the news of late with the inclement winter weather causing a mass erosion of the cliffs and leaving the houses there perched precariously on the edge. Parking the van in the National Trust car park I sheltered it close to a wall on the opposite side to the row of terraced houses that stood silhouetted against the night’s sky, their walls bearing the brunt of the winds.

Speaking of winds, hunkered down in the back in the sleeping bag on top of my air-bed I was rocked to sleep like a babe in a crib with the gusty howls shaking the van around as sleep took a hold of me.

Dawn breaks at sparrow's-fart o'clock over the marquee.

Waking to the symphony of car-doors opening and shutting around me in the first light of morning, a morning with mercifully less wind than had sent me to sleep, I tucked in to some flap-jacks and coffee before walking the half mile to the marquee and register. Last year this trudge was a cold wet muddy one with temperatures at freezing and a driving sleety rain to battle to get there; the grassy path turning into a chocolate-pudding underfoot. This year it was a world of difference: dry with just an early morning chill on the air although the forecast was threatening heavy rain showers in the morning.

Registration in the marquee.

Upon registering in the marquee I went to pick-up another complimentary Endurancelife shirt and found they are now doing some in black as well as the white and the grey that have been available this season - although these were only available in a men’s medium... The two ladies in front of me were debating what size of shirt they should go for before opting on the small and joking about an incentive to lose a bit of weight, so for their amusement I went for a black medium one saying I’m normally a large but I agree with their thinking.

Back at the van all changed and readied I made the decision to wear my jacket with the forecast of inclement weather for the first half of the race, and packed my pockets accordingly as I watched a looming gun-metal grey bank of cloud to the west signifying an ominous looking weather front approaching.

The black flags of the start.

Walking back to the marquee for the safety briefing I was a touch late, missing the start of it. This year with the decent weather and the early morning sunshine it was being held out in the open a little way away at the edge of a thicket, rather than the previous time where everyone huddled like penguins in a marquee that seemed to be sinking in to the mud as the walls and roof flapped in a gale whilst clattering to the sound of the hammering rain!

Like greyhounds in the traps.

All briefed we sauntered over to the start line and awaited the go. As we made small-talk amongst ourselves I found myself chatting with a lady next to me who turned-round and said “I know you off Facebook" - it turned out she had been fretting about the race route on the Coastal Trail Series Facebook page during the week, so in reply to her concerns I had posted my GPX data from last year so she could ascertain the lay of the land a bit better and it was lovely to get a thank-you in person :)

One of the many sisters.

Before we could get too cold standing around, the countdown commenced and we were off along the only flat part of the course: the path back to the car park before hitting the first hill as we climbed up on to the westerly half of the seven sisters.

Follow the leaders

Approaching the first sister I bumped in to Luke Carter, fellow owner of a 7x shirt from last year’s Coastal Trail Series (and like me going for it again this year). At the South Devon marathon he had taken a couple of spills during the race which had put his participation in doubt, but thanks to a successful visit to the quacks for treatment a few days beforehand he felt up to making the start. Aside from the fall and the injury, the South Devon also saw him accidentally run an ultra marathon!.. Luke, like I, had found upon reaching Start Point for the second time that the marshals there had been about as much use as a one legged man in an arse kicking contest and he had unfortunately continued along the path as run before as the marshals just ignored him, which they seemed to do to everyone so it was nothing personal. Unfortunately for Luke he didn't have a couple of old dears in a car gesticulating wildly that he was on the wrong path and set him right as I was lucky enough to have... So off he went to complete 32 miles when he was only expecting 28.

As we continued over the undulating sisters the grey skies turned to hail and rain, pelting down upon us, which after our experience in South Devon was nothing we couldn’t deal with, as at least this time it was falling without a gale-force wind to blow it in to us, just a mere light headwind instead and I was certainly glad I had decided to sport the jacket and take my gloves as I was able to keep dry and warm throughout the bombardment. Soon all the peaks and troughs of the sisters gave way to the long downhill section inland along the estuary and nature reserve with the hail easing-off into just rain as we crossed one of the few roads we would encounter all day.

To stare 10,000 yards in to the distance.

Across the road it was a climb over pasture then we followed an undulating trail under the shelter of the woodland and some more fields. Even with the cover of the trees you could tell that the rain was finally easing-off, so gloves could be removed, jackets unzipped a little to cool down as keeping the rain out was no longer a pre-requisite.

The long and winding road.

At this point I dropped Luke and continued on running with a gent by the name of Martin who had just caught us up… Martin is an ultra runner veteran of such events of the Marathon des Sables, Comrades and a fair few other races that crop-up on the bucket-list of must of us trail runners that are aspiring to go and prove ourselves completely certifiable as LSS would say!.. It was a good chance to pick the brain of a mid-field finisher of the MdS as Moose is planning an attempt at it in the next couple of years, so to gain info to pass on to him would always be a good thing.

Martin leading the way.

Chatting away as we crossed the fields we arrived at the first check-point, where I dibbed-in and grabbed a handful of jelly babies - all sticky as they had begun to melt from being caught in the rain, and continued up the road along the course… As I turned a corner a black car drove past in front of me and I saw a familiar face that I certainly had not expected to see, and the breaks were slammed-on bringing the car to a halt.

Back in the Winter Gut-Buster I had bumped in to a face from half a life ago in the form of Tania who was running the race with her husband Jay. At the time she had informed me she was planning on running the CTS South Devon half marathon with Jay supporting her and he would be running the CTS Sussex with her as support… And there she was driving past me!

Saying hello I told Tania that she had missed Jay as he was in front, which she didn’t believe at first as he had not been doing too much training through picking up a lurgy and was sure he would have been slower!.. All this way to catch her hubby at the checkpoint and she had missed him! Saying a goodbye I carried on running, and within a couple of hundred yards I saw a kind of familiar figure taking his waterproof jacket off and stuffing it in his back-pack: Jay! As I ran past I told him that Tania had just arrived at the checkpoint as I had gone through, and he couldn’t believe that she had missed him by a matter of a minute or two!
 
Within a few minutes Jay had made the time up on me and disappeared off in to the distance as I made my way across a relatively flat section of open fields by a flood plain, before making the turn around on to the most northerly stretch of the course and skirting around the feet of the Long Man of Wilmington as he stares out across the valley.

The Long Man standing guard on the hillside with his staff in his hands.

After the long man there was the long ascent on to the top of the course at Windover Hill. At this point I found myself being dropped by Martin and I was once more all by myself with the cooling breeze, the sun out shining down on me and the beautiful surroundings; proper trail-porn scenery stretching for miles - what as trail runners is what we all run for, and well worth the lung-bursting calf-zapping ascents.

More (trail) porn for the stash :)

After a mile or so on the ridge we began the long descent to checkpoint 2, a good speedy run through the forest rangers’ wide woodland access ways. At one point I found the route completely blocked by a tree felled in the winter’s storms, the roots exposing the pure-white chalk of the rock beneath it, so I had to scramble up an embankment to get round nature’s obstacle.

The checkpoint was at the very bottom of the hill with a dog-leg to the right which you had to climb-up after the check-in. On the ascent out I took the time to look at my Garmin to see how I was stacking-up against my previous run and it told me I was about 7 minutes in front. Great! I thought as I scoffed a breakfast bar and took on board some fluids.

No dramas just llamas on the trail.

Walking up the hill I found myself joined by another couple of runners, chatting merrily away to each other in French, so just to have a bit of fun I introduced myself to them in my best broken French and had a bit of a chat with them, albeit a bit basic as I am pretty out of practice, but it was amusing to see the surprise, in a very welcome way, that they were running in a race in another country and there was someone chatting with them in their own tongue. It turned out Les deux hommes Francaise habite a Paris et le <<CTS Sussex>> sont leur premiere temp du courir un distance du 42km en Angleterre par <<trail>> est ils pense que le terrain est très jolie et aussi tress dur!

And soon they were off in to the distance as I carried on my fuelling traipsing up the hill and through the woodland to emerge in Friston where we crossed the first road we had seen since we had come off the 7 Sisters. Parked on the traffic island as we crossed the road was Tania who waved and cheered me onwards, which was a terrific boost to the spirits, and also meant that Jay couldn’t be too far ahead of me, so my timing should be fairly alright and my confidence in my timing increased.

Following the 10k'ers.

At this point we joined the runners on the 10k route on its way back to Birling Gap, who as our routes merged were about a third in to their race and already I could tell I was towards the back of their field, although I was able to pass a few of them - and some seemed to be fairly impressed that they were being passed by someone who already had around 15 miles under their belt! The thing with joining a fairly fresh field of 10k runners is its a double-edged sword in that you feel you can use them as pace-makers, but it can cost you dearly if you up your pace too far to keep up with them, as after all they are getting round just a quarter of the distance you are, and consequently end up burning yourself out way by going too hard too soon in to the race. In an attempt to avoid this pitfall I had to reign myself in and stay slow and steady till we reached Birling Gap once more and the easterly section of the Seven Sisters with its fiendish long ascents.

Birling Gap behind us.

Climbing up out of Birling Gap I was caught by Luke and we ran together over Beachy Head to Eastbourne, chatting about normal runners things such as goals and plans for future events, nutrition, clothing as well as throwing some football in to the mix with Luke being a West Ham fan and myself Farnborough - despite the gulf in ability between the 2 teams of 6 divisions, they have faced-off competitively in the FA Cup back in the early nineties where we famously held them to a draw before losing in the last minute of a replay.

Luke leading the way to Eastbourne.

As we reached the edge of Eastbourne and the turn for home, Luke left me in his wake on the climb up on to the ridge as I just could not keep-up with the pace - my calf is still not 100% and really aches when I put it through these ascents, so it was just me and my iPod for the last few miles back to the finish… My Garmin telling me I was now over 10 minutes ahead of myself.

Keeping a steady pace to try and gain as much time as possible on the run-in I remembered not to be suckered in to the false belief of finishing too soon seeing as you head off on a 2 mile detour once tantalisingly in sight of the finish, so this year at least I was mentally prepared and slurped down a gel to give me an energy boost to get over the line… One of only 2 gels I consumed on the run. I am trying to move away from taking too many of them and replacing them with eating breakfast bars on the run to get my energy from ‘proper’ food, and just use gels for boosts when needed.

Only the one?

Crossing the line there were still plenty of runners around to cheer us late ones in and the presentation for the winners was just about to take place. After collecting my medal I made my way out of the funnel, where I saw Tania and Jay with their young lad Dylan. Jay had finished about 15 minutes in front of me and like all of us who had made it over the line was buzzing with having achieved another marathon finish… Its always great to see a friendly face or two at the finish of a race :)

The presentation about to commence as the shadows lengthen.

Back at the van after a slow walk back from the finish, a change, a recovery shake and a couple of scotch eggs scoffed, I took a closer look at the houses balanced on the edge of the cliff. The furthest one is not quite falling in to the sea but is approaching it with inches left to go. As a consequence they are slowly demolishing it by detaching it from its neighbour first - carefully removing the first couple of foot of house out from the party wall from top to bottom before they knock the rest down without damaging the remainder of the structure which will be able to withstand however many more years of battering from the sea. With the battering seen by Birling Gap, access from off the cliff down on to the beach has also been blocked-off - which is no bad thing at present seeing as the waves were lapping-up to the foot of the cliffs with the still high tide!

The frothing sea with high tides still lapping the base of the cliffs.

Splitting the terraces.

The view west.

Being a local with a good knowledge of where to go, at the finish Luke had mentioned stopping in Tiger pub in East Dean for a beer afterwards, so I joined him there for a pint. The pub was pretty full of people who had been out running with their families and all in various stages of aching and seizing-up, although all really buzzing from what they had achieved. Having said this I must admit it was amusing watching some people attempting to stand after a long period of time sitting down with their muscles beginning to stiffen! On the way there I heard the latest scores from the footy and the celebration Chelsea handed Arsene Wenger on his 1,000th game as manager of Arsenal - a 6-0 shellacking, and when discussing this with others at the pub, it was pretty much a universal disbelief at such an outrageous scoreline!

When in a pub for a post-race beer I always go for a local ale that’s on tap and today I settled on a pint of Long Blonde from the Longman Brewery which was quite apt as we ran past from where it takes its name and also with Tania being a good 6ft tall I suppose she also qualifies as a ‘Long Blonde’... After enjoying my beer and wishing Luke all the best at the forthcoming Exmoor CTS Marathon I made the drive home.

Well that’s all fine, but how did I stack-up against last year I bet those of you who have snoozed their way thus far into this post are wondering… Having diligently run around the route every now and again keeping tabs on where I was in relation to my 'training partner' of last year’s effort, on crossing the line I was pleased to see that by the Garmin I was some 14 and a bit minutes up on my finishing time from last year… Fantastic I thought, having not really had to push myself around and still feeling like there was a bit left in the tank.

Chuffed to bits I wasted no time after the drive home to upload the GPX data onto the Garmin website - to discover I was in fact 27 seconds slower, yes 27 full seconds slower than last year - effing watch. End of experiment - from now on I’m just going to keep on running and making sure I keep the average pace up as the miles tick past rather than relying on the ‘training partner’ that allegedly shows your progress against previous runnings of the same course, yet somehow manages to misplace 14 effing minutes. Still you live and learn, and the next race is very different: pancake flat and concrete along the promenade in Blackpool.

Whilst running amongst company for the majority of the race, I only had the iPod on shuffle for the last few miles back along the ridge from Eastbourne, and the eclectic mix thrown my way this time was:

Eugene's Lament - Beastie Boys
Just One Dance - Caro Emerald
Roll Over Beethoven - ELO
The Looker - Gene
My Hero (Acoustic) - Foo Fighters
Tempo 116.7 - Brian Jonestown Massacre
If Lovin you is Wrong - Faithless
Oh Jean - The Proclaimers
Have a Nice Day - Stereophonics
Asymptomatic Eschaton - The Shamen
Country Sad Ballad Man - Blur
Prophets of Rage - Public Enemy
Indigo Is Blue - Catherine Wheel