1st Feb: Endurancelife South Devon Marathon.

I was woken at 5 on Friday morning to the unmistakeable sound of LSS praying to the porcelain god as she tried puking-up her toenails whilst alternating with extruding liquid napalm out her other end. Out of the blue the previous night, but thinking nothing of it at the time, I’d developed the ability to shit through the eye of a needle, so I was pretty concerned that our front door should be marked with a big red cross for being a house of pestilence with a plague of a norovirus upon it… Just what you want the day before one of the harder trail marathons out there, the Endurancelife South Devon race on the coastal path down at Beesands.

Rather than sitting at home feeling sorry for myself, an inescapably busy day at work followed for me whilst trying to manage my day around urgent pit-stops when they arose: I had 3 jobs to get through: running a new circuit for a hob for one customer, rectifying a DIY job in another house that could better be classified as ‘Destroy It Yourself’ and fitting a storage heater in the final job of the day.

Returning home I had enough time to scarf a fish supper with accompanying jumbo battered sausage, clear the van and head down to Beesands. Before leaving I said my goodbyes to LSS from the bedroom door. Understandably after spending a day doing doggies between bedroom and bathroom whilst not knowing what end to point at the toilet, she was still feeling pretty sorry for herself. I didn’t dare go in for 2 reasons, first to try and maximise any chance I had of avoiding going-down with her lurgy, especially with being trapped driving for the next 3 hours and second because you could cut that air with a knife. It properly honked in there! With the window shut, the heating on and 3 dogs having spent the day in bed with LSS, the room was a bit ripe to say the least: we’re pretty-much talking on the level of a teenage boy’s bedroom but minus the crispy socks wedged between the bed and the wall.

The drive down was mercifully uneventful and so far so good with my stomach not joining LSS’s in sympathy. At least I had plenty of bog-roll in the van and I was parked close to a public toilet should disaster strike during the night.

The starting coral

Breakfasted and registered it was almost balmy in the early morning air. The sun was out, there was no real chill to be felt. This was going to be an unseasonably clement day for the 1st of February with temperatures forecast between 10-15° C! This felt very weird as I’m more used to being down here freezing my tatters off. I’ve run this race before in the arse-end of a hurricane, torrential rain, the freezing cold. One time I was shot-blasted by hail in a gale-force wind and once the course had to be shortened for our own safety as the conditions were just that little bit too gnarly! This simply wasn’t normal.

Already looking the worse for wear!

Before travelling I had decided I was going to play ‘trainer roulette’ on this run. I’m currently using 2 pairs that are pretty-much on their last legs. The one in worst shape, my More Mile Cheviot’s, have the uppers failing from side to side, however the integrity of the upper to the sole is perfectly fine which is far more important. They also have the best grip of the 2 pairs, so I had decided to wear them and see what happened. The roulette aspect is there was the fair sized risk they would not last the race. What I did to mitigate this risk and call the bluff of sod’s law, was to shove the other pair in my pack just in case of failure, however by having a spare pair with me I knew it meant there was a racing certainty I would not need them. As a penalty for this insurance policy I would have to lug the weight of the spares around for the whole day, unlike if I just threw caution to the wind and didn’t carry spares, where you know sod’s law is absolutely guaranteed to kick-in to effect and you would definitely need them and potentially DNF!

The weather report might have been rosy, but I wasn’t. I was still feeling the effects of whatever lurgy had been lurking at home and effortlessly emptied myself a couple of times before the start whilst dosing myself with imodium and hoping things would stay put for my day on the trails - Yes it was a risky strategy, but I didn’t have much more than hope!

 
Waiting for the hooter I was chatting to one of the Endurancelife crew who said there had been a call to them during the week from a major trainer manufacturer asking to use the event to shoot footage on the marathon course of one of their paid-for athletes using a new pair of trainers that are about to be launched… A new pair of road trainers! Endurancelife pointed-out to them that the race is not a road one and far from it, so wasn’t at all suitable for that kind of trainer as per their entrant’s guidelines for kit. The manufacturer said they were fine with that, so the view taken was ‘on their heads be it’ if the trainer company didn’t manage to achieve what they hoped for with their shoot, so at least they had been warned and expectations could be managed… I just hope that the trainers in question aren’t white as by the time they could shoot their footage on the only road section, they certainly wouldn’t be that colour!

Soon we were off into the bright low sun of the cloudless sky and from the very start I was struggling. Every muscle, every fibre of my body ached, but I was not going to admit defeat, especially not now before I was even out of sight of the marquee… I’ve run whilst ill in the past and it is not pleasant in the slightest. This however was an entirely different sensation, not of illness, but one of being sore all over, lethargic, completely drained of energy before the real work has even begun and with over a vertical mile of ascent to be covered along the 28 miles of the route, this is a punisher of a course.

I realised whilst I was starting slow, I was already getting even slower, but I wasn’t ready to throw in the towel, so it was going to be a case of ‘suck it up buttercup’ and keep on going. I knew it was going to be a tough day at the office to get round, however just after the first mile I could hear myself being caught by a couple in the middle of a full-blown domestic. He was trying to cajole her forwards and faster and she was certainly having none of it - there was still 26 miles to go and it didn’t matter how fast they were going, if that was how they started for them it would be a very loooong day and I couldn’t help but crack a wry smile.

I put my head down and just went for it as best as I could, taking plenty of pics of trail porn as I went. This first half of the race along the cliffs from Beesands round to the Kingsbridge Estuary is one of my favourite runs to be had and it was great to experience it in sun and good lighting for the first time ever! Rounding the headland for the lighthouse at Start Point we faced right in to the teeth of a wind we weren’t aware was there. The blast properly grabbed you, blowing your cheeks out so you looked like a dog with its head out a car window. Trying to run into the wind it felt you were moving backwards at times as you were buffeted by the stiffest of the gusts.

Running this section when exposed to the blast was particularly feisty, to the point it was pretty tricky to make much headway or speed, plus with the exposed rock on the path you had to cover it was pretty slippery at times under foot - I nearly went over on my arse a couple of times and rolled my ankle once, at least focusing on this pain gave me something ‘proper’ to take my mind of being painfully slow.

On this leg we went round Gammon Head. With what had happened the day before during my drive down, it seemed particularly appropriate and I couldn’t resist taking a pic. As a Big Benless 11pm rang-out the previous night, Britain had left the EU and the radio phone-ins seemed to be full of drunken ‘gammon heads’ shouting down telephone lines with a discourse playing out thus: ‘we’ve won, we’re free’, only to be consistently asked ‘What have you won? give one quantifiable example’. Silence then reigned time after time before aggressive shouts of ‘WE’VE GOT OUR SOVEREIGNTY BACK’ were beerily bellowed… The responses of ’but that’s not a win as you never lost it in the first place’ seemed to all fall on deaf shouty ears!

Whilst my trainers may have had the bonus of added ventilation with the holes in the uppers, they had been allowing stones to ingress as I had traversed beaches and through puddles. I’d tried to ignore them as much as I could, but it had got to the point that I had to stop to empty them. Setting myself down on a boulder I emptied the trainers, put them back on and tried to stand-up and found myself struggling to do so. In the end I had to do it in stages, which certainly didn’t make me feel any better in myself.

Leaving the coastal path we climbed inland for the northerly section of the course. Compared to the stunning views of the coastline this is not quite as inspiring, but offers plenty of challenge with the continual changes in elevation and we were sheltered from the wind, the sun shining down on us getting a proper sweat on as a consequence that made you wonder if we would be slightly lobstered from catching the rays.

To take my mind off the slog I hit the podcasts to help while away the solo miles. I was also in bit of a dilemma - I knew I should be eating to keep my energy levels up, but at the same time with how my guts were I daren’t eat anything for risk of it reappearing sharpish from one end or the other as I was fully expecting the puking to start. Perhaps it was the anticipation of this that made me feel sick, yet at the same time the rational part of me realised the sick sensation was probably related to hunger and the strenuous activity rather than a lurgy, but I couldn’t trust it… My guts were cramping-up as well and I was properly deep into ‘never trust a fart’ territory, as no matter how confident you are that is is just a fart and how you much you crave to release the pressure, you don’t know what if anything is about to be involuntarily unleashed so you just don’t dare! All I had trusted myself to have in the two previous aid stations had been a handful of fruit jellies plus I’d also eaten a pack of jelly from my pack.

Eventually I made it to the final checkpoint of the day with around 10k to go and a familiar marshal who is always there, so I stopped for a chat as I certainly wasn’t in a hurry! As we spoke she told me that that Endurancelife had received a call this week with some bad news. It turned-out that after their previous race in Anglesey, one of their regulars, Brian, a gent who is in his 60’s had returned home having run the half marathon and died of a massive heart attack the following day. He’d certainly been a recognisable face to me ever since I ran my first of their events in 2012. Brian was pretty-much an ever-present at and had been since almost the beginning of Endurancelife. He ran mostly the half marathon and some 10k’s and just loved being out doing them on the coastal path. You couldn’t really miss Brian as he was very distinctive looking - think Noddy Holder’s doppelgänger, complete with the hair. You also got the impression he was still exactly the same as he was back in the 70’s just greyer and a little more rotund (hey it happens to us all)! The marshal had some very fond warm words to say about him, how he was always smiling and pleasant, one of their regular characters who was always chatting with people, smiling and joking with them. You could tell from the sadness in her eyes how she missed him on a personal level, as did the rest of the crew she said. They are thinking of doing something in his honour, or naming something after him to mark what they feel is ‘the end of an era’ with his passing.

Leaving this last aid station the majority of the rest of the course was on the flat through the mud and slippery duck boards of a nature reserve and along Slapton Sands, however my legs had long since already given up on me, I just couldn’t muster much more than a shuffle. The cyclist Jens Voigt used to yell through the pain ’shut up legs’ to his to persuade himself onwards and upwards, but me trying the same today it was more a case of ‘computer says no’ than a positive outcome.

Eventually I finished in the waning sunlight, pretty much the last of the marathon runners over the line (but hey a finish is a finish) Chatting with a crew member after - he had been working the event for 4 years and he couldn’t believe how good the weather is, forget about the sun he said, this was the first time he'd seen blue sky at the event!

My trainer roulette plan had held-out and my trainers survived the day. From what I could see under the caking of mud they didn't look too bad, however I had to wait to find out if they were in fact held together by the mud and I was pleasantly surprised at the outcome!

Coated!

Not too bad after all!

I met up with running buddy Luke for a post race beer in the Cricket Inn where I told him about Brian. Both of us had initially noticed him on our first race down in Pembrokeshire a good few years back - Luke was saying on the morning of one of the races he had seen him polish-off a fried breakfast before later running the half marathon and when Luke finished the marathon he was there at the finish line with a pint and a fag! We both raised a glass to Brian and his memory… You never know when you will have run your last.

This put my day’s run into perspective. I felt like shit, I wasn’t particularly ‘up for it’ physically and consequently mentally, but it doesn’t matter how poor my run was, I was fortunate enough to be able to get out and do it; a chastening reminder of NEVER taking it for granted, count your blessings that you can. Here’s to running tomorrow.

Eat pies.
Drink beer.
Run far.

7th February: CTS South Devon

So far this winter you can pretty-much sum it up as going from one storm to another. It has been surprisingly mild temperature wise, but instead of a winter’s chill we have had wind, wind and more wind blowing in off of the Atlantic along with the accompanying downpours of rain.

The forecast for race day was for more of the same and the drive down to Beesands for the Endurancelife Coastal Trail Series South Devon Marathon had me arriving at midnight parked-up on the sea-front as the waves crashed against the rocks protecting the shore below, with a lovely howl to the gusting wind.

Beautiful clear sunny skies of the morning!

Waking as dawn broke under a light shower I stepped on to the Endurancelife conveyor-belt that is registration where you are fed in one end and spat out the other with supreme organisation and efficiency. Emerging with time to kill I had a leisurely breakfast of my customary slab of granola (LSS’s special recipe) washed down with a couple of mugs of black coffee with 2 sugars and changed into my gear before the briefing.

Registration at first light.

At previous runnings of this event, through storm damage and severe weather warnings, the course has been forced to change for the safety of us runners. As such I was eager to find if this year’s route was going to be the traditional one, or if there would be any tweaks because of the aforementioned… Fortunately it was to be the expected route this time with the predicted foul weather not posing such a risk as to warrant any diversions.

I knew from the weather forecast even before leaving for the race, that today would not be about chasing times… It was promising to be more challenging with the wind and rain than it was during the Gower CTS in November, with the wind predicted to be far stronger and the temperature certainly colder!

Underway with the massed start a half hour after the field of ultra runners, it was already very slippery underfoot. The grass was almost slick with the mud below the surface and as we hit the first field at its tricky angle slope down and to the left, I watched as 4 people went arse-over-tit as their grip failed. Rather than follow the herd and risk the same by blindly trailing over the churning-up path I took a higher line over fresh grass rather than the muddy tracks of the ultras and the race leaders, which took me out of harm’s way and allowed me to get down and over the beach crossing at Hallsands without incident or a muddy stripe down my backside.

Off in to the wind rain and murk.

Climbing up from Hallsands we headed for the lighthouse at Start Point in to the strong gusting headwind… One of the runners in front was caught unawares by it and his hat was blown clean-off his head. Fortunately I was able to catch it as it bounced towards me along the path and gave me an impetus to catch him and hand it back.

Looking back.

Rounding Start Point and descending on the rocky trail, the white foaming sea was revealed below us; the roar of it hitting the reef making an impressive sound as we kept it well to our left, making our way over the next couple of slippery cliff-top fields on paths that resembled streams at times. Heading under a set of cliffs towering over the ones we were running over, the fields began to give-way to the beginning of the rocky technical trail that makes this part of the race my favourite stretches of running on all the courses I have run.

Today was not going to be a good day for photos of decent trail-porn, so I thought I’d do something different and film what it is like to run on this stretch; continually changing elevation, rocky stepped outcrops on the path and a little scramble to get over some of the cliff boulders.

Following a sharp right on another headland I saw something I had not encountered thus far… The wind was so strong that a waterfall was being blown back up over the cliff in the teeth of the wind. I couldn’t help but stop to photograph and film the spectacle whilst chuckling at my fellow runners going through an uphill waterfall, before following suite and running through it myself.

The uphill waterfall!

Having to brace yourself against the wind the whole time you were running just added to the pleasure of it, but after the turn off the coast up the estuary inland, and the shelter the trees afforded you from the wind and rain, it really was welcome respite as you no longer had to concentrate at the level you were till now. The trees seeming to be silent around you, making you aware of the roar of the wind high above you.

Through the first checkpoint it was the long slow trudge uphill back round and on to the top of the cliffs we were just running along, exposed to the elements again but at least this time the wind was mercifully at our backs.

Looping around on to the out and back section, where passing people coming towards you on the single-track boulder strewn path is always fun (as a marathoner on your way out you pass the returning leading ultras), I passed a couple of stragglers on the marathon course who must have been late starters, one lady seemed to be taking everything in her stride, the other was a younger guy in his early 20’s… He looked like the walking dead. He had no waterproof or windproof jacket, just black clinging lycra-based running gear without much layering - admittedly covering his arms and legs entirely, but he was soaked to the skin and with the wind ripping in to him, it looked like he had all the heat taken out of him and he was really suffering, with his face and hands almost white. He was only managing a shuffle at this stage - only around the 10k mark, so I was hoping for his sake that he would be timed-out at the first checkpoint or hooked from the race on safety grounds!

Off the out and back and we headed inland over the fields, the boggy quagmire of fields, that lead us back to the top of the hill overlooking the start at Beesands. With the rain of the day on top of the last week, we were confronted by ‘slippery hill’ - a grassy very steep downhill slope of a field that you normally have to side-step down even when grip is good underfoot, but today was a different story. Precariously picking my way down the hill I could see long muddy stripes on the grass where people had slipped, fallen & carried on going to the bottom.

Watching someone stumble, fall and toboggan down on their arse I did the only sensible thing open to me: grabbed the camera & started filming!.. No sooner had I started than I too came a cropper and landed on my backside, sliding to the foot of the hill, but at least I had been recording the event to capture the moment!

Terrific fun, I dusted myself down and grinning like a loon carried on running.

The next inland section towards the edge of Slapton is pretty uneventful, with more fields and country lanes before we descend in to the nature reserve and the duck-board walkway that at times was more stream and quagmire than anything resembling a path. Most of this section from the slide onwards I ran with fellow CTS marathon junkie Luke, and we were joined on the way in to the nature reserve by a lady running her first trail marathon. At one point she decided to attempt avoiding the muddy puddles by clambering around them on a bit of a bund only to be confronted around the corner with no other option than to embrace the cold wet mud and run straight through it!

This section to the final aid station gave us some welcome shelter from the battering of the elements that we had been experiencing all day, but the final leg of the run from the checkpoint at 25 miles threw us back in to the mouth of the storm. Running along Slapton Sands the head-on blast of the wind made progress tough, with walking leaning in to it with your arms streamlined behind you seeming to be the fastest method of getting in to Torcorss… Up and down the hill and we were on the short straight in to the finish and the chance to dry-off and warm-up in the Cricketers over a pint of ale.

Another marathon done, and whilst this is the fourth time I have run this course, it has been different every time and very enjoyable. Looking at the time I put-down this year compared to last, I was in reality far faster once you factored-in the conditions, which was a good confidence booster for further runs to come.

Eat pies.
Drink beer.
Run far.

8th February: South Devon

Having been lurgified of late, and recovered enough to be able to run without feeling like death warmed-up, I drove down to the small village of Beesands on the south coast of Devon for the Endurancelife Coastal Trail Series South Devon marathon.

I had a plan, and that plan was low on the expectation front after my experiences of running Rivington when in the midst of the flu and struggling to regain my fitness thereafter… I had made it to the start line and I was damned sure I would make the finish line, just not sure how long the time to get there would be, just a hope that I would be faster than the first time I ran this 2 years previously.

Driving down to arrive at midnight I parked on the seafront listening to the wind and the sound of the waves crashing onto the boulders that formed the ‘riprap’ rock armour that had been placed there to protect the coast from the ravages of the sea. After putting the foil insulation in the van windows to make it light-tight from the rotating beam of the Start Point lighthouse I lay back and fell asleep, wondering how things would look in the morning.

As dawn broke I was up and out, looking around to see how things have changed over the last year since Beesands was battered by storms… The roadway between the sea and the village green is still no longer there and appears it will not be re-made, so there’s no parking along the sea front in that direction and the start and finish, rather than sitting on the green have also remained at last year’s location a little way up the hill leaving the village. Unlike last year where we ran in extremely high gusting winds which enforced changes to the route, now there was no risk to life or limb through stormy weather, the normal course had been re-instated so the 8 mile loop at the end that takes you all the way out to Slapton Sands was back on.

Beesands at dawn.

I attended the brief, readied myself and trotted-out along the fields in the midst of everyone.
The stretch along the coastal path to the first checkpoint is probably my favourite stretch of running of all the courses I have been on: a mix of rocky cliff path, beach and grassy trail continually overlooking the spectacular sea-views, rounding the light-house at Start Point. The nature of the trail that large parts of it are single-file, so not really conducive for chatting with fellow runners, and along here the field stretches out with people finding their space in the pack naturally with very little overtaking occurring.

The fun really starts when the ultra-runners come back on to the course and you have the 2 way traffic along the single track path, which makes for some interesting passing manoeuvres!

The highlight of the day for me was seeing a pair of Peregrine Falcons, a bird I have always wanted to see. There was an almighty squawking as one of the birds flew to its mate on the cliff-face as we rounded a cove and presented it with some fresh meat that they both tucked in to.

With all these CTS races, the landscape was the star, so the fact I was alone for the vast majority of the race today was fine, you could say that the run for me in a way was as uneventful as it was beautiful. Running around on my todd without any human company for distraction I could soak-up the sights around me and truly appreciate my surroundings.

As such here’s a gallery of trail-porn from the course:

In the end I finished the race in one piece, half an hour faster than I had the first time I ran it, which shows an improvement over the 2 calendar years since then… Not as quick as I would have hoped to without being affected by the lurgy, but hey, beggars can’t be choosers.

Eat pies.
Drink beer.
Run far.

9th February: Gusty, gutsy, epic

Some of race organiser Endurancelife's merchandise has the slogan 'Do Something Epic' on them, it turns out the South Devon leg of their Coastal Trail Series was just that… A race that you can wear as a badge of honour to say ‘I was there’, 'I endured', 'I survived'!.. With it all being so 'epic', excuse the length of this entry, but there was plenty to write about as a consequence :) Here goes:

Over the last week this particular part of the South coast has been relentlessly battered by mother nature with storm front after storm front passing over from the south west. Gale-force winds time and again whipping the sea into a frenzy that bombarded the coastline with monster waves, torrential rain falling from the sky and spring high-tides exacerbating things for good measure.

Last Wednesday, Torcross, the village on the coast immediately to the North of Beesands and through which the course for the marathon passes, was on the news for the storm damage. With some of the residents being evacuated as a precaution, most of the guest houses cancelled their immediate bookings as a consequence which affected some of those running in the race.

With all of this going on the Facebook pages for the Coastal Trail Series and Endurancelife were all a flutter with people seeking updates about the situation, was it on? was it off? was the course affected? Rather than stoking fires and with the weather situation as always being changeable, there was a dignified silence until it was needed to calm the nerves of the nervous with updates on Wednesday and Thursday, with the latter noting there’ll be an update at 16:00 on the Friday as people need to make a decision whether to travel.

By the time this 16:00 'game on' update had been posted by Endurancelife, there were posts from several people saying how they were not going to attend for their own safety, or risk traveling in the inclement conditions. Questions were being asked by some of the ethical merits of holding an event in what essentially is a ‘disaster area’, especially should something go wrong with the emergency services stretched dealing with things of far greater importance than a bunch of runners... The truth be told, none of us knew what the situation was like ‘on the ground’ from so far away. Having said this, Kirsty, one of my school-friends who lives nearby to the race had been in Beesands on the Thursday and questioned whether I was wise in running there on Saturday as the area was pretty beaten-up and the forecast for Saturday was more of the same!

Remembering my bedding this time, I set-off to arrive around midnight on what could be described as an ‘interesting’ drive through rain and wind; passing an articulated lorry on its side at a roundabout on the A303 and encountering people driving who really should not have been doing so in the prevailing conditions; their lack of confidence and erratic behaviour making them a danger to others on the road.

Pulling in to Beesands I drove to the same spot I had parked in last year. Before coming to a halt I manoeuvred the van to look down the road along the sea defences where everyone had parked last year, and for a look at the marquee, but I couldn’t see that and on the road in front was a large boulder and plenty of debris... so I reversed back to the parking spot and stopped for the night.

As I parked the sky was cloudless, speckled with stars and the lighthouse at Start Point was illuminating me every 30 seconds or so… I could really hear the sea however, so I wandered over to the slip-way and watched the waves: big and foaming, especially compared to last year.

Hunkering down for the night I could hear the wind begin to whip-up and then the rain started to pound on the van’s roof as I drifted off to sleep.

I awoke with my alarm and with not going out with the ultras as there was no early marathon start, I took my time to see how Beesands now looked compared to last year.

Looking north in 2013 - you can just see the cars on the left.

The same stretch after the battering.

Where the road was.

As you can see, where there was once a road leading in front of the green, now there was none, with the sea defences looking beaten to say the least. I could understand why the marquee had been moved as there was no real prospect of serving it with no vehicle access!

The marquee was sited a little way back up the hill you drive in on, so after a coffee and some flap jack I wandered off to the briefing for the ultra runners to.get an early heads-up on course changes. On the way up the hill I saw the following car parked which amused me no end:

I hope the owner's a keen fisherman, cos otherwise its not something I'd want to be shouting about!

Rounding the corner in to the field were all the portaloos, although some had succumbed to the night's wind - I just hope they were unoccupied at the time!

I hope no-one was in there :(

The briefing revealed the route changes which was as much a necessity as it was a pity with how poor conditions have been. It had been decided that we would not be going around the two southerly headlands (Start Point, Prawle Point) instead skirting round them just inland due to how severly exposed they were to the prevailing southerly wind. The north section of the course from Beesands (whilst marked out by the organisers over the previous day or so) was now closed because of the risk of waves and debris along Slapton Sands and with the lagoon on the other side nearly at flood. Instead of this northerly section, for the Ultra & the Marathon we were to loop back to Beesands along the 1/2 marathon path - with the ultras then running the half course and the marathoners the 10k course to make-up the distance.

Curiosity satiated I returned to the van, changed into my gear and after a hobbit-esque ‘second breakfast’ I sauntered back up the hill again ready for the marathon start.

The gathering.

As we stood assembled for the off, somebody had brought a helicopter camera with them to capture the occasion, which hovered above us taking footage with the operator struggling to keep it in anything approach the same position due to the windy gusts!

Soon we were off, running across the field from the marquee and straight on to the coastal path. This first mile or so was fairly easy-going, just a bit slippery under foot with the mud and with a slight incline it was a decent jogging pace as we found our way to the beach at Hallsands… I thought I had one more race left in my trainers, but crossing the beach made me realise I shouldn’t have tried to eke-out this one as the holes that had developed by the toes let in the gravel from the beach so on the climb up the other side I had to stop to empty them out, cursing myself for not wearing a new pair. By this point I was beginning to overheat and found myself undoing my jacket zip just to help regulate my core temperature with air flowing in and out through the action of running whilst it was still held closed by the velcro patches on the zip flap.

The blown spray.

The next mile was a tortuous climb, getting higher and higher as we approached the lighthouse at Start Point, the sea grey and angry with a spray being blown off it on to the cliffs that the lighthouse warns of. The closer we neared, the more the wind picked-up, making it harder to get any pace going, and making me realise that the overheating I’d just experienced was lulling me in to a false sense of security… Back up went the zip!

On arrival at Start Point we cut across the car park for a descent back to the coastal path only to find ourselves in nature's wind-tunnel! The view was breath-taking… Literally! The natural geography made the wind blast up the narrow valley into our faces making it impossible to breathe. You had to put your hand over your face to catch a breath as otherwise the wind sucked it out of your lungs. Whilst you were concentrating on breathing, gasping for even half a breath we had to attempt to pick a path over rocks and mud, trying to get a good foot-plant on every step whilst continually buffeted off balance by the howling invisible malignant force intent on knocking us over, as we carefully picked our way down to the path below and out of the funnel.

First look at the foaming waves.

At the bottom of the descent the reveal of the scenery made it truly worthwhile… We had our first glance of the boiling frothing white sea, waves crashing one after another in perfect barrels at times demanding to be surfed. Pretty much all of us with cameras paused to get at least a shot of this as welcome breaths were caught.

Surfable?

Looking along the bay.

Along we went following the rocky undulations of the cliff path with the spectacular sea on our left, carefully picking our path as we progressed, the sun shining upon us as we made our merry way.

Then the skies darkened… In a matter of minutes we went from glorious sunshine to leaden-grey skies, just as I traversed an exposed area of cliff-top meadow... Then the wind started to do its worse, the 70mph gusts turning to a constant blast of the same speed, the temperature dropped like a stone… Then the hail started… Jet propelled by the wind; whipping into you from in front, every BB sized ball of ice stinging your face, head, legs, any exposed part of your body. You had to put your hand in front of your face to protect your eyes and look at your feet to see where you were going as you could not open them. Part of you wanted to yell out in rage at the pain the hail was causing, but it would be futile as there was no way to make it stop and in the open there’s no shelter for respite. As the temperature fell before the onslaught I could tell what was about to happen, so I managed to react in time to get a buff on my head to keep some heat in, but I was not quick enough to get my gloves on before the battering commenced and was reduced to trying to get them on as quickly as I could with already frozen hands being stung by the hail, whilst praying I would not drop one and have it whipped-away by the wind... Progress was slowed to a half-blinded shuffle. I even decided to walk backwards to ease the pain on my face, but decided against it after a few steps as walking backwards on a cliff-top is certainly not the most clever thing to attempt!

Eventually the hail eased-off, the sky lightened from gun-metal grey to a mid-grey and progress could be picked-up a little more. At the lowest point we ran along of this section we were around 10ft above the sea level, with a large exposed reef around 30-50m out to sea.

The waves and the reef.

The waves hitting the reef were the same height as us before they instantly vanished on colliding with it. The wind had certainly whipped the sea at this point, so much so that a layer of foam was beginning to build and was being blown across our path like an Ibiza foam-party, only without the heat, booze and music. The only tune playing being nature’s own whistle and howl of the wind.

The sea spume!

Coating the path.

Ploughing on through :)

The path at this point was serving both the out and back sections, so we were now having the leading ultra runners meeting us head-on on the narrow path, so we endeavoured to make as much room as we could for them to pass us. Unfortunately I was concentrating on the on-coming runners too much at this point and tripped-over. Rather than fight the fall, you go with it, and fortunately the landing was on mud and grass, so I got away with a scratched knee, although 5 minutes later the same thing happened and I was not so lucky: my left knee-cap smacking on to a rock and grinding in all the muck grime and gravel that I still had on it from the first spill. I grimaced, cursed like a sailor, picked-myself up and carried on running. Looking down I could see blood oozing out from the scar tissue from my bike crash last Christmas, so I knew I would have fun in the shower later-on dragging stones and mud out of it. Fortunately not having much in the way of nerve-endings left in that knee there wasn’t really any pain to be felt, so I did what I had to and put it to the back of my mind as at the end of the day its only a cut and to stop to treat it would not really achieve a great deal.

Following the crowd.

Views like this are what its all about.

As we progressed I had been watching the opening of the Kingsbridge estuary drawing slowly nearer, knowing that this signalled the turn in land and into shelter from the head wind that had given us all a thorough beasting. The turn on the path couldn’t come soon enough and eventually after progressing a little way up river, sheltered under trees and hearing the wind whistling through them above us as a heavy rain shower began to fall, the first proper checkpoint was made.

The Kingsbridge estuary - where people were body-boarding!

Stopping only for a handful of jelly babies I carried-on, the mile long uphill path being perfect to take it easy and eat the jelly beans and a nutrigrain bar to keep my energy levels up.

This inland path section took us back up in elevation to the height of the cliffs, with every step being wet and muddy with the surface water pouring off the fields and pasture, a harbinger of what was to come for the rest of all the inland sections! Soon we had looped round on to the coastal path and re-traced our steps in part, scrambling over the rocky path back the way we came, although strangely enough the wind did not seem to be on our backs, more like on our sides so we did not seem to get the benefit we had hoped for when battling along the path earlier.

A sample photo of the path!

As we reached the turn for the extended inland section that took us back to Beesands, we finally experienced the helping hand of the wind. We had to traverse a narrow path between fields that moved up hill. Here the wind kindly blew us up it, allowing for some respite on a climb for a change.

Venturing through the village of East Prawle and the Pigs Nose Inn with a few bemused drinkers standing outside watching us shuffle past, we had made the second check point and we were now splashing our way along the edge of muddy fields and torrents that were footpaths every incline and descent seemed to be a stream - similar to how Anglesey had been the other week. With the paths being surrounded by hedgerows we managed to stay sheltered from the worst effects of the wind, although you could really hear it in the trees still, whistling through the branches in a way that told you the speed was still ferocious.

The half marathoners were on this part of the course with us as we all made our way back towards Beesands. About a couple of miles from the finish by a stream that we had to ford, there was a runner in trouble. He was sat on a rock sticking-out of the river, shrouded in a foil survival blanket looking very sorry for himself. With the blanket shrouding him I could not tell what race he was in, but fortunately someone had already stopped to be with him so we pushed onwards. We arrived at the edge of the hill looking down to the Beesands start and our precariously steep descent, with the half marathoners turning left at the bottom of the slippery grass and muddy bank to the finish line as the rest of us found the coastal path again as we turned right and went off on the 10k circuit.

Setting off on the 10k route was a new experience for me on one of these events as normally its what the ultra runners do after they complete the marathon to make their distance. Psychologically having been so close to the finish line you know that there is a finite distance left, one that you have already run today and one you can rationalise as ‘just a training run to go’… 'only an hour left’... 'Its the same as your normal canal run you’ve done time after time’.

Having been away from the coastal views for a while it was good to see the sea again, which seemed to be a bit calmer than before, and as expected the first mile or so was just the same as before and proved just as straight-forward… Until the beach that is.

Rather than trying to tough-out the rest of the 10k with shoes full of gravel and risk shredding my toes from the abrasion I decided to empty my trainers as soon as I was out the other side, which cost me a few minutes as I cursed myself once more.

On the climb up the other side of the beach it meant I was soon caught by a fellow marathoner in the form of Sophie. We had yo-yo’d past one another a few times during the run so she seemed to be pretty much on for a similar time. Sophie was the only person I ran with to chat during the race as I was by myself most it and the weather conditions were not great for chatting with the strong wind and single-track paths even if you were in a bunch. Today was Sophie’s first go at a marathon and she really could not have endured one as tough if she had tried to find one.

Today is a case of dipping her toes in the water and getting a marathon under her belt for her proper challenge: Offas Dyke… All 177 miles of it! The distance is broken down in to a marathon or so each day and her plan is to go as far as she can with a bare minimum of 2 days/ marathons before her body gives-up. I think she was having a bit of a crisis of the soul with regards to her pacing on this run and how tough the conditions had been so I reassured her that I finished near the middle of the pack in Anglesey, so if we’re near the end then it definitely is the course rather than being really slow and that conditions-wise this genuinely was the toughest challenge I’d come-up against so far!

A couple of ancient Yew trees freshly toppled not far from the finish line.

As we reached the top of the hill at Start Point we were a little confused as to where to go. We had carried straight on earlier, but I was sure we needed to turn right to loop round. The marshals as we approached just carried-on chatting to themselves and ignored us… Just before we committed to going along the same route as before as there was no other indication as to what to do, I noticed a couple of people in a parked car gesticulating wildly at us to go to the right. I said to Sophie that I’d go and double check rather than make the wrong turn, and going back to the marshals they confirmed to go round to the right… There seems to have been plenty of confusion experienced here amongst other runners of the ultra and marathon, so it was not just us who nearly got caught-out running the wrong way rather than our intended course.

Content to be heading off the right way, we jogged along the road away from the car park, when the wind whipped-up again and the skies darkened… From earlier we both knew what was about to happen, so I managed to get my snood and gloves on just in time… Just in time for the second bout of hail. Where we were was on top of a ridge and the hail was driven by the same continual blast of 70mph wind broadside from our left. Progress was instantly slowed to a meandering shuffle as you could not see through shielding your face.

We noticed that slowly pulling-up behind us was a farmer in his 4x4 pick-up. Very kindly he wound down his window and told us to shelter on the leeward side of the vehicle as it was big enough to block some of the hail and wind. As welcome as this lovely kind gesture was, at around 22 miles in to a marathon your energy levels are low and the wind was beginning to make the cold penetrate, so sheltering was in fact the worst thing to do as at least with the movement you kept warm, so it was decided to brave the path onwards rather than allowing ourselves to get cold.

A few minutes later the hail ceased and we were soon back on the path from the first time round and able to get a good judge on how long was left. The feeling of elation on seeing the ‘1 Mile to go’ sign was enormous and slipping on my arse 4 times to get down the muddy grassy bank at the course split for the finish was no problem as it meant that in a short sharp run across the field and we were finished!

Relaxing in the Cricket Inn afterwards I sat down with a pint of Otter and caught the remainder of the egg-chasing (Sheep-Shaggers v. Bog-Trotters) able to reflect on the previous few hours before commencing the 4 hour drive back home as the skies darkened.

I take my hat off to all those runners who got out and ran the race today in all its forms: 10k, plus the 1/2, full and ultra marathons. It takes a special kind of person to get themselves out of bed and run in conditions like these, whether you finished first or did not finish; the challenge was to get to the start line to take on the elements. The organisers should also be lauded for sticking with the event and letting it take place in the safest possible manner and outcome, altering the course to deal with the curve-balls nature had thrown where others would have just cancelled the event altogether... On behalf of all us participants, thank you Endurancelife for doing what you did. All of us proud to have been there and taken part.

This race was absolutely stunning for the scenery and it was immense being able to get through a marathon in such adverse conditions. Running in 4 hours of rain like in Anglesey I know for me is no real issue. Running into a gale-force headwind however is something else and was absolutely draining on my energy levels!.. If I want to get in to the UTMB, then I know I need to have experience of running in all conditions such as these, so at least I know I can hack it now for sure and I will not be phased by this should I ever encounter it again. This race and last year’s Sussex CTS will live long in the mind for the harsh reality of running in the winter weather at its most foul… But I survived and can wear it as a badge of honour. Strangely on this run considering the effort needed, I found I did not really consume many energy gels. I only used 3 of them and ate 3 nutrigrain bars. Maybe I’ve been putting on some more winter blubber that my body has figured out it can feed-off on a long run?

I finished a little lower down the field than I would have hoped, 71/103 finishers, but my aim was to get through the race with my calf intact, which seemed to be as good as could be hoped by the end of the race and far better than it was at the end of the Anglesey marathon a few weeks back, so it seems to be on the mend. With the course changes for this race, it now means that I am 19 marathons down and have still not run the same course twice, so I have no idea as to how I have improved (if at all) as a marathon runner. It will be interesting to see how I fare in the Sussex CTS which looks like will be my first repeat running of a course. It now also means I'll have to be back in Beesands next year to see by how much I can beat my 2013 time on the course!

I did not really get much of a chance for listening to music or podcasts on the run, as with the wind being so loud it made it difficult to hear much over it, although I did manage a little while on shuffle when I found myself all alone and for what its worth, the eclectic mix of the following tracks cropped up:

Chakra - Home
Mock Turtles - Lose Yourself
Kaiser Chiefs - Saturday Night
Matt Munro - Born Free 
Soup Dragons - Everlasting
Ash - Petrol
Grace - Down to Earth
Sunday Club - Healing Dream
Police - Everything She Does is Magic
Pixies - Rock Music
Baby D - Let me be Your Fantasy
Air - Surfin on a Rocket
Robert Miles - Children
Pixies - Tame
Coldplay - Speed of Sound
Pixies - Here Comes Your Man