soulchaser

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After some confusion I ended up driving down to Dorset alone. It was a 4-hour drive and I got there at around 1.30. I knew that I should have been asleep a few hours earlier so pulled up by the sea at Beesands, rolled my seat back and tried to sleep.

 

The event had nearly been cancelled the night before because of gale force 7-8 winds tearing the tent down.

 

“The weather on the South Devon coast is extremely bad, it is currently snowing and sleeting heavily and there are gale force winds - force 7, gusting to 8. The conditions for tomorrow are forecast to be very similar to today's - You must come prepared for adverse weather conditions. However the event is going ahead”

 

As I lay awake in the car watching the hours slip by I knew I wasn’t well prepared. It was too cold to sleep and the blustering sea wind was hammering at the side of my car. At 6.30am I knew I could start to get ready. The herring gulls were struggling to hold their position whenever they left the rocks. If they were struggling then I knew I was in trouble.

 

I got up and shaking with the cold put on 9 layers of clothing and some gloves. The organisers were really friendly and the atmosphere was exciting. The guy who I registered with laughed at me and said that I looked like I’d ‘had a rough night’. He was right. I was knackered and I hadn’t even started running.

 

After an hour or so of eating energy bars and drinking isotonic drinks we were on the start line. My enthusiasm had been turned to panic by the fact that everyone I spoke to had run several marathons and all explained to my exactly why this one was the hardest of them all. The half marathon runners lined up first. The horn went and they were off. Then we were called up. We were given a 5-minute, a 3-minute and a 1-minute warning. I felt really nervous and after reading about effort-induced cardiac arrest and heat stroke this didn’t feel like the right thing to do.

 

The horn went and suddenly I was excited. It was like a scene from an epic battle movie. People charging through muddy gullies and over rocky outcrops. Survival of the strongest seemed to be the order of the day and people were pushed and shoved out of the (my) way. When one runner went down into the mud and rocks the others just jumped over. He was left until the stampede had passed. We saw the half marathon runners a few thousand metres ahead of us. They were running in the same direction as us along the coast and it seemed as though they were running away - escaping. Like a dog chasing a rabbit the theme was set for the first part of the race. All pre-considered notions of ‘pacing’ were consumed by the excitement of the chase. It wasn’t long before we were speeding past the half marathon runners. It felt great. We had already gained 5 minutes on the majority of them and we had coastal marathon on our backs so they knew we were doing twice their distance. For a few naive minutes I felt indestructible.

 

By now everyone had evened off into groups running at their pace. I was still going strong and loving the view along the southern Dorset coast. It was beautiful. I found it easy running with such an awesome sight around me. At the 5-mile point I stumbled and rolled down a rocky path. It hurt but I bounced back onto my feet by some stroke of luck and just kept running to avoid embarrassment.

 

The 11^th mile was one of the hardest of the whole run. I was running alongside a girl and chatting. She asked me how many marathons I’d run. I said this was my first how about you? She said she’d recently done the 7 by 7. I thought this was some kind of 7-mile sprint or something so I said what’s that. She said it was 7 marathons in 7 days. At this point I thought I’d better hang back a bit! I had cramping in both calf muscles. That’s bad enough when you’re not running but keeping up the pace under these conditions was hard. My muscles felt like they were tearing and I knew I had 16 miles of hilly terrain to get through. The reason this was so bad was because I thought at this stage that I might be physically unable to complete the run. I knew I wouldn’t quit but I was worried that my body would simply break under the pressure. The up hills were intense, running up mountain steps as far as the eye can see only to reach the top and see the next load winding off into the distance. The flats were just as bad. The wind was so strong that running seemed slower than a normal walking pace. I’ve experienced frustrating head winds when cycling but never winds that I could lean into when running. The downhills were dangerous. Jagged rocks covered with 6 inches of mud and shit. In places the mud came up to my shins. As I ran down I tried to find the footing for each step through the watery blur that the wind had turned my eyes into. My feet were bruised by each rock I bounced off. I had taped both my knees up and for now they were holding strong.

 

By the half way point I was wishing it would end. I had only run 13 miles and it had taken me 2hrs 58minutes. I ran the 18 miles in much less than this (again highlighting the problems of the terrain). It was at this point that I realised that to complete this I would have to run without a rest for over 6 hours. That did some damage. To make matters worse the 3 guys I had been pacing slowed and a second realisation occurred. They were only doing the half marathon. I had to watch them stop and see the relief on their faces as the pain went away. It was about this time that I started to get angry. I was angry at the wind, I was angry at the mud and I was angry with my clothing. Everything hurt and I started to question my reasoning for doing it. The only reason I didn’t stop then was the thought of all this pain for nothing. I caught up with the next group of runners and turned to the guy next to me. I said ‘alright mate’ and he looked over. His eyes welled up and he vomited into his mouth. For about 2 seconds he held it there but then he couldn’t hold it any longer. Huuuummmmmpppppllllllleeeerrrr -the sound made me cry with laughter, the spew pouring all over him. I was back in the game, someone felt worse than I did! Looking back laughing was a bit harsh but I was in a mess and I can’t tell you how much it lifted me.

 

Vomit and his mates fell back and for a while it was just me. I drifted off into a kind of coma. All I was aware of was the numb jolting sensation of each step, my breathing and the seemingly distant applause of the spectators.

 

I had no idea of my rank in the whole scheme of things. I knew I was competing with seriously fit runners. No pleasure runner picks this course and most marathon runners want to beat their PB, which you just can’t do on this run. It was mainly experienced runners looking for the next step and soldiers – and me! I had overtaken a lot of people but I had been passed by a few as well. I was sure that I had overtaken more than had passed me but I was sure that they were the half marathon runners.

 

I grabbed the water from the station guy and nodded a thanks. He shouted 5 miles to go and I was too fucked to say anything. I saw 3 guys ahead of me and thought that these 3 where my only hope at avoiding last place. I ‘powered’ (in the state I was in limped would be a better word) up the hill and overtook the guys. One guy said ‘you won’t get past me’ and smiled.

 

These guys were tough. I was faster up hill but they beat me on the downhill. The reason they beat me on the downhill was that they had no respect for their own physical wellbeing. I was throwing myself down the slippery gullies, dodging jagged rocks. They went faster. This ‘race’ to avoid last place continued for 5 miles. I’ve never experienced desperation like it. I was exhausted, the gale force winds hindered my every step, and I felt like I was being chased (well, I was). I refused to be beaten. They kept over taking me. At one stage one of them fell on a rocky gully. I jumped over him and he ducked to avoid my feet. Nothing like sportsmanship! It was all out war. The only thing we weren’t doing was punching one another and that was narrowly avoided on a few occasions. I’d look back running up hill and they’d be on my heels. I’d gain and then they’d come sliding down behind me. Every bend exposed another hill, every summit exposed another climb. I was at the end of my ability. It was all I could do to keep ahead of them. Luckily for me the end of the run involved a slow climb and I managed to gain a decent lead on them. When I saw the finish line I cried. I didn’t expect it and was quite embarrassed by it but I was so overwhelmingly relieved on 4 counts. Firstly, I had run 26.2 miles without stopping. Secondly I had run for 6 hours and 39 minutes without a rest on some of the worst terrain I had experienced. Thirdly, I hadn’t come last and finally, the agony was over. When I stopped running the ‘runners high’ was like nothing I have been through. It was one of the most amazing feelings I have experienced. It was as good as sex. An orgasm rushing into every corner of my body. It only lasted for about 6 seconds and then I fell swiftly back into the agony again. After a chat with the 3 guys they said that they were soldiers and we had a laugh about the ‘ups and downs’. They had all done marathons before and were surprised that I hadn’t. I got straight in the car and drove (4 hours) home bent double with the pain. I wasn’t happy. I wasn’t satisfied. I was just depressed. I was tired of the pain. When I put some music on my accomplishment dawned on me but it was a rational realisation as opposed to my usual excited sense of achievement. It was only this morning (Monday) that I am beginning to look back on it with a certain masochistic fondness. Aside from the usual feeling that you were thrown from a speeding car, I can only stand with painkillers and I’m pretty sure I’ve broken my first bone (big toe).

 

I learnt one thing. It is not physical fitness that counts. Even fit people hit the wall. I didn’t hit the wall; I was splattered all over it. It’s mental strength that counts. If you refuse to stop then you won’t.

 

It turns out I came 63^rd out of 78 marathon runners (which I’m very pleased about given the level of competition). 7 runners started and couldn’t finish. The winner completed the run in 3 hours 33 minutes (unbelievable).

 

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