soulchaser

 

When I decided upon the idea of running 6 marathons in 6 months to prove something to myself, I chose to make it as hard as possible by doing the six toughest marathons I could find. I made it tougher still by refusing to train or eat properly, or even organise myself before runs. The predicatable result was pain, injury, and disappointment. This is a problem I have endured since I can remember, going over the top without thought or preparation. I swing between bouts of total paralysis and overexertion. My dreams are so far fetched as to make them unattainable to the point where at times I don't even start trying, and often give up after spending more money than I have on the kit I think I'll need.

 

Oscar wilde said that anyone who lives within their measures suffers from a lack of imagination, so at least I can take heart from that. And I do. But nonetheless, after 5 painful lessons, I was still trying to find my campsite at 2am the night before this last and hardest marathon, after almost running out of fuel in the middle of nowhere on the north Devon coast, praying that I'd come across an open garage sooner or later.

 

Lady luck favours the brave, and I did find that garage and make it to bed that night. I ate a bowl of pasta before sleeping for 4 restless hours in gale force winds and torrential rain. I woke to bright skies but the usual dark, menacing clouds gathering on the horizon. I put on my running gear and began walking down the steepest hill in Britain toward the start. By now I didn't even raise an eyebrow at the prospect of struggling up such a monster. Anyway, I knew that worse was to come.

 

The Exmoor Marathon is billed as the hardest in Britain, and I think that very few people would dispute its claim to that title. I was coming into the race utterly broken. It would be my third in just 4 weeks. The starin of that level of stress on my weak little body was too much to handle, and it broke down half way through the 5th marathon, making me walk for the first time. There was no way I could get round Exmoor alone after such a battering. I needed drugs!

 

So I came prepared, popping ibuprofein on a pharmacist's advice, to stop the pain and reduce the swelling in my kne which had stopped me running before. 200mg every 2 hours was the plan, and 200mg before the start to be safe!  

 

Drugged up, lubed up, and revved up, I joined the familar bunch of athletes and wannabies at the starting line and waited for the start gun, which duly went off as  I was tightening my laces. My first thought as I passed under the start/finish banner was how it was going to feel when I passed under it again. I wave of emotion went through me, I could feel the finish already. This test had tested me to my limits already and  I was still running. I wanted it to be over so badly, but I wanted to finish well.

 

Within two minutes of running, however, my camelpack broke! I jogged along the wooded path with the other runners, fighting with the strap, trying to tie a knot into it to fix it. That done, I got nack on with the race, hoping that would be the last of the dramas.

 

Over a stream and round a bend and we see the first hill, and my god it's huge. I pass a guy who's explaining to friend how it's inefficient to run up these hills, and better to walk them. I laughed to myself as I watched the leaders clambering up using their arms like fell runners, and had to stop myself asking how the hell he knew, like he'd ever be able to actually run up one of those things himself. There is no need to take yourself seriously on a run like this unless you are an athlete. The very fact that you are there at all is serious enough.

 

Finaly the hill leveled out onto a coastal stretch that almost immediately turned inland, and then back down again. A fast paced, joint smashing descent, back into the woods and along the stream, past the start/finish line. We had done the first 10k and it had been a sicnch. I'd have felt short changed if that'd been my run. That was the warm up. Back up again, on roads now, roads that I'd been driving around all night, burning vapours on the way up and coasting the way down. No vapours here, my body was warming up, but no chance of coasting on the way down either.

 

We were runnng north now, slightly inland, before doubling back along the coast to the finish. The hills kept coming as I knew they would, and I was counting the massive ones as they came. I was expecting 5 monsters, but between them were hundreds of smaller ones, still giants compared to the other races. But the drugs were working, holding back the pain that was present but not debilitating, and for the first time in the whole challenge I actually felt like a runner. More tha that, I was getting stronger as the race went on.

 

The sun was out as well, and I was enjoying every step. I was holding back, running smarter than I had before, controlling the urge to sprint on the downs, but using other people to keep pushing. I wasn't letting anyone else past me, and was aiming my sights on the person in front, racing them, convincing myself I was playing with them and would pass them as soon as they tired. 

 

Brimming with confidence we made the turn back toward the finish. A long way to go still. A long. long way. We ran on the cliffs for a while, with the coastline stretched out before us. It helps not to be able to see that your finish is actually out of sight, but the views were spectacular. We ran down into a coastal village, along the front were people were having ice creams with their kids. That sedentry life is so easy and welcoming and I fall into it as though I were born for it, but running through it with 15 miles behind me and 11 to go, feeling stronger than ever before, I wondered just what the appeal was. When had I felt more alive? Every muscle in me was taught but moving freely, every sinew 

 

On the other side of this town a parked car had obscured the waymarker, and three runners in front of me almost missed the turn up the steepest hill of the day. I rescued them but not before taking pleasure out of passing them! This hill was practically vertical, and a chain train had been built to take the rest of society up. At the top we were back to coastal paths, running round bays, wondering which headland would be the last before the home stretch. There were too many, they just kept coming. I was amazed at how well the drugs had lept me going, but was starting to wonder how long it would last. I knew from the