Another little run report...

Within a few days of the London Marathon, the pain in my legs subsided and it wasn't long before I was running again. I felt faster than at any point since the shin splints 12 months before and decided to put my back-up plan into action. Since moving to Haslemere all my long runs have been out in the hills either over the Devil's Punchbowl to the North, or south towards Midhurst. Indeed, less than a mile south of our pokey little flat is the northern boundary of the proposed South Downs National Park. I used to love running around Richmond Park and along the Thames towpath, but it just doesn't compare to the countryside out of the city. The scale of the hills, too, present a challenge unlike anything the city can provide.

My back-up plan was the South Downs Marathon. It sounded perfect: a scenic run along the South Downs Way from Slindon College outside Chichester to Queen Elizabeth Country Park outside Petersfield. I wanted to avenge the running demons who had ruined the London Marathon. In particular, I wasn't going to get dehydrated. But equally, my goal for the day was just to enjoy it, finish and take in the scenery. I had no idea how much the hills would slow me down. In the back of my mind I thought I might set a new marathon PB, but I really wasn't sure.

So, after a particularly good run 2 weeks after the London Marathon I submitted my entry. I figured running 26.2 miles was excellent training for running 26.2 miles, so with the marathon in the bank I decided to focus on a 20 mile run each weekend, and 2 shorter faster ones midweek. That plan went out of the window the day after the entry was posted, as I came down with a critical case of man-flu, which forced me to not train for over a week. With a fairly small window between recovering from one marathon to tapering for the next, being ill was a disaster. I suppose I started training hard to soon after the marathon. My runs had been fast and I had also started cycling quite a bit, but I felt so strong at first that I thought it wasn't a problem.

All colds end up in my chest, and it was nearly two weeks before the cough subsided enough to risk running again. With the clock ticking I managed a few mid-week runs with Phil and on the second Bank Holiday in May, I at last managed to get out for a long run of nearly 3.5 hours. That run was particularly pleasing as I was in a dark mood before setting out, and I forced myself to run away from home so I couldn't quit early. But after about 2 hours I was in the groove and feeling strong again. I had also reasserted superiority in the midweek runs with Phil, so things were looking up!

A short taper followed. With two days to go I was bouncing off the walls with excess energy. Not nervous energy, just excess. It never really occurred to me that the marathon might be difficult or painful. I just wanted to get out there.

Mercifully the marathon was on Saturday morning, which meant my body clock was already adjusted to the 6am start. A large bowl of porridge later and Julie and I headed down to the start. Julie was a star again. The point-to-point nature of the run meant that most competitors had to leave their cars at the finish and get a coach back to the start. Being dropped off gave me an extra hour in bed.

It was a lovely morning. Not too hot, a little overcast, but no threat of rain. Julie headed off to Chichester before the start, so I chatted to a fellow who'd done the run twice before. He had a long wait, as there were 3 waves of racers. The first was supposedly the slow wave, starting at 9am for runners expecting times over 4 hours 30 mins. Then the relay teams headed off at 9:30am before the quick individuals started at 10am. I was expecting a little under 4:30, but with a BBQ in Woking in the afternoon I decided to run in the first wave, thus disqualifying myself from the prizes. I wasn't worried about this: I was never going to win a prize anyway!

Of course, that meant that I was fairly near the front of the slower wave, and as the run set off for a lap of the Slindon College 400m track before heading for the hills I slotted into about 20th place.

The first 5 miles were a mixture of farm tracks and countryside paths uphill towards a ridge where we'd join the South Downs Way. I ran with a water bottle held in a little pouch strapped around my waist. At each mile marker I religiously took a swig, careful to avoid any dehydration issues, and refilled the bottle at each aid station.

It wasn't long before we settled into a pace and I ran alongside the same 4 or 5 people for miles. I chatted away to a few of them. Really nice guys, all doing it for the first time and each one with one (London) marathon under his belt. Eerie. There were a couple of others who ignored us, unable to chat due to the little white headphones they wore. I felt a great camaraderie with those I spoke to, but the iPod runners felt like the enemy.

Talking away the first half marathon flew by. My legs were a little tired, but I was getting enough energy and liquid and felt strong and confident. The half-way point was marked by a steep mile descent into Cocking (hee hee) before a drinks station, a road crossing and then a steep mile climb back up to the ridge. The group of 5 was led by an iPod runner. They tend to change direction unpredictably and without reference to the position of anyone around them. I wanted a clear run, unimpeded, so I opened up a little bit and dropped like a stone to Cocking. It didn't feel fast or reckless, but I had a good 30 second gap on the rest of the group as I refuelled and chatted to Julie and my sister Susan at the aid stop.

Then the run got a little more difficult. All the advice had been to prepare to walk up the steepest climbs and we all knew that the third quarter had a lot of those as we ran to Harting Down. I walked up much of the first climb back to the ridge, taking on more liquid and bantering with a few braver souls who decided to run up. As the gradient shallowed out I got running again and felt strong for another 3 or 4 miles as we ran though a forest trail.

Fatigue and the first relay runners caught up at about the same point, around the 17 mile mark. Suddenly the hills reared up in front of me and the lack of consistent miles in training seemed to add to the gradient. It wasn't long before I was getting over-taken a lot.

Harting Down has a spectacular view - probably the best of the route - but, my-oh-my, you really had to earn it. Some of the hills were over 20% for long periods, and for the first time the route was exposed to the sun. Saturday was a lovely day, but a little too warm to run a marathon, and my mouth felt parched as I clambered up the climbs, at times wondering if scrambling was more efficient than walking.

As I walked up the last long steep hill to the aid station at Harting Down, I looked up and saw Susan and Julie shouting at me. I turned to the guys walking next to me (no one was running this one): "Why did they have to stand at the top of the hill?" So, I started running up the climb to great applause from the other spectators and sadistic laughs from the other runners. Of course, at the top I then had to start walking to talk to Julie and Sue, and so watched all the runners I'd just overtaken (the first for some time), pass me again. I complained, so the two of them started running alongside for a few hundred metres to the general amusement of all around.

After the Harting road crossing the wheels really started coming off. The problem was triggered by a big stone in my right shoe. I had to stop to get it out, but with 20 miles in my legs, the strange movement upset my calves and as soon as I stood up my right calf cramped. Very painfully, I jogged on, but had to stop to stretch a few times. I focused on drinking the electrolyte I collected at the aid station, and looking back I think this helped, as the cramping subsided by about mile 22.

But progress was slow. I went through half-way in 3 minutes under 2 hours, but any hope of getting close to 4 hours was long gone. I was plodding along at about 11 minute miles; slower than my bog-standard pace at London, but don't forget I was still walking up hills. Even my Ironman 4 hours 18 minute split was safe.

At 24 miles we hit another long climb and entered the Country Park. This was it; once at the top of the hill it was flat to the finish. I got running as soon as the gradient flattened out and plodded on knowing that in 15 minutes or so it'd all be over.

Amazingly I started overtaking some runners again. I didn't feel fast, but there were some desperate runners. As I passed the 26 mile mark I looked at my watch. I had about a minute to get in under 4 hours 30. Amazingly, I went past a couple of relay runners but as I looked at the finish 100 metres away my watch ticked over 4:30, and that milestone was gone. I jogged in with sore legs and a grimace, completing ruining my finish line picture.

4 hours 30 minutes 27 seconds put me in exactly 200th place (out of about 500), and by 27 seconds I'd started in the right wave, which pleased me in a strange way. I'd achieved my objective, suffering no dehyration. At halfway I felt strong and I just got more and more tired, which is exactly how it should be. The cramp was unfortunate, so I should be a little more careful about taking on electrolyte. But crucially I just didn't have the training miles in the bank meaning the basic endurance to run more than 20 miles was missing.

But I loved it. The scenery was wonderful, the friendliness of the (non-iPod wearing) runners was unusual and the event is really well organised. I'd highly recommend it and am already itching to do it again. Regrettably, it's a little close to Ironman France so I won't be able to enter next year, but roll on 2011!

Big thanks to Sue and Julie, who have excelled themselves as marathon fans again. For their troubles they got a plastic clapper each, which apparently saves the hands from a hard time.

So what next? How about the Beachy Head Marathon in October?