My “training camp” at the start of the month had set me well on the way to being ready for my last trail race of the year, and about 10 days before the event itself, I went out on my usual North Downs stomping ground for the final pre-race long run, notching up 21.6km and 410m of ascent in a time of 3:26. This gave me the confidence that, only a few weeks after being laid up for 3 weeks, I was in fact ready for Beachy Head.
I set a tentative best case target of 3:15, but wasn’t really taking it seriously: it was more of a thought about the reasonable best case time I might be able to deliver, rather than something concrete I was definitely going to work to.
And then came the first two named storms of the season. Storm Austen rolled in the Thursday before the race, and storm Boelo hit on the weekend itself. With this in mind, my target became just getting round, although secretly I thought 3:30 would probably be ok under the circumstances.
I travelled down to Eastbourne on the Saturday afternoon, and the walk from the station to my hotel was enough to make me glad that I hadn’t signed up for the marathon or the ultra – strong winds and lashing rain, and I wasn’t even up on the exposed cliffs.
The forecast for my race the next day was better – still the strong winds, but bright sunshine, with the wind chill making the feels like temperature about 7/8C. That sort of temperature where you’re in the middle ground between wearing a t-shirt or something a bit more wintry. In these situations, my long sleeve club tops prove ideal. I put on my running vest and then my lightest jacket over the top of that, expecting that I’d want to take it off before the start. Which is exactly how it turned out.
I walked the mile or so to the start along Eastbourne’s seafront, went to drop my bag, and the jacket, tempted fate by buying a race t-shirt from the not very busy merch stand, and finally just had time to head for the toilets for a final squeeze.
I walked over to the start pen, positioning myself towards the very back, in recognition of my modest target for the day: I’d rather start too far back and hopefully pass a few people than have dozens overtaking me. I want to be the one crushing people’s spirit, rather than the other way around.
Ahead of me around 700 people streamed away from the start line, in controlled pulses as there was a certain amount of bunching due to the steep climb right after the start.
Finally, the last wave was released and I trotted slowly to the base of the hill, a choice of big steps or little steps to climb it: I went for the big steps, and was immediately passing people. A bagpiper played to encourage all.
The next bit was the muddiest section of the entire route, and beforehand I’d worried about just how bad it would be. On the day it wasn’t bad at all, the mud being relatively hard packed, just a bit “sticky”, and giving no problem with traction. Even so I took it carefully.
Then we topped out on the ridge for the run inland to the first aid station at around 5 miles. Relatively gentle undulations, a couple of marshalled road crossings, and a few sections where the pack was in single file.
I spent 35 seconds in the first aid station – enough time to grab a jaffa cake, a jammie dodger and some water, then I was off, doubling back parallel to the approach. This was in part, because I had found my groove and wanted to stay in it, but also it had taken me under an hour to do one third of the course, suggesting I was on for a sub-3 hour race: I liked the sound of that, and even though I didn’t expect to be able to maintain that pace the whole race, was prepared to go with it and see what happened. Certainly I felt confident of beating any of my pre-race time predictions.
A small climb to walk which enabled me to finish my snacks and settle myself for the section, and then it was onto a beautifully runnable section of negligible slopes, good footing and open airy views. With very little to interrupt the rhythm, I ran solidly all the way to the sea. This was easily my favourite part of the whole run.
We arrived at the cliffs, at the foot of a big climb, the pace instantly slowing to a walk. But we were now into the territory of my superpower, and, as I had on every climb so far, was overtaking people as I pulled myself up the hill. This pretty much continued the rest of the way, as we undulated our way over the eastern part of the Seven Sisters. Now the wind, which hadn’t really bothered me all race, apart from the odd gust from the side early on, was fully on my back and helping propel me forward. Fine for the ups, but I didn’t like it trying to push me down the hills faster than I wanted to go.
Around 16km and the second aid station, my legs started to feel a bit heavier, not helped by some more stop-start terrain. I barely stopped at the aid station, wanting to just get it done. A few people who I’d been running with for a good chunk of the race, pulled out a bit of a gap on me.
Each successive kilometre ticked down, and I reached the point where I’d guaranteed myself a sub-3 hour finish, and I adjusted my pace a little to make it a little more comfortable – there was no need to push any harder than necessary.
Then the final climb, and I could see Eastbourne laid out before me. A final dalliance with the sticky mud and I was at the top of that initial steep climb, which I took carefully in descent and then hit tarmac.
I sensed a couple of people about to take me, and put on the afterburners, crossing the line in a net time of 2:56:24.
Frankly, I was astounded at this time. It was almost an hour faster than the Giant’s Head Half in July, which although it was about 1 km further was slightly less climbing. Surely, the difference between a hot day and a cooler, more comfortable one, couldn’t do that ? And 5 weeks after being the sickest I’ve been for years ? Maybe going into the race with next to no expectations, and with the knowledge that this was the last one of the year, helped in some way.
Whatever, it was a great performance to finish the season, and partly because of that was also my favourite race of the year.
I’d happily do this one again, although I probably won’t as the chances are that the weather next time would be awful!
