A short plod this evening, in dreary mizzle. There’ll be little time for running this weekend. Tonight the organisers will soothe our nerves with the finest thrash-skiffle know to humanity, offered by the Curst Sons; tomorrow we mark the course. Then on Sunday we put on a 26-ish mile race around the Sussex downs. In forty eight hours time I will be toasting the success of the 2017 Moyleman.
I’m organising a team of marshals, each of them giving up their Sunday to stand on the hills in uncertain weather, so that runners may tackle one of the hilliest, hardest races in southern England. If you want to understand the race, some of the course organisers (not me, you’ll note), ran the course in two legs: the first half, from Lewes to Southease, and the second, from Southease back to Lewes, by way of Firle and Glynde. Or feast your eyes on this elevation.