Today I marshalled for the Seaford Marathon, a tough race in any conditions, but in today's weather, torrents of rain, thunder and lightning and fog, it was exceptionally testing.
After collection my tabard and instructions at 8 am from Seaford Fire Station, I arrived at my post in the village of Alfriston, just after the start time of 9. It was raining softly, and I walked through the village to the check-point beside the river Cuckmere. The runners were to arrive in the village from the downs above, go down to the river, and run down to the New Bridge on the east bank, returning on the west. This loop was extended for today's race. In previous years the race was just a little short of the marathon distance; this loop makes it 26.5, 0.3 of a mile longer than the true distance of 26.2 miles.
My position was at the monument, the intersection of several roads in the centre of the village, at more or less the nine mile point, and it offered a convenient ledge for my flask of tea, and a fine vantage point from which to observe Sunday morning village life. I know Alfriston fairly well. For many months I attended Babette Kundrat's excellent Cosmofil French classes in her house nearby.
There follow some unconnected notes on events during my two and a bit hours there.
- The owner of the antiques shop greets me, and admires my flask of tea
- The first runner arrives at around 9:40, so he has covered six miles in forty minutes. He is going at an extraordinary pace and heads off to cover the river loop. He passes me again at about 10, off towards the Old Coach Road
- Two police community support officers pass and ask me lots of questions about the marathon. I try to reassure them that their services are unlikely to be needed. They tell me that there is an equestrian endurance event on the downs today. I remember it from previous years; I hope their signs and ours will not confuse runners or riders.
- A clergyman, his sacerdotal robes on his arm, passes. His stole, green for whatever Sunday after Trinity it is, trails in the dirt. I, and a helpful old lady, point this out to him. He does not thank us.
- Tractors pulling carts full of hay; horses' hooves on the tarmac
- A genial, talkative man joins me; he, with many of the other visitors, is a pensioner from Manchester. I explain some of the finer points of marathon running to him. I explain to him the significance of the blue shirts of the 100 Marathon Club members, well-represented today. He is awestruck. He joins me in cheering the runners on, so volubly that runners start to address their 'thank you marshal's to him. He flirts gently with the women.
- Two spectators tell me that many runners are lost in the mist between Bo Peep and Alfriston; I send them on to the check-point, who are best equipped to deal with this
- A cycling family ask me the way to Milton Street. I am lost; I send them towards Wilmington. This seems to be the correct thing to do
As for my own running, I manage four miles in the afternoon. I'll do my long run tomorrow.
Miles this week: 15.41Five weeks till the Firle half marathon and thirty-three weeks till the Brighton Marathon
