The omens were not propitious. Marathon training had slipped, losing about twelve days, I had a hard swimming coaching session the day before, I had been woken frequently in the night by importunate cats and the weather forecast was foul. Moreover, the last time I ran this race, in 2009, I did not enjoy it at all.
Nevertheless, with over a thousand other foolhardy souls (the organisers said they had had over 1,500 entries, but I would bet there were a fair number of no-shows) I found myself huddled in a park. The pre-race warm-up session was unusually popular; normally I shun this sort of thing, but even I felt the need to jump up and down a little to keep myself warm. We herded ourselves behind the barriers for the start and set off.
The first part of the course, along the sea front and up to the foothills of Beachy Head, is pleasant enough, even in rain and wind. I ran all the way up the hill (I think I walked a little of it in 2009), and enjoyed the speed of the descent. We had the pleasure of a piper to encourage us and, in these conditions, I am more than usually grateful to the marshals and the supporters that turn out. As I never bring my entourage with me to races, I find it especially encouraging when complete strangers urge me on.
The second part, through the desolation of Sovereign Harbour, is less enjoyable, but I found I could keep going, and had no dark-night-of-the-soul moments, in spite of being drenched, and running the last mile in an icy blast blowing off the English Channel. I was slow, 2:13:33 by the official chip time, about thirty minutes slower than my half-marathon personal best, but under the circumstances I am not unhappy. I go on into March, the heaviest month of the schedule, in good heart.
Miles this week: 22.19 (too few, far too few, but I'll put that right over the next few weeks)
Seven weeks to the Brighton marathon
