Haile Gebrsellasie ran the Berlin marathon in 2:03:59 in 2008, a record that stands. Peter Some won the 2012 Brighton marathon in a time of 2:12:03. I finished it in 4:46:12. By comparison you might find that unimpressive but I'll have you know that was forty seconds faster than last year. Indeed, though this was my twelfth marathon and I am now fifty-seven years old, this was my fifth fastest. It has tremendous crowd support, a huge field of runners and the sea.
I arrived at Preston Park at around 8:30, with only time to leave my bag, relieve myself and join my starting pen. I failed to make contact with anyone I knew at the start, but, misanthropic as that may seem, it may have been a blessing. It's easy to be overstimulated at the start of a marathon, and above all I wanted to avoid going off too fast. I had decided to use the metaphor of a symphony, of four movements, for this race, and the first movement was not to be taken too fast.
At the very start my ankle hurt, but as I ran it loosened. I found myself, by accident, with the 4:30 pacer and stayed with him until more or less half-way. As each mile past he led his group in a cheer, to the surprise of the spectators. I noticed a loutish tendency on the part of some runners to throw half-finished drink bottles to the side of the road, careless of whether any spectators might be standing there. After the run out to the east, the route returns to the centre of the seafront, and then off to Hove. I lasted well until the end of the long run west up New Church Road, including a new excursion into Portslade. After we turned to run back down New Church Road, I began to weary and, at the next drinks station, found myself pausing to drink. This was necessary in any case, as I had some difficulty with the water pouches handed out, which either fail to deliver any liquid at all, or squirt too much and choke the thirsty runner. Then out to Shoreham power station, the so-called road to hell. By the time we turned, and ran back westwards for four or so miles, I had had it. I ran, pausing at drinks stops, but without any speed. The splits below tell the story. I made it to the end with absolutely nothing left.
I was not disappointed, but I do not think I will do Brighton again. There are too many parts of the course in which, like laboratory rats, we are sent running in one direction and then back on ourselves. And it is a road marathon, better for fast runners, but I'd rather be on the downs. As chance might be, when I returned to the car, there was a leaflet for the Three Forts marathon under my windscreen wiper. Perhaps next year? In the meantime I shall take a week's rest from running, return to swimming training on Saturday, and plan my summer campaign of shorter distance races.
