I offered my services as a marshal to yesterday's Seaford Marathon. This is the first time I have done anything like this since a wet and cold sports afternoon at school when, excused games for some reason, possibly either when I had a periossial haematoma on my forearm caused by a hockey ball, or when recovering from a head injury when a rugby scrum collapsed, I was sent to stand in a muddy field by the railway line in the fields outside Cambridge to direct cross-country runners. 
I stood at the hamlet of Norton, at roughly the 21 mile point on the hilly course, directing runners up a hill. The weather was mostly kind and I was joined for a while by some spectators, a small girl, her mother and an older man, grandfather of small girl, I would imagine, there to cheer on a runner who had chosen Seaford for his first marathon.
The first runners through were going at a strong pace, though I was sorry to learn that further on, with only a mile or so to go, they took a wrong turn at Fiveways and lost the lead. More followed, over a period of about two and a half hours, some visibly exhausted, some cheerful.
Next year I may well enter. There are more photographs at: http://www.flickr.com/photos/tomroper/tags/seafordmarathon/
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