New Forest Marathon, Sunday 8 September
2019
“Wild Horses won’t be able to drag you away
from the New Forest…” boasts The New Forest Tourist web page. I’m not sure
about wild horses dragging me away, but I’d have gladly had a free ride astride a
horse to get me round those last 6 miles. The constant pounding of weary leg on
gravel was taking its toll, with both hamstrings and calves cramping up during
that final hour or so.
The morning starts off with a surprising
sight – there’s frost on the fields as I
make my way towards the New Forest Showground. We had been advised to arrive 3
hours before the 9am start and although I wasn’t prepared to get up at Sunday
Silly O’clock (I’m a “keen runner” but not that
keen) I am on site at 7.15am and ready to go. I’m regretting not wearing a pair
of trackies over my shorts; too cold to get out of the car and wander around with
the pros I stay in the warmth of the car, loading up my bladder pack with a
Raspberry Lucozade / water mix, putting on the ‘strategic nipping plasters’ as
I call them, and steadily pinning the red 501 numbered vest to my Sands
t-shirt, in a vain attempt to avoid a nasty shock mid-race from an errant
safety pin.
Eventually I have to face the cold New
Forest air, the sharpest nip has now disappeared and it’s time to head up to
the race village. I’m walking solo at this point, having not wanted to subject
Jayne and the children to such an early Sunday start nor hours of waiting
around, but it seems as though every other runner has company, and I feel
strangely alone. Greater still is the regret at having left my sunglasses in
the other car overnight, meaning I am having to look away from the low and
piercing early morning sun, and the regret at carb-loading so heavily on
Saturday that I am a regular visitor to the runners’ portaloos. As I bemoan my
plight, the kindness of a stranger lifts my spirits, as I am handed a freebie
bag which includes a pair of very garish but very wonderful yellow sunglasses.
Not a good look, but a great help and wonder of wonders they fitted over my
normal specs, so I will be able to take them on and off during the race itself.
The clock is ticking down and the park
beginning to fill. The sun is warming us up nicely as I hand my bag over to the
wonderful volunteer team at the bag drop-off. There must be 500+ volunteers in
total and each of them plays a small but significant part in making such an
event run like clockwork.
We are asked to move into the main show
area to begin our warm up, so like the bulls at the New Forest Show we are
paraded in front of the watching masses (unsurprisingly no-one makes a starting
bid for me) and we begin to get ready. My sister and family have arrived to
cheer me on and for my brother-in-law’s first 10k which is due off a couple of
hours later, and this gives me a real boost as it was the first conversation I’ve
had for hours. Similarly I bump into a couple of Netley parkrunners and swiftly
afterwards comes news that a further £100 had been donated to the justgiving
page in the previous hour which reminds me of what is really important
here.
We are shepherded in groups towards the
start line but there is still time for all those self-doubts to come through…
can I really run 15 marathons in 15 months? Can I really run this one? Have I
done enough training? I have warmed up properly? Is the backpack I am carrying
too heavy to run with? Will I get to see the family in the right place? Am I
actually mad? I set up the podcasts I downloaded
last night and am ready to run.
The hooter sounds and off we go, it’s great
to see Vicki from parkrun waving and then my sister and family again as we set
off from the showground towards the route itself. Don’t set off too quick, I
had told myself, you’ll regret it later. I was aiming for a 4h30 marathon, so
had calculated that if I ran 2h08 for the first half (just less than 10 minute
miles), I could run 2h21 (around 11 minute miles) for the second half and thus
come in just under 4h30. The best laid plans though…
Soon we are into the forest, in and out of
the shade, which became a close friend as the race wears on and the sun gets
hotter and hotter. The gravel paths are well compacted to enable walkers,
runners, wheelchair users, horses, bikes and all kinds of transportation to
move along, but the impact on the feet and thighs soon becomes more noticeable
than road running. I decide just to enjoy the first few miles, enjoy the
scenery and not put on the podcast or music. I manage to lose myself in the
event and before I knew it I have reached the loos at 10k and am a little ahead
of schedule.
It is around this point that I saw the sign
that reset my focus for the rest of the run. The NFM team had placed plenty of
white signs around the forest, with interesting facts and motivational quotes
to keep you going (someone described it as the “most educational run in
Britain”) – how else would I have known that we were passing the oldest and
biggest redwood tree in the country? But it was the sign asking “did you know
there are 5,000 New Forest ponies in the forest” that really hits me.
5,000 - that’s the same number of ponies as
babies who die in the UK every year before, during or shortly after birth.
That’s 15 a day, or one every 90 minutes. That means, through the course of my
run, the likelihood is that three babies in the UK will die. That’s three more
families with a broken heart, aching arms, an empty cot, hopes and dreams
shattered. As I watch a group of ponies trot slowly through the clusters of
gorse bushes, I think about the people I know – friends or family members who
have been affected by the death of a baby. I remind myself how lucky I am to
have my children coming to cheer me on later on this morning; for some runners,
clearly this won’t be the case.
And I remind myself why I am running this
marathon race -through choice- and think about how so many parents end up
taking part in their own lifelong endurance race they never signed up to.
Energised by the kindness of friends
cheering me on (thanks to Kev and Suzie at mile 10), providing water, suncream
and plenty of encouragement, I press on through a tough 3 miles to the halfway
point, back on tarmac through Brockenhurst and up a steady incline, exposed to
the sun. Running under the railway bridge as the train to Poole and Weymouth
went overhead I did begin to wish I was on a day trip to the seaside but I am
on track with the first half complete almost bang on track, in 2h07. The volunteers in Sway are full of
encouragement and the fantastic Guides and Scouts provide water and cheer in
equal measure.
Heading out on the road again and the legs begin
the argument with the brain which would last for the final 10 miles, at times the
spirit willing but the flesh weak, at times the other way round. It isn’t until
mile 17 that we are welcomed into a shady forest enclosure, at last!, at which
point I start what is to become a ritual every mile – stop and stretch, take
some liquid on board, clap your hands and remind yourself why you’re doing
this.
The famous ‘wall’ hits me at mile 20. I have
stopped at the picturesque Wilverley enclosure where we had sat last year to
cheer on Kath Evans and others, the day which started this adventure as I
remember on the day saying “I’d love to run this race, it’s so beautiful”… Certainly
this isn’t how I’m feeling a year on!
As I leave the checkpoint after a quick
pitstop I can see a downhill stretch in front of me, but my legs just won’t
start again. I manage to restrain myself from shouting at myself and somehow
manage to start again, knowing that those 3 or 4 minutes would have a huge
impact on whether I would hit my unimportant but important time target, as I know
I have been gradually slowing for the last 6 or 7 miles.
Onwards down the hill and some relief, so I
thought, but jogging downhill can actually be more painful as the strike of the
foot on the tarmac sends a jolt through the leg and has more impact than going
uphill – so although I am going marginally quicker it is causing more pain,
exacerbated further by the short spell of listening to the cricket during which
England lost more wickets… Blisters on the toes were becoming a real issue too.
So I whack on a bit of Queen and Don’t Stop Me Now gets me through the next few
minutes.
I knew Jayne and the kids were waiting at
mile 23 at the bottom of North Weirs; we had been there the previous day so we
knew where the rendezvous was and it is both a joy and relief to see Jayne a
few hundred yards earlier than planned; she has come up to run with me back to
the meeting point, so I had a few extra minutes with her which came just at the
right time. The children run up too and supply me with more Lucozade, water and
high fives, and I stop for a chat for a moment or two, knowing that a tough
mile up North Weirs awaits.
Pass me the Lucozade! |
Thankfully I manage to keep a consistent
but slow pace up the gravel to mile 24 and the final water stop, where Kev and
Suzie have been waiting. I think I utter something incoherent about my unending
love for their friendship and support, and trot on towards mile 24, knowing
that a time of 4h30 is still just about there for the taking if I can just keep
it steady over the last two miles. Mercifully it is flat though stony and
although flagging due to agonising blisters I manage to keep one foot in front
of the other and soon the welcome sight of the white tops of the marquees at
the showground come into view.
A few encouraging shouts from the marshals
and the finish line is in view, and having seen Vicki, my sister and her family
again cheering me on I manage to get a little sprint on and am over the line.
Nervously checking the Garmin watch I am thrilled to see 4h29m16s on the screen.
As I stumble à la Bambi to the bag
collection point I receive notification that I had received further donations
whilst running, with some wonderful friends and colleagues kindly donating to
the cause. (The target of £2,500 for 15 marathons was a nominal one but we’re
already over £500 + Gift Aid, so we’re already a quarter of the way there, and
who knows what the next year or so will bring in after 14 more marathons. We
cannot thank you enough!)
As the children run up to greet me again I am
overwhelmed once more with the thought that I should be grateful for every
minute I have with them. After a hug with Jayne I collapse in a heap and tuck
into a chocolate bar with the usual post-race conflict in my mind of “don’t
ever run that again” and “that was fantastic, when’s the next one?” (it’s
October 19th, in Reading).
The medal is an unusual melange of trees and footprints; but it’s the first of 15 and I look forward to comparing it with the next few.
New bling! |
As we reunite with friends and family I
take off my sock to reveal the extent of the damage – and what seems to be a
sixth toe appears between my big toe and second toe – an enormous blood blister
has sprouted and needs attention from the medical team at the other end of the
showground. They are as helpful as
expected and soon patch me up so I can go and enjoy the picnic.
Sadly an accident in Lyndhurst means that
we are advised to stay on site for another couple of hours with the roads
gridlocked, but this enables us to have more time to enjoy - rather than endure
- the sunshine and a number of excellent local bands. Unfortunately, the bar
has run out of most items so a celebratory drink will have to wait until the
evening.
Kev offers to drive my car home which is a
godsend as the legs are struggling to coherently communicate with each other to
walk, let alone drive. We chat about plans for running next year and before
long we’ve reached home where a cold beer and a pork batch awaits (you can take
the boy out of Coventry, but…) . It feels particularly good having fasted
alcohol for a week in the build up to marathon number 1.
A cold Golden Champion (Badger Beer) to end the day! |
It’s been an exhausting but exhilarating
day and I can’t wait for Marathon 2 – the “Saturn X Run” in Reading on October
19th. It’s going to be a strange few weeks, working out how to
recover from one marathon and start building up then immediately tapering for
the next, so that will be something new to work out. When I’ve run marathons
before (3 in total, over the course of 6 years), I’ve had plenty of time to
work out what to do next! But after the X Run I’ve got only a fortnight until
the Thames Meander (starting in Kingston), so goodness knows what that short
training programme will look like.
In terms of timing, I’ve set a good
baseline of 4h29 and hope to start bringing that time down towards the 4h03 in
Southampton from a few years ago. But it’s not the main goal; I know that
through my efforts not only have we raised money for Sands to help fund
research, care and support for bereaved families, but have raised significant
awareness about the impact of baby loss through friends, family, former
colleagues and through social media.
After I explained the significance of the
number 15 to a family member he quipped ‘hopefully if you do this again in a
few years you’ll only need to do 10 or 12’. I sincerely hope so too. In fact,
if we’re to reach the government’s target of halving baby deaths by 2025, I’ll
only need to do 7.5 in 7.5.
In the meantime, we keep on running…
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