Marathon 4 of 15: Portsmouth Coastal: On the importance of encouragement

Since the last marathon exactly 50 days ago, time has shot by and suddenly I’m on the M27 heading to the Coastal Marathon. In that time two close friends have passed away and it’s been a tough few weeks in all honesty. The parkrun community has been an enormous support as have our church friends, family and work colleagues, and everyone who has supported my Sands challenge (I’m sure there is a neat Venn diagram to depict the previous sentence, but that’s for another time). 

The Coastal Marathon is held each year in Portsmouth, some of which is familiar territory as I worked in the city for three years and enjoyed plenty of runs along the coast around Southsea. So I knew of the potential wind and rain to come, though not necessarily the terrain, of which more later. 

It’s a half hour drive and kindly my father in law drops me off with about an hour to spare, plenty of time I thought to gather my thoughts, get ready and hopefully bump into one or two friends and colleagues I knew would be running or supporting runners at least. 

It’s a much bigger event than I had anticipated, and the Pyramids leisure centre is crammed. The queues for the loos are the world’s longest but having carbed up for the past two days it’s impossible not to require the services so I take a deep breath and join the line… 55 minutes, an increase in heart rate and a few irate mutterings later I emerge ready to take on the course. It starts on the seafront and it’s pretty cold, though the rain of the last few days has passed through and it’s a sunny start. 

Langstone Harbour

Once we’re into the first couple of miles along the front and into Eastney it warms up and I begin to think that the full hat, gloves, snood and running tights was possibly too much. It’s beautiful along the west side of Langstone Harbour and the first hour goes to plan, averaging around a 9m30s mile. At 8 miles I’m joined as planned by my brother in law Pete, who offered to run 10+ miles with me, 5 to the turn point on Hayling Island and 5 back to their cars. The day before I received a similar offer from a friend at parkrun, John, and so, waved off by my sister and two of our nieces, Pete and John both accompany me for the best part of a couple of hours. It helps pass the time to chat and listen, and is particularly useful as the terrain turns from tarmac to beach shingle, mud, puddles and at times, bogs! I’m wearing heavy trail shoes and they are great for this stretch of the course, though they are hard work on the tarmac. But if I’d had gone with the road shoes, the reverse would have been true. 

Selfie by brother-in-law Pete - me and John in hot pursuit through the puddles

At around 10 miles Phil, Christine and Gav are there at the Ship Inn to wave us and shout us on, which is great encouragement, and down the old Billy Trail Line we go. This track used to be a branch line onto the mainline network, specifically to haul cockles and other seafood from Hayling onto the mainline and up to the cities on the south coast and to London, but is unused now and I’m told is a pleasant walk in the summer. 

Over Hayling Bridge

During the winter it’s altogether a different kettle of quagmires. It’s still a bright morning and although the wind can be biting at times, it’s not unpleasant. I’m glad I’ve kept the winter kit on though. 

A rare dry section

Back to mile 16 and we see Kev and Suzie for the first time as well as Phil and Christine, and we’re back to the beach and the hard slog of running across stone and shingle. 

With John - he's run 111 marathons so he's a great advisor!

By mile 18 I’m just about keeping to the 10m mile target I had set but can begin to feel it slip as the legs get heavier. John and Pete return to the comfort of their cars – I’m enormously grateful for their support – and I’m back on track and tarmac. So the first 3 hours have gone well, and I can tell I’ve benefited from the half a stone weight loss since the last marathon. It’s at this point that a pain begins to develop around my left knee, and I begin the now-familiar stop/start routine that plagued the previous two marathons, particularly in Reading. 

Support team at mile 18 - Kev, Suzie, sister Kaye, Pete and two nieces

Just as I’m feeling it’s a bit overwhelming, a lovely runner jogs past me and in so doing she thanks me personally for running for Sands. She says it means a lot to her individually. She didn’t want to chat further and was on her way, but that was the highlight of the run for me, as it reminded me why I’m doing this. The death of a baby is so very devastating to mothers and families, and Sands do a fantastic job to support them. Sands has a number of groups along the south coast, including the Portsmouth & Chichester Group, and a growing Sands United FC Solent team and community, so I’m glad she’s recognised the t-shirt I’m wearing and her kind wishes spur me on. Phil and Christine are there at mile 20 for another high five and sweaty hug. Phil is feeling brave wearing his Southampton hat in Pompey territory but it’s all good natured and his and Christine’s cheery smiles are a welcome view. The next three miles see any hope of a sub 4h30 marathon deteriorate quickly, but again it doesn’t matter as the pace isn’t the reason for the run. I realise at this point that my watch is showing 21 miles yet the mile marker is only showing 20, a huge frustration to think I’ll need to run further than ever before to get to the finish line. [It later transpires I was by no means the only one who noticed the error].

indication of the tough final few miles

Around mile 23 a great smile greets me as my daughter Olivia runs along the seafront to see me, I wasn’t expecting to see the family until the finish line, but they’ve managed to find me earlier on and it’s great to see them all there along with Kev, Suzie, Phil and Christine again. 

Support from the family 

A few hamstring stretches and I’m off again, this time hobbling towards what I think is a gentle last couple of miles, until we turn onto a section of the course we hadn’t used on the way out – ‘Portsmouth’s muddiest beach’. Way to go, organisers, kick a man when he’s down! I guess it was part of the challenge though. It really is a splodge and a splash for half a mile, each footstep weighing heavily on the legs, to the extent that the marshal asks me if I want to stop and if I need help. I just grimace and thank him for volunteering. These events really wouldn’t happen without these hardy folk, standing in the wind for hours on end clapping on random strangers, huge thanks to each and every one. 

We’re back in Eastney and the famous Southsea blast greets us as we turn onto the esplanade. The pier slowly comes into view as my watch says 4h46 as I cross 26.2 miles. However I still have about ¾ of a mile to go, doesn't that count as an ultra?!  Walking and trotting I finally get over the line with Jayne, our children and the rest of the crew cheering me on as the clock says 4h53m.

 

Coming over the finish line

It’s been a test of endurance, with many rocky and painful patches along the way, wanting to give up, but with the support of friends and family I have made it through. This is a real parallel to the last few weeks after the death of Ed, a wonderful friend of ours who sadly died to cancer aged 64 and of Beth, a wonderful parkrun friend who sadly took her own life last month aged just 37.  They were both incredibly encouraging and positive people who influenced our lives over the last few years and were great supporters of my running efforts. 

I am given a celebratory beer once I cross the finish line although I can’t stomach it all so soon. I’ll have one later on this evening. 

Medal, check, beer, check, standard issue Sands hoodie, check! 

We retreat to the warmth of the Pyramids, get changed and on our way. A couple of hours later we are singing carols with 30 or 40 friends in the pub and the pain around the knee and the hamstring subsides, for an hour at least. 

Overall I’m pleased with the run. I hadn’t trained quite as much as I wanted as so many other circumstances dictated over the past few weeks, but I’ve overcome the challenge and there’s another few hundred pounds on the board; we are well over 50% of the £2,500 challenge target I had set, so once again a huge thank you to so many people who have supported either financially or through online/in-person encouragement! 

Onwards then to Gloucestershire on January 19^th for number 5 of 15. We will then be a third of the way through and it will be a good opportunity to reflect on the first part of the journey. 

Meantime I hope you have had a wonderful Christmas with those whom you love. Do tell them how much you care. It’s not very British, but believe me it’s better to tell them now rather than when it’s too late. 

Thanks again for your great support and I wish you and yours a great 2020. 

Bereavement through a new lens

Last month the Office for National Statistics released the news that the annual number of stillbirths in the UK fell by around 350 between 2017 and 2018. This is really welcome news and although it means that there are still thousands of families who endure the pain that the death of a baby brings, that’s 350 fewer families than the year before. 

It means that ’15 babies a day’ no longer reflects the situation. It’s 14 a day – that’s 14 too many of course, but it’s a step in the right direction towards our goal of halving this number by 2025. 

A number of you have asked whether that means I will only do 14 marathons in 14 months and reduce my original target! I did consider this but only fleetingly, and will continue with my plan for 15 in 15 months as that was the target I set and I’m geared up to do it. 

Marathon 3 - Thames Meander in November

It’s been six weeks plus since the last marathon, and I’ve been trying to slim down a bit by eating more protein and less fat and carbs in my diet, to try to ease some of the aches and pains of running. It’s slow progress but seems to be helping a bit. We’ll soon find out on Sunday, as it’s the 4^thmarathon in the series, this time the Coastal Marathon around Portsmouth and Hayling Island. I have mixed feelings about it – from a physical and mental perspective I am feeling in a good place. However having run many times in Southsea I’m aware it could be absolutely freezing with the wind coming off the Solent (and I’ve heard rumours of mud, puddles and shingle) but on a sunny day it can be a beautiful course to enjoy. As it’s reasonably local I’m hoping a few family and friends will come out to support the effort. 

I’m overwhelmed by the response so far – we are over 50% towards the target of £2,500, having only completed 20% of the challenge! I can’t thank you enough for your support and encouragement along the way. Having met a number of bereaved parents at some of the workshops I've been running across the country recently, I've been reminded of just how much a difference every £1 makes in terms of the support and care they might not have otherwise received. 

Favourite view from the woods 

This marathon will have extra significance as it’s the first one since our special friend Beth died last month. She was a great supporter of ours and so encouraging of my attempt to push myself, indeed any challenges her friends went for she was right behind them. It’s been a tough few weeks, but the support of the parkrun community where we knew Beth so well, has been inspiring as everyone has rallied round her husband and very young son, and one another. 

We’ve seen bereavement through a new lens these last few weeks, and it makes us even more determined to do all we can to support those in need. It's made some of the recent training runs in the woods more reflective. 

I hope to put up a blog after the marathon on Sunday and before Christmas kicks in. But if I don’t, can I wish you all a really happy and restful one with the ones you love, and a great 2020. And thank you once again for your amazing support on this adventure. 

Marc