My First Marathon

Tue, 28 May 2024 14:20:44 +0100

I’ve now been running for 3½ years, having completed the Couch to 5K programme with my son in January 2021. I’m lucky enough to live on the South Downs in England, so I have a wealth of interesting off-road opportunities to ensure I never get bored. I’ve also found many friends to run with and, at some point, the conversation always turns to distance running, and the marathon in particular.

I have set myself a target of running 40 km a week, which is generally completed over 3 or 4 runs. I tend to enjoy trail runs of about 8 km to 15 km, though I’ve now found that I can just leave the house and run a half marathon (21.1 km) if I feel like it. Until yesterday, however, I had never run a marathon (42.2 km.)

I’ve never particularly fancied the idea of a marathon, having had in mind that it would take a specific training programme and careful eating to get ready for it. But I still couldn’t shake the idea that I should run one, just for the experience.

The weather was predicted to be unpleasant yesterday. If I got up at 5 a.m., there was a reasonable chance that I could run for an hour before getting wet so, when the birds woke me at 4.30 a.m., I put on my shoes and headed out to the National Trust land at Blackcap, just north-west of Lewes. This is a 200 m ridge that offers panoramic views of the Low Weald northwards, as well as overlooking Lewes and Brighton, sat in its bowl to the south.

The Low Weald, looking north from Blackcap

Blackcap itself is surmounted by a triangulation pillar alongside a small copse with a stone and plaque noting that it was replanted in 1953 to commemorate the coronation of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II.

Sunrise serenity at Blackcap

From there, I made my way to the beacon on Mount Harry and then followed tracks roughly south-east, keeping the woodland to my left and then coming up north-east until I came to the chalk pits at Offham. I have driven through here many times, but I’d never had a view from up behind the pits. Standing behind Offham Chalk Pit and the Fairy Ring, the land just drops away about 60 m to the road below, the faces having been loosened with gunpowder before picks completed the job.

Offham Chalk Pit, looking roughly ESE over the Ouse to St. Peter's at Hamsey

A thin line between the Chalk Pit and the Fairy Ring

From here I headed SSE down Landport Bottom to join Nevill Road. Almost exactly 760 years ago, the armies of Henry III and Simon de Montfort had clashed here, at the Battle of Lewes.

The next section took me along the Brighton Road south, where I crossed the railway and A27 by turning left alongside Hamsey Riding School. It was still only 6.15 a.m. as I met the horses in the field below Jugg’s Road and looked up to see the sky was much blacker here. I sheltered on the path for about 10 minutes while the darkest of the clouds dumped some rain and whooshed past.

As I came out to Ashcombe Windmill, below Kingston Ridge, I took a closer look at the sky. It was clear that more rain was coming, but the band that had just passed over me was not being followed; instead, the next darker clouds heading eastwards were going to pass north of me and probably dump over at Blackcap. Oh frabjous day!

I saw lambs at Ashcombe Windmill, so I sat down to entice them over

As I mounted Kingston Ridge, I looked south towards the sea and it was evident that the cliffs were now bathed in sunshine. My legs felt good, and I had been running at an easy pace, with the photo stops and saying hello to horses, so I turned on the Ridge and started heading towards Rodmell. The trail slopes slightly downwards along field boundaries until you come out at the top of Mill Hill at Rodmell. From there, a slight scramble down towards South Farm, where they have pumpkins later in the year, and then a gentle ascent into Telscombe village. I always end up walking parts of Gorham’s Lane as I come out of the village, so I found myself crossing Telscombe Tye at about 7.30 a.m. There was cloud cover overhead, but all very bright and high.

At Saltdean I dropped down onto the Undercliff. I was feeling quite weary by this point, so I stopped at Molly’s for a cup of tea and a Mars bar. I jogged along along towards the Marina, fully intending to head up Sheepcote Valley to home, but then it dawned on me that that would leave me just short of a full marathon distance. Now, that would be a shame, wouldn’t it? So I trotted out along the sea wall at the Marina and headed right on the Undercliff, back towards Rottingdean. From there, it was a more gentle ascent to Beacon Hill and back through Ovingdean to home.

In total, I had been out for 5¼ hours, moving for an hour less than that time (um, that cup of tea took a while!) and climbing 645 m in the process. I could barely believe that the only decisions involved in running a marathon were ‘am I feeling ok so far?’ and ‘how do I avoid the next wave of clouds?’

I soaked in a bath with Epson salts when I got in and my legs felt fine even the next day. The strangest effect I had from it was that my forearms were intensely achey a couple of days afterwards. As I hadn’t run on them, I assume it was a dehydration effect, but I couldn’t explain it.

And that’s how I ended up running an accidental marathon!

Running on His Deeds Are Dust

My First Marathon