Twilight Chase
When John and I chose our 8th marathon of the 12 we have decided to run in 2019, we expected heat to be the biggest challenge. August marathons are few and far between for a reason. However, neither of us expected the conditions we faced.
The days leading up to the weekend of the 10th/11th August were full of warnings of storm conditions approaching from the south-west. Festivals were cancelled in Cornwall and Norfolk and motorists warned of poor driving conditions due to high winds.
We were not driving far. Just down the coast to Rye, a quiet harbour town between Folkestone and Hastings. The Twilight Chase Marathon was taking place in the nature reserve on paths running parallel with the beach. It was a simple out and back course, 2.2 miles out and 2.2 miles back. Three laps for a half marathon distance, six for a full marathon.
The race started at 4pm which was in itself unusual. I’ve only ever taken part in morning marathons. The night before it felt odd not carb loading and laying out my kit in anticipation. It felt even stranger to eat a huge bowl of pasta for Saturday lunch.
John drove and despite this we arrived with time to spare. Having signed in and pinned on our race numbers we had a coffee and watched the waves roaring into the beach, white horses prancing on their crests. The hectic clanging of mast ropes hitting their poles accompanied the scene as the wind raced along the exposed shoreline and buffeted everything in its path.
At 3:45 we received the race briefing and headed out into the elements to begin. It was dry and warm which was something to be grateful for. At 4 o’clock we set off and as we emerged from the shelter of the buildings, we were smacked in the face by the 50mph gale.
The route took us towards the beach to begin with, and so for about three quarters of a mile we had the rushing wind pushing us to the left. The result was the sight of people running at an almost 45-degree angle to their normal upright posture. Occasionally a gust would push my right leg as it left the ground almost forcing it behind my left calf and tripping me up.
Eventually the path took us to the right. Right into the path of the storm. It was head down and one foot in front of the other as we fought against a constant wall of air. I mean constant. There was no let up, no gusts, no breather for over 4 hours on that part of the course.
John and I decided to be tactical and adopted a Tour de France strategy of drafting. One of us would take the front allowing the other to benefit from the slipstream behind and rest. Every half a mile we would switch. This worked really well, and I felt for those running on their own who had to face the elements with no protection.
For me this was what this race was all about – teamwork. The conditions were poor, a decent time was out of the question, this was about finishing and getting each other through to the end. We caught a couple of women and they latched on the back and we provided cover for them. After a mile and a half of drafting we finally reached the turnaround point – a cone tied to the fence to prevent it from blowing away.
As we turned the wind caught our backs and hurled us back the way we had come. My legs were struggling to keep up as we flew past those still labouring to the halfway point. We were soon back at the bend and this time it was three quarters of a mile getting blasted in the left ear. The two miles out had taken 19 minutes. The two minutes back took just 14.
Back at the start we were welcomed by the best running buffet I have experienced including vegan sausage rolls! There was a selection of sweet and savoury foods, three options to drink and a welcome moment of cover from the brutal buffeting. We collected a pink wrist band. You received one for each completed lap so they could know how far you had run.
One lap down and five to go. The next one went well and we both felt strong. We had gained on a couple of people ahead, but we made sure to fuel well and they had gone straight back out. We once more employed our shielding technique using a flick of the elbow to denote the time to change places.
On lap three we had another runner in our sights and gradually reined him in as we ran into the wind. Passing him felt good and we were surprised when he sprinted past us on the way back to the start. Turns out he was only doing three laps! We suffered for that later on.
Lap four was a struggle. By now we were sick of the wind, the noise, the disorientation as it hit the eyes and the struggle to battle against it. The run was less about our legs and more about the whole body and mind. John was flagging and needed to fuel so we decided to have a longer pit stop before starting the fifth and penultimate lap. I took advantage of this to visit the gents and we both ate plenty. Despite the wind it was hot and we were sweating excessively so we hydrated well too.
In the meantime Kevin and Ang Van who were also running had completed three laps. This was Ang-Van’s target and she was delighted with her half marathon medal. Kevin was doing his first marathon and it was probably the worst conditions for a virgin, but he dug deep and battled on.
The fifth lap was tough. We weren’t talking to conserve energy but there was a great deal of self-talk taking place in my head as I counted down the miles and checked off the markers. We made it to the end and now had just one more to go. We knew we would finish but our pace had dropped significantly and we had begun to walk sections into the wind as we weren’t going much slower doing that then trying to run!
Eventually we reached the end. I picked up my sixth wrist band and rang the big cow bell hanging from the fence to signify I wasn’t going back out for another lap. We had finished in 4 hours 22 mins. Kevin came in shortly after also having done six laps. His first official marathon. He then had to drive 2 hours to the airport and a week’s well-earned holiday.
This was probably the toughest marathon I have done if you don’t count my first London Marathon. Every out lap into the wind felt like running up a steep hill. The in laps were like trying to control I fast descent but it was the sheer noise and pressure of being pounded by that much air in the face for that long which was tough to take. My legs felt fine, I had fuelled well, and I’m pleased with my performance. More so I’m delighted with the way in which the Bald Monkeys stuck together and worked together to finish.
That is the Bald Monkey spirit. It isn’t about the hair (really) or the monkeying about, its all about the support and camaraderie between friends.
