DNF

Fleetwood Marathon 2010

This has to be the first marathon that I actually went to with a very positive outlook. I had said to Graeme that I was definitely getting a PB... the question was... how MUCH of a PB? I was so confident, I even bet on myself on Fetch. I felt that my training had gone well (all be it short... only 7 full weeks of it in total) and I had no negativity at all.

The day before the marathon, Kerry the OH's and myself made the fatal mistake of checking out the course. We stepped onto the promenade at Clevelys (about the 12 mile point) and almost got blown over in the wind. The wind was due to be much more severe the following day. We were concerned, but our minds were put at ease when Graeme and Terry spoke to the race organiser who said that only a couple of miles were run on the promenade as it was mostly in town, and contrary to the weather reports the wind was actually going to die down and was going in the opposite direction to that on the weather reports... it was a tailwind bringing you home. Fab, I thought.... I now don't need to consider the promenade ... we don't run on enough of it to be of concern.

The next day, getting up we realised the wind was actually really bad. Today was going to be tough! Oh well, I thought... I've done enough weight training to battle against any wind.... I'll be fine!

The start was a bit of a dodgy affair... people aiming in one direction, then we were told to turn around. The race organiser advised us that we were supposed to be starting in one direction but the sand would cause us some problems so the direction for the beginning was changed. Sand? What did he mean? Why was sand a problem?

So, we were off fairly quickly and I settled into my 10.40mm pace more or less straight away. Kerry had shot off, but then was just ahead for quite some time... so I knew she was sticking to her pace very well too. The wind was pretty strong, but manageable... sometimes blowing in your face, sometimes pushing you in the right direction.

Very soon we seemed to be hitting the 3 mile drinks station.... water in cups (I hate that), however Terry was getting bottled water for us at some point, so I wasn't overly concerned. I took a cup, drank it all (while having to walk) and then we were off again. My miles consistently 10.33 - 10.40. We had a bit of a run around town and then we were running back towards the start... we saw the 25 and 26 mile markers and thought "I wish!"

At 6.5 miles there was another water station... I was over the moon as was feeling dehydrated already. I took 2 cups and my second lot of shot bloks (I was taking 2 shot bloks every 3 miles). Just after this point, a marshall directed us back to where we had started the race. I looked at Graeme puzzled... I thought this part had been changed because of problems with sand!

We turned onto the promenade and were hit with gusts of wind and sand that stung like a thousand needles against my arms, legs, neck and face. Instinctively I hid behind a wall and was followed by Graeme and 2 women. It was clear after 10 or 20 seconds that this wasn't all of a sudden going to improve... we were going to have to make a run for it. Running through all you could hear was people shouting "Arrrgghhhhh". We kept going... when was it going to stop?

A mile later, I had resorted to walking. I couldn't breathe, my skin stung, my eyes were hurting and every time I gritted my teeth, more sand was ground between them. It was horrendous. Everyone around was swearing really loudly and holding their hands up to their faces to try and shield against the sand. I felt like I was doing MDS, not Fleetwood! I took my vest off and wrapped it around my head to try and get some sort of respite.

This went on for around 2.5 miles, and then the sand stopped. The wind pushed against our backs and we ran with it while we could. I think at this point I did a 10 minute mile, but was trying not to go too fast in case I payed for it later.

So, we're still getting blown along the promenade and it's 10 miles now.... surely it wasn't much more on here... after all, the race organiser said it wasn't much on here. Then I suddenly realised ... dammit, I'd forgotten to take my gels at 9 miles. I took them now and winced as gel and sand wasn't a great eating combination. I was so thirsty... where was the next water station?

At about 10.5 miles we came off the promenade and into the town. Great... the wind had dropped and I stopped to empty the huge stone from my shoe... quite a lot of sand was in there too. The other foot seemed fine so I didn't bother sorting that one out. Where is the water station? I'm so dehydrated it's awful.

At 11 miles, the wonderful Terry stood on one side of a fench holding out a bottle of Volvic. I could have kissed him. I was so thirsty I drank almost all of the 500ml straight away... a mistake, I know, but I was parched. The water swished around my stomach and made me feel rather yukky. Graeme suddenly took my concentration away from feeling sick as he said "What's that?"... "That" was a sign saying we were going back onto the promenade. You have GOT to be kidding, I thought... nope.... that's where we were going!

I was livid... so the race organiser had lied to us... why? was he scared nobody would turn up if they knew they would have to run on the windy promenade. I would have still turned up, but mentally I would have prepared myself. I didn't feel prepared for this at all!

Finally at 13 miles there was another "cup" water station (6.5 miles away from the last one). I filled my bottle up. This is where we saw the race leader. He looked absolutely hacked off. We asked how much of the race was on the promenade.... a few profanities later and we realised the rest of it was to be done here. He said it was impossible to run in.... he was walking and looked very annoyed about the whole thing.

Dammit... I'd forgotten to take my gels again... I took them now. I wondered if this was worth the bother. I was still on for a 4:50 marathon time here, but I wasn't enjoying it. This wasn't a marathon, it was an endurance run. I told Graeme that the next time I saw Terry I was going to drop out unless things improved.

Terry finally came into view just before 14 miles. What should I do? Maybe I should carry on? Yes... I'll carry on. As I was running I looked ahead... people were running in all directions, the ones coming towards us were all walking... heads down fighting against the wind. Did I really want to carry on? What would I achieve? A medal... who gives a damn about a medal... if I stop now, I won't need to have 2 or 3 weeks of recovery getting over this horrendous event. If I stop now I can capitalise on this as a fantastic training run and then do my normal weeks training with no ill effects. I had had cramp in my calves and hamstrings for the last mile... maybe that's something that needs addressing in training.... so I have learnt something today after all!

Decision made, I turned around and left Graeme to it. I have no regrets.
He finished in 4:48.... a sterling effort in the wind and after no training at all. I don't know how he does it.