CTS Stage 7: Suspense in Sussex

Today is the first time I'm stood on a start line feeling good for several months. After pushing through a rough winter of training (despite the being milder than it could have been) and dealing with a couple of quite upsetting injuries I finally feel okay and that maybe I can fight fit on this one. The injuries have been kept at bay finally and I matched my personal best time on my run home on Monday, which is a great indicator considering I've been at best nearly half an hour off it for months.

So I feel good. I decide to use a different tact today and I put myself near the front of the start line. There's quite a few more people here than normal so I figure I may have to pace fast for a while but I won't get caught up jostling in the crowd and it may coax me into setting a faster pace to begin with that I can hopefully carry through the day. Basically, instead of the conservative, slow approach I've been using at the last few races I'm going out hard and hoping to hang on rather than crash hard later. Fingers crossed.

So after a joint countdown we all set off down the slight gradient of the hill to the Birling Gap National Trust shop and car park. I know the area a bit as I've come down here twice before. The last time I had a great day at the South Downs Way fifty mile race and the time before I caught the train down after work and just ran along the downs for forty miles overnight. As soon as I get to the car park I realise it's the place where I stopped for the toilet just before the sun went down and things got real that evening. It's a funny memory so as I round the corner and head up the slope behind it I'm grinning away.

As expected, the pace here nearer the front is much quicker than I'm used to starting with, but it doesn't feel uncomfortable so I'm happy to keep going with it.

I go through a gate to the left and over the South Downs Way and look ahead to find myself bang on the seven sisters. These are a set of seven hills framing the coastline atop dramatic chalk cliffs.

I don't know why I'm surprised to see them, I knew they were here, and I knew they were unforgiving so I shouldn't be surprised this is where we are to start the race. I guess I either forgot or was trying to block it out. Either way I'm here now cresting the first sister and slam down the other side at pace. If you can't beat them join them I guess, and I'm not one to let a couple of hills get in the way of me having a good time.

The gradients are quite steep so as soon as I'm at the bottom of the first one I try to use a little of my momentum to start me up the other side then slow to a walk. I intend to push it today but there are still times to slow and a hill is definitely one of them, irrelevant to how early in the race I may be. I still keep a quick powerwalk and soon enough am at the top of the next one.

As I go over the top of the second sister there is a lovely view down to an estuary type inlet. The sun is out and I actually find I'm really warm as it glints back at me reflecting on the water. It's currently quite a calm morning as well so as an start pacing it down the other side of the hill I feel quite a sense of relief come over me as the first few kilometres are done, I'm going at a great place I'm happy with, the weather looks like it will be good and I just feel like I'm firing on all cylinders.

A few of us stop at the top for a photo before we make our way down and at the bottom I stop again for a couple more. I start fiddling with settings as I'm using a new phone and camera then remind myself I'm here for a run not a photoshoot and tut tut my way back on track.

As I pass through a gate I notice that there is a sign pointing upwards to the South Downs Way over the hill. In the briefing today they did mention that we would be directed off the official route and down the concrete path below. The path is nice and flat so I pick up a bit of pace and look around me, noticing that I recognise this section as well, although during the night section I was going along the higher section and wondering what all the drivers were going to make of me arriving at the main road in the middle of the night.

Today I don't have the same wonder as it's nice and bright and there is a marshal directing people across the road. It's quite a busy A road so I do take care crossing as the drivers are hooning down here pretty fast. Luckily there is a break just after I arrive so I can nip across without a wait.

Over the other side it's a right turn after going through a gate and I leave the South Downs Way behind. There is a quick steep section where I see people walking for the first time so I put my head down and join them.

At the top is the first wooded section after the wide open land of the seven sisters which is quite nice to break it up a little. It's also nice to have a bit of cover as I've been busting for a wee since the start line so I meekly toddle off behind a tree.

That done I take a left turn down the farm road with a slight incline and some nice views peeking out from behind the trees. There is a bit of an incline for quite a while but as it's not too much I keep pushing to attempt to keep up the momentum while I still feel strong.

There is a sharp downhill for a bit to the first checkpoint, and then at the other side there is a small flat section through some fields. Just up ahead I see someone I think I know from a couple of races where we seem to keep bumping into each other. I can't quite tell if it's him or not but from behind it's a fairly striking resemblance. I push on to try to start catching up but he's going quite quickly so I'm really struggling to not lose ground on him let alone gain any. It doesn't help that I'm still trying to get a custard cream down me from the checkpoint.

We approach a gate onto a path that doubles back on itself and at this point it looks like I might see the guys face. He reaches the gate...goes through...turns around and it's not him. I'm knackered now from trying to catch the guy so I slow down as I reach the gate and let the next guy past. I finally swallow the last dejected bite of my custard cream.

At the end of the path alongside the field there begins a climb. I try to keep up a bit of pace but have to be careful. The gradients is just in between that which you can run a bit slower than normal and the point where it becomes inefficient energy-wise to run. I settle for mostly running and some walking.

I check my phone at this point to see how I'm doing and find I'm a bit over ten kilometres in in a bit over an hour. That's not too bad a pace for me when it's flat so it's a huge boost of encouragement considering it’s pretty much only been hills so far.

I catch up to another guy who is doing the same and we get chatting. He's not quite feeling it today and says he normally starts enjoying it by this point but hasn't quite hit his stride today. It transpires this is a bit of training for the North Downs Way hundred later in the year and he's done a few before including now building up to the Grand Union Canal Race, just under a hundred and fifty miles so nice and casual. We get talking about previous races and plans for the rest of the year.

The upside to this is that my pace increases as we run together. It's the first chance I've had to talk to someone so far today. I guess being a little faster than my normal pace, people are a bit less inclined to chat and more keen on pacing themselves. Or maybe they're just not terribly chatty today, I don't know. Either way, it's nice to talk to someone for a bit and he has quite a quick pace so it's speeding me up.

We also have gone over the top of the hill so after half an hour of mixing running and hiking it's great to open up again with a fair bit of pace downhill through the back of Friston forest. We go through a logging area and find the first puddles of the day. Despite loads of room to avoid it I manage to sink my shoe in up to the ankle of mud. Oh well.

We take a right turn here and find ourselves facing down a wall of other runners coming back the other way. This must be the out and back section they mentioned in the briefing. It's nice to see some smiling faces, though there are some looking very serious as well. I point out that I'm surprised to be still feeling quite good despite going faster than I normally would. As we get a little further on we see people eating and realise this must be the checkpoint, then after a really steep but short downhill we see the flag.

We stop to fill up. He fills both bottles then leaves while I fill mine up. I quickly grab another custard cream then head off to try to follow him then decide against it, considering the fact his pace is just that little bit faster.

Instead I check my own pace again and see that I'm now a bit over twenty kilometres in and around two hours ten minutes down. That's exactly the same pace I was at for the first ten kilometres so I decide to keep checking this to try to pace a bit more effectively this time, rather than my normal strategy of trying not to look at time and distance.

Extrapolating my current pace to fifty kilometres I should be there at five hours and twenty five minutes. Take on board the fact that I'll definitely not hold the same pace I'll be that bit slower again by that point. Fifteen minutes making it five hours forty? Even that is relatively unrealistic but I decide to aim for the first time so that hopefully I'll get there in closer to the second time.

I then try to work out what my finish time may be based on these plans and realise I forgot.to check how long the race is today. Suffolk was only fifty three kilometres but Northumberland was fifty eight so I've no idea where today will sit. I really want to get home under the published average of six hours thirty three minutes but don't know if that's possible.

At this point my little brain starts to hurt so I decide to forget about it for a while. I see another runner ahead and catch him on a slight incline.

The first thing he says is that he only runs on events. I warily start conversing about the day but he instead proceeds to rattle off a list of events he has done or is planning on doing in the near future. I like hearing about other people's races and experiences on them but for some reason this just comes off as showboating rather than a conversation so I carry on ahead and let him muse over his own greatness alone. I'm not much interested in hearing him tell me so aim towards finding someone else to chat to.

The trail heads through a lovely section of forest here but as I'm trying to escape Mr Fancy-Pants I'm feeling in a rush with him just behind me so when I get to a confusing junction I carry on ahead to another trail that just doesn't look right heading deeper into the forest.

Lucky I'm keeping an eye out as I see some tape hanging off a tree just through the other side of the woods I'm about to run into. It's not on this path but on the dirt road just before where I turned, so I quickly head back through to the correct road. It's a quick dozen metres before another sign takes me over a stile and into an adjoining field.

I do a little mental check of my body and find that I'm still feeling ace so decide to run this little hill over the field. I reach the other side and go over another stone stile to find a steeper little hill and decide to go a bit easier on this one and just run to halfway before taking a walking break. I see a line of a few others doing the same ahead of me. I turn around and luckily can't see Mr Fancy-Pants.

At the top there's a quick road crossing then down a dirt road to find the half marathon runners coming straight towards me from the opposite direction. There is a marshal between us directing everyone through a gate and into the next field.

There are huge amounts of people now bunched together. The half marathoners are in large bunches and all generally look pretty happy with themselves so I immerse myself in the middle of them wholeheartedly in the hope it will run off and I'll stay on my high.

Most of them barely notice I've joined their ranks and their quicker pace spurs me on as well. We go through another gate and across the high top of a long but narrow field. At the far end it's a right turn down the slope of it and I can't help myself barrelling down it passing at least a dozen runners. Surprisingly I hold this pace at the bottom and keep the momentum all the way up the other side to the beginning of some woods.

As soon as we get into them there is a right turn up and out the other side over to the same height as before entering the last little gully. I don't mind though, it was a nice little detour.

As I come out of the woods however, I see a massive group of people bunched up. My first thought is that it might be the ten kilometres people waiting to start as everyone looks confused. But that doesn't make sense as I'm fairly sure the start line for everyone is the same today.

Then a horrible thought crosses my mind. What if we're lost? What if we took a wrong turn somewhere and now we're on the half marathon course? What if after going so well my race and run are ruined? I get flashbacks to this happening in the Gower race and how annoying it was.

Then I look around a bit more and see that's not the case at all. There's just a stone fence that we all need to get over and the half marathon field are all still quite bunched together. It looks like it's going to take me ten minutes just to climb over the fence and I start hopping about from foot to foot. 

Luckily one of the guys ahead sees my race number and shouts out that if I'm doing the Ultra I should jump ahead. I gratefully move up the line and shout back that it's going to be a long day for me. Unfortunately I don't think I'm quite close enough to the front that everyone has heard the conversation so it just looks like I'm pushing in. I guiltily look around and get myself over the gate.

Once over the other side there is a nice little steep downhill section so I hoon it down passing several half marathoners, all of whom give me a sideways glance wondering what the hell I'm doing and probably thinking I'm going to pay hard for it later with sore legs and knees in particular. I don't care. I'm having fun. Though I look a bit like a basket case.

We take a small uphill which is then followed by a nice kilometre of steady downhill to help bring my pacing and time back up. It also marks the point where we cross nearby the finish line again. We reach the coastline and the cliffs again and then start coming back down the section we went up right at the beginning. 

When we get back down to the Birling Gap car park we instead take a right turn up across a hill over the top behind the finish line. Just as I go through the gate I'm passed by a half marathon runner who has a large portable speaker blaring out music for all and sundry to hear. I very nearly shout at him how rude it is, but bite my tongue instead. I think it's great if someone wants to listen to music to get through a race, but races are specifically the only time I choose not to listen to music so I can enjoy everything around me so I don't see why I should be subjected to Rihanna's latest. Luckily he is going a fairly quick pace so I'm out of earshot pretty quickly.

There is a downhill once again before a climb up to the top of Birling Gap to find the lighthouse standing proud, though it's a bit arduous to get up to it. At the top we cross the path and there is a great downhill section overlooking the Beachy Head lighthouse perched dramatically on a rock at the base of the cliffs, seemingly just floating there. It's a great downhill section, but what goes down must go back up (I think...) so at the bottom it's straight back up to the top of Beachy Head, which is much higher than the one we just came down.

I try to carry a little momentum into the hill, but I know this is going to be a long walk here so just settle into it to try to not lose too much speed walking. I take the opportunity to check my timing and see that I'm at thirty kilometres and three hours eleven minutes. Which means I'm still holding onto the pace I was hoping to at the half marathon point. It's another great boost, which is exactly what I need to keep the hike fast up to the top of Beachy Head. 

It's also a great chance to actually take a bit more of a look at my surroundings. The cliffs really are dramatic here and by the time I reach the top it's a two hundred metre drop down to the lighthouse below. I don't stick around though, this is a number one suicide spot in the world so I'm keen to keep moving as I'm getting vertiginous if nothing else.

Once I hit the top of the hill I start a tentative jog to catch my breath before breaking into a normal pace. There's then I slight right turn to stay on the side of the cliffs and a really steep descent. In the space of seven hundred and fifty metres I drop a hundred metres, which is quite a gradient on tired legs. 

They're not too tired though, so instead of playing safe and slow, I decide to throw myself down the hill. I move at one of the fastest paces I think I've ever run this far into a race. My arms are flailing like a madman and I'm getting even crazier looks than I did before but goddammit I'm having fun and I don't care.

I get to the bottom feeling a bit crazy, with a heart rate to match, but I'm grinning ear to ear so it was worth it. Plus I think I've made up a bit of the time I've lost going up the hill in the first place. It's quickly lost again though as I'm straight into another hill, but as I've had such an adrenaline fuelled couple of minutes I tackle this with gusto. Or at least something half resembling gusto.

There's a small dip again on the other side and I suddenly notice I'm back at the entry point to the South Downs Way. I haven't been back here since arriving at nine in the evening for a night run so as earlier in the day it brings back fond memories. Just beyond there is the next checkpoint.

I dib in and say thanks, grab a custard cream and carry on as one of the marshals points out I'm one of the ultra competitors, seemingly surprised. I am guessing not many of us have been passing through for a while as, as far as I can tell, I've only been surrounded by half marathoners since I joined them ages ago.

There is now quite a steep section through some woods. Because there are trees around it's a bit hard to tell how long it will go on for so I just put my head down and try to walk fast. The ground is very severely cambered, making it hard to move with a normal gait. The trails all day have actually been quite cambered, now that I think about it.

Having an unbalanced gait with one tight ITB and overpronating more with that leg than the other it always makes me nervous when there is a camber, but today it does still feel okay so I'm hopeful that the worst of that is over. Great timing to come through the other side of an injury just in time for summer.

I see a guy run past me, barely going any faster than I am given the gradient, and he covered in Ironman and Compressport. I'm not much of a gear snob, despite it being my job, but certain looks just scream archetypes. This guy barely keeping pace with me over a much shorter distance and running up a hill he should clearly be walking just suggests he's the stereotype of 'all the gear, no idea'.

Or maybe I'm just being a dick. I chastise myself for thinking such things. Then a wind gusts up his shorts, revealing the fact that under his five inch split shorts, instead of being compression shorts as I'd guessed, they're actually compression quad sleeves. 

He doesn't have undies on.

Given we're now running back in a westerly direction, the southerly breeze gives me an eyeful of his right buttock. I stand correct and no longer guilty. This is nearly as bad as the time a runner overtook me on a hill then farted in my face and pretended nothing had happened. That race was called the Steyning Stinger. If this guy farts I start to worry I'll have to call my race report the Sussex Splatter.

We reach the top of the hill and I get myself in front of the guy just to be safe. And to stop myself getting annoyed having to look at him, smugly thinking such attire is acceptable.

I check my pacing again at the top of the hill and see that I'm now at thirty five kilometres in three hours and fifty two minutes, which means I only have twenty five minutes to run five kilometres and stay on pace. Which is unlikely to happen, so I'm slightly deflated to know I won't quite hold onto my target. It's to be expected though, having just gone through some considerable undulations so I'm not surprised.

As we're a bit inland now though to head back to the finish and start the final ten kilometre lap I'm hoping this will be a bit flatter, maybe even downhill so I can make up a little bit of that time. As I round the corner and get a better view back towards Birling Gap I get a bit of hope that may well be the case.

There looks to be a straight line all the way back down to Birling Gap, and it looks to be all flat. I decide to make the most of it, as the underfoot conditions don't even look cambered. I pick up my feet, pick up my pace and away I trundle. 

I keep the pace fairly steady, though not too fast to keep a bit of energy in reserve for later. Three kilometres later I reach the road leading back down to the finish. I take a left turn and pace up even more as it's a concrete road and a bit of a steeper downhill. 

Checking my distance it looks to only be thirty nine or so kilometres in total so I'm surprised to see the finish flags just over the other side of the field next to this road. Then I see the line of runners snaking their way back up the hill I've just come down, one field removed and it makes a bit more sense. It was all a ruse to give a false sense of security. 

I take the turn back up the hill myself and see Ironman No-Undies up ahead, trying to chat up one of the others in the ultra. I try to keep the pace up to try to get over the top of this hill and continue making up time, but it is a bit steep so decide to push on to a trail crossing then walk, which I do.

I plod up to the top, where there is a right turn down the far side of the field. I check my pacing at the top and see I'm forty kilometres in and four hours, twenty five minutes deep so nearly back on pace. I'm fairly surprised by that as I though the pacing had slipped out of my fingers some time ago.

I head down the hill and at the bottom there is again a bunch of runners coming straight toward me, only this time it's the ten kilometre runners. We all join forces and turn back towards the finish line. It's a fairly flat couple of miles right the way back, even downhill slightly, so again I'm able to get a bit more pacing up.

On one of the small undulations I find the one mile to go sign and joke to some runners next to me it's cruel to give us the mental boost of being close right on an uphill section where we can't match it with a boost in pace. We get chatting and they ask if I'm doing the ultra. I say yes and ask them the same and they say they're only doing the ten. They seem almost embarrassed to say so, so I point out that ten kilometres is still ten kilometres and they're doing a good pace and we all plod along together for a bit. 

I also ask them how long the ten is, as I forgot to check, so that I can work out what my pacing realistically could be for the finish. They tell me it's seven point seven miles, which is longer than I was expecting and means the race will be that bit longer and I'll struggle to stay ahead of my best time of the series, of six hours and nineteen minutes.

This time I do go right up to the finish line before diverting down the path again, back down to the start line and Birling Gap car park behind it. I feel like I'm still going nearly as quick as when I started here a few hours ago, which does feel pretty nice after some hard races through the winter.

There's a lot more space this time around going up to meet the South Downs Way and go through the gate to the Seven Sisters. It's been great to have so many other runners around me for the past while, but it's also great to now have a bit of solitude.

I see a couple of others in the distance as I again go up and down the undulations of the sisters. I seem to get closer to them on the downhills then lose them again on uphills and flat. At one point I do pass another guy who I think I recognise from other races so I say hello and plod on. I also think he's beaten me at the other ones so I'm surprised to see him.

We're both passed by another guy as well who seems fairly chirpy, so I stick with him for a minute or two to chat. We've gone over the first two of the sisters when we see the right turn to leave the marathon course and head back inland. It's one long uphill. It's not too steep, but steep enough we decide to walk and talk rather than run it. I know I could be going faster at this point, but after focusing so solidly on pace for most of the day it's good to just have a bit of a break and a chat. Now all I need is the Kit Kat.

By the top I'm feeling quite good again, so as we take a couple of short turns and reach the checkpoint where we met the half marathon runners earlier, I decide not to stop at all and just dib my timing chip. There are about five other runners stood around chatting here as well, but I've got enough food and drink to see me through right to the end. As I've had  a bit of a break going up the last hill as well, I'd like to make up a bit of that time and am actually feeling all the better for it.

I go through the muddy field then the gate to the long narrow one I recognise from earlier. Again I go along the top of the field before chucking myself down the hill, nearly catching up to the next guy ahead of me as well, but I need a comfort break so instead of passing him I hang back until I reach the trees at the far side.

I quickly turn up through the trees again and come out onto the top of the field where there was the huge bunch up earlier. This time around it's deserted except for me and the other guy just ahead so there's no jostling to get over the fence. Once again I hoon down the slope on the other side and this time I do pass the guy ahead, grunting a hello as I pass.

I check my pacing and see that I am again slightly behind. There's a good downhill bit here, though, all the way back to the Birling Gap car park. As I'm going down I pass another guy who seems to be barely moving, so I'm unsure whether he's part of the race or just out for a jog. At the bottom of the hill I find another guy the same, only as I pass him at the car park, he looks up from his iPod to ask really loudly "Distance? Marathon?” I say ultra and he grunts and stares back at his iPod. I'm unsure of the purpose of the exchange, but wonder if he should wait for the other confused looking guy directly behind him.

Either way, I'm now making my way back up to the lighthouse and am pleased to see I'm at fifty kilometres in five hours thirty eight. It's only ten minutes behind the pace I set at Northumberland, one of my best, and that was flat so I'm fairly over the moon to still be doing so well here, this far into this race. I start to wonder if maybe I ill have my best time yet.

As I'm still not too sure how much is left though it's kind of hard to say. I grab my phone out again to try to work out how far I've got left then see that I'd not turned the screen off correctly a minute ago and it's starting changing the settings of its own accord. I check it's all in order and see that it is, but that it's changed one of the displays to tell me how far is left, so a handy mistake to have made. There's exactly five kilometres.

That give me forty minutes, for five kilometres to beat my time. Game on.

It's completely irrelevant whether I do beat the time or not as the conditions and distances have been completely different at each race, but it's a good mental game to play all the same. The guy I passed on the downhill earlier catches me back on the walk up and we start talking. He's feeling pretty good and just as I’m saying I feel good too I start to feel queasy.

It's a problem I seem to get on a lot of races, so one I really need to experiment with in terms of nutrition, but as these races are shorter distances it usually only happens right near the end where I can grin and bear it. I resolve to do exactly that, but as we've started running again back up to the lighthouse, I give it a couple of minutes and decide to walk up to the lighthouse instead to regain my composure. 

I reach the lighthouse and gingerly pick the pace back up. It feels okay so I choose to ignore my stomach and pace it down the other side of the hill. For the second time I try to keep some momentum going into the slope over the other side and go that bit further than needed before I stop to walk. Again there is a steep walk up to the top of Beachy Head.

I try to keep moving at a good clip and seeing the guy I was just chatting to just up ahead gives me a good marker to work from so I just try to keep my pace close to his and not fall behind, which works fairly well. The walking uphill also helps my stomach settle ever so slightly. By the top I'm glad to see the flag marking the checkpoint. Just as I crest the top, though, thinking that's the last of the uphill, I see that there is another small down then a small up before I get to take that turn. Typical.

There's nothing much else for it though and I make my way across to where I can see the last marshals grinning in the distance at the final top. I reach then, grin back and ask if I'm right it's a mile and a half to go. They concur, I dib in my chip and ignore the feed table and start the descent back to the finish. No time to lose, I'm at fifty two and a half kilometres in six hours flat, which gives me nineteen minutes to get down the final two and a half kilometres. 

Mentally, I know this bit will be easy as it's all downhill pretty much so I just try to up the pace to keep a couple of minutes buffer. I reach the bottom of the hill, where the slight undulation is, and pass the one mile to go sign. I carry on, wanting to stop but telling myself to just suck it up and carry on. 

I can't stand slogans along the lines of 'pain is just weakness leaving the body' or 'pain is temporary, glory is forever'. I know they work for a lot of people and kudos to anyone who find they help I've no issue with that, they just don't work for me personally. At this point though, I find myself actually thinking such things and have to laugh at my hypocrisy. That said, the version I'm telling myself is mainly variations on 'stop being a pussy, you'll be done in ten minutes'.

I go through the final wooded section and down to the finish line grinning away, having had an awesome run and a great day. I cross the line in six hours, seventeen minutes and six seconds.

Here's the tracking: