I’ve always said that it’s easier to run a fast marathon than a slow one. I don’t mean it’s easy to run a two hour marathon. I mean it’s easier to suffer more pain and get a marathon done in four hours, than it is to draw the pain out over six. However until this weekend at the Endurancelife Suffolk coastal trail marathon, I’d never actually tested this out for myself…
In October last year, my brother-in-law, Lee, suggested we run a trail marathon. We’d just run a trail half and really enjoyed it. But I said no. “Not sure my legs can run a marathon without consequences, at any speed”. According to Lee, I only get injured because I do too much training. If I did less, and ran slower on the day, I would be fine. And there was a race on an autumn Saturday in Dunwich which meant we could have a weekend away in Southwold with my sister. We booked the race.
My training was intentionally half-hearted compared to what I’ve done for marathons in the past. I planned to run 30 miles a week, do weekly long (10+ miles) runs including a few longer ones, and strength training. Over the summer, it was so hot, I struggled to hit the 30 miles and walked a lot during my long runs. Lee did almost nothing. Once I realised he wasn’t training I stopped worrying I wasn’t doing enough and did even less. In the end I did two long trail runs: one 18 miler (okay 16 plus walking), and one 20 miler (I think I did actually run most of that).
Lining up on Saturday, I wasn’t worried. The start area was a patch of uncut grass with a few portaloos, a coffee van, a big tent for the bag drop and massage area, and an inflatable arch. The field was small but committed – a few ultra types and regular marathoners, but also a woman running her first marathon and a group running in memory of a loved one. No-one was looking too serious and everyone was talking and relaxed.
There were four distances on offer on various loops of the course: 10k half loop (actually 6.3 miles on the day), half marathon loop (14.3 miles), marathon two loops (26.5 miles), and ultra two and a half loops (32.6 miles). The marathoners and ultra marathoners started at 8:30am. Please note: all races should start this early – enough time beforehand to eat and take care of business but not enough time to get nervous or hungry again. It was a gorgeous morning; bright blue skies, fresh breeze, and a high tide (more of that later).
On the stony track from Dunwich, Lee was policing my pace. I was aiming for five hours, he was thinking six. We slowed to a hike up a slope and I mentally adjusted to regular walks. This would be good! Time to admire the scenery. As we wandered north through the woods we got our first glimpses of the sea over the marsh to the east. There were cows in the fields and gulls calling above the treetops. We fell in with an ultra runner who was a birder and spotted a few stonechats on the reeds. Thonking along the boardwalk by the Dunwich River, I recalled the last time I’d run there and seen a bittern. The miles were ticking off happily.
Re-routed due to the Dunwich Heath wildfires, the new course had only half a mile of beach running, which Lee and I had planned to hike. We walked and drank and ate our first gels. The wind was whipping out to sea and the waves were high up the beach. I got hit by the spray as we squeezed by the beach huts and we joked about stopping for a swim. A ha ha. In the car park, the path was dotted with puddles I could just about jump over. Then we looked to our left and realised that the tide had completely submerged 50 metres of path. I remembered the pre-race briefing: “just run straight through the water you will be fine”. Yes we really did have to run through the sea, four miles into a marathon. (It was only mid-calf deep and actually quite fun)
The next section was less fun. Out east into a 20 mph headwind along the river’s edge, at the bailey bridge we headed straight into the estuary along a raised bank, sloping and not wide enough for two, with water either side and tufted rutted grass underfoot. Running on this hellpath was two miles of looking down and picking your feet up carefully while hunched over against the wind. I took zero photos which is a shame but in all honesty I was too busy trying not to hit the deck and/or fall in the water.
When we finally reached solid ground, we straightened our spines and rejoiced, safe in the knowledge that we would not have to do that section for loop two. We rejoined the main path. The next sections through Walberswick Common, along the Sandlings Walk and down through Dunwich Forest are my favourite parts of this course. I’ve walked them a few times and they are gorgeous and easy to run on – flat and rolling, solid underfoot, varied and sheltered from the wind. But instead of finding it easier, Lee was calling every incline a hill and sounding worried about how things were going. They were going badly. We hadn’t hit 10 miles and already his wheels were starting to fall off.
We signed up to run this race together and I had no plans to go it alone, so I chose my words carefully. Was he going to be ok to run the second loop? If it were me, feeling like he was, I would definitely have dropped out. My need to avoid injury is more important than finishing a race. But Lee was determined to finish, and I was along for the ride. It is tough to have these conversations at 10 miles, knowing you still have 16 to go. But at that point Lee was running long sections and I felt fine. Maybe it would get easier?
It helped that the forest was magic and I used the walk breaks to take photos, look around and generally revel in feeling good. As we neared Dunwich again the path narrowed to a single track and we were being overtaken by half marathoners. It was tricky to manage the walking and stepping aside but I was confident that, once we got onto loop two, Lee would feel a mental boost. I certainly felt good to turn away from the start/finish and begin the final loop. I don’t do well with loops, generally. I try to think as little as possible about how I’m feeling on the first loop and only start paying attention to that on the second go around.
Unfortunately, the second didn’t start well. Walk breaks had become run breaks. Lee needed to stop regularly to stretch as glute aches became calf pains and then quad cramps. I joined in for allyship, doing what must be my only ever mid-marathon squats and calf stretches. With hindsight this may have been annoying. We swapped positions with another marathoner, Vanessa, as she walked and we shuffled past, then she passed us as we walked again. We chatted with passing dog walkers. We ate gels and chocolate bars and crisps. Reaching the beach car park for the second time, the sea had receded and we refilled our water bottles at the penultimate aid station. My stomach growled as the watch hit four and a half hours. I’d never run for this long before.
As we edged past 20 miles, all I could think about was how far we had to go. More than two parkruns. My legs were not complaining, but my stomach had an odd empty feeling I didn’t trust. My body was not telling me to eat, it was telling me to run as fast as I could to get this over with. I couldn’t do that, but I could eat, so I ate a ginger nut and a handful of crisps and walked for a few minutes to see what happened. My guts felt better (phew!) but my head started to go. I kept calculating and re-calculating how long we might be out there (90 minutes – a whole football game…) and the Audrey Hobert song Silver Jubilee was playing over and over in my head.
For the next couple of miles, Lee was apologetic and I was silent. At one point I said I just want to run. Me too, said Lee, I just can’t. When this happened in my first marathon, I ran on and my husband walked it in by himself. I’m not going to lie, I was tempted. But I didn’t. I’ma live it up like my life starts now.. blink and you could miss it it’s overrrrr. Lee is a fast walker and he was walking about 13 minute miles. To keep up, I had to do a run 10 steps, walk ten steps pattern. It was extreme Jeffing and I made it my new challenge, almost running but not quite.
After a couple of near stumbles in the forest, Lee was still managing to pick his feet up and put them one in front of the other. We hit the 3 miles to go aid station and the volunteer asked me if I was enjoying it. She did not enjoy my reply. Another ginger nut, another water refill. 45 minutes to go. I texted my sister to come pick us up and allowed myself to visualise a beer. It would soon be over. On the final stretch I noticed some burned trees and cleared patches from the wildfire. Odd that I hadn’t thought about the fire once, when I’d found it such an upsetting story in the summer. Running marathons really is peak self-involvement.
We crossed the line in a weak jog, to applause from a couple of volunteers. We were given a medal, a protein flapjack, and the gift of not having to walk anymore. Liz picked us up and we headed back to Southwold for a hot bath and dry socks. I would really recommend this race – it’s beautiful, flat and easy (for a trail race) and well organised. You have to carry some kit but nothing too annoying. And it was pretty unlucky we got our feet wet.
