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Part 4 – Rock Rock Till You Drop
Three miles looks a hell of a long way when it’s laid out in front of you, but I gradually reeled it in. All too often I gave in to the walk demon, knowing full well that I wasn’t pushing myself to the very limit, but somehow not feeling the need to. The freely flailing poles were giving little support now, and I resorted to jamming my face deeper into the hole to provide some extra support. I could feel a chafe spot developing on my chin, but it was a necessary evil.
As we reached Hove prom, the crowds got deeper, and the support was truly fantastic. Looking back, I think part of my slight disappointment with the race was that I couldn’t fully appreciate the support and really interact with the crowd, because I was so preoccupied with my hardware issues.
Past the 24 mile mark, and the inevitable happened. With a clang and a bounce, the left-hand pole finally loosed its moorings and fell to the floor. At 6 ft long it was too long for me to deal with, so I had to ask a spectator to pull it out of the top and leave it by the roadside. I was now coming in on a wing and a prayer. If the other pole went, I would be less stick of rock and more flaccid sausage. I had to hold up the front of the costume by hand for the rest of the race.
As always, the end game is a blur in the memory. Somehow I made it to the final stages, then suddenly I was looking down the lens of Sweder’s camera. Snap captured, he still had time for a high five and another roar, and I knew I was nearly home and dry. 800 m, 400 m, 200 m, these are surely some of the best sights in life. One final hairy moment as I had to judge whether I would fit under the finish gantry; I edged to the side of the clock and ducked for good measure. And it was done. Chip time 4:43; 3 minutes faster than last year, and a mere 57 minutes outside my PB.
Despite the organisers’ claimed streamlining of the finish area, the post-race was as chaotic as last year and I was stuck in a jam, still in costume, and lacking the willpower to boldly strike out for the exit. Fortunately the cavalry appeared in the shape of Chris and Ben, who’d avoided the crowds at the run-in and made straight for the repatriation area in excellent time. We cleared a small space and got me out of the outfit, then gradually lugged the monstrosity up the steps to road level. As we gently wound our way back towards the station, carrying this thing between us like a corpse, I realised that a decision had to be made regarding its fate. Drag it all the way home, only for it to rot in the loft and be thrown out in five years’ time? No, let’s be sensible. The municipal skips along Marine Parade stated “no large items”, but we felt that an exception was merited. We said a word of farewell over the mortal remains, removed the race number for posterity, and committed my companion to the hands of Brighton & Hove local council.
The train journey back to Redhill was a good way to unwind, and restorative Powerade and malt loaf were applied. I managed the hour’s drive home with surprisingly few problems, leading me to conclude that this was indeed the easiest of my four marathons to date. My good recovery has continued, and I was back out on the road again by the Friday for a gentle couple of miles, whereas in previous years my runners have gone to the back of the cupboard for a good month post-race.
So there we have it. A crazy day, an undeniably great fundraising total, and yet somehow not 100% satisfying. I guess that must be put down to the costume problems taking the edge off my enjoyment of the run and of the overall spectacle. But paradoxically those problems were all part of the effort, and had it all gone smoothly I might not have been any better off. Now a couple of weeks out, that weirdness has subsided, I do have a sense of a job well done, and perhaps most encouragingly, I’m already thinking about challenges to come.
Huge thanks as always to the community here for ongoing support, to Fran and Andy and Tom and Sweder on the day for good company and much-needed jelly babies, and to everyone who sponsored me.
Rock on.
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