Three Forts Challenge

I awoke early Sunday morning for what was technically an ultra but let's cut the s***, more an overzealous marathon - though foggy judgement would later make more of an ultra of it than I had at first hoped. As is the norm on race day my mind was equal parts excitement and trepidation, but for once more the mileage to and from, not of the race itself. The 160 mile round trip would be the first drive of my new car, so fittingly the aim of the day was to make it around unscathed.

Fortunately...sorry frustratingly, there had been a mix up with the car insurance in so far as I was the only one covered. Therefore my beloved girlfriend would not be able to drive (the new shiny car) around the course to support me en route. Along country lanes, around blind corners, through narrow sections of road, none of this would be possible. The car would then have to stay where I parked it. In the undisturbed safety of the car park. Such a shame!

Joking aside, she never misses a race and is just the best support a runner could wish for. When she tweets notice of early rises and wet and windy days out supporting her boyfriend's endeavours for self-worth, I can imagine those reading are thinking, "god that poor girl". As though I'm in some way dragging her out by her ponytail. I am not, it is all done willingly. Isn't it woman! 

The automatic wipers taking a break

Driving down, the weather was ghastly. Wet, windy, foggy, grey, very English. No big whoop for me as a runner, you got to love those elements, but I did feel for my girlfriend having to wait around for four hours in a sports ground in Worthing. Oh well, added impetus to crack on and get a sub-four. 

Upon arrival, dashing for cover at the registration tent, it dawned on me (not for the first time) that I don't in fact own a waterproof running jacket. Everyone around me was wearing one and I couldn't help but question myself. Was it because I'm the world's greatest procrastinator and every time I search 'waterproof jackets' on-line, I can't part with £100+ for something I don't have much use for in Central London (please ignore the £100 Salomon S-Lab race vest below - boy needs water when he's running) or was it simply that I feel no need to have one? Looking around again, everyone was wearing trail shoes bar me, I guess because this was clearly a trail marathon. Surprisingly these omissions made me a tad anxious, having not run the course before, I questioned whether I was being lackadaisical about the race conditions. Oh well, into the unknown and calmed by the old pre-race start adage 'Do not compare your insides with the outsides of those around you' (we're not talking intestines vs facial features here) I made way to commence. 

Sans trail shoes and a waterproof jacket ahead of the wet trail race

The field was fairly small with around 300 marathoners. Despite the conditions the mood was relatively upbeat (whenever is it not with runners?) and with a jolly countdown from the race representatives the herd made their way across the grass to begin the 3km climb to the brilliantly named Cissbury Ring. Single file for most of the way, I was happy to sit back and get accustomed to the slippery clay surface, keeping to a pace one would aim for at Beachy Head, a race of similar ascent. 

Head down and concentrated for 27 miles of hills

On the first descent it was the usual story where runners tore passed me at breakneck speed, I myself holding back and conserving the impact on my quads. On the ascent I'd catch them up and take them ahead of the next descent. It seems to work for me to ease up running downhill, keeping the legs fresh and being able to climb strongly where running strides are more controlled going up than coming down. I tend to perform well in the later stages of marathons/ultras, passing those from earlier miles. Whether I can get away with pushing it more at the start is something I'm looking to experiment with though. My humble gains in running over recent years have come about in part from race experience, knowing what pace to run at and how to best approach the ups and downs both physically and mentally. I'm still learning, I doubt I'll ever stop.

Quite a hilly one

The course was primarily an out-and-back (to Devil's Dyke - again brilliant nameage) with a loop in between, which allowed for position counting as those in front passed by from the turn-a-round at eleven miles. Foggy as it was I calculated myself to be in 25th position, knowing that I generally have a strong second half, this was all very exciting. The aid station volunteers I must mention were heroic that day, the conditions up on the downs were unforgiving, much tougher to handle when standing around dishing out jelly babies.

Running back toward the Adur River was refreshingly downhill though rather blustery. Passing those running in the opposite direction, it was difficult to acknowledge their well wishing and support, forced into a grimacing head-down demeanour. Feeling fresh, sixteen miles clocked by nicely as the route took us around the loop for an incredible climb to Chanctonbury. 

The girlfriend passing the time artfully with a well deserved nap in the car

With June's 100 miler vast approaching, it was a good opportunity to familiarise with part of the South Downs Way I'll be covering between mile 55 and 65 of that race. In reality, such was the limited visibility I am none-the-wiser for having ran it at Three Forts. Again, such was the visibility that I really do hope that the following does not happen again on this stretch of the route come June. I wouldn't think I'll have the mental clarity to deal with such a mishap after 100km of running!

Since the turn-a-round I had kept up counting down my position as I passed runners, and come mile nineteen, I had myself in 15th place. Out on my own, and with all the decision making to be made on what paths to take, I made an error and found myself running down a narrow trail that just didn't seem right. As I progressed with thoughts of 'to turn-around or not to turn-around' I thought best to just keep going in search of a runner, but one didn't show itself. Now a good half mile or so down the trail I came across some Sunday strollers who when asked, advised that they'd not been passed by any runners. Aaaargh! Thanking them for confirmation, I turned and sprinted the way I'd come to find myself back out at the crossroads I'd wrongly assessed, with a group of runners passing me by. What a douche...

Mentally this killed my mojo having been on for, who knows, close to top ten-ing and a very comfortable sub-four, I was just furious with myself. The wasted energy from the extra mile or so, and speedy retreat hadn't helped either. After a couple of miles of being a brat, I calmed down with the knowledge that such a setback had been a useful experience and something that I'd have to deal with far better if this were a longer race.

Still on to crack four hours I pushed ahead, made up a couple of places, though finally finished rather fittingly at 4:00:22 - what a plank! The dejection was rather evident as I crossed the line.

F***, s***, what a c***

Self-pity aside, the Three Forts Challenge was incredible. In a world of corporate money-spinning events, at £25 this race could possibly be the best running pennies can buy. I'll certainly be back next year with a laminated OS map and compass!

The car proving a trusty crew vehicle - For its seating, shelter and wipeability

Three Forts Challenge 2015 / 04:00:22 / 27th place (maybe 13th without the mishap)