It’s a bit of a run. Most of it the horrible bit, but some nice stuff and a fairly good indication of how far I’ve come and how far I have to go.
Weather: perfect. Ish. The sun was just starting to give it a proper go but there was still enough cloud cover to keep the majority of the heat off.
Turn-out: Pretty good, but less than I expected. About three thousand. No, really, I expected a lot more. Perhaps it’s the wrong time of year.
Terrain: Ah. Now this is the kicker. Up and downy doesn’t cover it. For the first mile it is the veritable roller coaster – steep rises and falls. Not too bad. Then you hit the slope – two or three miles of steady uphill climb that doesn’t seem to end. Once you get to the top it gets a bit easier and it’s a steady downhill slope until you get to the last three miles which are a flat run to the finish.
The Run: Pre run hot dog goes down a treat as no-one can do 13.1 miles on two slices of toast. The resident DJ starts going on about a moments silence for all the bad stuff in the world, where people aren’t free to run. A bit mad and out there. Some people just have to find an agenda.
We are given the go ahead and within a couple of strides Tim, a friend of my sister and… yeah, me too, drops a cog and sets up a pace that neither her or I can keep up with. I get my head down and concentrate on keeping up with my sister.
The first few rises and falls are easily digestible, but I’m glad I went for shorts over trackies. It’s getting hot quick and a thick layer of sweat is gathering under the band of my running hat.
Two miles in and my legs are starting to become comfortable with the pace. We’re making good progress and dodging between runners, bearing down on a dalmation pushing a pram with music blaring out of its hidden speakers.
Then we hit the slope.
Sarah is ready for this. I thought I was, but running up Tong Hill in the dark is no comparison to this daylight monster. For one and a half miles I keep pace with my sister, pounding the ground rhythmically, pushing away from the earth with determination at every step. About one and a half miles ahead there’s a bend – I can surely make it to that. My right leg is starting to feel it a bit, so I try to swap emphasis for a while, just until we make the bend.
The bend comes… but the summit doesn’t. A similar looking stretch of road looms up before me, a tarmac strip of hurt. My sister doesn’t look like she’s feeling it, but I am having real pain issues. I stumble, lose pace and slow to a walk, telling her to go on without me like some kind of D-Day hero. All those who I’d passed before cruised slowly past me. I’d overstretched myself, trying to prove that I could keep to someone else’s pace and paid the price.
After about a mile I felt recovered enough to break into a gentle jog. Water couldn’t be far off and though I wasn’t going to break any best time records I could at least put in a decent show. As I approached the top of the hill, a chruch group were out singing ‘Walk in the light of the Lord’ with the word ‘Run’ substituted for ‘Walk’. Always nice to have encouragement.
In fact, that’s something I should mention: the encouragement on the Hastings Half is first class – people stand and cheer outside churches, pubs, their front doors – it’s a real event for the town. Bystanders rush forward with bowls of oranges or jelly babies (yes, someone could have poisoned them but for goodness sake have a little faith in human nature) and kids stand at the side of the road, hands extended for a running high five. It keeps you going.
At the water stop I completely muff two cups of water and only manage to grab the third by sheer luck. Half of it goes down my neck; the other half goes over my head. I scream as it is unexpectedly refreshing. The sun is just starting to make itslef known and I am overheating fairly regularly, like an old transit with a busted radiator. I’m behind a couple of Heart Foundation runners and a girl who can’t carry on but is making a good attempt at it. I’m about half way and have completely lost Tim and Sarah.
The next three miles are steady and hypnotic. I am beginning to wish I had my mp3 player with me, but such is life. My breathing is fairly ragged, but I’m keping it going. Hills are greeted with groans, but not one of the steep slopes is as bad as THAT slope.
Another water stop, another scream. We’re approaching the old harbour now and the early doors lot are enjoying their first pints of the day. I’m wondering if I can get away with grabbing one en passant, but am quite aware that I am not ready to sprint from an unhappy punter just yet. Must remember to do booze run before Medoc.
At the old harbour the course doubles back on itself. I keep an eye out for sis, hoping that my sporadic down hill runs have made back any time. She is however long gone. At the end of the turnaround, an old man is dressed as Popeye. Perhaps he is Popeye. Perhaps I am tripping out. Perhaps the jelly babies were spiked.
As we enter the last three miles, my right leg is proving to be pretty useless and I develop a lope. I can just about keep going, but it’s hardly an heroic stride. One man succumbs to the pressure in his knee by the pier, despite my encouragement. We’re starting to meet those who’ve already completed the race making their way back home. The locals are no longer so pleased to see us – it’s getting to the point where we’ve outstayed our welcome.
Freindly faces! My mother, wife and two sons cheer from the side of the course. I give them a wave and a smile and put on an added burst of speed. The line is just in sight, if I can just give it a little push…
… I’m within sprinting distance of the line, but I’ve got so little left to give. There is cheering all around me, but i have the feeling it is for the man dressed as a sumo wrestler who is gaining on me fast. To add insult to injury, he pips me on the line. I cross, slow to a walk and desperately look for something to drink…
Time: 2 hours 10 minutes 13 seconds. Not bad for a first effort, needs improvement.
Conclusion: Small and challenging, but plenty of local support. Hill training necessary.
robobert 