November

[Sweder]

It was inevitable. Stevio started it off, then Nigel turned up warbling on about getting 'a few more easy miles' in. I mumbled softly about maybe heading inland, perhaps the Famous Residences (10 miler) but no more. I couldn't go with Stevio anyway, his pace is so far out of my reach it's not even funny.

But Nigel ground me down. We covered the first three miles in an easy twenty-eight minutes, a strong westerly shoving us roughly in the back. At Saltdean he announced he wouldn't be stopping, he was doing the Snake and if I was coming I could catch him up. The others arrived and the banter resumed. Momentarily disoriented I blurted out 'I'm going to catch Nige, see you later' and set off like the hare I am most assuredly not. By the time I'd bounded up the steps and started along the pavement Nigel was a tiny blue smudge halfway up the indecently steep escarpment ahead. I got my head down and stayed on the shallow roadside trail, panting steadily as my offies slapped pavement. Across the cattlegrid onto Telscombe Tye I could see him, still a quarter mile ahead, and resumed my head-down stance. At the top of the Tye he'd reached the farmhouse and gone out of sight through the gate, around the corner behind the wall of connifers. I hammered across the lumpy pasture, huffing, puffing and wondering how on Earth I was going to keep this up for much longer. Mercifully he'd taken a breather at the next gate and, finally, we were once again well-met.

We set off across the downland spine into the teeth of the wind, taking turns to catch up on recent family history, work, running and mutual friends. Despite my debilitating efforts to catch up I now felt OK. We reached the farmer's field, the pathological plummet down a boggy, ploughed marsh, hitting 3:30 minute K pace on the slippery slope. Fast as that felt it's still well shy of Bannisters 4-minute mile pace, a sobering thought indeed.

When it came the Snake proved something of a let-down. I'd built this up in my mind to be an all but insurmountable challenge. What stuff and nonsense; the two mile meander up through the hillside heartland is a long haul for sure; but the slippery, well-worn track was no worse than usual and the expected headwind, whilst there in spirit, seemed strangely muted. Nigel concurred, expressing delight and surprise at the 'ease' with which we scaled the climb. That he did so even as we bounded up the slopes was testament to the mild nature of the task. As we crested the summit evil dark clouds raced overhead, hurling a stinging shower of hail at us. I was unimpressed by this, having to shield my face as I ran, squinting through the mini-deluge as we struggled towards some protective shrubbery. The battering passed as swiftly as it had arrived, clouds scudding away to pelt our companions still climbing the Snake.

On through East Brighton park for a finish back at the marina. 19.84 kilometres in 1:52 and change, a remarkable effort given the recent lack of mileage. I'll step back next Sunday, looking to build on pace and strength, but it's nice to have got within kissing distance of Almeria this early.