Brambles, beaches, Bamburgh

Blood. I knew there had to be a way to identify other marathoners in the crowds running up the beach towards the finish. All race distances had different coloured numbers, but from behind that was no help. Luckily, mud caked, bloody and scratched legs were a dead give away.

But that was later. Of course. At the end. We’d started almost four hours earlier, wide eyed and shivery in the shadow of Alnwick Castle. It was a surprisingly cold start to the day – or perhaps I just have a poor grasp of how cold clear mornings in February are.

The event was Endurance Life Northumberland, with four distances culminating in a finish at Bamburgh. A friend and I plumped for the marathon distance, though it was of course a mile and a half longer because in trail world no one cares how long you hurt for.

I imagine this as being a taster session for how shredded your legs get on the way up Rat Jaw at the Barkleys.

The marathon and the ultra started at 8:30 and headed south east towards the coast. We set out at a really good pace, my mate is quick and it helped me get into the right mindset as long mountain days have made me start a bit slower sometimes.

It felt like we were flying until momentum was slowed by a 500m stretch of bramble covered bogs. I imagine this as being a taster session for how shredded your legs get on the way up Rat Jaw at the Barkleys.

I could feel the scratching but thought I’d came through unscathed until I looked down to see my legs striped with scratches, blood and mud. Worse than that, it’d pulled our pace down beneath target.

The course hits the coast at Alnmouth and the terrain changes from mud and fields to coast path and beaches. I’d been expecting a bit of sand but from 10km in we were doing long stretches on it.

Racing is simple: No one gets to pass you without making them fight for it, and you aim to catch every person you can.

The sun was high behind us as we headed north to Craster and the imposing edifice of Dunstanburgh Castle, with the path around it carpeted by roots and rocks. As we passed Embleton we decided our best strategy was to aim for our own paces. Having pipped into the top twenty at The Duergar a week before, I decided to aim for the same again.

I like to pretend I’m not competitive but it turns out that’s a lie. Racing is simple: No one gets to pass you without making them fight for it, and you aim to catch every person you can.

I was lucky to have a group of runners in my sights and worked my way through until a small wooden bridge bunched us up and I was able to come off it quick and pass the rest.

Or at least, I thought I’d passed them all. I dropped the blokes successfully but for the next few miles, every time I thought I’d pulled clear, I’d see a pony-tailed shadow stretch out ahead of me and feel the need to try and up my pace.

A long beach spell followed after Beadnell. I gave up on any thoughts of dry feet and was running through whatever line seemed best. The squelching of my soaking wet Sense Rides would haunt me for the rest of the run.

Coming round the harbour at Seahouses and up the steep tarmac at the lifeboat station, you start to feel like you’re on the final stretch. At this point the pony-tailed shadow appeared again. I could tell she had the lungs to pass me, so decided to ask which race she was in. an Aussie voice replied: The Ultra. I think my sigh of relief was audible. I explained I was only trying to push the pace to stay ahead of the other marathoners.

I found myself trying to keep up pace on loose sand, and pass runners from the half and the 10k without seeming like I was being over competitive.

Bamburgh Castle came into view, looking closer than it was, and I once again found myself running along miles of beach. I chatted most of the way up the last section with the Aussie, who encouraged me to keep the pace up. I enjoy the craic racing with people at a similar pace, it distracts from the creeping feeling of lactate in your legs.

Pulling alongside the castle you take a turn into the dunes and the courses split again. With 2km still to go I couldn’t stop pushing. I found myself trying to keep up pace on loose sand, and pass runners from the half and the 10k without seeming like I was being over competitive.

My pace dropped in the dunes and I became transfixed by my watch. I’d estimated the course at 45km and that would mean running a rapid final kilometre if I was still to come in under four hours. I gave it the beans. Needs must.

The finish arch came into sight and I passed one last marathoner in the nick of time before coming through gasping for breath. I collapsed on the grass, hopeful I’d done enough to crack the top twenty again.

After a tantalising wait until evening the result came in: Tenth place. By a mere six seconds. The fast finish may have felt daft but it paid off. I’m unlikely to ever win anything, but getting top ten felt a good reward for my effort.

It was a tough route, with a variety of terrain, and the breathtaking scenery makes it a great race to enter. I’m not sure how much training benefit it is for the Bob. It’s nice to know I can maintain a good pace, and recover fast, but my legs are in need of some big hill days very soon.

Gear: This race was brought to you by my Salomon Sense Ride 2s that have done well over 800km but are still super dependable. Other gears as usual, S/Lab Sense Race vest and Suunto 9