One marathon too many...

On Sunday 26th August, over in the Channel Islands, was the annual Guernsey Marathon. I took part in this race last year and, to my surprise and delight, won it. It was such a stunning course and so well organised and friendly that I decided to sign up again this year and to go and try and defend my title... oh, the rather nice sum of money I won last year might have also played a small part in luring me back!

This year, however, I knew that the task of winning again would be very tough as I had much stiffer competition in the form of Shona Crombie-Hicks. Shona is a vet 40 athlete from Bourton Road Runners who boasts a marathon PB of 2:38 and has previously represented Scotland at the Commonwealth Games in Melbourne, Austrailia. Last year she won and set a course record at the Jersey Marathon with a 2:53 clocking: 10 whole minutes faster than my winning Guernsey time. On paper she was the favourite. All I could hope was that with a good summer's build up I could chip some more time off my 2:59 PB and give her a decent run for her money (literally!).... er, yeah, didn't quite happen!

Unlike last year, I had a shocking summer's preparation as far as marathon training was concerned. Too many short, fast races that took more out of my legs than I anticipated meant that I could not fit the quality long runs in. My old achillies problem also started to really bother me big time and on 3 attempts at a long run I got to 15 miles, 11 miles and 8 miles respectively and had to abandon and call the trusty parents for a lift back home as I was in too much pain to run. So, on the back of one 17 miler, completed back in June, and two 15 milers in July, I toed the start line of Guernsey in some lacklustre attempt at being competitive alongside a former Commonwealth athlete! I give my self 10/10 for delusions of grandeur but 1/10 for realism!

The previous day, as I flew out to the island, the weather was horrendous. Gail force winds made for a rather exciting landing on the flimsy Flybe prop plane, but I had to count myself lucky that I booked flights and not the ferry as many ferries were cancelled or severely delayed. About 50 competitors didn't make the startline, stranded in Poole, and another batch only arrived at 11pm the night before the race. On race day it was an entirely different story, waking up to clear skies and temperatures in their low twenties. Suddenly the problem became one of being too hot, out on the open coast road with no shade from the sun.

Before the start of the race I was a little too relaxed... I was sat with Mum in the stand of Footes Land athletic stadium, turned to her and said 'You know, I can't really be bothered with this'. Not the best mental attitude to have before running 26.2 miles, but I guess it was my body's way of telling me that it was both physically and mentally tired after the tough schedule I'd subjected it to since the start of the year and it needed a break. I tried to appease it by promising it that if it got me around the course today it could have as much rest as it liked after. I think we struck a deal.

So to the start line and Lee Merrien - Guernsey's answer to a celebrity, having been selected to represent Britain in the Olympic Marathon where he went on to finish as top Brit - had the honours of blasting the starting horn and getting us underway. From Footes Lane, in the centre of the island, the route climbs uphill for the first 5 miles, through a wooded valley, to the airport: the highest point on the island and on the route. These first 5 miles, whilst uphill, were at least shady. Once we topped out at the airport and then hit the coast road there was no escape from the sun's rays beating down and already, at 9.30am, making me very hot.

Lee Merrien, Olympic Marathon runner and Guernsey athlete gets us under way

At 6 miles I'd already had enough. My legs just didn't feel fresh at all. Rewind to April and to Taunton and I was struggling to slow the speed in the early miles to below 6:40 m/m as my well-trained, tapered legs were just raring to go. Now I was struggling to keep the pace from creeping up to 7 m/m, and 6:50 m/m felt like a huge effort. My rival, Shona, had shot off like a bat out of hell at the start and I had no choice but to let her go. If I'd tried to go with her feeling as I did, I would have perished by mile 10! Until mile 7 I ran with a handful of other guys, we exchanged a few words, they probably thought that I was a total winge-bag for moaning about the heat and my legs feeling tired so soon into the race! One of them pointed out the view of a lighthouse, and it was indeed lovely, but feeling as bad as I did I just couldn't muster the enthusiasm to appreciate it. I felt like a right grizzly ball of negativity! Nevertheless, I dug in and actually started to pull away from them all until I found myself running entirely on my own from mile 10 onwards. They were probably glad to see me go!

Shona hits the front and I just have to watch her go as I can't match her pace on this occasion

I went through the halfway mark in 1:31: this was actually 2 minutes up on last year as I had pushed on harder over the first 5 miles this year. But boy did I then go onto pay for it in the latter half! By mile 14 I was really struggling. We were running directly into the sun from miles 10 through 18 and there was no shade. At each water station I was having a few gulps of water then tipping the remaining 500ml bottle over my head. I looked like a drowned rat! At mile 14.5, at Cobo Bay, my Mum was waiting. I had mixed feelings about seeing her: it was lovely to see a friendly face as, unlike when I run in Devon, nobody knows me here and so you do not get anyone shouting your name in encouragement, which can really be a boost. However, when I did see her the urge to stop and join her at the Cobo Bay tea rooms for a coffee was so overwhelming. Part of me wanted to stop for her to give me a hug and some supportive words, but I knew if I did, I'd never get going again. So instead I ran on past shouting, 'I'm bloody hating it. I'm too hot. I want to quit so badly.' And then I was past and running onwards to mile 15, with my Mum's voice, 'Stick at it. You can do it. Sutcliffes don't quit' echoing behind me!

Ok, not a keeper! Mile 14.5 at Cobo Bay and feeling shocking. Had just chucked a bottle of water over my head to try and cool me down. Felt dreadful. Look dreadful. Wanted to quit so badly!

Mile 15-16 was the worst one on the course. At one point there was a slight incline, pretty much negligible, but my legs were feeling so ropey that even this smallest slope was too much. I could feel them starting to slow and wanting to walk. Every fibre of my body wanted to walk and I knew how lovely it would feel to stop pushing and slow to a walk, but I also knew if I allowed it, I would never get going again. At this point I actually shouted at myself, 'NO! NO WALKING', just as a family was walking past on the adjacent footpath. The look the mother gave me as she steered her kids away from the mad woman was priceless! Yeah, whatever, I bet they had just pulled up in a car and were only strolling 5 minutes to the beach! Anyway, my little word with myself had worked as I kept on running, but the pace was slowly dropping off. After mile 14 I never got it below 7 m/m again. Mile 19 would normally be my nemesis mile but on this occasion it was a positive mile stone. I knew I wouldn't be "hitting the wall" here as I'd already hit it back at mile 6 and had been running into it ever since! This was in fact the first point on the course that I actually believed I would finish.

From mile 20 you turn back towards St. Peter Port and into a headwind, which, whilst having a cooling effect, also served to slow my times down. My slowest mile was mile 24: 7:43 m/m. Over the last 7 miles I even managed to pick off 3 other men, so I took comfort from the fact that whilst I had slowed, so had everyone else, but more so. I was slightly worried about the next female catching me up. Vicky Barrett from Jersey had placed 2nd to me last year in 3:16. I knew she had been in hard training for an autumn marathon and had been doing weekly long runs of 20 miles, so I feared that she might have it in her to catch me. As it was, she also struggled in the heat and was in fact a good 12 minutes behind me, but you never know this when you are running, you can only assume they are hot on your heels so you have to dig the hell in and keep going!

Into the stadium - what a glorious sight - and I barely had the energy to raise an arm in acknowledgement of the sympathetic crowd who cheered me as the announcer said over the tannoy: 'Big round of applause for our second female who was unable to defend her title this year despite a valiant effort'. 3:07:49 - exactly 4 minutes to the second slower than last year and over 8 minutes down on my PB, but considering the awful preparation I had and how bad I felt, I'm surprised I managed to limit the damage and keep that time to below 3:15, so I've got to be happy. And then, what I had been focussing on the whole way: a leg massage followed by a long sit down and a glass of chilled white wine. Aaaaaaah. Bliss.

Prize giving with Peter Head, the race director. Want to be back on the top of that podium next year!

Will I do it again next year? As I was running I told myself never again. Once I finished I thought, 'I can't leave it on this negative note; I have unfinished business now with the course', so I may well be back in 2013 to try and take the title back again!