It sounded a good idea when my Dad suggested I combine a visit to see him in March with a local running race, the Grizzly, in the seaside town of Seaton.
The weather should be warmer – in fact he said last year they watched it in T-shirts and had lunch on the beach!
I knew the Grizzly bills itself as scenic 20-mile multi-terrain race – "Twentyish muddy, hilly, boggy, beachy miles of the multiest-terrain edge-of-sanity running experience you will find this side of the end of time" – but since I am in marathon training at the moment, I thought it shouldn’t be too tricky, should it?
It still seemed a good idea on Saturday as I walked along the promenade in the warm sunshine, admiring the cliffs, calm sea and being overtaken by pensioners in their buggies.
I started to have doubts when I chatted to a local runner – I asked him was he warming up for the Grizzly. He replied "I’m local, I know the route, I’m not ******* stupid!"
However Sunday dawned, in my altitude training camp near Honiton, with an inch of slush on the fields and the trees bent over at an angle they had not been the previous night.
The temperature rose to the balmy heights of 2 degrees as I arrived in Seaton, however this was offset by the gale force winds sweeping the town.
As I drove up the promenade, I saw people leaning into the wind and holding each other to stop themselves being blown over, and many umbrellas were being blown inside out in comedy fashion. The wind was accompanied by driving rain and sleet to further improve the conditions.
I attempted to warm up by wearing all the clothes I had with me and sprinting around the car park, but it was so bone-chilling that I could only warm up by sitting in the car with my hands over the heater.
The start was unusual for a race with 2000 competitors in that 10 minutes before the start, only a few dozen competitors were crouched down behind the sea wall. As if by magic, 2 minutes before the start, the remaining 1900 runners appeared from their hiding places out of the wind, from side streets and out of bus shelters. Nobody had bothered with the ‘Warm Up with Vanessa’
part of the race, not even Vanessa.
The race started off with a half-mile stagger along a shingle beach into the face of the gale. This was the earliest point in any race that I have ever wanted to give up and walk, the only consolation being that everyone else seemed to be in the same boat.
The following 2 miles were relatively easy over the 1-in-2 hill road into the delightful village of Beer. Then he nightmare began with the ascent of Beer head, approximately 500ft high, via a field that contained just a few blades of grass covering several inches of freezing mud. The only way to get any grip was to run up the tractor tracks that had become small rivers in the rain.
At this point I sustained a superficial cut to my face from a bramble, which produced a very satisfying amount of blood that streamed down my face and caused alarm at every subsequent drinks station.
The ascent of Beer Head was followed by the inevitable descent, down an almost vertical field of mud. At this point, I discovered the difference between the fell runners and the road-runners. The fell runners managed to maintain a steady, controlled pace down the slope, while I did bizarre intervals of slightly camp mincing followed by a long skid. One runner alongside me didn’t manage the skid part and ran straight through a hedge.
Another stretch of shingle beach was followed by yet another cliff ascent and descent.
To add to the experience, every few hundred metres the organisers had put motivational messages such as ‘Practice random kindness and acts of senseless beauty’ and "There’s a door up ahead, not a wall". The various features of the race were signposted with names such as ‘Lemmings Leap’, ‘Silence of the Lambs’, ‘The Bog’ and ‘Stairway to Heaven. There was even a Buddhist shrine, but by this point Peace and Love were far from my mind.
The ‘highlight’ of the race is the Bog at around 14 miles. This can be judged by the fact that there are dozens of photographers gathered, rather like photographers at dangerous bends in a car rally, waiting for the inevitable spectacular disasters. The Bog is a thigh-to-waist deep (depending on how tall you are and what part of the bog you managed to find yourself in) collection of freezing spring water, mud and what smelt like farm slurry with the added complication of submerged tree roots. I managed to navigate myself through successfully, although there were many messy casualties including the leading lady next to me who had to be assisted out since she was quite short and became stuck.
After the bog the race became a real slog with a couple of extremely difficult climbs which were almost impossible to even walk up due to the combination of mud, numb feet, extreme tiredness and my shoes now seeming to weigh several kilograms each.
To make matters worse, the race organisers seemed to waste no opportunity in making the course deliberately masochistic and at one point at 17 miles while running along yet another stretch of shingle, the route veered though a waist deep gully full of freezing sea water.
The final torture was the last half-mile along the shingle beach, into the wind, with my body telling me to stop, but not wanting to give up in front of my family.
In the end, I finished in 2:29:53, and it felt harder than any marathon. It is definitely one of the most memorable races around and the very mad organisers ensure a great atmosphere, despite the pain.
To finish, here are a few lines from the Official Grizzly 2006 Song, to be sung to the tune of Botany Bay, which neatly sum up the ethos of the race:
Farewell to the ‘London,’ forever,
Farewell to ½ marathons as well.
Farewell to the 12k at Honiton
No more of these races we say.
Singing, Tooralay , Ooralay, ‘lympiyak
Singing, Tooralay , Ooralay, ay
Singing, Tooralay , Ooralay, ‘lympiyak
For we’re bound to find Grizz-er-ly Bay
1 2:12:46 Adrian Mussett Colchester Harriers SM
33 2:29:53 Andy Penney Wilmslow Running Club SM
1528 finishers
PS I have since discovered that the race was shortened for health and safety because the sea was too rough for the lifeboat to reach some points of the course!
Andy.