Helsby Sports & Social
Chester Road
Helsby
Cheshire WA6 0DL
(01928-722267)

Last Updated :
14th April 2001

To comment on these
pages Contact the Webmaster

A Seven Sisters Marathon

30th October 1993

It all began a year previously with the impulse purchase of a running magazine and the chance discovery therein of a short article describing the Seven Sisters marathon, a full distance marathon, completely off road and running through the beautiful scenery of the South Downs. As my running mates know, I loathe running on the road so if I were to attempt a marathon without the risk of expiring from extreme boredom before the 26 miles were up, this was the one to go for. I sent off there and then for details of the 1993 event, reasoning that as it wasn't due to take place for another year, I was making no commitment to having to run it.
October 30th 1993 found me at the start on the sea front at Eastbourne, wondering what I was letting myself in for, especially as the furthest I run until then was 16 miles a month previously. I was shortly to find out. The start is up a steep hill, and with two thousand runners, joggers and walkers trying to ascend it simultaneously gives a good flavour of what is to come later. The course then settles down and rolls along the top of the South Downs, dropping occasionally through some pretty little villages. The turning point comes way out on the downs at Checkpoint 2 (worrying labelled "North York Moors National Park" - how far have I been running?). This is the twelve and a half miles point and being approximately half way is a great psychological boost although the legs are beginning to tire. I passed the 16 mile point (Checkpoint 3, a drinks station also offering sticky buns which I declined, recalling the difficulty I'd had at Checkpoint 1 with a hob-nob biscuit which had been as easy to ingest as a fistful of cream crackers) still going reasonably strong. I was glad not to have realised it at the time, but I'd covered the distance so far in just under the time it had taken me to do my earlier 16 mile race, I was obviously running faster than I realised.

The real crunch in this event comes in the last seven miles when the course reaches the Seven Sisters, a range of hills, cut back by the sea exposing miles of brilliant white chalk cliffs. This bit is tough, up and down, up and down, staggering up the uphill bits and then stumbling down the other side to the bottom of the next uphill. Seven ? I counted at least eight, possibly nine. However I've now reached extreme fatigue and my ability to count properly is questionable, my legs are beginning to cramp up and are refusing to work at all, but I can't just give up, I must go on. Checkpoint 4 at Birling Gap, only 3.5 miles left so I must be on the homeward stretch. I get a warming cup of tea from an old boy with an even more ancient teapot, but it's a welcome reviver. I have to fight off somebody who's trying to force a Mars bar onto me, I succeed, but I am unable to let him know that the reason I don't want it is that I don't have the strength to get the wrapper off, let alone eat the thing.

Three and a half miles left, it's not far really, but it's an awful long grind up and over Beachy Head. I'm totally physically exhausted, no strength left at all and only a tiny flicker of willpower remaining. The air has cooled and an icy breeze blows off the sea, cutting through my sweat soaked running gear. I'm beginning to suffer from exposure now as well. I can't give up now, the finish can't be much further. Each step is harder than the last, I'm going slower and slower. Then finally the course starts going gently downhill, in the distance I see the coast stretching beyond Eastbourne. I'm very nearly there ! I glance at my watch, 3:56 or thereabouts. Finishing within the 4 hour target I'd initially set myself suddenly looks possible again. Spurred on I pick up. Then I'm flying down the last hill and under the banner, scattering startled marshals in my path, a bit of confusion over where the actual finish is, and its over. I collapse against a wall for support as people surround me, hands unpin and remove my number, another presses a medal into my unresisting grasp. It's all a fog and I'm scarcely aware of what's going on, in the distance I hear a voice calling out numbers, the only one that registers is a 59 in the middle of a string of others. Less that 4 hours ! - just. As I leave the finish I'm suddenly overcome by emotion, the strongest feeling is of intense relief that it's all really over. I feel like I really have stopped bashing my head against a wall.

It took another half hour to get warm and dry again and then with the contents of a flask of hot tea inside me and some strength returning, the euphoria suddenly hit. The realisation of what I'd actually done and achieved, a real sense of "WOW!".
The intensity of the pain and the suffering are quickly forgotten, as with any exertion of this nature. The principle memories are a kaleidoscope of the scenery, the pretty little villages, the camaraderie and gentle humour of the event (a sign at the bottom of a flight of steps at the 18 mile mark read "Lift out of order, please use the stairs"). The support from all those spectating, the brass bands playing and the lone Scotsman with his pipes on the hills. Would I do it again ? Certainly not for a while, but there's always next year which is still a long way off and there's no need to commit myself yet.

Andy Smith

Postscript : The Seven Sisters Marathon has become an annual event for me now, having only missed one occasion since 1993. Over the years I've gotten to know the course pretty well and some of the other regulars and its good fun to meet up afterwards in the local pub and compare notes. My personal best for the course is 3:55 and my worst 4:16 (excluding the 6:00 for one year when due to injury I transfered to the 'Walkers' category).