Dorchester Marathon

Dorchester - wank wank wank!  Dorchester - wank wank wank!  Dorchester - wank wank wank!  Dorchester - wank wank wank!

This was just one of the charming (though repetitive) chants that I used to sing on the terraces as a Weymouth Football Club supporter whenever I could make the derby games against our fiercest rivals, Dorchester Town Football Club, usually on a Boxing Day and New Years day - an important part of my festive season - when in my late teens and twenties.  Dorchester, the county of town of Dorset; about 6 miles north of my hometown of Weymouth over the Ridgeway - quite a bit smaller than Weymouth, but nonetheless the home of my team's Footballing Nemesis.

Setting off with Moo.

Yet I have other ties to Dorchester that endear me to this sleepy town.  I'm a fan of Thomas Hardy and novels like The Mayor Of Casterbridge that depict rural life there in the late 1800's.  My Gran lived there in the last twenty or so years of her life, in Alfred road, behind the train station.  My Mum and Dad both worked and met in County Hall in the middle of town, and got married in Dorchester's methodist church.  Growing up in the area, I used to love cycling around the beautiful green rolling countryside that surrounds the town.

And it was to a field just outside of Dorchester that I headed to early on May 29th 2017 to run my 6th, and Dorchester town's inaugural, marathon.

I was definitely excited about this one.  I would be running with my younger sister Lucy, sharing a very special experience, and all the family would be around to support and spectate.  It would be my first marathon in just over 5 years, and I wanted to take advantage of the fact that I'd been having no hip pain to again test myself and see how far I could push my body over the course.  My training had gone well.  I had undertrained to avoid pushing anything and knew I would't have a 'fast' time (by my standards anyway) but was confident that I'd be able to finish OK. I'd trained up to 18 miles and anything after that is a matter of gutting it out.

The other reason for looking forward to it was because it was such a low key race.  After having done major ones I wanted to experience a smaller and friendlier running environment.  New York, Chicago and London all have around 40,000 runners; Boston about 20,000; there were a grand total of 975 signed up for Dorch.  The race organizers, White Star Running, are regional, more into trail runs, and have a very informal grass roots set up feel about them.    Some things to love about this one:  the GBP40 entrance fee; the fact that there were photographers but no charge for the photos, no expos where one must do battle with crowds; and at the start, you could pitch up 15 mins before the start and still make it easily to the start line.

Lucy and I were dropped off by Lucy's husband Mark at the event site of Cokers Farm after only a very mild panic caused by the fact that we were had some difficulty getting through due to all the road closures in the area (we had to deftly remove a No Entry road sign in the middle of the road and drive through, hoping no-one would see).  We were met by brother Tim on his bike, and also saw our good family friend Debbie for a chat and couple of pre-race pics.

Up the last hill!

Just before 8.30 am we were corralled into the farm yard and before too long the town crier of Dorchester had us on our way!  Out through the farm along a lane we went, and then turned right and went up through the High West street into town, past Granny's old house, and then out into the beautiful countryside.  Tim was able to come along on his bike, and it was great having him on hand to supply us with water bottles and energy bars as needed. Tim is also quite familiar with the area and was able to point out of landmarks of interest, i.e. where Julian Fellowes of Downton Abbey fame lives (a lovely old manor house) and some of the buildings that feature in Hardy novels.

Mile 6 - all was great.  It was a pleasantly warm morning - quite overcast, but not too hot, and our other brother Nick then joined on his bike; 4 siblings making their way through the lovely twisting village lanes of Dorset.  At mile 9, we saw Mum, friend Mick, and our good friends Auntie Doreen and Uncle Keith, my godparents.  It's such a boost to see friendly faces on the course.

The Love Station at Mile 20

Next up, as we approached the little village of Tincleton (one of my fave named villages in Dorset), Nick reminded me that one of our old teachers lived there, and 2 minutes later, as we turned the corner, there he was, at the end of his garden, taking photos of runners.  We took a little break to go up the embankment and have a little chat.

Probably around the half way mark I started to struggle a little bit.  The clouds had dissipated; the sun had come out and things were starting to warm up.  Lucy had painful knees going downhill so we started to walk down some of the steeper stretches of the course.  We saw more family though - brother and sisters Jenny and Martin in the beautiful village of Tolpuddle, and sister Fiona on her bike around mile 17.    This was a day that reminded me how lucky I am to be part of such a large and supporting family.

By mile 18, I was walking more than running, but it felt OK.  I knew I'd make it before the 8 hour cut off unless anything went disastrously wrong; other than general fatigue, no muscles had been pulled and nothing was in agonizing pain that meant I wouldn't be able to finish.  At mile 20 there was a much needed 'Love Station' that the organizers had laid on, complete with hugs with wet sponges and cups of flat beer.  For the first time, I drank alcohol during a marathon, and it was delicious!

As always happens when I get tired, for the last 6 miles I retreated into my head to get through it.  This may be hard to understand for people who get their energy from being around other people, but for me, I needed to be left alone, with my thoughts, and not be surrounded by chatter.  This is something that's been reenforced by each marathon experience - all my energies are needed to focus on moving forward and concentrate on how my body is doing and mentally staying on point; I find talking an unwelcome distraction that depletes my performance.  I try not to come across too cranky, but that's the way it is.

The rain started to come down in the last 6 miles which felt deliciously cooling, and was definitely most welcome.

Just about at the finish line!

After a particularly nasty hill at about mile 24, Tim went on ahead, leaving Moo and I to run/walk right to the end.  The course took us down some hills to finish at the farm, and as soon as we hit the 26 mile mark, we ran round the corner for the last .2, down to the lane, to where all the family were waiting for us (another great thing about smaller marathons - for the larger ones, it's either very hard/impossible to get close to the line).  As usual, I found crossing a marathon line, in a time of 6 hours and 28 minutes, a very emotional experience; it's a mixture of elation at having conquered such a tough challenge, relief that the ordeal is over; it symbolizes triumph in the face of adversity.  This time round it was lovely to share that moment with Lucy, as we gave each other a big post race hug.

The Simmons Family!

We were soon joined by the rest of the family where photographers took a cool photo of us (below), then retreated into a large tent where for a well deserved a beer and catch up, before heading back home to Weymouth for a much needed shower and nap.

Dorchester was so much fun.  It sounds a cliche, but even though I'm not the fastest, running a marathon makes me feel like I'm living life to the max on that day, and really achieving something significant.  I hope now that this marathon won't be my last.  As long as I'm able to run without pain and my body is willing, I want to keep running and achieving and staying in as good a shape as possible.