In October I signed up for the Luton Marathon but decided not to run in the end. I had let my running training slip and that, coupled with dreadfully cold weather tipped the balance towards not doing it.
I did want to do another Marathon and I trawled the Runners’ World diary and settled on my next challenge, which could have been a carbon copy of Brighton, just about 300 miles away.
Edinburgh was to be my Marathon of choice for Marathon number 4.
My training was enhanced by a new device that Motorola created called MotoActv and the run up to Edinburgh was perfect. I had put in the miles and was feeling confident.
This time I also had a companion in the shape of my brother Alistair.
We got a stupid-early flight from Luton to Edinburgh meaning that we were in our Malmaison hotel by 09:30…waaaaay before we would be allowed into our room.
So what does one do on marathon eve? “Relax” I hear you say. Not at all.
The number
We went walking and by walking I mean trekking.
It was a glorious hot day and we walked up King Arthur’s seat and all around Edinburgh.
Signs that read “Road Closed…Marathon.” started to get me going and every so often my mind would drift to a faraway place in realisation of what was going to take place the following morning.
Forecast was 26 degrees the following day, so like Brighton I set about looking for a nice white headscarf to help keep me cool and retain water on my head when the going got tough.
I found one and after our mammoth walk we retired to the hotel.
That evening we watched Anchorman and I actually had a proper night’s sleep. I guess the fact that I had not run a marathon in a year meant that I was not quite as wired as I would be on marathon eves to come.
Race day arrived and I got ready nice and early. My brother and I went and had a good breakfast feed but my nerves had already started to twitch and the full realisation of what I was about to do kicked in.
We assembled in our pens at 9am and my brother Alistair stayed with me for a short while.
I cannot begin to tell you how hot it was..but check out the faces!
I took the time to enjoy my now race staple, the LARGE cappuccino.
Taking heed of the (hot) forecast conditions I donned my white headscarf so now looked like a pirate.
Without further ado we were off and tearing down the hill toward the Scottish Parliament. It was there that I saw Alistair and that spurred me on for pretty much the rest of the race. He had to get home so I knew I would be on my own for the remainder of what was to be an exceptionally tough marathon.
As soon as we passed the Parliament buildings we were off up the coastal roads and continued through Musselborough. It was there where the marathon relay teams swapped runners – bastards! I thought to myself, but onwards I plodded.
We went all the way out and then turned round and came back through a field that stank of hot sweltering manure – nice!
At the 20-mile mark, the wall kicked in big-time. This was my first marathon for a year and it showed. I was running out of steam and felt as though I was going backwards.
To compound matters, I had completely lost my sense of humour and when some joker decided to cross the marathon course in a pedal powered car I kinda yelled out “$%cking t$£t” or equivalent. Damn inconsiderate.
The heat was seriously getting to me and the end was approaching. Fellow runners were gasping for air as we approached the final few miles. And then there it was, the springy final 50-metre section. I bounced to the end and let out a feeble arms-outstretched pose for the cameras.
I even managed a "pose"
It was not good for a couple of reasons. Firstly I had failed to beat my Brighton Marathon time of 3:33. Time was 3:35. I was very miffed about this but worse was to come.
The face says it all: Broken!
I went into my charity tent for a post race massage and the tingling and numbness started to envelope me. I could no longer talk and all my extremities had pins and needles. I had run dangerously low on salt and once again (as with Brighton), on hot races I should have compensated for this…but didn’t.
I was escorted to the gym area where I spent time on a stretcher for 20 minutes or so drinking very sweet cordial and generally looking around at the other casualties.
As I was (fairly) speedy, there were not too many people in there but the longer I stayed, the more sorry looking souls appeared.
Thankfully things returned to normal and I hobbled to the bus area where miraculously I managed to get onto a bus that took me into the City Centre.
You see the problem with Edinburgh Marathon is that in finishes in Musselborough, which is about 5-6 miles away from the centre. Not ideal.
I managed to get a taxi from the centre to my hotel and mercifully managed to have a hot bath, quickly followed by a MASSIVE cheeseburger and fries sent up to my room.
My flight was at 6pm so I had about an hour to pretend I was going to drink a pint. Instead I lay prone on the floor outside in the shade and awaited my taxi.
Still clearly miffed about my sub-par time I objected to someone pushing in front of me in the queue. I clearly had a short fuse and was in no mood to be messed with.
I got home and settled into a despondent state, unhappy with any suggestions that I had done well – in spite of the heat etc etc…
I had unfinished business and it didn't take me long to decide where the next battle was to take place.
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