Edinburgh Marathon:
This race was four months in the making. I started training for this one at the end of January.
The night before we left for Edinburgh, the nerves (Maranoia) massively kicked in. So to calm myself, I packed and repacked my running kit and repeatedly told myself to trust the process. Had I done enough? Had I done too much? Who knows? I’d find out eventually.
Race day
On Sunday (the day of the race), I woke up early and went through my marginally paranoid preparation before jumping into a taxi to take us to the start. Or at least as near as you can get to the start, given the road closures etc.
Everyone at the start was in good spirits, chatty, and nervous, but all friendly as we tried to support each other while convincing ourselves we were ready to go.
The race starts with a short dash across the Royal mile, over the mound and into Princes Street gardens. I expected the pace to be fast here as everyone released nervous energy and got that initial adrenaline rush. However, as we converged into the gardens and the path narrowed, there was no way of slowing down as you became just a tiny part of an unstoppable surge, like a giant millipede snaking its way back through the old town and out to Holyrood and the Royal Park.
At this point, I knew I should be starting to slow down, but my legs kept going at a pace that would hurt me later. I passed 5KM, then 10KM, then Half Marathon, all these splits at my second fastest attempts ever. What was I doing? I ran far too close to my personal bests over those much shorter distances.
The Wall…
It was getting hotter on this unseasonally hot day in Scotland.
At mile 15, my pace was starting to slow, and then at mile 21, there was the infamous wall. I felt sick, everything hurt more than I could accurately describe, and I could feel the wheels starting to come off. All I could do now was to hold on and fight back, mile by mile, counting down the distance to the finish.
I started to rally at mile 24 as we headed back through the busier parts of the route towards Musselburgh. The support throughout the course was great, especially the lady who reminded me of Morgan Freeman in Bruce Almighty—brilliant, totally understated humour.
As we reached Musselborough and started passing the racecourse, the crowd grew louder as we approached the finish. Suddenly the pain subsided, and I gathered myself for one last effort.
As I entered the final 100M straight, I spotted Sue in the crowd cheering me on, and I put everything I had left into hitting the finish line. Which, I did twenty minutes faster than my previous run at this distance.
Once over the line, medal in hand and reunited with Sue in the reunion area. I collapse in pain, joy or something in between the two.
Then I realise there’s one more challenge left….. The one-and-a-half mile walk to the buses shuttling us back to Edinburgh. I realise that hosting a marathon in a capital city must be a logistical nightmare, but I’m sure there must be a way to avoid making people who have just run 26.2 miles walk further on their tired legs and blistered feet. It was the only minus point on an otherwise well-organised event I would recommend to others.
Chip time: 5hrs 09mins 28 secs
Placing: 5955 (out of 7144)
