This blog is going to be a blow-by-blow account of the Loch Ness Marathon a few weeks ago. This was my first proper marathon and it was an important milestone in a few ways, marking an end to phase 2 of the 3 phases of Panama training:
24 hours to go - it's Orla's 4th birthday party. It's lovely but I hate knowing I have to leave this evening to travel up north. It's also torture watching everyone else eat cake and drink G&Tss but I'm not willing to risk extra loo stops tomorrow.
12 hours to go -The drive to Inverness took us just over 3 hours (ironically shorter than the race tomorrow) and if we weren't nervous enough I made the mistake of checking the weather report which is predicting upwards of 30km/hour headwinds and heavy rain.
4 hours to go - I woke up early to get my additional water and calories in and I'm getting the piss taken out of me by Nick and his sister for how poorly I'm dressed for a run in the highlands - we are still indoors and I already have goosebumps.
Start line - We‘ve arrived on site and the atmosphere, music and adrenaline have taken over. We dance through the warmup to eye of the tiger. As the crowd does a big countdown the bagpipes start to play and a rainbow appears over the start line. I'm buzzing! I feel like I'm in a sports movie! "Why don't I do this all the time?" I ask myself.
10km - The predicted headwinds are actually tailwinds. The route has been undulating but it’s mostly downhill and I'm cruising. I have to remind myself a few times to slow down. Its beautiful and I don't mind the cold so much. My body feels good, and I feel like the training and tapering have worked.
20km - It's now a lot more hilly. I'm still enjoying it but it has definitely become harder. I chuckle at how quicly I swap my grumpy running face with what I hope is a carefree smile and peace sign on my fingers whenever we come across a group of supporters or a drone with a camera.
30km - I'm sore but I'm on track.... I know this is where the real work starts. I've managed to go this long without music so I turn on my cheesy running playlist and let Katy Perry take over. I wonder whether I’m mouthing the words to Firework while I run. I've had some strange conversations in my head over the last hour from planning my diary to wondering whether I could buy a cheap dressing gown to wear at the start line next year and discard it when the race starts. Also cake. I'm thinking about a lot about cake.
32km - I stop to help someone with a bad cramp. Some of the other runners were so rude with one telling her to get out of the way. I know stopping will lessen the likelihood of me achieving my target time .... later I reflect that this probably motivated me to stop even more because it gave me an excuse if I didn’t make the time. After some stretches and donating a gel, I get running again and my well practiced, smooth stride has been replaced by a body that feels 10 years older and looks like Phoebe running in friends!
34km - I work out that I can still make my target if I speed up. In hindsight this was a mistake.
36km - who puts such a steep hill on the last leg of a marathon?!?! My neighbour (a seasoned runner) had mentioned it, the website mentioned it, but nothing prepared me for the reality of it. I'm bitter, I'm angry and to pass the time I start wording an angry letter to the event organisers in my head.
39km - Everything hurts. I don't smile for cameras or supporters any more. I marvel at those who still do. I call them out for being fake and then laugh at how jaded I am. I answer my own question from the start of the day about why I don't do this more often - I hate running!
42km - I cross the line. I missed my target by 30 seconds. I don't care.....3 hours and 30min (and 30 seconds) is fine by me. I emptied the tank and I feel very emotional and very sick. The 1st aid team want to hang out with me for an hour. One of them tells me that doing 1st aid at the event has confirmed for her that she NEVER wants to do a marathon. Looking around the tent I can see what she means as it looks more like the set of a war movie.
After the race - I'm very proud of my time. I'm also very emotional and I'm not sure I enjoyed the race. If I had gone a little slower I probably would have taken a lot more pleasure from the experience, but knowing myself I would have always wondered whether I could do it. I eat cake and ignore the cramps as we drive home. The best part, more than the medal and the the cudos on strava or even the week off ahead of me, is a ‘thank you’ hug from the family of the lady with cramp. 5 months to go!
Well done my guy…. And a cracking time even acting as a Good Samaritan, you will be part of that ladies story for years to come… best reward you could ever ask for
Sweetheart Im not surprised you stopped to help the lady..it’s who you’ve always been. And like you’ve told me you learnt a lot from doing this race..it will serve you well in the jungles of Panama. All that was missing is the heat and humidity. Well done you.
You are a gentleman. And your running time was excellent.
And we love you, but you are completely crazy.
Well done cuz, you are awesome!!
Good Lord! Was the Loch Ness monster chasing you? Amazing time and bravo for stopping to help. Well done.