Last Sunday, I ran the Edinburgh Marathon. This was my first official marathon, which sounds odd given that I had already run three ultramarathons and done two training runs above 50km. The gap in my running CV between 42km and 50km had been entirely deliberate.

The reasoning was simple. If I were to enter a marathon, I would want to race it for a good time. The ultras, by contrast, were always about finishing. Two very different mindsets, and I had not been ready to commit to the first one. Until now.

Race Run Through

Pre-Race

My initial plan was to take the train through to the start. Last year there were reports of trains being full and runners missing the start of the race, so I thought I would just take an earlier train. Except this is Scotland on a Sunday, and the early trains don’t exist. My next idea was to drive to a park-and-ride, but that had the obvious problem of needing to drive home afterwards. Luckily my dad offered to give me a lift in, which took all the pressure off.

After being dropped off, I made my way to the start area, dropped my bag off and headed towards the start pens. On the way I bumped into some of the other RTC Warriors, so we had a quick chat and got a group photo.

I would be lying to say I had no nerves, but it certainly wasn’t as bad as some of the previous races.

Alistair among a group of other RTC Warriors'
Ready to go

The First Few Miles

Within the first two miles, a bead of sweat dripped down the inside of my glasses. That was the moment I realised the time I had been chasing was not going to happen. It was simply too hot.

I pushed on to see what I could achieve. By Portobello I had given up looking at my pace and was just focusing on running in a controlled manner. There was no point in burning myself out chasing a number that was no longer realistic.

Portobello and Beyond

The crowds were brilliant. The cheering and the placards genuinely lifted me, even when the support was clearly aimed at someone else. What I had not expected was the personal cheering - “Come on Alistair!”, “Well done Alistair!” - from complete strangers. The first few times I tried to work out if I should recognise them, before remembering that they print your name on the race number.

Somewhere along the coast I caught up with the tail runners from the half marathon. It was around this point that I started noticing ambulances and medics moving about the course. The course was very exposed and there were few opportunities to hide from the sun.

Survival Mode

At the far point of the course, I changed plan and shifted into survival mode. I had just passed someone collapsed at the side of the road receiving medical attention, and I made a firm decision that I was not going to let that happen to me.

From then on, at each water station, I ran into the station, took the water, then walked with it until the bottle was completely empty. No wasted water, no rushing through. I was going to give myself the best possible chance of getting to the finish in one piece.

The temptation to slow to a jog, or even just walk, was strong. But I gave myself a rule: if I had a water bottle with water still in it, I could walk. Otherwise, I had to run. That kept me honest between the stations.

The “Sprint” Finish

I still had a sprint finish in me. Unfortunately, I misjudged where the finish actually was. What I had intended as a 100m sprint turned into something closer to 500m.

Once I crossed the line, my blood pressure presumably crashed and I found it very difficult to balance. One of the first aiders pulled me aside, sat me down and made me drink some water. After a bit, I was keen to get out of the finish area and find my dad. I did my best to stagger in a straight line through the finish funnel, picking up my t-shirt and goody bag while trying not to look like I had had several drinks too many.

Alistair standing with his medal
Finished

Strava Activity

Reflection

Reflection

I am not a fan of this distance.

I didn’t get the time I wanted, but I am not particularly keen to try again. The time commitment to train properly for a marathon is significant, and the race itself takes a lot out of the body. What I really enjoy about running is the training, and the feeling of being fit. Between the taper before the race and the recovery afterwards, these big events rob me of that feeling for several weeks at a time.

If I am being honest, I feel the same way about the ultras. I like the idea of them. I enjoy thinking back to them. But the actual doing of them is pretty miserable at the time, and the missed training weeks are just as frustrating. There is a pattern here that I should probably pay more attention to.

Hopefully I can recover quickly from this one and get back to running properly.