Edinburgh Marathon conquered

It is done. I have completed the Edinburgh Marathon. OK, it was my fourth Marathon in the Scottish capital, but they have all been loads of fun. And now I have another big shiny new medal for all my efforts.

Having scrambled to the starting pens with just 15 mins to spare, it wasn't the most impressive of starts. I messed around too much before heading off from the flat. The result was I ended up doing a marathon-style 3 mile dash to the start line. Still, I guess that was part of my warm-up.

For some reason I always fail to appreciate the insanity of 26 miles until it is too late. After about 6 miles we passed alongside the finish line (a taunt to us all). From there we could see the towers of the Cockenzie power station far off into the distance. No big deal? Well, it's the 12 mile stage!!! The race had a long way yet to go.

After the power station we continued along the coast towards Gosford House. On a picturesque coastline it is the only building for miles around (bar the power station which was behind us), a massive stately home, standing out in monumental splendour. Again it beyond a sane distance. We kept running, eventually passing through the grounds of the said house and arriving at the 18 mile mark. Bliss... Only 8.2miles to go.

Turning back along the coast we were all now moving with the wind. Thank goodness!! Scunnered (tired) from facing the wind for 18 miles, the weather was now in our favour.

I managed to keep going. Slowing only occasionally I was getting closer to the finish line. Back along the sea's edge, past the power station again, back into Musselbugh and torward the horse track where we were to finish. The slow-downs were getting longer and my legs were in a world beyond pain. Could I do it? Had I enough left to make it all the way. Then, just after the 25 mile mark, I saw a young lass flat on her back next to an ambulance screaming in agony/frustration. This was disturbing. But feeling her frustration I vowed to keep going. I hadn't trained for hundreds of miles to finish less than one mile from the end. And if I did it wasn't going to be for the lack of trying.

Almost there. The race track came into view. I still had half a mile to go, but I wasn't stopping for anyone now. The pain was unbearable, but it was almost over. The crowds were growing. They spurred us all on; cheering and shouting their support as we closed in on the finish line. Into the race ground - the final stretch. The agony was immense, but it was about to be worth the pain. A final sprint? I went for it. With crowds cheering I increased the pace, less than 10o metres left. Keep going. 75, 50 the line towering upon us. 25 metres. Finshed!! Yes!! Marathon number 8! And a second best time of 4.04. Not bad. What a buzz!

Quickly the pain returns. Then, like everyone I receive my medal. Not a bad piece of metal. But it's nothing really. Not compared to the elation and satisfaction. I can't say more than that. Words don't do it justice. Marathon runners will know what I mean.

Next race? 10K in East London.
Next marathon? Who knows? New York? Beiruit? Chicago? Paris? Or maybe even London?