Baxters Loch Ness Marathon

Why would I ever want to do a marathon? I'm a track runner. Marathons are only for people who need to get a life……aren't they? I've now got nothing but respect for anyone who completes a marathon, it's now the toughest race I've ever done.

I was watching the London Marathon this year and, maybe because it was in a home olympic year, it suddenly got me thinking. Will I regret it if I don't try and experience that some day? The seed had been planted but, not being in the know on the marathon scene, I didn't realise that the London Marathon ballot was only open for about 30 seconds (Andy can you enter my name in the club London Marathon ballot?) I'd missed the ballot and my back was now up. I didn't need their flamin' ballot, surely I could find another local marathon and cruise round in the 3 hour 15 minute qualifying time. It's not even 7 minute miling, that's got to be easy?? How naïve was I. That is seriously hard to do for over 26 miles. I scanned the fixture list in June and noticed the Baxters Loch Ness Marathon at the end of September. That would fit nicely into my schedule, so my name was entered.

On my first long run of a massive 8 miles, nearly double my normal run distance, I bumped into Eddie Reid. I was still buzzing from entering and excitedly told him that I'd entered my first marathon. 10 minutes later I popped a calf muscle. I was limping home, thoroughly depressed, when I bumped into Jim Holmes. He must've thought at the time that I was a crabbit prima donna! If my dodgy calf couldn't last an 8 mile run in the glen, what chance would I have of running 26 miles on tarmac? I'd virtually given up hope of getting to the starting line. 2 weeks rest and 3 weeks easy jogging later and I was ready to try an 8 mile run again. Thankfully my calf held out, but now I had just over 2 months until race day. I really had to gradually build up
my long run to 20 miles to give myself any chance of getting round. I started off every long run expecting my calf to let me down. Surprisingly I survived the rest of my long runs without a hitch. Albeit I was running on the forgiving Whitelee Windfarm trails and not on tarmac, which would surely find me out. I hardly ever saw
another runner up at the windfarm, mainly it was just off road bikers. I would highly recommend the windfarm as an alternative place to run. Endless miles of trails, with a cushioned surface to run on and lots of tough climbs thrown in. You can also have a shower, then a lovely coffee and cake at the visitors centre.

Before I knew it me and Mandy were on our way to Fort Augustus for the marathon, which also incorporated the Scottish Marathon Championships. The day before we recced the course, which starts just before Whitebridge and follows the banks of Loch Ness. Going through Foyers and Dores before finishing in Bught Park in Inverness. It was taking us an eternity to drive the course, so how on earth could I run all that way? Scenery was beautiful, but I was doubting if I'd get the chance to appreciate that the following
day. The race itself is very well organised, considering the logistics of busing 4000 runners from Inverness to the start in the middle of nowhere. This was also a two hour journey. Not ideal prepartion just before running a marathon.

I decided on taking the alternative choice of a short bus journey from Fort Augustus to the start, which was only a few miles. The only draw back to this was that I was on the last bus to arrive. The sight on arriving was unreal. There must have been over 50 buses abandoned at the side of a one lane road with thousands of people squeezing their way past the buses to the start line. It was like a scene from a disaster movie. I thought that, as I was being bused to the start, there was no chance of me having my usual nightmare
time keeping problems. If I wanted to start at the back of the field then I was there in plenty time, but fighting my way through thousands of people to the start line left me with only a few minutes to spare for a warm up before the gun went.

Last minute advice from Calderglen's marathon expert, Gerry McParland, was to find a comfortable pace and then keep the mile times constant. Mandy, my expert nutrition adviser, had devised a complex refueling schedule. So complex that I thought I'll never remember it and was going to write it on my hand. Unfortunately, while sitting on the bus to the start, I realised that I hadn't even remembered to write it down. So I just had to wing it.

Finally Brian Burnett set us off on our way. The first ten miles seemed to fly by. I was feeling strong but kept resisting the temptation to push on. Everything was going to plan up until 15 miles. Then all the numpties who'd gone off too fast were  starting to struggle. I was regularly picking them off one by one. This became probably too motivating and, before I realised, I'd got carried away trying to pick off one too many. Suddenly I became the numpty and was pushing just a bit too hard. Not too much damage would happen in shorter races, but in a marathon this can be suicidal. I got to 19 miles and my legs were starting to
get heavy. This was unfortunate timing as it came at the bottom of a 1 mile climb up from Dores. My race plan was to take it easy going up this hill and to then, if I felt OK,  push the last 10K downhill to the finish. Unfortunately the hill knocked the stuffing from me and my legs started to seize up. Probably from pushing too hard and also a lack of longer training runs on the road. The last 10K seemed to take an eternity, but I dug deep and crossed the line in 2 hours 57mins. I'd secretely hoped if everything went well to
sneak under 3 hours. So I was delighted to join the sub 3 hour club.

On crossing the line I couldn't resist trying to produce a Kodak moment. I lay on the ground with arms in the air doing a goal scoring type celebration, but show offs usually get their comeuppance. When I tried to get up my legs had stiffened up so much I was stuck and couldn't get back up.

All in all it was an incredible experience which surprisingly left me feeling pretty emotional at the end. Roll on London.

Martin