Edinburgh Marathon - 31 May 2009...
Distance: 26.2 miles
In a time of...
hh:mm:ss
02:52:38
Finishing Position: 63
Number of finishers: 8260
Putting me in the top: 0.76%
The Entry
I entered this race back on 31st October 2008; a month short of the 3 year anniversary from when I first put on my dusty old Nike trainers that had been left untouched since leaving school. In a bid to shed a load of excess weight back in late 2005, I struggled round a 1.9mi course in a shade less than 20 minutes, nearly giving myself heart failure in the process. In those three years I'd come a long long way as a runner, but had little desire to run a marathon for another few years. My reason for entering? To this day I still can’t quite remember what made me enter, though I blame club members Pete & Ros Matthews. I read that Pete had entered, and soon after learnt that Ros has also entered – a bit of verbal bullying from Pete and a few other members of the runnersforum.co.uk website, and the promise of a fast marathon course made me think "Well why not eh?!". I went to the marathon website and tapped in my details, before I knew it I was the recipient of an entry confirmation email. EEK!
I won't go into the details of my training, but the bulk of the training focused on two main runs each week, a long slow run, and a marathon paced run. The long slow runs built up in distance from 16mi, soon reaching 20mi, with several 22mi runs and a single 24mi run. The marathon paced runs started at 9mi at target marathon pace and built up to 17mi at marathon pace (in hindsight I think this may not have been quite enough) – I would also use these marathon paced runs to practice my fuelling strategy for race day. Other runs would predominantly be recovery runs, with speedwork sessions on Thursdays or Fridays where the schedule (and my legs) allowed. Training mileage was usually around the 50miles a week mark, sometimes it'd be less (especially if there was a race that week), and occasionally it'd be a little more.
The Journey
With all the training and tapering done and out the way, and with the endless bowls of wholewheat pasta, couscous and brown rice in full flow, the marathon weekend was underway. It started with my alarm clock waking me at 7am on Saturday 30th May, a bowl of porridge with dried fruit for breakfast and Emma (my other half) and I began to load the car with luggage. 8:30am and we left the house and hopped on the motorway – thank the lord for cruise control! The Journey was 6 hours all in all, including pasta/toilet stops and the scenery became more and more pleasant the further north we drove. We checked into our hotel and looked forward to meeting fellow marathon runners later in the evening.
The evening soon came around so Emma and I hopped into a Taxi and headed towards a pre-determined meeting point. There we met up with club members Ros & Pete Matthews, and a number of 'runners forum' members. We all headed for a quick (non-alcoholic) drink and despite having never met many of these people before, we got along fantastically, merrily chatting away as if we've been acquainted for years. The quick drink was done and off we toddled to an Italian Restaurant for one last big dosage of carbs. Fantastic food was enjoyed by all, but I simply couldn't finish my meal, I was well and truly carb'd up to the ears.
Back at the hotel the remainder of the evening was spent readying my kit and pinning my number on for the morning, I also re-familiarised myself with my fuelling strategy and had the brilliant idea of jotting down what I would be drinking and when on my race number, except that no matter how hard I tried, I could not get a pen capable of writing on the strange race number material – so that was that plan out the window. A restless night followed, I was waking up every few hours willing it to be time to get up. Eventually my mobile phone alarm woke me and I started munching on my uncooked porridge mixed with dried fruit and cold milk, just how I like it on race day.
Race Day Morning – Pre Race Meet-up
I checked I had everything I needed, then checked again, and again, and one last time for luck. I'd been having a major dilemma all morning about which shoes to race in, my Saucony Fastwitch 3's, which I'd trained at marathon pace in up to 17miles with some minor discomfort, or my Bright lime green Asics DS Racers, which I'd raced up to Half Marathon distance in with no discomfort. I chose to stick to the plan and use the Sauconys.
Emma and I scurried along the empty streets of Edinburgh heading towards the Scott Monument where we met up with other Runners Forum members and Pete & Ros from the club, as per usual I was running behind schedule so everyone was waiting for me, I said hello to some new faces but with marathon nerves firmly taking hold it was all a bit of a blur. I said my 'goodbye' to Emma who had a lift to the finish line/9mile marker and began walking with others to the Baggage lorries.
I walked along chatting with forum member Grant, and we reached the lorries. We agreed where we would next meet as the baggage lorries were arranged by race number, though no sooner than that had been said, I'd lost sight of everyone! After several minutes of searching I found forum member Owain who had also seemingly lost sight of everyone we chatted for a while before I bumped into fellow Kenilworth Runner, Connor Carson. Connor is a runner of very similar ability to myself and at the recent Shakespeare Half Marathon posted a chip time one second quicker than mine (such is the similarity of our running ability). Connor had been a little less ambitious with his predicted finish time and was in the 'pink' starting pen, directly behind the 'orange' starting pen that I was placed in. I wished him well for the race and set off in search of the portaloos with Owain.
We found the signs found the 'Toilet Area', which was through a gateway with HUGE crowds of people trying to get through. Now I've no race organizing experience, but it doesn't take a genius to work out that at a race with circa 16,000 runners, a gateway is going to create a horrendous bottleneck for the crowds needing the loo before the race starts. Owain and I decided against joining the masses and set off to find an alternative.
I felt bad for not having chance to wish everyone luck before losing them in the crowds, but nevertheless I was sure they knew I was wishing them the best. With announcements being made that the starting pens would 'close' in several minutes time I said good luck to Owain and we both jumped into our pens.
The minutes ticked by and I sat on the kerb at the back of my pen, not wanting to unnecessarily exert myself in the heat. Vaseline was applied to all potential chaffing areas and with 5mins to go I started to warm up. The pen was called forward to the start and as we moved I looked to the left scanning everyone stood in the green pen looking for familiar faces that I'd missed earlier to say good luck to – I didn't manage to spot anyone though, and continued forward to the start, with the '30seconds to go' announcement made, it was all becoming so very real, I was about to start the 2009 Edinburgh Marathon…
The Race
The 'pink' starting pen was walked forwards and joined onto the back of the orange pen, this was it, and with a short countdown the race was underway. We moved forwards slowly, some breaking into a gentle jog as we approached the start line though I kept walking – 3m before the start line and I was away, starting my Garmin as I crossed the chip timing start mat.
Runners were surging past, some were falling back, the usual chaos one would expect in such a large event – I wasn't going to do anything other than keep my cool and run at a comfortable pace – No point in rushing in the early stages, battling to get past people was only going to be energy wasted. I felt like I was in a fun run, jogging along at a pace I felt I could do forever and a day; glancing down at my Garmin I notice I was running 30secs per mile behind target pace at that point, oops! Not to worry though, I continued steadily on my way, enjoying the company of other runners.
It didn't take long before runners were diving down side streets to relieve themselves, lovely! Around Holyrood Park we ran, and glancing down at the Garmin again I realize I've missed the first mile marker. At this point club mate Connor Carson pulls alongside me and says hello. He'd managed to edge his way to the front of the pink starting pen, and with me starting near to the tail end of my pen we didn't start too far apart. We exchanged a few words before Connor started to run on ahead. Immediately this started to put thoughts into my head "should I be following him?" and "what if he gets away and I don't catch him?" After he pipped me by a second at the Shakespeare half, and with a recent addition to the family (congratulations Connor) amongst other things which had limited the number of long training runs he was able to do, I was very keen to finish ahead of him, but continued to tell myself to "stick to the plan, however much I feel I can push on now, I will regret it later". So off Connor went into the crowd ahead.
Having now missed the second mile marker as well, the third mile marker came into sight, I passed it in 19:26… bang on target pace of 6:29/mi for the first three miles. Keeping one eye on Connor ahead in the distance and maintained my steady pace, swigging some water from the first water station; it was already hot and was only going to get hotter as the race progressed.
Passing the 4mile marker in 25:43 I'd covered the last mile in 6:17, though that would be owing to some of the long gentle descent during that mile. Reaching the second drinks station I realised I'd missed the 5mile marker and slowly sipped on a bottle of Lucozade sport whilst running along the promenade. The 6mile marker was passed at 38:39, so I'd averaged 6:29/mi since the 4th mile marker - perfect. Official results show me passing the 10km timing mat in 39:15. It was at this point I was really starting to enjoy myself… the whole atmosphere of the event was fantastic with brilliant support from the crowds. Reaching the 7th mile marker took 6:30 and the 8th mile marker was another 6:23.
The course passed over a bridge with a stream/small river running underneath it, the smell of the seaside filled the air, normally a reasonably pleasant smell, but not so whilst running and inhaling lungfuls of the stuff. A sharp left turn followed and I saw race photographers lining either side of the road, I smiled and gave a 'thumbs up' – all was well. Approaching the 9mile marker had the added distraction of being able to see the Musselburgh racecourse (where the finish line was located) as well as a water station; I rushed to pull a carbo gel out of my pocket and squeeze it down my throat before reaching the water station. A sharp left turn and I was greeted with a familiar face, my partner Emma was waiting with forum member Owain’s other half, Judith. I waved to Emma and smiled as she cheered, and clapped whilst also trying to turn the camera on for a photo – it resulted in the most bizarre juggling act that would've been quite at home on 'Britain's Got Talent'. The support was a tremendous lift, not that I needed it, but I felt brilliant and was making up lost ground on club mate Connor. Amidst the distractions I'd forgotten to take a split at the 9mile marker, and reached the 10mile marker with a 2mile split of 12:55… marginally quicker than target pace, probably attributed to the psychological lift at the sight of partner Emma.
There was a long but gentle ascent towards the 11th mile marker, and pressing the lap button my garmin flashed up "Lap: 7:18" – "AAARGH! How's has that happened!" I thought… the I knew I may have lost a few seconds due to the gentle incline, but not 50seconds worth! I became frustrated but didn't want to speed up for fear of jeopardising myself in the latter stages of the race. I found it hard not to battle the frustration of such a slow mile and could tell I was pushing on ever so slightly. I took a bottle of water from the water station and also collected one of the Lucozade carbo gels they were handing out for later in the race.
"Mile 12" marker approached and again I pressed the lap button; "Lap: 5:32" – "Whaaaaaat?!" There was no way I'd ran sub 10k pace for the last mile, and twigged that the 11th mile marker must've been positioned in the wrong place. I was now drawing level with Connor, commenting that I hadn't been expecting to see him again when he pushed on ahead earlier in the race. We continued to chat a little as we ran, and Connor tucked into some of the Jelly Babies he was carrying as I heard a voice shout from the sidelines "Come on Richard Simkiss!"… "hey, that's my name!" I thought, completely baffled as to how someone would know my name – "ten pound!" he shouted whilst clapping me along – at which point it dawned on me; it was runnersforum.co.uk member 10pound, who had mentioned he lived somewhere on the course and would do his best to spot us. With the mental processing speed of a slug I was way past him by the time I'd realised what was going on, but did my best to shout "hi!" and give a wave as Connor and I motored on to the 13mile marker. The 13th mile was completed in 6:33/mi and was soon followed by the halfway mark, "Crikey! We've done a half marathon already? I wish they always felt that easy!" I said to Connor. Official results show I hit 13.1miles in 1:24:48, so an average pace of 6:28/mi… virtually spot on target pace. It then dawned on me that 12months ago, my half marathon PB was 1:26:58… and now I'd just ran the first half of a full marathon over 2minutes quicker, and planned to do the same for the second half, that made me feel good, though in hindsight perhaps that should've been a warning!
The Second Half
Approaching the fifth drinks station I was trying to remember what fuel I was supposed to be taking on board, it should’ve been 330ml of Lucozade, and I think that’s what I had. I somehow missed the 14mile marker and it was at some point during the next mile that Connor kindly pointed out some completely obscure view round the coastline, as far as the eye could see, was in fact where Gosford House was – how demoralising! I could barely see that far and yet knew it there was still another 8miles to go to the finish once we’d reached there.
The surroundings were lovely from the 15mi marker, which I’d passed in 1:36:47, bringing my average pace for the race so far to 6:27/mi. I could feel the smallest signs of tiredness in my hamstrings, but no more so than a slow paced 15mile run would normally present. “It can’t be too long before the front runners come past in the other direction” I thought, and soon enough I could see some runners ahead joining back onto the course from a side road – this puzzled me a little as to where the course was leading – basically we turned off a main road, and ran maybe 0.2mi before turning back on ourselves to rejoin the main road – a little loop that’d obviously been put in to make up the exact marathon distance.
The 16th mile took 6:40, which wasn’t ideal though it did involve some climbing which I was confident would be made up when running the same stretch in the opposite direction (near the 20mi marker). I tucked in behind Connor when approaching the water station and downed another carbo gel before washing the sticky syrup down with a small bottle of water. At this point we also passed what was to be the next water station with energy gels at the 19mi marker, though it looked decidedly quiet with only water bottles visible. At this point it hadn’t dawned on me that they should’ve had gels at that point, I just wondered to myself when the next gel stop was.
The course turned off the main road and onto a very gravelly track, sheltered in shade by towering trees, the gravel certainly wasn’t ideal terrain for fast running. No sooner had that thought entered my head we came out of the shade and into the blistering sun, a perfectly paced (6:29) 17th mile was good to see, though it coincided with a steady climb. I’d be lieing if I said I felt as comfortable at the top of this hill as I did before we reached it. Memories of a training run with the club several months ago came into my mind, chatting to Matthew Kingston-Lee he’d mentioned that you should really still be feeling fresh at 18miles, I asked myself that very question and couldn’t decide on an answer – a mile earlier yes, I felt fresh as a daisy, though the hill had taken something out of me. Anyway, onwards I went approaching 18miles I realised I was now in unknown territory, the furthest I’d ever ran at this pace in training was 17mi, and here I was coming up to mile 18, with another 8.2 miles to go.
The 18mi marker came after 1hour 56mins and 57secs of running time had elapsed, this was the first time I’d dropped behind target pace, my average pace was now 6:30/mi. Not a problem, as there this was very much down to the climb that had just been endured. The run down to 19mi saw a drop in elevation, and the mile was completed in 6:20, putting me back onto 6:29/mi average pace; though despite the pleasure of running down a gentle slope for a mile, the blazing sunshine was magnified by the lack of a breeze which had helped to take the edge of the heat in the earlier stages, I was literally starting to cook! Speaking to other runners after the event, I think this was very much a turning point for many runners as energy was being readily sapped by the heat.
Drinks station 7 approached and I was due another energy gel, it was a struggle to get this one out of my pocket and I managed to give myself quite an impressive wedgie as I became progressively frustrated with the gel’s resistance to coming free. It must’ve been quite the sight to anyone behind to see this strange green vested bloke hopping and skipping trying to re-arrange his race shorts and lining. My thoughts were with Connor who I’d starting to pull away from by this point – it was probably this incident that encouraged him to give me a wide berth!
I felt fine energy wise at this point, though being conscious of the heat I was keen to keep stocked up on fluids knowing I’d be struggling later on. The gels seemed to be sitting better in my stomach than the sports drinks which left me with some gastrointestinal discomfort. The gel was washed down with water and I was now left without any gels, which really made me begin to wonder where the second gel station was supposed to be.
I passed 20miles in 2:09:52, the prancing around sorting out my shorts had cost me a few seconds but finally I could start counting down towards the finish line “Just 10k to go... come on Rich, how often do you run 10k? It’s nothing compared to those long runs you’ve done”, and so I carried on, passing Owain travelling in the opposite direction we both smiled and gave each other a cheesey ‘hi-five’. I kept my eyes peeled for Ros & Pete but as the race crowd thickened it seemed virtually every other runner was wearing green and I gave up hope of seeing them – when suddenly, “RICH!” I heard them both shout, but as with the situation earlier, I was well past them before my brain had registered what was happening, but again I tried as best I could to return shouts of encouragement.
By 21miles things were starting to get hard, so hard that I missed the 21mile marker, and I began to recollect sharing my pacing strategy with others on runners forum – I’d hoped to maintain 6:29/mi up to 22mi and then think about pushing on if circumstances allowed. The one comment that stuck in my head was from another runner of similar ability - Stuart Leaney, he said something along the lines of; “’Pushing on’ certainly wasn’t one of my thoughts as I reached the 22mi mark”, which he said with regards to his 2:51 performance at London - “how right you are!” I thought as I tried push on – this is where things really started to get hard. I took a bottle of Lucozade but my stomach wasn’t wanting any more, after half the bottle I tossed the rest to one side, and passed the 22mi marker in 2:23:08, marginally behind target pace. I kicked on a little bit passing three runners that were fairly closely grouped – I think this was my first encounter with any runners travelling in the same direction as me since I was running alongside Connor back at the 18mi marker.
I came round a left hand bend to be greeted with a black Citroen Saxo performing a three point turn in the middle of the course – Brilliant! I hopped up onto the kerb, which thanks to my tired legs felt like it was about half a metre high. Pushing on, running was becoming such hard work and even the cheer from forum member 10pound as I passed his house for a second time could only lift my spirits momentarily. The 23rd mile had taken me 6:17, which seemed to explain why it was hurting so much more than the previous miles, though later analysis of my GPS data shows that the marker was perhaps positioned a little early. “5k and bit to go” I told myself, but I couldn’t keep the pace going, the legs were tired yes, but that wasn’t the main problem... something was going on with my chest area... it felt like the mother of all stitches that completely consumed my whole chest and felt like it would only ease if I dropped the pace, but that’s the last thing I wanted to do!
Actually now I think about it, the chest discomfort was a little earlier on, before the 23mile marker, as I remember wondering if it was due to the drink I’d taken on at the last water station. As the race went on the chest pains seem to become less of an issue as the tired legs took priority on the list of things causing me discomfort. The slight camber of the road suddenly began to feeling like I was running along the side of a mountain and it felt so obvious and awkward. I shifted towards the gutter to minimise the impact of the camber but even that didn’t help too much – I was starting to come to the realisation that my legs were shot, they started sending messages en-mass to the brain telling me we HAD to stop, and that in exchange for just a short walking break I would soon feel rejuvenated and able to run properly again. Comments from the forum over the previous few weeks began to spring to mind “You have to ignore those voices telling you to walk – they’re liars”. So tunnel visioned and struggling more than anything, one foot in front of the other is all I could think about as I scanned the road ahead for the next mile marker. “24 Miles”... that last mile had taken me 7:15, “This is my long slow run pace” I thought to myself “Come on, I’ve got to be able to run faster”, alas any efforts to increase speed were just equalled by an increase in the level of pain. The final drinks station came up and I didn’t see any point in taking on any sports drink, my stomach didn’t want it, and it probably would’ve made little difference to my speed! I drank some water and splashed the rest over my face... a somewhat STUPID idea as the hefty salt deposits that had formed on my head were washed into my eyes which gave me yet further discomfort to contend with!
7 blurry minutes later I was approaching the 25mi marker, and the thought of another mile just killed me, I honestly had no idea how I was going to do it, I passed 25mi in 2:43:50, (7:10 since 24mi) so I knew that as long as I kept plugging away, no matter how slowly I ran, I’d still manage the sub 3hour time which was my minimum target for the day (to allow me a ‘good for age’ place at the 2010 London Marathon), I no longer cared how many people overtook me, or who’s time I did/didn’t beat – all I wanted to do was finish the race. Which was quite lucky since the 3 guys I’d passed earlier came trotting back past me!
The number of spectators began to increase and slowly, as the mile passed, I started to realise I’d make it. My brain had turned to mush so I’d lost all concept of what time I should be expecting, but I didn’t care, the 26mi marker was coming into sight, I pressed the ‘lap’ button but didn’t register the time (it turned out to 6:58 for the last mile), “LESS THAN 400m TO GO! COME ON!” but even the idea of another 400m seemed like a marathon in itself at this point. The course came away from the road and onto the most bizarre temporary surface I’d ever come across. It was large plastic jigsaw like pieces, fitted together on very uneven ground – there were gaps between sections of the flooring and some tiles sticking up “I’m sure that’ll cause a few injuries!” I thought, as I bounced along a particularly soft and uneven section of it. Suddenly all became hard underfoot and as the temporary flooring became tarmac I could see the finish line. The noise from the crowds was deafening, an absolute joy to hear – with 100m to go I glanced over my shoulder to see nobody chasing me down, I punched the air in celebration and the crowds roared even louder. I hurt so much but when spirit of the crowd was so lifting! I put on a fast finishing spurt – I wanted to look for my other half Emma in the crowd, but there were hundreds and hundreds of people cheering – no way could I have spotted her.
The timing clock showed 2:53:XX (I didn’t take note of the seconds) as I made my last few strides to the finish line – Yes, I was finished, and for once I actually remembered to stop my timer! I stopped and almost immediately felt my hamstrings start to cramp up “Aaaargh, gotta keep moving!” I thought, as I had a lucozade sport plunged into my hands by a marshal I looked at my Garmin – 2:52:38... I’d done it, I’d finished the marathon. Not quite in the time I wanted, but I’d managed sub three hours, and I’d finished – I was officially a marathoner.
