Time: 2:48:11 (It felt like double that)
OK, so you can maybe guess from my time, but basically, this whole race kind of went to shit, and I had a feeling, much like Romeo before Capulet’s party, that something was going to go very, very wrong. My reasons for this included:
1.) I was running under someone else’s number. The only other time I have done this is when I paid for my entry to the Garioch half in 2013, and I was one of the few entries lost when they changed their system for taking entries. The early bird does not always catch the worm, and I ran as ‘Jon Bell’. Anyway, I forgot to enter Crathes, but one of Ronnie’s friends could no longer run, and she offered up her entry to me. I felt shady as hell giving a false name at registration, and convinced myself the karma gods would strike me down with a heart attack. I pushed this to the back of my mind.
2.) A stolen fork. The weekend prior to Crathes, I ran Glenmore 12, but in the frenzy of preparation, I forgot to pack any utensils to cook with. Because of this, when I dined out with Elaine and Rob on Friday night, I slipped the fork I had used into my bag with the intention of returning the fork on the way back to Aberdeen after the race. Well, I had 4 beers for breakfast on Sunday before we left, so my brain was a little foggy, and I forgot. That fork is still burning a hole in my conscience, and I plan on sending it back with an apology note. I’m so badass.
I’m going to keep this brief, because I’m in the middle of moving right now, and because I don’t really want to dwell on this experience for any longer than I have to, but essentially I don’t think I allowed myself enough time to rest after Glenmore. I started running with Suzy at a comfortable pace. I got to mile 4 and my knee was hurting quite a lot. I stopped several times to stretch it off, massage anything around my knee, curse my faulty body, whatever – to no avail. By mile 7, I urged Suzy to go ahead, and began the long, slow, death march to the finish line. It hurt. I was cold. At the sight of a familiar face along the course I burst into tears, like a little girl. It sucked.
By the time I crossed the finish line, most people had left, and I could barely bend my leg.
The one positive I can take away from the day is that I ran into an old workmate, Iain, who is now a firefighter. He and one of his colleagues were running in full uniform as a practice run for November, when they will be running New York marathon for charity. They remained in high spirits, despite the added bonus of running in a portable sauna, and if you want to donate, you can do so HERE. They passed me and Suzy a couple of miles in, and finished somewhere around the 2:18 mark. They will definitely earn a few cold beers after New York, that’s for sure.