So How's The Marathon Training Going?

Did I mention I entered the Edinburgh Marathon on 22nd May?  Probably not.

It's all that baby's fault - possibly.  Fellow Strathearn Harriers Al & Kaz were about to have Kaz deliver what turned out to be Murray.  A bottle of bubbly was offered by another Harrier to the person who got closest to day and time of birth plus birthweight and boy/girl prediction.

If there were two tickets in a lottery, I'd pick the wrong one.  So, confident as ever of failure, I promised I'd run the 2011 Edinburgh Marathon if I won.

Oh, the sense of humour of the Gods.

And so it transpired that 'For tis the sport to have the enginer Hoist with his owne petar'.  Blown up by my own gunpowder.  A delayed action fuse even, since I'll probably 'blow up' somewhere around 16-20 miles, or sooner.

This is not so fanciful or even guesswork; last Friday says so.  The latest instalment of training involved a run from home into the glory that is Glen Artney, south-west of Comrie, Perthshire.

Friday 8th April was glorious, if breezy.  The target was The Schoolhouse in Glen Artney, some 20kms or so from home.  A round trip approaching marathon distance, albeit I expected to stop a few times en route.  Packed water (600ml), jelly babies and mobile phone.  Wife working (without mobile phone) for most of the time I'd be running but, hey, I'm not going to need rescuing, am I?  Use the MP3 player on the mobile to while away the miles, not something I usually do.  Silence - or more correctly the sounds of the countryside - is usually preferable to me.  But I do like a slug of Sandy Dennis, The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band, Kirsty McCall and so on mingled with Bruch, Tchaikovsky and Leoncavallo.  Eclectic, I think that's called.  Or mad.

So off into the teeth of the breeze and the first leg (8kms) that included most of the climbing I'd be doing.  Into Balloch (is Scotland just a load of Ballochs?) where a 20mph driver passes considerately.  Out again and round the back of Drummond Castle to head for Blar an Rodhar (Blairinroar).  Wind now hitting from the left as I head West past farms and the Scout & Guide campsite.  Intermittent shelter from the wind but find I actually like the feel of the fast-flowing, oxygen-laden breath of Mother Nature on my shoulder.

So across the B827 as vehicles scurry by to Comrie or Braco to the renewed peace of my westerly trek.  But then reality breaks into the poetic imaginings; my toes are hurting.

Since it's not a good idea to break in a new pair of running shoes on a marathon, I changed to one of my stored pairs a few weeks ago.  When I find shoes that suit me, I buy two or three pairs and put them away for later.  My feet aren't going to change, are they?....

So my toes are hurting and I don't feel like pretending this is the real thing so I stop, remove the shoes and get massaging.  Having only seen one vehicle on my bit of tarmac for nearly 10 miles, of course this is the perfect moment for vehicle #2 to pass.  A utility company 'white' van - driven not by White Van Man but by White Van Woman.  Equality reigns.

Glen Artney beckons so on with the shoes and down to Wester Meiggar and into South-West mode.  Check watch.  Just two hours so close enough to schedule.  Head for The Turning Point.  Hum-de-hum goes the MP3 player and its library of entertaining tunes.  The sun shines brightly on Beinn Dearg.  The hills are alive with the sound of music.

PARP!!  I leap skywards Apollo-like for at least 10cms and lurch sideways onto the grass verge.  Has Toad been reincarnated?  No.  Gently, a very nice lady driver in her 4x4 draws level from where she was following me and says through the open window "I'm SO sorry.  I didn't mean to startle you but with those.. " - she points at the MP3 ear-pieces now dangling from my neck - "I realised you couldn't hear me."  "Quite all right.  In a world of my own with all this.." - I gesture at Nature In All Her Glory - "as well as the music."  We part good friends.

So onwards and (mostly) downwards towards the end of Glen Artney.  But the miles are starting to tell their own story and it seems sensible to consider turning a little earlier than planned.  So I do, about 3 kms shy of the Car Park.

So back up Glen Artney, back to Wester Meiggar where the clock shows around 43 minutes for the round trip.  Plan A was to return via Cultibraggan and the Glascorrie Road.  This also involves several miles of the Strowan Road (back road Crieff-Comrie) that I don't care for much.  So I invoke Plan B and return the way I came.

27kms and the water's gone.  And it's got warmer.  And the breeze has receded.  And I'm tired.  Still, pop a couple more jelly babies into the mouth, get the energy in and see how we go.  Nature torments me with the sound of babbling brooks alongside the road but I'm not yet desparate enough to drink pond-life.  But what's that?  Can it really be a miniature waterfall emerging through a mossy enclosure next to the road?  Indeed it can.  Caution to the winds, fill water-bottle and drink icy-cold liquid in gulps.  Is this wise?  Possibly not....

Another kilometre and minor pain in the gut.  OH NO!!!!  The water was poisoned.....  Another kilometre and - the pain's gone.  More water, less pain.  WHEW!!  Good call after all.

Get to 30kms and it's (mostly) all downhill from here.  Back through Balloch and up the long drag to the A85.  A couple + dog emerge ahead about 150 metres ahead of me, the couple oblivious to me, the dog not.  Dog approaches; he knows I'm a Dogman, I know he's not a problem.  We run along together and, just as we are a few metres behing the couple, they realise they have no dog but that An Apparition has it.  I return their dog and very soon am standing on the edge of the A85 waiting for the traffic to go by.  I am oblivious to their nature.

So across the road onto the hundred or so metres of grass verge before the pavement starts near Stuart Crystal.  I walk, partly so I don't fall over into the traffic, partly for a breather.  I become aware that a man is walking towards me.  This is strange because this short pavement goes nowhere.  Then I realise - it's fellow Harrier Graham Martin.  How coincidental!  Well, not entirely.

Being a kindly soul and passing in his car a fellow Harrier in apparent distress, he rides to the rescue with the offer of a lift home.  He should be a doctor - diagnosis 100%.  (I THINK I'd have got home OK - about 2kms further - but you never know).  And he provides me with an unopened 500ml bottle of water to boot.  What a gent.  The water doesn't last a mile - could it be I was a trifle dehydrated?....

Safely delivered home, I restore what's left of me in the usual fashion under a deluge of water in the bathroom and also restore my depleted internal water supply - about 2 litres-worth.  The shower also provides evidence that my bald spot got slightly sunburned.  Smacked wrists for no hat - as well as not enough water.  Ho-hum.  Experience can be had at any age - even my advanced one.

Next morning, I go out for an 11km run 'round the block' on my regular routine run.  Slowest ever in 12 years of doing that route - but I don't care.  By the following morning, I wake up and walk downstairs without any pain and scarcely any stiffness.  That 11kms was a struggle but an investment well-worthwhile.

So will the Edinburgh Marathon be within my compass?  Possibly.  Probably.  Definitely.  One of them anyway.

But my kindly fellow Harriers, possibly motivated by fear of my succombing to the event, have formed a Relay Team (of four) to accompany me.  How can I possibly let them down?  It promises to be interesting - possibly - and (hopefully) even entertaining.  It will certainly be a challenge.  Many have now met that challenge, including my heroes George Carson and Fiona Lyle.  George will be there on the starting line and with me through Leg 1.  Beth, Liz and Charlie will follow on the next three Legs (Liz threatening to do Legs 3 AND 4).  I just hope I'll be there - on both legs - as Leg 4 comes to its glorious conclusion in the company of Charlie and Liz.

Watch this space.