Edinburgh Rock N Roll Half Marathon 2012
Today started well. The hangover was a 6/10. No Jagermeister, white wine or shots last night. Just Guinness.
Breakfast was easy.
On my way into Edinburgh City Centre I spent 30 minutes on the bus trying to fit the tag onto my shoe. I was losing patience fast. I was about to introduce my head to the bus window but thought that wouldn’t be conductive to running through the wall at mile 10.
The race was started with much too enthusiasm for my liking. I was just jealous that others seemed to know what they were doing, standing about pretty in a semi-legal state of undress.
I spent most of the first 8 miles thinking ‘Is that fucking tag gonna stay on?’ ‘Is it still there?’.
Honest to God. Every half mile. It was like my head was possessed by the Rainman.
‘Is that fucking tag still there?’
I hit 9 miles and we were sent uphill through the city starting at Holyrood and winded up through Cowgate and an endless amounts of hills.
It got tough at this point and I started on a mad internal diatribe about how with enough will, heart and spirit you can get yourself through almost any situation in life.
I got overwhelmed and spat out a ‘Hills, ya cunt.’ out loud to no-one in particular. I was jogging with a group at this time. I seemed to alienate at least a few of them.
I got to 10 miles and waited for the niggling doubts to come.
I got to 11 miles and waited for the Wall to come.
I got to 12 miles and my mind was empty apart from the realisation that I only had 1.1 miles to go. So I went for and sprinted down Market Street until I got to the finish.
2:10:44. A new personal best. I am a very happy man.