The ramblings of a maranoiac, the week before Manchester, written in ten minutes at lunchtime while eating soup.

You know I don’t get how we as runners can expect others to understand us when we don’t even understand ourselves.

Especially marathon runners and prospective marathon runners. To my wife Elaine, and to all your other halves or dogs or kids or family or friends or imaginary friends or whoever, I really do salute you. What the hell are we doing? I’ll try and explain a bit better. Now I know in my last blog I had run a decent 10k, and one that I was pleased with. Since then what have I done? The weather as we know has been manky. Windy, rainy, snowy and I have been out in it. One night to make sure I was following my plan I started and finished my run on different days, running through the wilds of Muirhouse and Craigneuk at the witching hour as it’s the only time I could fit in a run. What’s that all about? On my 47th birthday I got up ridiculously early and in what can only be described as a bawbag of a wind did 21 miles. A real unhappy birthday as I started getting grief from my ankle which has continued to this day, and then phoned my wife to pick me up so I could change my route and avoid running 5 miles uphill into the wind.

Naturally here’s the song.

I have not been to my club in who knows how long, every session is a solo one. And it’s tough. Mile reps in the wind. Every run meticulously planned before I do it. Programming my watch. I’ve missed two races I really wanted to do because they didn’t fit my plan. I watched 2 folk I beat in the 10k then go out 2 weeks later and run 4 or 5 minutes faster for a half marathon than I ever have. Could I have done that? Then they do it at the Tom Scott 10 miler the next week. I love that race, and I missed it for a marathon. I don’t even like marathons, so what am I doing?


Stewarding instead, great fun watching the likes of Luke Traynor, but I wanted to run! Thanks Bobby Gavin for the pic.

I have let a grown man stick elbows in my legs and twist my hips and all sorts. I have ate 4 full sized horses, or so it seems, even when not running. A long lie is 7.30. Complete and utter madness. And why I ask as I limp unsteadily towards the starting line? Answers on a postcard. Today I don’t know. But last week I did know. I was focused. It was 100% for me. I want to impress myself and only myself, show I’m not past it, show I can work hard and achieve. Set my mind to something and see it through. I don’t know today what achieve is. Is it finish? Is it a GFA? A PB? Let’s reassess. I had my plan and you know something despite injuries to the hamstring and the ankle, despite 3 eastie beasties, despite my own demons and limitations I have worked bloody hard for this. I may not understand the primal urge that has me doing this but I am not stressing, I have worked hard and I will go out there and give all I have. If my body supports me then I will enjoy it the best I can and I have visualised that finishing line, and visualised running it. The taper train is well and truly oot the station, the ankle is being looked after, the chocolate being ignored (or maybe not that last bit) and the big boy pants are on. Bring it on Manchester, I may not be much but you’re going to feel the full force of it. To everyone out there doing it give it utter laldy, and gie it the Malkie. We might not know why we are doing it, but we bloody deserve to enjoy it. Running, it’s mad and mentally magic 🙂

here’s the links to last year’s marathon madness if you are brave enough:


London marathon 2017

Marathon lessons learned

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