The Edinburgh Marathon 2010

Photo credit: Y Luu


Ok , so I am full of shit.

It turns out that I am a runner. A few posts back where I said I wasn't. Rubbish.

You know how I know this? How did this dramatic turnabout happen in a matter of days?

I ran a marathon. In Edinburgh. On the hottest weekend ever recorded in May in Scotland. It was brutal. I suffered. But so did 13,999 other people.

It seems like a surreal dream and I would think it so apart for the fact that I am limping badly and have a very strange tan.

Memories of the pain are fading already. All I remember is rounding the corner and seeing the finish line, 200 meters ahead of me. The end that I had longed after for 42 kilometers had finally come. Time seemed to slow. Pat Benatar started to sing, We Belong, on my ipod:

We belong to the light, we belong to the thunder..

Adrenaline coursed through me, propelling me to sprint. My breathing became jagged.

No, I thought. Relish It.

So I slowed down and took in the shimmering crowds and wall of noise. The other runners hurtling like coloured bullets past me. The blue sky and hot sun. The feeling of freedom, strength, lightness and joy as my legs carried me over that threshold; where I would never have to run again if I didn't want to.

That's what I remember.

Is that how I know I am a runner?

No.

I know because 48 hours after putting my body through that hell, I find myself thinking that it would be nice to go for a bit of a run.