Well, the day didn't start too well for me with an alarm accidentally set for PM instead of AM, a closed baggage truck and then, after heading to my old flat to dump my bag, and then hoardes of runners who didn't want to queue for the portaloos and instead decided to visit the road positioned directly opposite the startline...containing my old flat. Cue me, regularly hiding behind the front door and bursting out and surprising the filthy culprits with a blood-curdling war cry. I hope they peed on their own shoes and got blisters. Honestly, there were hundreds of them queuing up to relieve themselves in my doorway and it was just horrid. Ladies and most especially gentlemen of the forum, please don't ever do this.
Anyway, I made it to the starting pen eventually, dressed in a bin bag poncho and a scowl. The weather was horrid, but fairly cool at least. The starting klaxon took me by surprise as I was mentally composing an email to the organisers about putting a steward in the street to stop the above issue, and then suddenly the countdown began.
The route through the city was fun, lined with supporters and with lots to look atโpast little Greyfriars Bobby (pictured) and over The Mound, which I love to bound down on training runs. Round into Princes Street Gardens and past the Scott Monument back up into the old town. Down the Royal Mile, past the Tollbooth, with Queen Mary's funny little bathhouse in the distance, and into Holyrood Park via the Palace and Parliament building. I found myself thinking what a nice route it was, and that I must sign up for next year.
We did a peculiar hairpin in the park, before heading out of the city centre into Seafield when it started to get a bit dull. Just little grey houses, on a grey day. At least it was predominantly downhill though! I got battered by the rain at this point, and I decided it was actually not a nice route and I would not sign up for it next year.
The rain subsided a little and the view began to clear as we ran alongside the sea, past Joppa salt pans and craggy rocks covered in cormorants. I started to struggle a little with my left leg, it just seemed to be feeling a bit funny, I realised there was a significant camber on the road and my leg was getting the brunt of it. Luckily, although busy, the runners weren't overly crowded and once I moved over it settled down. The road gently sloped down towards Portobello, and as we flowed along and turned onto the promenade I found myself thinking what a nice route it was and I must sign up for next year.
Along Porty Prom the rain started right up again, horizontal and relentless, making the paving slippy with sand and water. I spotted a sea-facing house I'd like to buy and tried to Google it to see how many organs I'd have to sell to afford it, but there was too much rain and my screen ended up a smeary mess. I never did find out. On the plus side there were many lovely dogs that came out to watch the runners go by on the promenade, the rain made their fur all curly. There was really no protection from the elements here, and although I know the view is lovely on a clear day on this particular one it was just a big pile of greyness and flat, wet, boring ground covered with pounding feet. I really don't like running in the rain, my t-shirt was sticking to me like a clammy shower curtain and my feet squelched. Someone took an official photo of me at this point (above) and I bought it because it made me laugh, I'm really grimacing. Squelching along, I decided it was not a nice route and I would not sign up next year.
After a gel stop (I got a High5 fruity one, which tasted OK but stuck all over my lips in a weird gloop, and then slipped out of my wet hands and spilled down my trousers) we peeled away from the seashore into Musselburgh. I was really feeling my lack of training by now. My heart and lungs were doing OK, and my legs were moving...but felt really fatigued and kind of weak. We met up with two way running traffic here, and for what felt like miles and milesโbut can only have been about oneโthe speedy runners shot past in the opposite direction. It was quite psychologically tough, knowing we'd still have to come back that whole way ourselves before finishing...I decided it was most definitely not a nice route and I would not be signing up next year.
I was relieved to eventually reach the turning point, and even more relieved when it didn't feel anywhere near as long on the return back into Musselburgh. I was able to speed up a little bit over the finish line, not a sprint but a faster trot. I finished in 2:00:20, which was a bit annoying, but in fact the route measured at 21.3km so my half was still just beneath my two hour target, at 1:59:09 ๐ A lovely cheery lady handed me my medal and a nice square handbag containing a t-shirt and sundry freebies, and a couple of other stewards doled out porridge bars and also a pot of lovely fresh strawberries. The air was very chilly, and the sky very grey, but I felt pretty ok considering how little preparation I had done. Because I'd had to leave all my stuff behind in Edinburgh I went to Luca's for a coffee to warm up, and then grabbed an ice cream on the way out because I can't not have one if I'm in the area.
On balance and with reflection, it was in fact a nice route and I'll sign up next year. The weather was terrible, my legs were not in good shape, it took me ages to get home but it's a good, speedy course with a bit of city, a bit of seaside and a bit of greenery. It was about the worst combination of conditions for me, but it was still pretty OK so I think that's testament to the event! The running crowds were sufficient to motivate but not so many that we got in each others' way at all, and the supporters along the route are always good in Edinburgh. It was really well organised, and at the end we got strawberries ๐ All in all, a recommendation from me!
Here's a bit of a Relive of the route: