Loch Ness Marathon 2009

Who'd have thought it: I'm promoting exercise on my blog. However, after the most exhilarating Loch Ness Marathon on Sunday, I offer no apologies.

The conditions were about as perfect as they could have been. Glorious sunshine, a biting chill in the air, and not a breath of wind; meanwhile, the majestic scenery at the start line was enough to impart a sense of Icarian possibility. The shambles of transport to the gun (our bus broke down, some failed to turn up at all) was quickly consigned to history.

Piped and drummed from the start line, I soon realised that this would be of a different order from those interminable training runs as mile after mile fell off without any need to dig deep. Smiling faces along the roadside and momentary glimpses of the loch seemed to express human and Divine blessing for our folly, and there were moments of a quite palpable rush, an enveloping tingling unlike anything associated with exercise in my experience.

By the big hill at 18 miles I was still feeling good, and it was only on the descent into Inverness that I began to fade, quite rapidly, my last three miles taking nearly 90 seconds longer, each, than my earlier average mile. But with the turn onto the running track at Queen's Park Stadium the energy returned for a showman's sprint finish and the young lass who gave me my medal could have been Jacques Rogge for how on top of the world I felt.

My only regret was telling the Mrs to expect me half an hour after I actually finished. She was wandering the streets of Inverness at the time I crossed the line.

The profound anticlimax that many feel after a race hasn't really hit me yet. I had a slight dip on Sunday afternoon, but a pint of Bitter by the locks in Fort Augustus sorted that.

I know one of my friends is already dusting off her running shoes for Loch Ness 2010, and I'd say the more, the merrier.

I ran raising funds for Middle East Nonviolence and Democracy. To donate please click here.