I knew that Garry 'the penguin' Player ("ah, he's so sweet") would have me in sights, so I tried to ignore the target burning into the back of my head as we lined up for the start. To be honest, Garry has been beating me for a long time in most of my races, so I was trying to take the heat off myself and not worry about where he was. Mark's preparation had been good, whilst mine had been appalling as usual! I ran my longest week the week before the marathon-45 miles- and I really didn't care what time I ran. My mate, Jim was running his first marathon ever so it was very exciting for him. Mark wanted to get close to 2.55.

We set off in the rain and chill of an Edinburgh morning. I felt cold, sluggish and was dying for a wee after about 2 minutes. "Bugger. Ignore it and it will go away,"I told myself. It didn't and I began to find myself looking out for an appropriate bush or drain-eat your heart out Paula, I'm not shy! When the course circled back to the start I headed straight for the portoloo and achieved desired turbo pee. Thereafter, I didn't look back. Surprisingly, I felt great and for me the race got better and better. Mark too seemed to be flying, but where was Garry?

I saw him at the turnaround at 13 miles and he was fine, finding time to tell me "I've got you in my sights." We both enjoyed the challenge. I pushed on but still expected Garry to narrow the gap. At the second switchback, he'd disappeared and I felt disappointed not to have the company.

Later I discovered he'd been suffering from terrible cramp and had had to stop on several occasions to stretch. This was such a shame for him as he'd worked so hardin terms of his preparation. The race continued to wend its undualting way to the finish. At 19 miles I got the first twinges in my left hip and knee and realised it wasn't going to be all plain sailing. The race is like that: you can feel so good and then the pain sets in quickly and without warning. I had twisted my pelvis. Each mile became a mammoth effort and by the time I hit a downhill at 22 miles I was in some considerable pain and leaking time at a spectacularly fast rate. All I cared about at that point was getting the bloody thing over with! My knee ached, my hip was throbbing and my whole gait seemed out of kilter. The last 200m was the worst- a sprint finish with two Scottish lads who'd accompanied me- chivalry IS dead!! They both beat me as I hobbled in and glanced at my time: 3:16. I felt EUPHORIC!

It had been hilly, painful as hell and a respectable time to boot. I'd loved it; even the pain had been worth it! Mark was waiting and had run 2:56. He was also thrilled. Jim came in in 4:01, a fantastic first race. I was really pleased for him and so was his biggest fan, Joey. Smiles all round. I was sad to see Garry's evident disappointment, but the marathon is like that- cruel. He knows he can go a lot faster, and he will. Would I do this race again? YOU BET!