Happily Ever After

Life in The Rural Retreat with a beautiful wife, three cats, garden wildlife, a camera, a computer – and increasing amounts about running

Earlier posts can be found on Adventures of a Lone Bass Player, where this blog began life. Recent entries can be found here.

Virtual London Marathon 2025

by Russell Turner - 09:20 on 26 April 2025

It seemed like a good omen when Facebook Memories informed me yesterday that it was four years to the day since I achieved my probably never-to-be-repeated sub-2hr half marathon. As I’d already decided that yesterday would be Marathon Day, encouraged by the forecast moderate temperature and lack of wind and rain, all seemed good.

My proposed six out-and-backs, with pit stops, was abandoned before I even left The Rural Retreat: the repetition didn’t appeal. Instead, I walked up the track beside the burn to the flattish road at the top of the incline where I would hit the Garmin’s start button and complete two three-mile repeats as a warm-up, sticking to 4:1 run/walk.

I was careful not to go out too fast; the first few miles suggested a 5:15 finish time, which would be perfect. Unfortunately, I was already feeling the effort at what should have been a comfortable, easy pace. Maybe the sombre funeral party gathering outside Resolis Hall was a less good omen, the group growing bigger every time I passed it, so it was a relief to leave that road and head downhill towards the old ferry landing.

I reached it 1:37 and 8.3 miles into the run, still keeping up a reasonable pace but conscious that I wouldn’t sustain it to the end. My mood wasn’t helped by encountering the funeral party on the way back, this time outside Kirkmichael Cemetery where parking was totally inadequate for the number of mourners. Cars were parked along the already narrow road, turning it into single track but without passing places, necessitating much reversing of traffic and forcing me to stop several times.

My plan for a return to the ferry landing was abandoned in favour of a run to Jemimaville, from where I could continue along the shore road to Cromarty and back, which would have taken me well over 20 miles into the run. However, running six miles into a light but cool wind seemed unnecessary masochism. Instead, from the village I returned to The Rural Retreat for bonus water (I had plenty of Tailwind), half an energy bar (which was all I could stomach) and a change of shirt. I’d covered 13.35 miles in 2:40 – perfectly acceptable, but unsustainable on the day.

Back on the road, I returned to the ferry landing having correctly predicted that the funeral would be over. I was still sticking to 4:1, although the pace continued to drop, then dropped further when I moved to 3:2 run/walk after 16 miles. What energy I had left was almost gone. I returned to the Retreat having covered a further five miles, the last half mile walked (it was uphill), and 3:50 into the run. Matchgirl did her best to gee me up and ignore my grumbling while I nibbled the energy bar.

The next six miles took me almost to Jemimaville and almost to the ferry, sometimes at 4:1, sometimes at 3:2, sometimes walking. I returned to the Retreat with just two miles left to complete. More water, more grumbling, and I finally finished the energy bar.

The marathon was completed on the road where it had begun. After 26.22 miles the Garmin showed 5:54 but, unusually for me, as I’d paused it during pit stops my elapsed time was 6:28 – 2mins slower than my very first London Marathon where I’d finished a lot happier.

What went wrong on the day, I don’t know. Last year, with longest long runs of 13.1 miles, I finished in 5:09. My guess is that the bronchitis played a part. I felt recovered but perhaps my body was not yet up to the distance. I’ll take it easy in the next four weeks, before Edinburgh.

I’m very tempted to say that I’ve run my last virtual marathon. It’s a long, long way for a solo run. Or maybe I needed a more inspiring route, like last year’s from Glen Affric. We’ll see. I can’t have been totally discouraged because I’ve entered the ballot for London next year. Some people never learn.

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