Loch Ness Marathon
by James Bell
The Caledonian sleeper sidled out of Euston at 9.30 pm on an unremarkable Thursday night heading for the capital of the highlands. By 9.31, Alison and I had already drunk half the wine, eaten most of the cheese and had plans to stay up no later than 10:30, such is our rock & roll lifestyle. Tucked in bed, my last though was “why I am doing a marathon?”. For anyone who knows me, I have a problem with marathons. I just don’t see the attraction. However, my inner trainspotter had noticed that whilst I had ticked a few race distance boxes, the marathon had defeated me. The reason for the defeat is that I had run courses that I considered boring, really boring. I needed something stimulating and then, I thought, my moment would come.