An award winning run

I'm in there. Somewhere.

I'd done a half marathon. I'd completed a couple of races in Dumfries. So surely a half marathon in Dumfries should be a doddle? Ah, if only life was so simple.

The race was at the end of September and had the added danger factor of any injuries picked up having a negative impact on my trip to Toronto a couple of weeks later. It also had the bonus of being within walking distance of my flat - although walking a couple of miles before and after you've run 13of them  is probably not a good idea. So I took the car, leaving ridiculously early to ensure I'd get myself a parking place.

Before that came the traditional attempt to freak myself out. Before the half marathon in Kirkcudbright I'd had a look for some details on Google and almost scared myself out of doing it. The obvious thing this time around was not to do that - so I did. I discovered it was a harder course than Kirkcudbright and the last few miles were pretty tough. Smashing. Oh, and I found the previous year's time of someone I knew and discovered they were much faster than I'd been at Kirkcudbright. Brilliant.

If only I could have been this calm...

What was the point in taking part? I was clearly going to make a fool of myself, struggle round the course and barely finished. The fact I regularly ran further than a half marathon distance at a good pace seemed irrelevant. This was a disaster waiting to happen. I went to bid the night before disheartened - and not just because St Mirren had lost. Again.

The weather wasn't great the following morning. Actually, that's not true. For running it was probably just about right - not too warm with the odd shower - however I could have done without the heavy rain ahead of the start which darkened my mood further. And, after arriving ridiculously early, I then freaked myself out further when I went to get changed and discovered I'd left my Lucozade and banana in the car. These were my comfort blanket. 10 minutes away from these was going to lead to disaster.

Where did it go?!?

Things brightened up when it seemed I was going to be able to listen to my headphones while I ran - podcasts with Chris Waddle and Dario Franchitti my preferred listening on this occasion. After the confidence-sapping exploits of the night before, my aim was just to get somewhere close to my Kirkcudbright time and under the two hour mark. Unlike the 10k earlier in the month, I'd at least eaten relatively properly the night before.

Off we went in the late September sunshine and I soon settled into a steady pace alongside a runner who, its fair to say, was a good bit older than me. We seemed to trade positions every half mile. When you're running in a race you soon think you must have missed a mile marker because there's no way it's this long since the last one. For once it was true as the six mile point had blown over in the wind.

Shame I couldn't run as fast as he drives.

Once we got some water just after half way I pulled away from my unplanned running mate - even though it was straight up a rather steep hill. Up to this point it had, literally, been all downhill and I assumed this was the extent of the uphill stuff concentrated into one go. For some reason I forgot that as the first few miles were downhill, and the last few miles were the same route in reverse, I still had some tough stuff to come.

Thankfully he wasn't singing Diamond Lights

Much to my surprise, I finished the Chris Waddle podcast around the 10 mile mark. I hadn't expected this. Given that it was only around 75 minutes, I was well on course to smash my Kirkcudbright time despite all my reservations. And the rain had cleared. This was going well.

Unfortunately, the penultimate mile was back uphill. Except it wasn't really a hill you could see, it was just an incline. Instead of thinking I was struggling with a hill, I thought my legs were getting rather tired (probably true). The 11th mile seemed to last forever and I was worried I was about to be passed. Eventually it ended and it was time to put the foot down. The end was in sight - metaphorically if not literally - and it was time to pick up the pace.

I almost, almost caught someone from the club but he pipped me by a few seconds. I didn't care though as I was still struggling to comprehend what was on the stopwatch. Going by the big clock I was somehow 10 minutes quicker than I'd been in Kirkcudbright. I couldn't believe it - and neither did many of the folk I talked to who knew what the courses were like. But it was true.

I was stunned. But I was also knackered. After showering and managing to get my car out of the car park (difficult considering I was trapped by the finish line) I went home and sat. And, for about an hour, did nothing. I was absolutely shattered. Eventually a big pizza and some cheesecake sorted that out.

Er, maybe not *that* big

It was my last race of the year. I'd smashed even the most optimistic targets I'd set for myself. Other stuff happened - track sessions, winter handicaps and the like - that aren't too exciting so I won't go into them. Instead, I'll round off this running journey with two more things.

First, the trip to Toronto. I had no injuries so all was fine. But more than that, it meant I could go running in a different country. Three mornings - including the first and last of my week long stay - I got up early (well, I was awake with jetlag) and ran a mile or so down to the edge of Lake Ontario and ran a few miles each way. It was tough - mainly because I kept stopping to take photos of my new surroundings. I covered about 1,000 miles in my first year of running but the 20 or so I did that week were my favourite. The sunrise on the final morning was amazing. And it made more space for breakfast.

The incredible sunrise in Toronto

Then came the embarrassing bit. The running club had an awards night and many of the prizes were voted for by members. The first I knew of it was when an e-mail arrived and, for a laugh, I wondered if I was on the shortlist - only to see I was nominated for two trophies. I could feel my face going red just reading it.

Not to worry, this surely wouldn't go any further. I didn't even mention it to anyone but my family. I went to the awards night fully expecting to have a good time - then was rather embarrassed to get the award for best male performance. Other people had taken part in proper, tough events and I was getting a prize because I'd knocked 10 minutes off my Kirkcudbright time in Dumfries. It didn't feel right - not that I turned down the trophy...

I feel like such a fraud!

So I'm still running (though a few niggling injuries have caught up with me just now). I got fancy new shoes for Christmas. I knocked another five minutes off my half marathon time in Stranraer in March. Going to jogscotland was one of the best things I did and I'd advise anyone to do the same. Happy running!