Of the many marathons I’ve run, Edinburgh is only the third that I’ve returned to for another go. I have great memories of running Edinburgh on a freakishly hot day in 2012. It’s where I ran sub-4 for the first time. I like Edinburgh, so I entered with the intention of a weekend away and maybe a marathon in the middle of it.

At one point it was going to be a training run for a 52 mile race. But that race fell through, and my marathon PB from Manchester in 2013 got bumped up by a few minutes, so then I got angry and decided I was going to come back and run for a time.

I didn’t tell many people that I was running Edinburgh, so it was a surprise to bump into three people I knew at the start. It’s the second largest UK marathon after London, and yet it didn’t feel overwhelming and had a much smaller feel – one in which you could run into people you know.

Pipers piped us over the start line and then we were on our way. I tried to push out of my mind thoughts that it was nearly a year since I’d run a marathon or that the last time I tried I’d dropped out at half way, and to just get on with the task in hand. And the task in hand right then was trying not to run too fast.

The first few miles go through Edinburgh, past Hollyrood Park and then towards the coast. It’s a net downhill in this first section, one that it’s easy it get carried away on and regret it later when your quads stop working.

I didn’t just want to reclaim my old Manchester PB (3:38), I wanted to run a Boston Qualifier (sub 3:35). My last couple of tempo runs had gone really well and 8:00/miles were feeling pretty relaxed so I settled into that pace.

As we hit the coast around mile 5 I looked out at the sea and tried to take in the surroundings as much as possible. Focusing on what was around me helped take me out of myself, to not over analyse on every twinge and tightness and worry that disaster was just around the corner, and it was a much nicer way to pass the miles.

We passed a house pumping out music and I got chatting to a runner next to me. He was from Edinburgh and running his first marathon and his review so far was “They’re stretching it calling it the Edinburgh Marathon, eh?”

I could see his point, we left the city in the first few miles and would spend most of the race running out and back on a stretch of the coast. We’d pass through Musselburgh before half way and return there to finish, but I guess ‘The Musselburgh Marathon’ doesn’t have the same pull with the international crowd.

I saw Phil as we passed through Musselburgh and gave him my jazz hands and a smile that said ‘everything is ok’, and it was. The pace still felt relaxed and a few miles down the road, as we saw the leaders coming the opposite way towards us, I cracked a “Come on guys, we can still catch them” to an unappreciative crowd around me.

Our turnaround point was 18 miles where we did a loop round a country park/farm (I really wasn’t paying much attention here) and then were back on the road, going the opposite way, chasing the leaders.

From here, the run started to get harder, and the weather got warmer as each mile marker seemed to take longer to arrive. I passed Wonder Woman who was having a stretch by a tree and a friendly face who’d had to stop. I thought about my DNF six months before in Bournemouth. Today everything had gone to plan, I was on track to run a Boston Qualifier, all I had to do was keep going and, as I told myself again and again “Don’t f@&k this up”.

Eventually we approached Musselburgh race course. The last turn was somewhere on the left ahead and I searched for it, hoping that the sight of the finish would spur my legs into a sprint. The 26 mile marker having failed to have the hoped for effect on their speed.

As we turned onto a school playing field for the last 200m, I managed a last push through waves of nausea and cheering towards the end, stopping the clock at 3:30:14. I staggered forwards towards the beer I knew was waiting for me, delighted with my time.