Passions: I loved running the marathon, even the painful last eight miles

It would be fair to say my relationship with running has been largely on-off. Hot and cold.

At school, the cross country run was a weekly chore I was moderately good at but which held no great appeal. When school came to an end, so did the running, for a few years at least.

Apart from the occasional spasm of exertion, my running shoes were left largely untroubled through my 20s.

Then, little by little, the periods of activity became longer and more frequent until running became something I started to enjoy for its own sake. I even managed to complete a couple of half marathons.

With lockdown, the physical and mental benefits took on even more importance. By last summer, running had developed into a habit, rather than something that came in fits and starts as the mood took me.

I set myself the goal of running the full Edinburgh Marathon, and the dealine gave me no option but to adopt the discipline a training schedule demands.

I ran at least three times a week, sometimes five or six, including one long run. The long run grew steadily longer, reaching 20 miles a couple of weeks before race day. To my surprise, I found myself eagerly looking forward to these long-distance feats of endurance, rather than dreading them.

People talk about “the loneliness of the long distance runner” but I’ve never found anything lonely about a two or three-hour run. Solitude and loneliness are very different things.

The search for lengthy new routes took me to places nearby that I might never have explored without the deadline of marathon day hanging over me.

And, after settling into a steady rhythm, the experience can become almost meditative. With few distractions other than your own breathing and metronomic pace, thoughts and plans get the space to take shape they might otherwise never have been given.

When everything is aligned, it can feel as though you could go on for miles and miles. And it is usually around this point that the body begins to pack in.

On marathon day, I reached that point around the 18-mile mark at Gosford House. Those last eight miles were a slow and painful struggle. The increasing visibility and activity of paramedics as the finish line drew nearer was a reminder that running such long distances is something the vast majority of us are not designed to do.

But they say you never regret going for a run – even the toughest ones. And despite the pain, I would definitely do it all again.

Paul Wilson is Assitant Editor of The Scotsman