My first half marathon: The Great Scottish Run 2025
On Sunday, I ran my first ever half marathon - the Great Scottish Run in Glasgow - and crossed the finish line in 3 hours and 1 second. I’d love to say it was easy, or even enjoyable all the way through, but that would be stretching the truth. It was hard. Really hard. But I did it.
I signed up months ago, thinking it would be a good challenge and a way to raise money for Parkinson’s UK, a charity doing important work in research and support. I’d never run anywhere near that distance before, but I figured I had enough time to train. Some weeks went to plan; others didn’t. Life, weather, and general motivation got in the way more than once. Still, I kept at it enough to make the start line.
Race morning started early and cold. Glasgow was buzzing - thousands of runners warming up, music playing, and that mix of nerves and excitement you only really get at big events. I stood somewhere near the middle, surrounded by other people who looked just as unsure about what was ahead.
The first few miles felt fine. The crowds were great, and running through the city centre gave a bit of an adrenaline boost. I remember thinking that maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. That optimism lasted until around mile six, when the reality of the distance started to hit. My legs began to ache, my stomach began to hurt, and I realised just how far there still was to go.
From there, it became more about survival than speed. Every water station felt like a small victory. I stopped a few times to stretch and walk - honestly, there was no other choice. The route through Pollok Park was beautiful but also unforgiving, with long stretches where the crowd thinned out and it was just you, your thoughts, and the sound of your own breathing.
By mile ten, I was counting down each kilometre marker, trying to calculate how much longer it would take if I just kept moving. My legs were cramping, my back ached, and the idea of running another 5K felt ridiculous. But somehow, I kept going. I didn’t care about pace anymore, I just wanted to finish.
When the finish line finally came into view, I couldn’t quite believe it. The crowd noise picked up again, and that pulled me through the last few hundred metres. I crossed the line exhausted, a bit dazed, and stopped my watch to see that time: 3:00:01. One second over three hours. It made me laugh - typical.
Afterward, I grabbed the medal, some water, and a snack, and slowly walked through Glasgow Green with my family. Watching other runners finish - some sprinting, some limping - it hit me that everyone out there was going through their own version of the same struggle. Some faster, some slower, but all trying to push through the same wall.
I can’t pretend I loved every minute of it. There were points where I questioned why I’d signed up at all. But there’s something satisfying about doing something you weren’t sure you could do - and actually finishing it.
The support for Parkinson’s UK also made a difference. Even though I didn’t post as much online as I’d planned, the donations that came in before and after the run meant a lot. Knowing people had taken the time to contribute kept me from giving up when things got tough.
So, that’s my first half marathon done, and I’m glad I did it. It was tough, messy, and slow, but it was real. And that medal, sitting on the table next to me, feels fully earned.
