The week of November 23rd. Wet, wild, and bone-chillingly cold. “Scotland at its best”, many hill and cross-country runners might proclaim from proudly frost-bitten lips. Which probably means I’m classed as a tarmac-wimp cos I couldn’t wait to get the hell out of there and fly to Lanzarote for some warmth, brightness, beaches and palm trees. Oh, and a marathon too.

It was a ridiculous contrast though – one dark Wednesday evening I’m standing in George Square, peering through horizontal rain in search of an overdue Airport bus whilst taking inadequate shelter from a window frame that sent rogue droplets down to pummel my bald coupon. Traffic droned by at snail pace, wipers full tilt, a thousand-plus Christmas lights lost in the square beyond. By the time the bus had arrived to receive the awaiting forest of brollies and cases, blood was already failing to reach my fingers and toes.

And yet so quickly it became Summer again. A 4 hour 30 flight full of pasty fat weegies (with some suspiciously skinny-wans donning asics and nike logos squeezed in between). My dad was happy to babysit me for a week in the sun since I had nae pals to go with. He fed me sports gels and water on race day, and every other day it was beer or house plonk.

The Arrecife Marathon idea came to me during an Autumn Google search for a European Marathon that I could train hard and peak for. The truth is, I never got the full training in, and consequently never peaked. But three weeks of consistent mileage (and no speedwork) got me closer than expected. Problem being, back in mid-Summer I ran the West Highland Way. Correction – raced the West Highland Way, particularly the last 15 miles – and unless your first name is Richie or Pauline and you’re a Cunning Ham or a Walker, doing this probably means your legs will never bend the same way again.

Whenever I tried to increase training since, I ended up ill or injured or both. OK, nothing new about this phenomenon for me or almost anyone. From what I’ve heard/read nearly all runners go through these phases, some runners are built sturdier than others, we all learn our limitations and adapt. My pattern is to peak in Spring, struggle with mediocre form through Summer, finally get a good level of fitness in Autumn, and if I’m lucky, squeeze-out a good marathon in time before catching various viruses and animal-flu from fellow Scotrail commuters during Winter.

Back to that google search – it turned out that a week in the canaries cost less than a weekend in Amsterdam. A week’s Winter break in the sun, now that really did appeal. Some might turn their nose up and say “I’d take the weekend in Amsterdam anyway”. Each to their own. Some might say (some might have said!) that Lanzarote is too hot and sunny for an enjoyable marathon, and if they’re speaking from personal experience (e.g. Edinburgh 2009, London 2007) then in their case they’re probably right. The Lanzarote sun was strong and strength-sapping even at 10am when the race started. It hit 24 degrees Celcius by noon. Maybe freezing rain and innov8-swallowing-swamps is the wimps’ option after all! Or once again its each to their own. While Arrecife can’t compete with Scotland’s promise of numb nuts and frozen-snot-on-the-upper-lip, it makes up for this by partially dehydrating your organs and making your arms and shoulders glow brighter than your Carnegie top.

There are three races going on at the same time. The marathon, which is four laps of an out-and-back waterfront circuit, the half marathon (two laps), and a quarter marathon (I’ll not insult your intelligence with any further brackets). That means a busy start, so watch out for Germans putting their towel down on the start-line.

But then it also means a really sociable race. You are never alone. Perth Road Runners were there, running at different speeds, in different races, and it was great to wave and shout encouragement at each other throughout the race. Front-runner or tail-ender, full marathon or quarter, you’re never far from each-other. My dad stood at the out-n-back near the start so I got to wave 8 times, and receive gels/water on demand. Official hydration stations were also plentiful, with SIS gels and flatish coke available. The course was flat too. Picturesque in places, plenty out-n-back bits where you can get a good idea of who’s running just-ahead and just-behind. All good fun. Its not a PB-hunting course, with sharp momentum-stealing U-turns and sub-tropic sunshine. The only hill on the course occurs on a hump-back bridge at the entrance to a lagoon – this I’m sure will fail to inspire the calves and quads of many a hillbilly. As I say, this marathon is not for everyone. Even the free beer at the end may be lost on some. But for those who like the idea of a chilled-out Winter-sunshine destination – which I promise Lanzarote is (the lager-louts are elsewhere) – then there’s a good chance this marathon will satisfy, provide a unique experience, and set one up for returning home ready to finish the Christmas shopping.