Running this marathon had begun as a silly idea that seemed sillier still when I regained consciousness in hospital in Omsk. Scott and I had visited a destination long associated with sub-zero conditions and I had still managed to collapse with dehydration. When traveling we're often told to venture beyond the tourist trail but this was taking that maxim to extremes.
Apparently I'd collapsed 4 miles short of the finish line, as luck would have it a Russian speaking Englishman named Noel had noticed my Union Jack clad running vest and got me to hospital via an ambulance - although I still have no memory of this.
Previously Scott and I had paced ourselves well over 3 hours, but I was starting to struggle in the thirty degree heat, I beckoned Scott on, who at first sharply rejected my request, before eventually giving in when my request became a demand.
He went onto complete the race in just over five hours - not bad at all for a first timer in that heat; whilst I spent the night in hospital recovering, getting through pajama bottoms like nobody's business, but hey, shit happens!