A running friend asked me why I had chosen the Loch Ness marathon. The blunt reply was that I’d been invited.

Nearly everyone I’d discussed the race with either said it was amazing: the scenery is stunning and the atmosphere is friendly, and low-key. Other testimonials value the point-to-point race route. I was simply hoping for something different.

On the bus journey to the start, a few nervous conversations broke the silence. A cavalcade of buses, ferrying thousands, motored down the west side of Loch Ness. Runners sipped drinks and snacked, likely on their second breakfast. I’d eaten my first, still half-asleep at 5.30am.

The impressive feat of transporting approximately 2,500 runners was not lost on me – nearly every coach in the northern Highlands must’ have been booked for the event. The buses would then return to Inverness and transfer 10k runners to their starting point.

With dawn sunshine and still conditions, the weather and the views wereidyllic. But many chose not to look out of the windows, especially to the left. Across the vast water was the race route; the elephant in the room – or perhaps the monster in the loch. The buses kept travelling south, further and further, clocking up more and more linear miles for the novices to calculate and contemplate.

The start venue felt more like a fell race than a marathon. There were rows and rows of portaloos, a pulsating announcement and music system, and trucks for baggage. But the remote surroundings – moorland, conifer woodland and unrestricted mountain views – made you want to reach for a compass and studded footwear. Similarly, there were complimentary hot drinks on offer. No registration at the local pub, mind.

More buses soon arrived, sunshine warmth filtered down and runners slowly assembled at the downhill start. Maybe a dreich day with wind and rain would alter this rose-tinted image?

There was something for all of the family and a real, community feel: there was a 5km and ‘Wee Nessie’ races for the kids.

A bagpipe band, in a ceremonial guard of honour, played a stirring tune at the start. Then we set off.

The route descends several hundred metres over two or three miles, with hardly any spectators. The only sound was the collective tarmac thump of cushioned trainers. Occasional applause and support came from a few remote residential homes, and farmers attending to their livestock. Later, in a remote middle section, a resident had backed his off-road vehicle up to a field gate, opened the rear door, and blasted out high-tempo fiddle music from a 1980s tape recorder, while clapping and shouting out to nearly every runner.

The copper glow of warm sunshine filtered through the trees and the smell of conifer filled the air. After around five miles the numbers on the road began to filter out and there was plenty of space. The tree-lined route provided much-needed shade, though the foliage also acted as a barrier to the lochside views. But the brief glimpses of water and far-away mountain tops only motivated me onward; keen to reach a section with unrestricted views. At the narrowest point, Urquhart Castle could clearly be seen across the loch, in sunshine and backed by purple heather. I may also have seen something rise from the water, but I’m not certain …

But: there are hills. Those that appear early, in the first half, were manageable – short and sharp. But later, at mile 20, the long slog out from the village of Dores and the steeper hill that followed was both energy-sapping and mentally challenging. I walked a little. As a milestone time target slipped further away, I quietly cursed.

I soon regrouped as I neared the urban fringe of Inverness, and again embraced the friendly nature of the event. The penultimate and final miles cover residential and central roads of the highland capital, and spectators and supporters lined key junctions. Every runner was cheered along one side of the River Ness, over a road bridge and back down the other side to the finish.

The Loch Ness marathon is unique, and something of a contradiction: the organisers somehow manage to combine the slick, commercial aspects of a high-profile event, and yet still maintain an informal and sincere relationship with every runner and supporter – I felt welcome, wanted and an intrinsic part of the weekend.

The Highland views and onset of autumn colours were stunning – though of course you could just as easily get rain. The linear route is both rewarding and challenging. All runners should, however, be prepared for long sections of solitude, and silence. That said, there will likely be a friendly voice just ahead, behind or around the next corner.

• The Loch Ness marathon is on 25 September 2016. Entry for the full 26.2 mile event is £48, the 10k is £26. See lochnessmarathon.com

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