I thought I was well prepared for the Scottish Masters Cross Country competition, but I was deluding myself. The day before I had checked out the train times and cost rather than take the car. The Trainline website now shows the cheapest price. It was a fifty quid return to Glasgow and the venue at the McMaster Sports Centre in Johnstone was eminently walk-able from the rail station. The forecast wasn't the best with Storm Ciara sweeping in late afternoon, but I considered I would be well finished by then.
As it was the biggest race I've entered for a good wee while, I laid out all my stuff on Friday and with new spikes and shorts I was in business. An excellent massage from Sean Maley on Thursday and a rapid four mile 7 min/mile training run later in on the Friday was just the tonic to boost my confidence.
I got to Glasgow in good time and had soup in RBS in Argyle Street. Yes, soup and roll in a bank. crackers. Actually, it was carrot and coriander and the roll was warm. very nice indeedy.
There was a bus replacement from Paisley to Johnstone and a fair bit of muppetry was observed from those dis-organising the seam-filled transport arrangements. No matter, I arrived at Johnstone and began the mile walk to the venue. I was intercepted some way along the route by a car driver who turned out to be Susan Ridley. No slouch; a formidable runner. She offered a lift and I accepted. Saving my wee legs..just the job. I thanked her and we tried to work out how to get to the hall from the car park.
Entering the hall, I took my number from the envelope and changed my spikes from 12mm to 6mm. 'Nothing too arduous out there' I mused. Just before the womens race I warmed up for a mile on the course and came off with a left heal that was cutting up badly with the new shoe. No-one in the Hawks had any Compeed and I kicked myself for not packing some. Utter buffoonery on my part. My only option was to find a chemist and buy some, or risk severing my heel over 5 miles. I took off through the local housing estate and asked directions. The chemist was in a small group of shops a mile away. It was, of course, shut. I improvised and bought 3 large fabric plasters from the corner shop for the princely sum of 60p each and galloped the mile back to base and slapped them on under my sock. It was back on with the spikes and then up to the start.
Around 200 set off and I had to remind myself that I was one of the older types. There were, however, several m55's around me and I began the 5 mile run toward the back of the pack. I failed to move much more through the field and after 3 miles I was tiring, no longer making any ground on anyone. I looked at my garmin and realised I had failed to start it. More muppetry. I also realised that I hadn't bothered to check whether it was 3 or 4 laps of the tortuous and contrived course. Seeing the string of oldies around me, I wondered what joe public would make of the spectacle. As we circled the football field (within which a game was taking place) I lost around 6 places as runners came by. It was all a little slow motion; the guys passing me didn't fly by, but crept past almost incrementally and minutes later they were still only 30 metres ahead. On a normal day I could have attempted to bridge the gap, but I was scunnered. Not so much the wheels 'falling off', more of a 'muffled slow puncture'. I was resigned to 4 laps when I was confronted by the finishing line as I came around a bend and shot off at high speed to fend off those that would seek to push me further down the rankings. Scoundrels. 'The results', I hear you ask....'the results?' 117th and 15th m55 and no cigar. I was a counter in the Hawks team, but as we finished 10th, it was all a little academic.
I met Susan at the end and we exchanged experiences. I suspected she did alright and turned out she won her age group. She was returning to the hall for the presentation.
As I walked back to the station I felt sanguine about the performance, but very happy that the impromptu plasters on my heel had worked and that a few beers awaited me in Glasgow. My train was booked for 7:45, so I had plenty of time to experience the delights of the Drum and Monkey and then Maxs Grill on Queen Street where I was joined in the best seats in the house by cat and ant. All in all a most enjoyable day out.
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