A couple of weeks after the NEMAA relays at Jarrow it was time for the Trip to Arran. This year, Goatfell is a Scottish Championship counter in the hill running calendar. Apparently, it was also the Scottish Athletics Hill Running Championship race, not that, it seemed, many knew about this as Angela Mudge carried out a great armful of medals to the presentation table at the end of the race.
Me, Speedy Joe and Marg took ourselves up the M74 to Irvine on the Friday night to some accommodation at the Harbourside. The pubs were in full swing and we ambled over to the Ship Inn which was quieter and sampled their Neck Oil, with Speedy Joe opting for an Irn Bru. Athlete. I was sanguine that we had driven past Glasgow on the way up and we could have picked up the footie at Firhill where Thistle were playing Ayr. They won 3-0 so it would have been a good game. Getting back to the room, I caught the last 5 minutes on the tele.
It was a reasonable nights sleep and we surfaced at 7am. After a coffee, I went for a 2 mile jog along the river. The litter along the footpath was disappointing but predictable, and as I jogged I reflected how easily the morons who are responsible for this can get away with it with impunity. A disgrace. As I eyed the Greggs and McDonalds wrappers, my eyes were caught but something other than a discarded cup. I backtracked, stooped and picked up a soggy £10 note lying forlorn on the grass. A result. Buoyed up with this good omen I got back to the accommodation, showered and breakfasted on a plastic pot of porridge.
We were in Ardrossan by 9am and on the ferry to Brodick shortly afterwards. We were travelling light as foot passengers. The ferry was stowed out with golfers, runners, cyclists and grandparents taking their wards for a day by the seaside. The golfers were engaged in a full on session with bottles of Peroni and cans of Guinness in much demand. It was a calm crossing and while we were on the boaty mcboatface, we picked up our numbers.
Arriving at Brodick, we sauntered to the pavilion in a long line of running pilgrims, all of whom who had made the effort. We changed - it was mild and a 'one-layer' day for sure. After all, it is May.
Goatfell was present on the skyline, grey whispy clouds grazing the peaked summit. The race has around 800m of ascent. There were comments about the long run in, a mile and a half of tarmac before we hit the slopes proper. I took a bit of salt and a swig of water and sagely advised Speedy Joe to keep a bit up her sleeve for the long flat tarmac on the road back. We had a headcount; then another, and then just after noon, with the pipe band giving it large, we were off. I was well toward the back, but felt good and had soon worked up a sweat, passing Nicola Duncan and I soon found myself at the heels of Alan Smith on the lower slopes. We worked through several competitors ahead, Alan cutting a familiar figure in his woolly socks and small but relentless steps. I had the temerity to pass him after a while, but then, halfway up, I was sweating heavily and took some snaps before fishing out more salt. However, as soon as I’d taken it (without water), I wretched and my stomach heaved and I had to stop for half a minute. The severe reaction soon dissipated and I was soon back up behind Smith.
Near the top the leaders started haring down to the left and right of us including Speedy Joe, and I dug out the phone again, but in doing so slipped and dropped it, and my wee group got away a little. I had put the phone away by the time I crested the summit and began to get into my stride on the downhill element. It was just like old times. With dry conditions underfoot and a very technical descent with a wide range of obstacles and mild risk of breaking bones, it was all coarse grey granite, I twisted and turned, skipped and hopped at what seemed to be at high speed down the hill. There were plenty of punters who were stood bewildered by the side of the path. I passed around 10 or so runners on the way down, stopping only at the wooden bridge to scoop up handfuls of water from the burn. I was soon back on the case and passing runners and was pleased to see and pass Penecuik man, and the big hitters Mudge and Davis toward the bottom of the hill. As we came out of the wood and back onto the flat tarmac, I had failed to take my own advice and slowing to a snails pace, I was passed in turn by the two stalwarts that I had just passed plus another just for good measure. The finish couldn't come sooner and I was surely happy to reach the line in 1:40 for 9.4 miles. A warm shower at the end was a bonus. The tea and cake were abundant and I chatted with Colin Donnelly after initially thinking he was speaking to someone else beside me. There were also a few bloodied bodies. Speedy got 2nd and we finished the day with a massive but lack-lustre curry on the boat and a 3 hour drive back via Edinburgh. It was the first time this year I felt light on my feet and was pleased with my race. More photos at https://photos.app.goo.gl/XPofB28L5ebCjgVx8
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