It felt like a pilgrimage. A three hour drive to Irvine, an overnight stay at the harbourside, a morning drive to Ardrossan, the ferry to Brodick and then a half a mile walk to the hall, race HQ, for the mighty Goatfell Mountain Race. I think it should be re-branded 'Mountain' not 'Hill' as it sits proud on the edge of Arran with a 'come and get me if you think you're hard enough' attitude. A beacon for the intrepid racers and dozy public alike.
I paid a visit to the Harbour Lights for a nightcap on the Friday night when we got to Irvine to watch the end of the Raith Partick match. Many of the punters were evidently less interested in the game, numerous bodies lingering in and across my line of sight. Maybe it was a blessing in disguise, given the result.
A light sea-haar threatened as we passed a rather nasty looking single vehicle crash on our way to Ardrossan. Speedy Joe and I arrived in good time and parked the car. It was a cuppa in the terminal before boarding the compact McBrayne ship. Boatymcboatface. We got our race numbers on the boat. I was happy to get out on deck during the voyage due to the very questionable air quality circulating around our seats. Nobody was putting their hands up for this anti-social behavior. There was no view on the trip out with the damp grey clag gripping the sides of the ship, but it had cleared to reveal the island as we began our approach.
Last year when I ran this race, I was overhauled by 3 runners in the last mile on tarmac after my legs went all Rowntrees. This year I planted a pair of road trainers at the bottom of the track to Goatfell where gravel meets tarmac. My plan was to change quickly from fell shoes to the road shoes. Studs offer no bounce on road surfaces. I needed all the help I could get.
I replaced my waterproof trousers from my bumbag with 2 bottles of water. This was also a first; me taking water up a hill. However, it was hot, cloudless and windless and I knew we were going to cook. Speedy had done Ben Lomond the week before and said there was no water on the hill. I knew there was a stream on Goatfell, but its at the bridge near the bottom.
Around 130 or so set off and I took up my place toward the back. The run-in was bearable with a 7.05min. first mile. However after the second mile through the forest I had begun to walk. When you walk, the folk behind you, for the most part, also take this as a signal to walk and I enjoyed a period where no-one came past. I did hear a lot of heavy breathing so they were close enough. I decided early on that the heat was such that I needed to manage my body and it would be better to keep my energy for the descent.
The hill was busy with walkers of all shapes and fashions and I shipped a few salt tabs on the way up. I kept a bottle of water handy for Speedy. With this race being a straight 'up and down' affair, I knew she would pass me at some point. As we ascended, a chap behind insisted on a bit of 'merry banter' with fellow runners and the passing public and it did my nut in. I'm afraid I was rather curt with him when he tried to engage me, when I turned and in a rather sour tone said that 'I wasn't interested in a chat'. It didn't deter him, maintaining his commentary to various as I sat in front and then behind him toward the peak. In the meantime, Speedy had come past on the descent going well and duly took the water bottle: jobs a good 'un. I thought.
At the top the view was apparently splendid, but my mind was on other matters. I binned 3 runners straight away, 2 of them looked like they were M60's or perhaps they had just had a heavy night at the Harbour Lights. A younger lad got past me early on, but I tracked him all the way down and he ran out of steam toward the bottom. Another younger guy was catching us. Onto the road, I glanced back to see both runners around 15-20 seconds behind. I dived to the side of the road and changed shoes - probably losing around the same amount of time as I had on them and, as I set off, they were almost on top of me. The road shoes had bounce and were fresh and cool. I put my hands in my fell shoes as I carried them and realised how hot they (and my feet) must have been. The new shoes also gave me a psychological boost and I began moving away from both runners. At the junction ahead, the Marshall lauded me on the shoe change strategy and I began wondering if the change also had an effect on the psyche of the runners behind.
I plugged on toward the finish and felt the last sparks of energy ebb away. I was done in. Entering the field, it was a lap on grass left to do and I was caught and dropped by one of the youngsters. Collapsing over the finish in around 2 hours, this 10 miler in the sun had drained me. I spent several minutes splayed out on the grass before the inner thigh cramp struck and it took another minute or two to stand and recover. It was a nice spread of cakes. I am certain that I won the competition for most cups of tea drank. I caught up with Will Horsley of NFR who is running again.
Speedy won her race and I finished 2nd M60, losing to a Musselburgh chap who I had spied passing me near the top. He was well ahead and regardless of strategies, I wouldn't have caught him. More training required. However, I will enjoy the beers I won. It was an ice cream afterwards where I got chatting with an old just retired couple on holiday from Louisiana. It was back onto the ferry at 4 and the long drive home later in the evening, via the chippy in Dalkeith. Good work, but exhausting.
