World Mountain Selection Race

15/8/99

It was after enduring my first effort session in eight years (the exact number of times we ran up and down the Kilpatricks is lost in a wobbly-legged blur) that Mark suggested I have a bash at the trial for the World Hill Running Championships on August 15th.

I decided a reccy would be a good idea, and so it was that I found myself tackling a tricky descent in the Pentlands as the moon crept across the sun just after 11a.m. on August 11th. I thought of the sheep-like multitudes who had congregated for the event in Cornwall only to be frustrated by an impenetrable layer of cloud, and as I picked my way through the tussocks, bathed in a curious and wondrous ethereal glow, I felt a touch of schadenfreude. Despite the fact that ours was only a partial eclipse, the weird light was accompanied by an unearthly hush, as the birds and the wind paused to share the occasion. Even the irksome squaddies across the valley stopped firing, dully aware that someone had dimmed the lights.

Race-day arrived and I bundled the family - recently enlarged by the arrival of the snorting, snuffling, gurgling, flatulating, grunting bundle of charm (he gets it from his mother) that is Hamish - into the car and headed for Edinburgh.

The course took runners from the road near the Flotterstone Inn, up Turnhouse Hill, (via a cunning off-piste diversion), over Carnethy and down to the saddle before Scald Law, and back again the way we had come, about 7 miles in all with 2,500 feet of climbing. The breeze at the start manifested itself as a howling, buffeting gale on the first summit, and for only the second time in my life I was blown completely off my feet. The first time was during a race in Devon, when I was blown down a 5-foot-deep hole from which I struggled for some minutes to extricate myself.

After a startlingly fast start, I had settled into eighth place by the top of the first climb, with Mark fighting it out with two others in front for fifth. I watched the race in front develop until one of the three dropped back, giving me a target to chase. Towards the bottom of my descent of Carnethy, Tommy Murray hurtled past in the other direction, followed some time later by Neil Wilkinson. Having found the intensity of the frenetic start and the long first climb pretty tough, I had now settled into a decent rhythm, and was inexorably making ground on the unidentified black vest in front.

An exchange of Westies Salutes with Mark as he passed on the return leg spurred me on, and at the turn I was happy to find that the whole of the second half of the race would be aided by a strong tail wind.

Mark had now dropped back a fraction from the runner he'd been sparring with for most of the race, but seemed still to be running strongly. The climb back up Carnethy was good craic, pursued by a demon wind, and by the time I legged it down the other side and started the final ascent, up Turnhouse, I knew that I was going to catch 7th place. The previous week I'd taken proud possession of my first pair of fell shoes, and the difference they made to my hitherto nancy-boy style of descending was quite remarkable. For probably the first time in my life, I managed to pass someone going down hill. This new-found daring, though, took my innards somewhat by surprise, and as I passed a Elspeth and Pete near the bottom I could see they were alarmed by my desperate grunting and whimpering.

I didn't feel altogether myself for a while but the two bottles of Greenmantle I had apparently earned by my exertions soon perked me up.

Tommy Murray won by a street, but my goodness he's no oil painting! Charlie Chick may run like a duck, but at least he's got nice hair.

Selection went to the first five home, in addition to Bobby Quinn who was pre-selected on the grounds that he's a superhero. Congratulations and commiserations in equal measure to Jenny Rae, who finished 4th in the women's race and was named reserve for the squad, as were Mark and I. A flagon of ale to anyone who manages to nobble any of the selected athletes before September 19th!

While I'm writing I'd like to thank all those at Westies who have unknowingly hauled me from a couple of years' staleness and irregular training and catapulted me, enthusiasm rekindled, into a reacquaintance with lactic acid and black toe-nails. Cheers!

Men's Race

1 Tommy Murray Inverclyde 52.36

2 Neil Wilkinson Cambuslang 53.37

3 Chris Robison Inverclyde 54.29

4 Colin Donnelly Cambuslang 54.37

5 Alan Milligan Fife AC 55.03

6 Mark Rigby Westies 56.39

7 Damon Rodwell Westies 57.42

Women's Race

1 Tracy Brindly Cosmics 43.11

2 S. Armitage Cosmics 45.37

3 Trudi Thomson Pitreavie 46.42

4 Jenny Rae Westies 48.08

Posted by Damon Rodwell on Wed 30 Nov -0001 | comments are closed

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