Falkirk's Callendar Park was the setting for the blue riband event in Scottish distance running. It was a familiar sight having been there a fortnight before for a training run. My recent performances seem to have raised the expectation levels of everyone except myself. I felt a degree of pressure in the week leading up to the race. Comments from people like "you must be looking for top 10" are well meaning but can place a burden of expectancy on you. I stuck to the mantra I've had for several years and still do- I will run the best I can and if I perform to my best, I'll finish where I deserve to.
In saying all that, I was extremely motivated. So much so, I was in my bed for over 12 hours the night before the race, the light being out at 10pm then not resurfacing until 10.15am. That after such a large 3 course dinner, including 2 steaks in the main course, that I still felt a tad bloated in the morning.
I had my 2 man fan club with me, my Dad and clubmate and good friend Alistair Campbell. After collecting my number, I went into my own wee world until the 2.30pm start, attempting to watch some of the earlier races. and psyching myself up. I went through my usual preparation routine, all my wee superstitions before, knowing the first corner was a right turn, positioning myself in the right hand corner at the front of the 451 strong field. 3 laps and 12km of running lay ahead.
1st lap: I survived the cavlary charge up the first hill and, after 400m, was in 9th place (so Cambuslang head coach Mike Johnston told me later). I had no intention of pushing the pace too early. It didn't worry me that familiar foe Paul Sorrie had a small gap. I let him stay where he was. A lap of the boating pond on a trail surface lead to a steep hill with heavy mud, a popular spectator spot. I was feeling fairly relaxed and decided to plod along where I was. I was only 2km or so in. Long way to go. A flatter section through more mud took us on to some lush green grass running parallel to the sight of the Antonine Wall (well, part of it). The start area was across a ditch which we inevitably had to cross without the help of a bridge. We then did a circuit which took us along some grass beside the main road, down a big dip onto some gravel and the end of a lap/home straight. I didn't feel I was running very fast but my position said otherwise. I was reluctant to do too many surges in such a long race but found enough to overtake Paul Sorrie and his Shettleston clubmate Michael Gillespie in one sweeping move prior to hitting the gravel.
Above: entering the second lap with a look which could kill. Photo courtesy of Kenny Phillips.
2nd lap: On the first hill, I got a chance to see every runner ahead of me. I counted them- "1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 then me..I'm 9th. Good stuff." Derek Hawkins (Kilbarchan), Chris Mackay (Inverclyde) and Alistair Hay (Central) were in a battle for the medals. The tough underfoot conditions were slowly wearing my legs down. The lap of the boating pond and hill thereafter sapped my energy. I had another rival to joust with, Central's John Newsom. At the top of the aforementioned hill I was joined by another Central runner, Ross Houston. I knew him- he beat me at the Penicuik 10k last May. At least I had 2 athletes to pusue during this rocky period. Using them as markers, I strived to hold position. My High Point hill sessions were standing me in good stead because, while they pulled away on the flat, I consistently closed the gaps on the hills. If it was a flat course I would have been left in no mans land. I was going on adrenaline alone when I reached the gravel again.
Final lap: Goodness knows how but I summoned a way to get to the finish as quickly as possible. Run the flat and mud free sections as well as you can and just suffer the mud. I thought of every motivational song, film, soundbite etc I'd ever heard or seen. I suddenly found a second wind and negotiated the boating pond feeling as good as I had at any point before. The big hill put paid to that but I found a third wind thereafter. I was still in touch with Newsom and Houston and could also see an Inverclyde athlete dropping back. I couldn't tell who it was. I assumed it was Chris Mackay. I started thinking about where I would be happy finishing because I feared an avalanche from the back. "9th or 10th would be good. 11th is not bad. 12th? No worse than 12th." I promised myself to be no lower than 12th. Newsom and Houston slowly pulled away after crossing the Antonine Wall ditch. I knew I also had to hang in there for the team competition. Parallel to the main road, I was forced to run in muddier parts to lap other runners. I entered the home straight in 10th. The Inverclyde man was Andrew Douglas. I now wanted to keep top 10 so, after about 11.8km of gruelling racing, I found a sprint I never knew I had. I sprinted so hard I not only secured top 10 but passed Douglas and crossed the line 2 seconds before him.
Above: my sprint finish gets some attention. Photo courtesy of Kenny Phillips.
I was 9th in 40:21, improving on my previous National performances of 82nd in 2007, 87th in 2008, 59th in 2009 and 30th in 2010. Derek Hawkins won in 38:45 from Chris Mackay and defending champion Alistair Hay. I had actually set a pre-race target of top 10. However, I had only told one person in particular about it, a very close friend. My Dad didn't even know. The target had been met and, to top it off, my Cambuslang clubmates helped us secure team bronze to give me my first National Cross Country medal at the age of 27. I couldn't have penned a better script myself.
We had a get together that evening at our club house and a few, myself included, carried on to another bar then "the dancing" as we call it in the west of Scotland. I admit to being fairly refreshed by the evening's end and a little heavy eyed the following morning. That was eradicated by an easy run for an hour which left one feeling remaining- jubilation about the day before, the best day of my athletics career to date.
