Photos courtesy of Kenny Phillips.
The last remnants of Hurricane Katia hit Britain in nice time to co-incide with my planned trip doon the watter* to the
Isle of Cumbrae for the annual Round Cumbrae 10 Mile Road Race. After a rain lashed journey to Largs for the boat, seeing no-one queuing up for the crossing was a little disconcerting. We were assured in the ticket office that while the ferries were on amber alert, they were running and the weather was to improve later. On that basis, we bought our return tickets and, to my relief, some more runner types turned up including a mini bus of Garscube Harriers.
Catching the connecting bus to Cumbrae's only town, Millport, like last year, I had a caramel cake and tea in the Ritz cafe then turned thoughts to the race. Shettleston's Michael Deason and Kilbarchan's Conor McNulty had turned up. Both had been running around the 9:30 mark for 3000m steeplechases in the Mens League so I knew I would have a test. Due to the poor conditions, I felt a top under the vest and a hat to cover my head was appropriate. The field of 99 runners were set on their way round the island at 2pm.
Above: the early stages. Fellow Cambuslang Harrier Robert Rossborough can be seen in the background to the left.
A group formed comprising myself, Deason, McNulty and last year's winner David Simpson. I was finding the pace quite stretching as Deason, McNulty and I took turns in the lead. I wanted to get as far into the race feeling as good as possible without losing ground. The rapid pace burned off David Simpson. At one point, I was 3rd straining to keep in contact, barely 2 miles in. Surely this wouldn't keep up? I told myself it had to taper off at some point, to trust my training and keep with it.
The first break came between 3 and 4 miles on a slight downhill stretch. Deason pushed the pace even more, letting himself get carried down the hill. I lengthened my stride to keep in touch. However, he was behind the lead bike with a 30-40m gap on me. "Come on, don't let him go." I then wondered "where's Conor gone?" I couldn't see or hear him. I carried on though on the presumption he was right on my shoulder.
I really wanted to close the gap on Deason but resisted the urge to inject a surge of pace which would leave me vulnerable to being caught later. I forced myself to be patient, kept my rhythm and, to my amazement, started closing in. After around 4 miles at the ferry terminal, I had edged very slightly ahead. I felt strong and the weather seemed okay so pushed on with the lead bike for company. I took no fluid at the water station. It was raining heavily enough. 5 miles in 25:12 confirmed how fast the initial pace had been.
As we circled round the island from the east coast to the west, I noticed the weather change. I had wondered where the wind had gone. It began as a cross wind but by 6 miles, I was running full force into a gale force wind and heavy rain. The type of rain that hits your face to the extent you have to look downwards. I really felt in trouble and for a lot of runners behind me, I thought the weather would actually prove dangerous. I considered I was bound to get caught. The lead bike was barely 20m ahead of me but the wind was so ferocious, I couldn't hear what he was telling me. It would surely subside eventually but for now, I had to put one foot in front of the other to the best of my ability and hope I could hold the lead. A difficult thing to do when the energy is sapping from your legs and you're on a remote B road in a mini-hurricane with a cyclist you cannot hear.
At 9 miles, the course turned inland and I finally got respite from the wind. I could now hear the cyclist who said I had a 300-400m gap. This helped me relax during the final mile and I even raised the pace, striding down Millport's main thoroughfare for an extremely morale boosting victory in 53:08. The second wind strewn 5 miles took me 27:56. I waited to congratulate Deason and McNulty. On days like this, everyone who finishes is a winner.
Above: post-race, left to right- Michael Deason, Conor McNulty and myself.
I gently jogged 3 miles to warm down and joined everyone else in the town hall for the prize giving, taking as many hot drinks as I could both from my Dad and the organisers to eleviate the chill in my bones. £40 covered the petrol, boat and bus nicely. The prizes having been dished out and worried about being stranded off the mainland, I joined the exodus for the ferry and rain lashed Largs. So much for the weather improving. We stopped off at the Melbourne Cafe in
Saltcoats for fish teas to round off an enjoyable trip. Hopefully the sun comes out in 2012.
For a short but entertaining account of the race by Calderglen's David Searil,
click here.
*- "doon the watter" dates back to Victorian times to describe the holidays Glaswegians took in towns and villages lining the Firth of Clyde, one of which is Largs.
Selected Results
Men
1. Stuart Gibson, Ronhill Cambuslang Harriers, 53:08
2. Michael Deason, Shettleston Harriers, 53:56
3. Conor McNulty, Kilbarchan, 55:02
28. Robert Rossborough, Ronhill Cambuslang Harriers, 70:37
50. David Searil, Calderglen Harriers, 79:33
99. William Drysdale, Law & District AAC, 1:51:13
Women
1. Gail Beaton, Garscube Harriers, 69:11 (25th overall)
2. Marina McCallum, Clydesdale Harriers, 71:18 (31st overall)
3. Hilary Robinson, Unattached, 74:22 (38th overall)
