In 2012, I ran the West District Cross Country at Ardgowan Estate in Inverkip. It proved to be the most gruelling cross country experience I could remember. Below, in italics, is an extract from my blog report back then.
"I ran the National Cross Country Championship on Hampstead Heath, and helped Gateshead Harriers to second place team medals. There is an old saying about 'horses for courses', and this race showed me just how true it is. My style of running is best suited to bouncing off the smooth hard surface of a track or road. The 1981 'National' consisted of 9 miles of unrelenting deep sticky mud, and I slipped and slid my way to 56th place, five minutes behind the winner Julian Goater."
"I ran the National Cross Country Championship on Hampstead Heath, and helped Gateshead Harriers to second place team medals. There is an old saying about 'horses for courses', and this race showed me just how true it is. My style of running is best suited to bouncing off the smooth hard surface of a track or road. The 1981 'National' consisted of 9 miles of unrelenting deep sticky mud, and I slipped and slid my way to 56th place, five minutes behind the winner Julian Goater."
Source- Charlie Spedding, From Last to First, page 96 (first paperback edition).
The West District Cross Country only took place yesterday but the experience was such a horrific one, I cannot get it off my chest quickly enough. I like flicking through Charlie Spedding's book every so often when I need something to help me in running. I came across the above quote. I could sum up my experience at Ardgowan Estate, Inverkip in one, brief paragraph.
I ran the Scottish West District Cross Country Championship on Ardgowan Estate, Inverkip, and helped Cambuslang Harriers to first place team medals. There is an old saying about 'horses for courses', and this race showed me just how true it is. My style of running is best suited to bouncing off the smooth hard surface of a track or road. The 2012 'West' consisted of 6 miles of unrelenting deep sticky mud, and I slipped and slid my way to 14th place, 2 minutes 53 seconds behind the winner Derek Hawkins.
I used to be an avid reader, a past time which has fallen by the wayside in recent years apart from when on holiday or other trips away from home. I've been trying to re-establish the habit and, at the time of writing, I am on my 4th book since mid November. I started off by reading Charlie Spedding's book again which is probably why the above quote is fresh in my mind. I never thought I would encounter a race like Inverkip again. This year's West District Cross Country at Bellahouston Park proved me wrong. The 6 mile, 4 lap course, of which you were lucky if half a mile was runnable, comprised thick, unrelenting mud caused by the stormy winter weather. Thankfully conditions on the day were ideal but the damage to the course had been done. For once, I was grateful for a Sunday race because had it been 24 hours earlier, the weather being so bad I was soaked through and frozen after a morning 3 mile jog, I genuinely wouldn't have bothered racing.
Conditions were fine though so I and over 200 others lined up for the senior men race. I was wearing new spikes, a strategically chosen black pair. Well, is there any point buying flashy colours to run cross countries? I made a decent, unimpeded start and got a few strides behind me. Then the fun started. Before long, we were encountering squelching, ankle deep mud which would not have been out of place in an event such as Tough Mudder. Not being a fan of such a thing, you can imagine how I was feeling. As the sting in the tail, the only decent parts were uphill, including a sharp incline towards the end of the lap. The rest was an awful, mucky mess. I originally planned to find the best line and follow it. That can only happen when there is a best line to follow. Here, there was none. The only solution was to put one foot in front of the other, keep moving forward and eventually the finish would arrive.
For 2 laps my head was all over the place and I had to strongly fight the urge to simply stop. Somehow I found myself clear in 8th place and maintaining it. "This is bloody awful" I shouted to Charlie Thomson as he encouraged me though "bloody" wasn't the adjective I used.
I used to be an avid reader, a past time which has fallen by the wayside in recent years apart from when on holiday or other trips away from home. I've been trying to re-establish the habit and, at the time of writing, I am on my 4th book since mid November. I started off by reading Charlie Spedding's book again which is probably why the above quote is fresh in my mind. I never thought I would encounter a race like Inverkip again. This year's West District Cross Country at Bellahouston Park proved me wrong. The 6 mile, 4 lap course, of which you were lucky if half a mile was runnable, comprised thick, unrelenting mud caused by the stormy winter weather. Thankfully conditions on the day were ideal but the damage to the course had been done. For once, I was grateful for a Sunday race because had it been 24 hours earlier, the weather being so bad I was soaked through and frozen after a morning 3 mile jog, I genuinely wouldn't have bothered racing.
Conditions were fine though so I and over 200 others lined up for the senior men race. I was wearing new spikes, a strategically chosen black pair. Well, is there any point buying flashy colours to run cross countries? I made a decent, unimpeded start and got a few strides behind me. Then the fun started. Before long, we were encountering squelching, ankle deep mud which would not have been out of place in an event such as Tough Mudder. Not being a fan of such a thing, you can imagine how I was feeling. As the sting in the tail, the only decent parts were uphill, including a sharp incline towards the end of the lap. The rest was an awful, mucky mess. I originally planned to find the best line and follow it. That can only happen when there is a best line to follow. Here, there was none. The only solution was to put one foot in front of the other, keep moving forward and eventually the finish would arrive.
For 2 laps my head was all over the place and I had to strongly fight the urge to simply stop. Somehow I found myself clear in 8th place and maintaining it. "This is bloody awful" I shouted to Charlie Thomson as he encouraged me though "bloody" wasn't the adjective I used.
Above: being shadowed by Grant Baillie (East Kilbride AC) on one of the more runnable parts of the course. Photo courtesy of Scott Martin.
Preparing to enter the 3rd lap, something changed my mindset. Running 50m or so adrift of 2 Shettleston runners, one of them simply darted to the right, ducked under the tape and stopped, shaking his head. I had moved up a place to 7th without requiring any extra exertion. I abandoned any more thoughts of stopping. Yes I was still moving like Bambi on ice skates but in a more determined fashion. At the turn into the final lap though, I spotted Robert Gilroy closing me down. I kept going until at one point while lapping a couple of people, I saw Robert overtaking me. I resolved to stay with him and kept a few strides/squelches behind. Out the corner of my eye I saw him look at me but, as I've said, my race head was now on so I ignored him and looked straight ahead. We approached the last hill into the trees where I decided to go for it and overtook him. I knew there was still a chance he'd catch me on the way down so I took a risk and threw myself down the descent into the home straight. Finding a small part of greenery, I strode hard along it even though it meant running on a camber.
I had rallied enough to finish a hugely relieved 7th place with Robert 6 seconds adrift. In the end I was no more than about 100m away from 5th placed Lachlan Oates. My recent record on muck heaps has been improving with 11th place at last year's West in Linwood and my recent run in a different part of Bellahouston in the National 4km. To be much more head strong in these sorts of races is encouraging.
Our clubmate Kyle McLellan dominated the race, taking the title by half a minute from Shettleston's Matthew Turner, over 2 minutes ahead of me. Kyle, myself, Robert, Kenneth Campbell, Kerry-Liam Wilson and Iain Reid were the 6 counters who took the team silver medals in a tight contest won by Shettleston by 10 points.
As well as being grateful for the Sunday race, I was glad to be off work the next day and to have an easy rest/recovery week ahead after a 10 week spell of consistent training. I allowed myself a beer that night to reflect on a job well done.
Finally, the severity of the course can be illustrated by the fact that I ran almost as quickly during my 4 mile warm down from the park to Hampden via Shawlands as I did in the race. Many others could probably say the same.
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