Life Before Lockdown Part 2- Scottish National Cross Country Championships, 23rd February 2019

It's incredible to think back and recall how nervous I was about this race. I felt the nerves since the beginning of the week. The key thing is that you channel them properly. Hopefully I was able to do it on this occasion.

My record at the National since the second of my two 9th place finishes in 2013 had been patchy and read as follows:-

2014- failed to finish. I had struggled for the entire winter since the Dublin Marathon the previous October. My legs buckled on the first major climb at the opposite end of the pond and I dipped under the tape shortly afterwards. In all honesty, my heart wasn't in it from the start.

2015- I didn't run through choice after starting a new job and wanting to target something different that winter.

2016- Again, I didn't run, this time through a combination of an injury (sprained ankle) and illness (chest infection) in the weeks leading up to the race.

2017- 38th place in a complete and utter mudbath. I was so tired, I gave the club night out that evening a miss. I could hardly move.

2018- 24th place. On the face of it, this was a good result. However, losing 6 places in the final few hundred metres and my state of mind made it feel a lot worse.

At this point, I will confess to a guilty pleasure in life. I have had an on-off liking for WWE. My heroes have ranged from Hulk Hogan in my younger days to John Cena more recently. I totally understand that this is scripted entertainment. That said, I have often drawn on some soundbites, especially from John Cena's work, as sources of inspiration. Anyone portraying a character urging people to never give up and to give their best is good enough for me. The night before the race, I called upon a promo video before one of his big matches which referred to things such as going "to the top of the mountain." It did the job. It's a miracle that I slept.

My Dad and I had an inkling that something good was going to happen. I had trained well and the conditions were to my liking, Dry weather and a firm, hilly course. I'm never in the mood for socialising before the bigger races so, having collected my number and timing chip from the club tent, I quickly made myself scarce. I don't even warm up with company. It's just not for me. I'll chat and jog with anyone at all after the event. Not before though.

Not wanting a repeat of the Armagh debacle and knowing that the course veered right at the top of the first hill, I positioned myself so far to the right that I was clinging to the tape. I managed to keep out of harm's way and tried not to be too concerned about who was ahead of me. I'm very much of the view that it's where you are at the finish that counts. No medals are won in the first 100m but you can certainly lose the race in that time with around 10km still ahead of you.

Much like most of the wrestling I have enjoyed watching over the years, everything went to the script for the first two laps. I was working hard, well up the field and in good form. The atmosphere, particularly in the "tented village" area of the course was electric. You couldn't help but up your game a few notches. I had even fought my way up to 2nd Cambuslang Harrier.

Above: the second lap, focused and determined.

While not sharing it with anyone beforehand, I'd had a notional target of top 20 in my head. To earn team medals, your 6 counters, plus arguably the next few after that, need to be as high up the field as possible. I had taken no prisoners and run aggressively during the first two thirds of the race. I was doing my bit. In hindsight there was going to be an inevitable tailing off. Right at the beginning of the final lap, a Fife athlete unknown to me overtook. Don't panic, keep the head up. Thankfully the deluge of the previous year never happened. Later in the lap, Sean Fontana (Inverclyde) and another runner who I can't now recall also passed me by. From around the climb at the pond until the final corner, I lost no more. I had been in a ding dong battle with Conan McCaughey (Central) before he gradually opened a gap on me. Central were gunning to break our record of consecutive team gold medals. Both clubs were throwing everything at this race.

After negotiating the tented village for the final time, I started to anticipate the finish. Come on, it's a rep from your cross country training. You've done loads of those. A tight right hand turn takes you into the home straight. No way did I want half a dozen people to trample me this year. I didn't do those 200m reps two days before the race for nothing!

In the charge for the line, I was groaning in agony. Craig Ruddy (Inverclyde) came by. Fine, I can live with one person but no more. The finish line came with no more damage done. Safely through the funnel I lay flat on my face. I was totally exhausted and had left it all out there. It took some congratulatory words and a pull up from Dale Colley (Central) to get me to my feet and my Dad's helping hand to transport me to the club tent.

It turned out to be mission accomplished by the narrowest of margins. 20th place, 2nd club counter and a team silver medal. Central proved to be worthy winners of the team gold. No shame in that. Each club had given their best.

Above: Cambuslang's team silver medallists. From left to right- Alasdair Campbell, me, Iain MacCorquodale, Kevan Harvey, Ryan Thomson, Fraser Stewart.

It had been a fantastic result and a brilliant day. The full results can be found here. There was no missing the club get together that night. 

Days like this don't always happen but, when they do, the feeling is unbeatable. This was one of those occasions. They make our sport the pleasure that it is at the best of times.