2 November 2024

Race report

Lewis Sinclair

A four kilometre course, with four GFR runners. I like the symmetry.

Following on from October's Relays performance, we put a small squad up for the short course championships in Kirkcaldy. 

Finn B, Lauren A, Chris W, and I (enjoying being the only Lewis, for once) headed over to the Lang Toun on November 2nd. It was dry, after rain on the first, so we were dealing with muddy ground and cold weather.

First up was Lauren, making her debut on the Short Course, and her second turnout for GFR cross country. She hammered home in 15:58, fending off a chasedown from a Bellahouston athlete who happened to be her old flatmate (nothing like some domestic drama on a Saturday afternoon). 

The Men's and Non-Binary race followed, with Chris, Finn and I (Chris and I making our Cross Country debuts) clustering on the start line and slowly realising that we were about to have a considerable portion of the Scottish Athletics community running up our backsides. 

The light flashed, the whistle blew, and off we went. I can't speak for the others, but the pain kicked in around a kilometre in. The pain kicked in, and it turned into a case of running against it. 

You know your legs can hold, and that your lungs will get you through, but they're not saying that in the heat of the moment. They're saying "please stop, you eejit". 

You hit some mud and nearly flip on your side, turn a corner, and the voice comes into your head that you could be doing something else. Something that doesn't involve pain, mud, and bananas. But then you hammer through, and find that, actually, the legs are still holding; the lungs are still there; the heid is being kept. And you hear cheering from the crowd, feel the wind on your face, and realise that, somehow, you're enjoying it, and then you're over the line.

Four GFR runners entered. Four GFR runners finished. A small but mighty squad.

Lauren: 15:58

Finn: 15:14

Chris: 16:53

Lewis: 17:13

Yes, the big races have spectacle. Refreshment stands, music, warmups from a guy on a cherry picker. You finish them (reasonably) clean, and get a nice medal.

Short Course has none of that. The music is in your headphones on the train over, the refreshments are out the back of a van, you get covered in mud, and the warmup is whatever you put together in the Gazebo. But stand at the side and watch, or muster the energy to look around when you're trying not to chuck your lungs up after the race, and you're seeing our sport at the coalface.

People come out on a damp, cold afternoon in November, to run around a muddy field and cheer on people doing the same. And we love it. You see clubs from all over the country, with local rivalries blending into national competitions. Teviotdale running against Gala, GFR against Bellahouston, Edinburgh against Fife. You have the juniors starting out, and the veterans cracking onto the next decade. You have people who've been having cross country for breakfast since junior school, and blokes from Fife who're wondering how they ended up here after signing up to Couch to 5k at the last minute. We go, we run, we cheer, and we think about the next race, and the race after that. We do our best on the day, because we can't ask for anything more nor expect anything less.

We could be somewhere else, or doing something different with our Saturdays.

But where would be the fun in that?

Roll on Erskine.