Some folks take time off work to fly abroad, to walk bare-foot on sun-kissed beaches, to sip lurid cocktails, and to ingest other dubious substances. Not me. Because, as Arnold and Willis knew, the world don't move to the beat of just one drum.
Although, I suppose I did find myself on St Andrews' West Sands this evening, I did have a swig of Peter's pre-race Red Bull, I did remove my shoes to have a dook in the sea afterwards, and I probably inadvertently swallowed all manner of foulness in said body of water. But we are in danger of getting ahead of ourselves.
The idea behind this race series is similar to the Tour de France. Five stages, back to back, with different types of course to test a variety of skills, and with category placings decided by aggregate time. Miss one or more races and you're effectively out - crying in the back of a car after having been forced to hand your number over to a marshal. All very serious. And yet, reading Peter's blog of last year's event, it looked like he and Michael G had had a blast. I signed up and took the time off work.
I'd spent a chunk of the morning consulting the entry list, searching for over 40s, and then looking up their records on Power of 10. This revealed a couple of guys to keep an eye on - not out of my league, but capable on the right course and the right day of beating me, although the reverse could happen if it was my course and my day.
After collecting Peter from Edinburgh, we made our way over to the Kingdom. No other Dunbars are doing it this year, although hopefully that might change next year. There were additional Porties in the shape of the aforementioned Michael, Willie J, and Andrew S, all of whom were coming from Fife or further North.
Following registration, and after a quick confab with Peter, I elected for the HOKAs (out of the 3 options I had brought with me) and we went off for a warm up. This revealed two things - the sand was largely smooth and firm, and there was a headwind for the first two miles out which would turn into a tailwind on the way home.
We were soon under starter's orders (a guest starter called Beverley, I think, from Fife AC) and chugging up the beach. I quite quickly settled into a secondary group, behind the lead group of five. Scanning that group of 5, I couldn't see anyone that looked the right age to worry about. Even if I could see someone, it became abundantly clear that there was little I was going to be able to do about it.
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| (photo: Peter Bracegirdle) |
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| (photo: Graham Bennison) |
Also in the secondary group were Peter, Michael, a Dundee Hawkhill (who looked like he may well be in his 40s), and a young Fifer with big hair. Peter, Michael and I all took turns on the front in aptly cycling style. I was a little miffed that the Hawk and Big Hair were less willing to pull their weight.
Approaching the turn you are taken around a spit of land where the sand became softer. The lead group headed right across the really soft stuff, cutting the corner a little. At this point I was on the front of the secondary group and debated going the longer route round the headland, but keeping to wetter harder sand. But I'm not that brave, so I followed them across the soft stuff. And then spent the next half mile or so trying a succession of different lines - hoping that each would be better than the last, but none were and I was probably running twice as far from all of the zig-zagging.
I was still on the front of the second group though, and indeed had opened up a little bit of a gap to Peter and the Hawk. Maybe the HOKAs were helping on the soft stuff - their very large flat soles acting like snow shoes and spreading the pressure on the surface?
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| (photo: Peter Bracegirdle) |
After the turn I told myself how much I was enjoying the wind behind, and how much easier everything felt. I didn't entirely believe myself.
I was listening for the sound of footsteps or heavy breathing behind me, and couldn't hear any. But then we were running on sand, so footsteps were probably unlikely to carry very far.
I'd been warned that the inward half is v-e-r-y long - St. Andrews like the end of a constantly moving rainbow in the far distance. But eventually we came back to humanity, and I could make out the "200 metres to go" sign ahead, and thought it would be ok to risk a look over my shoulder. I saw that I had a healthy enough gap to the Hawk behind me in 7th, so figured I wasn't going to be caught. Thankfully it dawned on me quite quickly that this was about overall time, so I pressed on for the finish in case a second or two gained here might make a difference later in the week.
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| (photo: Ethan Lee) |
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| (photo: Paul Roarty) |
Sure enough I finished in 6th, with Michael, Peter and Willie not far behind. After a gentle warm down (one eye on preserving the body for the races still to come), Michael and I had a quick splash in the water, while Peter elected to keep his powder (and feet) dry. He does enough open water swimming anyway, and may not be entirely over his run-in with Lyme Disease.
Stage 1 - Yellow Jersey (Overall Classification):
1. Scott Cassidy (Fife AC): 22:38
2. Derek Rae (Anster Haddies RC): +0:00
3. Alastair Brockie (Corstorphine AAC): +0:15
4. Ewan Gault (Unattached): +0:17
5. Tom Brian (Metro Aberdeen RC): +1:00
6: Nick Williamson (Dunbar RC): +1:39
7. Keith Taylor (Fife AC): +1:57
8. Ian McNulty (Dundee Hawkhill Harriers): +2:02
9. Brian Lees (Falkirk Victoria Harriers): +2:03
10. Michael Geoghegan (Portobello RC): +2:08
Stage 1 - White Jersey (Best Old (V40) Rider Classification):
1. Nick Williamson (Dunbar RC): 24:17
2. Steven King (Carnegie Harriers): +1:09
3. Scott Strachan (Kinross Road Runners): +2:19
4. Colin Thomson (Unattached): +2:33
5. Craig Love (Dundee Hawkhill Harriers): +3:00
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