The Forfar multi-terrain half marathon – assorted mutterings from those who thought they might like to give it a bash, and vague comments from the few who had actually done it. In the end, it was decided to make it the first race of the club Championship, so various folk who really should know better went ahead and entered. The run-up to the race wasn’t exactly encouraging – an image on the Forfar Road Runners website of last year’s race with runners knee-deep in icy water seemed to be the major feature. ‘Ah well, it’s all good training’ was a repeated theme. And Captain Phil, who had decided to make it a championship race, wasn’t able to run, sidelined with a dodgy calf.
Even the morning of the race before we left wasn’t without incident, with assorted Facebook messages, texts and phone calls to confirm cancellations, so it was a slightly smaller cohort of Harriers who made their way east.
As we drove towards Forfar, Gordon and I were slightly concerned at the way the thermometer seemed to be getting colder, and the white stuff on the fields beside the roads was actually snow, rather than the frost we’d left behind in Crieff. Arriving in Forfar in good time, my mood was darkened further when I tried to go for a warm-up on the rugby pitch – even a churned-up pitch was frozen solid and treacherous. I gave up on the warm-up after that, reckoning that the first mile or so would be sufficient to get the legs working.
More Harriers arrived – Kerry, Nicola and Karen, along with Sav and Sol on baby-sitting duties, Doug and Cathy with Rhu and Kirsty, and then Grant, who had decided at about 8:50 that morning to come and do the race. Much discussion followed regarding choice of shoes – a couple of local worthies tried to persuade me that nothing other than a pair of spikes would suffice.
There was a brief briefing in the clubhouse, the most notable part of which was the news that the threatened water feature hadn’t had enough rain, so we wouldn’t be doing the knee-high icy water thing. The other notable item in the briefing was the description of part of the course as ‘treacherous’. Oh goody.
So, we trooped out and gathered beside the Loch of Forfar and off we went. The first mile or so was pretty shambolic. I did my usual thing of starting too near the back and having to work my way through. It’s not usually much of an issue, but dodging and weaving on icy paths through low-hanging branches wasn’t too great. I only saw one faller, but I’m sure there were more.
Along we went, and I picked off Grant and Gordon and Doug, and I’ve no idea where the others were. The paths were, as promised, treacherous. However, they were also flat, for the most part, which was quite pleasant. After about 3 miles, there was a long stretch of farm track with optional water-filled puddles – I skirted a few and then got bored with tip-toeing and went for the direct route, although this did involve cold wet feet.
There was a slightly strange malarkey when we came to road crossings – we had to have our numbers clipped by one marshal and then have our road crossing skills assessed by another marshal. I’m not sure if the actions of either marshal were actually of any use to anyone, but they seemed to feel fulfilled. The need to stop and be clipped did mean there was a degree of tactical overtaking every now and again as I headed towards a checkpoint a wee bit behind another runner.
The site of the water feature, although not knee-deep, was still soggy enough, and my feet got cold and wet again. Then we had a section running through a big landfill site, and then we got to Balmashanner Hill. As hills go, it’s not very big, but at mile 9 in what was otherwise a flat route, it was a bit of an obstacle. It was also quite icy underfoot, so it was a bit more a trial than it might have been, but I managed to close ground on three runners I could see ahead of me.
Coming off the hill presented options for getting lost, but fortunately I managed to pick the right route, and then we got to a nice downhill section. This bit was lovely – downhill and heading north, so there were glorious views to the snow-covered hills and glens. All very picturesque. At the bottom of that particular track, there were further options for getting lost, and two of the runners ahead of me opted for one route, and I stuck with the guy ahead of me shouting ‘it’s this way’. I hoped he knew what he was doing and sure enough, we ended up in the right place.
More careering down the side of a field, and then across the road into the industrial estate for the last mile. More really treacherous paths in among the trees and then there was the finish. The clock was just ticking towards 1:35, so I did put in a bit of a sprint to finish in 1.34.58. Given the conditions, I was quite pleased with that.
I’ve never been able to park quite so close to the finish of a race, and I was able to watch Doug storming through to his finish while I was fishing some dry socks out of my bag. (Did I mention the cold wet feet?) Doug also shaved seconds off a whole minute time, coming in at 1.38.56. I hate to think what he’d do if he actually trained. A wee bit later we had Gordon, being chased by Kerry, then Grant, with Karen finishing next with a very big smile, followed closely by Cathy and Nicola.
Kerry reckoned the course was a bit short, but my watch recorded the full 13.1 miles, although over that terrain, precise distances aren't very meaningful.
There was a decent spread of soup and rolls and sausage rolls and cake, and it was very good to see the Harriers’ complete domination of the plates of chocolate cake. It was a bit of shame about the icy conditions, because running conditions were otherwise lovely – still and clear and dry.
Full Harriers results were:
me, 51st, in 94.58
Doug, 65th in 98.56
Gordon, 103rd in 106.12
Kerry, 105th in 106.57
Grant, 125th in 110.39
Karen, 135th in 112.11
Cathy 146th in 113.22
Nicola, 154th in 114.40
