MOK Run

The Mull of Kintyre half marathon took place on Sunday 27th May. Ozzie wasn’t up to this, but we’re very happy that he did the Omagh 4 mile and the Titanic 10k. I reckon 10k is enough for any small dog. So it was left to my running partner Rabea to do the 10k, which he finished in a creditable 59 minutes, and me to do the half marathon.

Well Bloody Hell. What an experience. Over two hours of mind-numbing, foot-pounding, inner-self-exploring hard exercise. Insanity.

I got off to my usual slow start (I always was a slow starter), running the first ½ mile with Rabea until he disappeared off with the other 10k-ers, down towards the harbour. Once the 10k and fun runners turned off, I was left as the back marker in the half marathon for the long slog out of town and uphill for two miles north out of Campbeltown. A two mile hill isn’t what the virgin half marathoner relishes, but I wasn’t too daunted, as my aim was just to finish, rather than get a particular time. I know my average pace over 10k is around 10.5 minutes per mile, and I was therefore just trying to keep myself the right side of 11 minutes per mile throughout. I figured this was the right approach, as I ended up overtaking two of my fellow back-markers before we got to the top of that hill.

We then turned left and…continued uphill for another 2 miles before being confronted with two miles of cross-country and beach running. During the continued climb I knocked off another 2 or 3 competitors, and then on the return cross country leg found my er, legs, as it were, and started leaping, gazelle like, up and down the dunes and stoney tracks heading for the road. I was taking runners out by the handful (well, I think I probably overhauled another 3), and bagged another two once back on tarmac. By mile 7 I was clawing my way up the field and feeling pretty damned good. Having passed the half way mark and with the prospect of an imminent downhill section, I reckoned I’d have to be careful not to overtake everyone and win the race.

Sadly, once we turned off towards town, we were confronted with another uphill section which just seemed to defy gravity (or geography, anyway). And this went on for the 5 bloody miles. By the time I was approaching mile 12, although I had crawled past another two runners (one of whom was reduced to walking), I knew the game was up. My increase in pace over the cross-country and beach section had left me thinking that death would be a welcome release, and when I heard footsteps behind me I thought he’d heard me. But it transpired to be some woman who had obviously found her second wind. Should I let her pass? Could I stop her? Um, “yes” and “no”. I was still struggling on uphill when an ambulance passed me and a wee woman hung out of the window and said “are ye feelin’ a’right?” “Yeah – fine!” I said cheerily. What I wanted to say in answer this, patently ridiculous, question, I just didn’t have sufficient breath for. And when the downhill section finally arrived I wasn’t in any fit state to take advantage of it, although I did consider lying down and rolling to the finish.

The short downhill section soon peters out and as you arrive at the seafront the best that can be said about it is it’s flat (most seafronts are). The final mental hurdle was turning the corner at the bottom of Main Street and seeing the finish line still about a quarter of a mile away. Eurgh. As I staggered towards it, I knew I had reached my limit, and when I got over the line to be greeted by Naice and Rabea (and Ozzie, of course) all I wanted was a drink, a bar of chocolate and a seat.

All worthwhile, of course, as the sponsorship total has now reached £500. Thanks to all my sponsors!