Scotland play their first World Cup match since 1998 next Sunday. In Boston, at nine in the evening local time, which is two in the morning for anyone watching from Scotland. Kilmarnock Harriers had clearly done the maths. Roon the Toon was moved from its original date of 14th June to today, a week earlier, so that three thousand runners could do their ten kilometres around Kilmarnock town centre and out through the countryside near Caprington Castle, and then spend the following week in a state of anxious anticipation without a race to worry about as well.
I was one of the three thousand.
Third Time, Same Situation
This is my third Roon the Toon. What I've never managed, across all three of them, is to arrive at the start line feeling anything close to ready. Today continued the tradition without difficulty.
Four weeks off training will do this to you. A vomiting bug took the first week. Something that may or may not have been covid accounted for the other three. I didn't test. Sometimes it's easier not to know. My preparation in the final week had been three short runs, enough to confirm the legs were still attached, and nothing else of note.
Going into a ten-kilometre race off that kind of month requires some adjustment to expectations. I started with a target of 6:30 per kilometre, which gives you a finish time of sixty-five minutes at that pace. I set my expectations accordingly, told myself that was realistic given the circumstances, and tried to convince myself.
The conditions at the start were fine. Around 13°C, which sounds workable and largely was. The forecast had a 25 km/h south-southwesterly in it, and threatened drizzle, which is entirely typical for Kilmarnock in June, but the reality at the start line was dry and the wind was there, but nothing like the forecast had promised. Cold and currently dry. I didn't hear any complaints.
The Plan
The approach was simple enough. Get to five kilometres at something close to 6:30 per kilometre and let the second half sort itself out from there. This isn't particularly sophisticated as race strategies go, but it has the advantage of being manageable even when your recent form amounts to a month mostly on the sofa.
The first five kilometres went more or less to plan. I crossed the midpoint averaging 6:26 per kilometre, four seconds per kilometre ahead of target. In good conditions with fresh legs, four seconds is almost nothing. On a breezy Sunday in Kilmarnock after four weeks off, it felt like a reasonable position to be in.
The course gets slightly more interesting from around four kilometres in, topographically speaking.
On Hills
I should explain something about my running for those that don't know me. I can't do hills. I'm not describing the sort of limitation that has you breathing a bit harder and slowing slightly. I mean that any sustained gain in elevation will take apart my pace at a measurable and entirely predictable rate. There are runners who describe themselves as non-climbers while still being perfectly competent on anything short of an actual mountain. I'm a non-climber on courses that other non-climbers would call flat.
Roon the Toon has undulations. The locals would not describe them as hills. Most people running the course would barely register them. At around four kilometres in, on legs that hadn't done any proper training in a month, I registered them. The effort required to hold pace through those sections was disproportionate to how gentle they actually were. The forecast made good on its threat somewhere around six kilometres. A few minutes of smirry rain, the kind that's barely there but gets you wet anyway. It was gone as quickly as it arrived and left nothing behind except damp shoulders and, honestly, a slight improvement in the situation. When you're starting to suffer, a bit of cool drizzle on the face is not unwelcome.
I got through the undulations. The cushion held. By seven kilometres I was still ahead of schedule.
That's when it started to feel less comfortable.
7.5 Kilometres
Around 7.5 kilometres, the pace began to slip. Gradually, not suddenly. The sort of drift where you look at your watch after a little while and realise the numbers have been quietly moving in the wrong direction while you weren't paying full attention. No dramatic collapse. Just the kind of creeping slowdown that happens when you've been running harder than your recent form strictly supports and you've got two and a half kilometres still to go.
Pulling the pace back took more concentration than physical effort. The legs were tired but they were working. The challenge was to keep working at the right speed rather than settling into something a little more comfortable just below target, which would have felt much better and would have cost me my finish time goal.
The Support Crew
At around eight kilometres, Karen and Cheryl appeared at the side of the course. Karen had come to watch. Cheryl had made the journey up from Yorkshire specifically for the race, which on reflection is a longer commitment than the race itself required of me.
Seeing familiar faces at that point does something useful. I managed to lift the pace a fraction and hold it, staying ahead of where I needed to be. The final kilometre opens up a bit more than the rest of the course, and that's where the forecasted wind finally showed up. Not aggressively. Just enough to be there, enough to notice. It didn't cost much in the way of time.
The final 300 metres are around the Ayrshire Athletics Arena track, which is a nice touch. You finish like you're in an actual race rather than just stopping at the side of the road somewhere. Coming onto the track, Sandy came into view. Sandy had applied for a place, missed the email offering him one, pleaded successfully for a spot on the waitlist, and then missed that email too. He's sensitive about it so I'll leave it there, except to say that a modest improvement in inbox management would have had him on the start line rather than the sidelines. He'd made the trip from Yorkshire anyway and was standing trackside to watch me jog past for about twenty seconds. I put in what I am officially recording as a sprint finish. The actual increase in pace was modest. It was genuine, it was an increase, and I'm claiming it as a sprint.
Official time: 1:04:09. Fifty-one seconds faster than my estimate.
The Numbers
10km in 1:04:09, average pace 6:25/km, average HR 151 bpm, average power 250W, average cadence 168 spm, elevation gain 44m. Target was 6:30/km with an estimated finish of 1:05:00.
Weather at race start: 13.9°C. South-southwesterly forecast at 25 km/h, though the course is sheltered enough that it was barely a factor until the final kilometre. Dry at the start despite the forecast, with a brief spell of smirry rain around 6-7km that cleared quickly. Not the worst morning Kilmarnock has produced, but not the best either. Fine for running though.
| Km | Pace | Avg HR | Avg Power | What Was Happening |
|---|---|---|---|---|
| 1 | 6:25/km | 136 | 246W | HR still climbing. Everything feels manageable, which means nothing yet. |
| 2 | 6:26/km | 148 | 250W | Rhythm found. Settling into something sustainable, or so the theory goes. |
| 3 | 6:22/km | 149 | 248W | Slightly quicker without meaning to be. Left it. |
| 4 | 6:21/km | 149 | 250W | Still ahead of target. The undulations beginning to be felt. |
| 5 | 6:23/km | 154 | 253W | Midpoint crossed. HR jumping. Four seconds per kilometre ahead of plan. |
| 6 | 6:21/km | 153 | 250W | Smirry rain arrived. Damp shoulders, marginal improvement in morale. Pace held. |
| 7 | 6:32/km | 154 | 244W | The drift the narrative mentions. Eleven seconds dropped. Gradual rather than sudden. |
| 8 | 6:27/km | 154 | 246W | Karen and Cheryl appeared. Lifted the pace a fraction. Held it. |
| 9 | 6:23/km | 154 | 251W | Back under control. Legs tired, still working. |
| 10 | 6:14/km | 155 | 261W | The wind finally showed up. Finished anyway. |
| Last 50m | 5:31/km | 157 | 280W | Ayrshire Athletics Arena track. Sandy trackside. Sprint finish, officially recorded as such. |
Finishing Up
Third Roon the Toon. Third time arriving at the start undercooked. It keeps going fine, which is something.
Sandy and Cheryl drove up from Yorkshire to watch me run. Cheryl found a spot on the course at eight kilometres. Sandy made it to the trackside for the finish. That's a long way to come and I appreciated it more than I probably made obvious on the day. I finished nearly a minute ahead of where I expected to.
Scotland play next Sunday at two in the morning. Seven days to rest the legs and then set an alarm.
Roon the Toon is a 10km road race organised by Kilmarnock Harriers, starting and finishing at the Ayrshire Athletic Arena.