Oh yes, 1990…those were the days. Glasnost, perestroika, poll tax riots, Madchester, Hacienda, Gazza's tears and……..Malcolm's victory at the Congleton half (or was it 1991?). Could there be a repeat? Would the (much) older legs show the young 'uns how it's done?
In the run-up to this year's race Malc had been playing it down big time. Sore calf (which meant he cut short the 650s last Tuesday)…. or how about "I'm on the night shift so I'll be racing on no sleep"….one could go on.
Come the day and, surprise surprise, there he was in the rain-soaked car park shivering to the bone like the rest of us. Retreating to the gym as the start time became a work of fiction, discussion turned to the great 1990 victory. "Oh those were the days when I used to win races, I'm far too slow now," came the refrain.
We should all have known better. Into the race and about half a dozen of us settled into the leading group with Malc just at the back. As we took on the hill out of Congleton suddenly a Telford runner appeared out of nowhere and bounded into what looked a commanding lead. Spectrum’s Graham Houghton gave chase, leaving me and Malcolm vying for 3rd. Rob, with Macc half in his legs, thought sod this for a lark.
It stayed thus until half way, but then as the sun came out the race turned on its head. Graham suddenly slowed and I seized my chance, cruising past into 2nd and beginning to think the impossible. Then the Telford runner started slowing too and by about 9 miles I had caught him…now the impossible seemed really on.
Mild mental panic ensued. I’d never been at the front of a major race like this before although it was mildly exciting being behind a lead vehicle. What do do? Push on and risk dying in the last mile, or hold back and save my sprint which I knew was stronger than anyone else around me? Just as I was kind of opting for the latter, a rejuvenated Graham and the lurking Malc suddenly appeared.
Miles 9 to 11 we all shared the lead in Jo Pavey/Geta Wami fashion, and then Malc pulled out his trump card – a blistering mile ahead of the "sting in the tail" hill at mile 12 to finish us off (around 5.20). His plan worked to perfection such that by the time we had all climbed the sting, the gaps were far too big to close.
I nearly caught Graham (who was as miffed as me) on the run-in but Malc was away and gone, sprinting to a glorious second coming. Myself, instead of being elated at a massive PB, felt crushed that I hadn’t lasted just another mile. Oh to have been on his shoulder with 200 to go…..
Oh well, now on to the cross country and there’s only going to be one winner there….
Jim