I took part in my first Great Scottish Run yesterday. I could go on about how tough the half marathon was, and it most certainly was, but a more interesting thing than my own pain struck me as I lugged my body around 13 miles of an unusually sunny Glasgow. For the first time in a long while, I was struck by the friendliness of the people of Glasgow.
As a lifelong resident of Glasgow, I find it very easy to be cynical about Glasgow, and don’t get me wrong, there was plenty yesterday to be cynical about. From the Lord Provost waving like a walloper from the front of an open topped bus at the start, to the collection of minor celebrities and politicians taking part for a bit of public exposure there was plenty of ammunition for those looking to be critical.
Sure, I’d heard the support shown by people on the way round the course was good, and of course folk clapping and cheering you on was a great motivator to get round and much appreciated, but this isn’t what made me proud to be Glaswegian for the first time in a while. No, what really impressed me were the wee individual acts by several different people at different stages of the race, and I’m writing this to give them a mention and tell them that they were very much appreciated.
Coming out of Pollok Park just after the halfway point, when the miles were starting to take their toll, the first of the people I was impressed by had lined up. Now, there’s no official water point till about the after 6 miles till the 9 mile mark, and this was some way before it. However, the local residents on Titwood Road had lined up an unofficial water station with plastic cups full of water which were much appreciated after the undulations of Pollok Park. Coupled to this the hose they’d brought out to spray runners in an uncharacteristically warm Glasgow, and they made themselves a very welcome addition to the day.
Further down on to Darnley road I was particularly impressed by the couple who had evidently been standing there since the first runners went past and were consistently slicing oranges into segments and offering them to the passing masses. It looked a time consuming and repetitive task, but the two folk doing it seemed more than happy to be doing it just for the benefit of others, and I can assure them that their selflessness was very much appreciated by all who passed.
There were another few things which made me smile and re-affirmed my faith in the friendliness of Glaswegians. The couple of folk standing with big bags of sweets and offering them to the runners as they headed into the last couple of miles was a really nice thing to do. I also liked the comedy value of the salesman at the Pollokshaws Road Arnold Clark Vauxhall dealership who gave me a chuckle and spurred me on at the right time by blaring the Rocky soundtrack out of the speakers of one of the cars on the forecourt. However, I think the sweetest act I saw of the day was the wee boy who had got his Dad to buy him a bottle of water and he was standing by the side of the road holding it out hoping someone would grab it off him. At that point even this cynic almost said AWW!
Don’t get me wrong, I still had my faith restored in the stupidity and pettiness of some people here when I got over the finish line and over officious and lazy looking steward told me and some other runners to keep moving. Aye, very good, you try not having to rest for a minute when you’ve just dragged yourself round 13 miles. Numpty! Anyway, it didn’t spoil my warm fuzzy feeling I felt about Glasgow for once. No doubt the intervening 12 months will bring the cynicism and grumpiness flooding back, but I’ve still got next year’s race to look forward to re-affirm my faith in our ‘friendly’ city once again!
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