Scotland Run 10k in Central Park NYC

What is the single most important ingredient for a run called "Scotland"?

That's right, rain.

I am not complaining though. I actually liked it. And given that I did not get any rain when I was in Scotland for the first time, running the Edinburgh half in March 2007, NYC payed the Scots appropriate dues.

Some runners seem to be slower in the rain. But that's all mental. Mind you, I am not talking about you sub28 elites. Different ballpark. But for a front-of-pack weekend warrior? No big deal. Maybe it is my background as a road cyclist. If you ever rode a four hour race in the rain at close to freezing temps, you know what I mean. Running for 30-some minutes? Shorts and singlet.

Back home after the race - 2 min. jog from the finish line as Central Park is my private garden - I found myself in the shower with my racing flats. I take pride in my racing flats. They have to be either perfectly neat or so old-school and half fallen apart that no charity on this planet would ever consider taking them. My black-edition Nike Lunar Racers with blue soles are my trusted 'weapon' this season. I put them on for races only. And I have been racing lots lately. So much that I guess they won't last until my this year's A-race, the NYC marathon. And they are a Nike limited special edition. Note to self: try to get another pair TODAY.

When I was a young roadie paying my dues as a domestique in an elite-team, our directeur sportive (DS) Hans Holczer told us one valuable lesson. After a ride, first clean your bike then your body. Back then people just started to understand how important it is to wear a hat after training and racing to keep warm. So why clean the bike first? Thinking about it today, I guess it must have to do with pride and dignity shown towards your racing tool. No bike, no race. And that commitment towards your bike shows something about your character as a racer. This guy means business and he does not mess around. Tough but fair.

Mind you, I always worshipped whatever bike I was racing on. It had to be clean before I started riding. During my first season as a racer in the junior ranks, one of my racing mates made a comment on the cleanliness of my bike. How he could tell that it is cleaner than most other's bikes, I asked him. "No dirt on the frame around the bottom bracket." His respect towards my clean bike marked my acceptance among my roadie peers.

But a couple years later on that miserable February day in Mallorca, after a six hour ride in sleet where we had to turn around half way up the mountains as the snow started piling on the roads, I became a caveman, only caring about me, me, me.

The DS was not in a happy place. We never got along anyway which made things even more difficult. Now there I was, probably one of the few that really cared about his bike but the DS' impression was solely based on that moment. I had to suck it up.

My racing flats are today what my racing bike used to be.

(We'll spare you a boring report of my race but will fill you in soon about what happened up front given that we had an Olympian race.)