Raheny Shamrocks 5 Mile Race – Sunday February 5th 2006-02-06
The first race of the year for me, and a chance to see how my training has developed in the first 5 weeks of the year. Last year was all about getting my motivation back after a few years in the wilderness, feeling like a European Runner in the World Cross Country Championship! To the main, with the exception of the end of year set-back, last year was a success, and at Xmas time I sat down and mapped out my goals for 2006.
My main aim this year is to consolidate my Marathon running, manage the Grand Slam of the 4 Irish Marathons, and to improve my M45 times over shorter distances. I wasn’t going to be stupid and rush into things, just build each month, ensuring a progression throughout the year with Targetted races later in the year.
To this extent, my first “Goal” is Connemara in March, and a crack at the Hell of The West. On the way to the West, there are two “Indicator” Races, Ballycotton 10 on March 5th, and the Raheny Shamrock 5 Miler on the first Sunday in February. On January 1st, I wrote in my training diary that I would be looking to break 40 minutes in February and 80 minutes in Ballycotton. Having written that, I knew my January training had been going well, and I revised my 5 Mile Target for the race to Under 39, maybe getting close to 38 minutes, dependant on weather. Things didn’t go quite according to that plan.
Sunday, Feb 5th saw a cold, grey winters day. Not much of a breeze, but an air of expectation of coldness, with the temperatures having dropped a few degrees from the relatively mild days that February had commenced with. I was planning on meeting up with Darren, an Australian Running mate at the race, along with a couple of Dublin people who I had been chatting to on the Connemara Marathon Forum and hope to get in some longer training runs with. Darren and I met up, and froze to death hanging around waiting for the start, but by the time 3 pm came around we were raring to go, if only so we could warm up!
I had my new Athenry AC kit on, along with a long sleeve, thick t-shirt, ironically advertising a New York Race, the Frostbite 10, very apt today. There was a large turn out and the resulting start was a little chaotic as I was too far back for my own good. I wasn’t familiar with the course, but expected a relatively flat one, and my time goal of 38 minutes required 7:36 pace per mile. Well, the first mile of dodging runners and trying to get a racing line and regular stride pattern saw me take 7:37, but I felt I was running well within myself, so I just tried to maintain the pace I had reached by the Mile Mark. My breathing was fine, the legs were strong, and, despite the cold, white numbness of my hands, I was enjoying the run.
I continued to pick runners off in Mile 2, but by now it was a steady catch up and pass progression, rather than the dodging and weaving common in the first mile of so many mass participant races. As the Mile 2 mark approached I checked my watch again, 14:42, quick maths worked out I had run 7:05 – Fast! Had there been a long down hill I had missed, I didn’t recall, but I was still feeling smooth, and confident, so I didn’t check back.
By now I was running with a guy from the Midlands Tri Club, and we vied for position on the road as we passed runners slowing down. This “competition” kept me concentrating and Mile 3 soon approached and 21:48 was my time now, another mile at 7:05 pace, and still I didn’t feel I was running faster than I should be. It was in Mile 4 that we did have a nice down hill stretch to the Coast Road, and I relaxed down the hill, letting the road do the work, and as we turned for a stretch along the coast, I was trying to work out where the climb back would be. I found out as we turned off the coast road just before Mile 4 as a long steady climb was visible past the 4 Mile Marker.
I dug in and at the Marker my watch read 28:50, a 7:02 mile, and I knew that even with this hill I was climbing, I was on for around 36 and small change, well exceeding any expectations I had. I dug in on the climb, head down, thinking merely of reaching the crown of the road, and coasting home to St Anne’s Park and the Finish. I gathered in my thoughts as I saw a sign saying 600m to go, and picked off my targets ahead. 400 to go and I wasn’t closing many gaps, someone sprinted past me – Why? There was still a full 400 to go, you could see the finish, but a lap around the end of the park was still required – Had he gone too soon, was I too slow at reacting? Maybe he had been holding back for bets, but I knew then that I was still strong, and picked up the pace again, passing a few, keeping an eye on my sprinter, and as we turned for home with around 100 to go, I eased passed him, I won’t say sprinted, and set my eyes on the finishing line – I heard the announcer call my name “All the way from the West of Ireland” (actually Raheny is 2 miles from my home here in Dublin, but hey, why spoil the moment), and crossed the line clicking my watch stopped at exactly 36:00 minutes – a 7:10 last mile, including the climb, and a feeling of a job well done.
I met up briefly with Darren, who had beaten me home by around 20 seconds, and met a few of the guys who will be in Connemara, before dashing off home to get warm and watch the football. When I got home I checked my time against everything, and this was my fastest run since the Streets back in 2003. It was 2 minutes ahead of my predicted time, and given this was my first race of the year I was very pleased with my performance. My Target for the Streets of Galway race in August this year is 34 minutes, and with a February run, with no speed work at all, under my belt, the Hard Target I set myself for 5M/8K seems well within my grasp. My Ballycotton Target will need to be revised now, and with my overall Target for 10 Miles for the year being only 75 minutes, it may well be that I will exceed even this longer term goal in 4 weeks.
Not counting chickens or anything yet, but a very promising start to the year, and something positive to build on for the year. As an indicator of how different a year can be, last year I started with a 5 Mile Race (In May as I was late getting into things last year) in 43:26 and improved to 36:21 by the time of the Streets. Whilst I won’t be expecting a 7 minute improvement, 2 minutes is eminently doable!
Watch this space……..
Friday, March 31, 2006
Ballycotton 10 - 5th March 2006
Another March and another trip down to West Cork and the Ballycotton 10. This is a classic road race that has been going for 29 years, and has increased in size from the 30 brave souls who competed back in the 70's to yesterdays 4000 entrants (although only 2800 completed the course).
It was a cold spring day when I left Dublin at 7 am to drive the 175 miles down to Cork, and clear roads meant I made the journey in little over 3 hours, beating the road closures around the small coastal village of Ballycotton, and making the local car park. The race wasn't due off until 1:30, so plenty of time to meet up with friends and take in the coastal air before warming up and stripping down a goo dhour before the start so as to ensure a good starting position. With narrow roads, and over 4000 entrants, we are all felt it wise to get as near to the front as possible.
The race start was delayed by 15 minutes to account for the numbers, and despite a few youngsters being up front with us, we were all in good spirit. The marshall who shepherded the youngsters to the sidelines with a couple of minutes to go before the start deserves credit for diplomacy and avoiding the sight of young kids getting trampled when the gun went.
Now, at the start of the year I was aiming at running 80 minutes for this race, given where I was at Xmas, but a good race last month over 5 miles, clocking 36 minutes, saw me changing my goal and looking nearer 75 minutes as a target.
To this event I started off, knowing that the first two miles are downhill, and as this is an out and back course, the last two miles are uphill. So, try and go off steady, hold the middle of the race, saving something for the finish - at least that was the plan!
The first mile was good, ran 7:05, a little fast maybe, but the good positioning at the start line meant little weaving was required, and I maintained this pace thru 2 miles, clocking 7:09 for mile 2. Now this was too fast and I knew I needed to reign back a little, as I didn't want to blow up, so I consciously slowed down, no doubt causing others to wonder what was up, and probably cursing me, but I checked right back running around 8 minutes for Mile 3, and allowing others to pull ahead. I have to confess I wasn't pressing my watch each mile, so the splits are from memory (I wrote them down as best I could recall not long after finishing), but there were clocks at many of the mile markers and time keepers calling the times at each mile. Mile 3 was actually my slowest mile.
I was around 10 seconds faster for each of the next 4 miles, and feeling good at this pace, around 7:50 and with 3 miles to go I was checking my body out and by now was running alongside a young woman. I'm not sure if I was pulling her along, or she was pushing me, but we were certainly running together. We never spoke but we ran in tandem for most of the second half of the race, and although she wouldn't know it she certainly helped me out, keeping my pace - Thank you..
Knowing that the last mile and a half were up hill, I was ready and raring to take on the challenge. Myself and my new found running partner were pushing up the first climb, passing people, and I was feeling confident. A check of the watch saw that at Mile 9 I would almost have to run sub 7 on the last climb to break 76 minutes, a time I didn't feel comfotable in achieving. But I got my head down, and pushed. I lost my partener, but continued to push hard, passing many runners, and targetting a woman runner I had seen at Mile 1, who was well ahead of me.
Well, I didn't quite catch my woman runner, but I caught everyone else and my last mile was 6:56 seeing me home at 1:15:50 and a new M45 PR.
Sadly the official results have me down as 1:16:08 which I know to be wrong, but I hear tonight that the official time clocks went down during the race so they were left with hand timing, but I know what I ran and am pleased with my run. Connemara and the Marathon in 3 weeks is next
- I'll keep you posted!
It was a cold spring day when I left Dublin at 7 am to drive the 175 miles down to Cork, and clear roads meant I made the journey in little over 3 hours, beating the road closures around the small coastal village of Ballycotton, and making the local car park. The race wasn't due off until 1:30, so plenty of time to meet up with friends and take in the coastal air before warming up and stripping down a goo dhour before the start so as to ensure a good starting position. With narrow roads, and over 4000 entrants, we are all felt it wise to get as near to the front as possible.
The race start was delayed by 15 minutes to account for the numbers, and despite a few youngsters being up front with us, we were all in good spirit. The marshall who shepherded the youngsters to the sidelines with a couple of minutes to go before the start deserves credit for diplomacy and avoiding the sight of young kids getting trampled when the gun went.
Now, at the start of the year I was aiming at running 80 minutes for this race, given where I was at Xmas, but a good race last month over 5 miles, clocking 36 minutes, saw me changing my goal and looking nearer 75 minutes as a target.
To this event I started off, knowing that the first two miles are downhill, and as this is an out and back course, the last two miles are uphill. So, try and go off steady, hold the middle of the race, saving something for the finish - at least that was the plan!
The first mile was good, ran 7:05, a little fast maybe, but the good positioning at the start line meant little weaving was required, and I maintained this pace thru 2 miles, clocking 7:09 for mile 2. Now this was too fast and I knew I needed to reign back a little, as I didn't want to blow up, so I consciously slowed down, no doubt causing others to wonder what was up, and probably cursing me, but I checked right back running around 8 minutes for Mile 3, and allowing others to pull ahead. I have to confess I wasn't pressing my watch each mile, so the splits are from memory (I wrote them down as best I could recall not long after finishing), but there were clocks at many of the mile markers and time keepers calling the times at each mile. Mile 3 was actually my slowest mile.
I was around 10 seconds faster for each of the next 4 miles, and feeling good at this pace, around 7:50 and with 3 miles to go I was checking my body out and by now was running alongside a young woman. I'm not sure if I was pulling her along, or she was pushing me, but we were certainly running together. We never spoke but we ran in tandem for most of the second half of the race, and although she wouldn't know it she certainly helped me out, keeping my pace - Thank you..
Knowing that the last mile and a half were up hill, I was ready and raring to take on the challenge. Myself and my new found running partner were pushing up the first climb, passing people, and I was feeling confident. A check of the watch saw that at Mile 9 I would almost have to run sub 7 on the last climb to break 76 minutes, a time I didn't feel comfotable in achieving. But I got my head down, and pushed. I lost my partener, but continued to push hard, passing many runners, and targetting a woman runner I had seen at Mile 1, who was well ahead of me.
Well, I didn't quite catch my woman runner, but I caught everyone else and my last mile was 6:56 seeing me home at 1:15:50 and a new M45 PR.
Sadly the official results have me down as 1:16:08 which I know to be wrong, but I hear tonight that the official time clocks went down during the race so they were left with hand timing, but I know what I ran and am pleased with my run. Connemara and the Marathon in 3 weeks is next
- I'll keep you posted!
St Patrick's Day 4 Mile Race in the Phoenix Park
While all you want to be Irish are working away and planning to drink the Green Beer, I was on the start line in FREEZING conditions at 10am in the Phoenix Park, Dublin (The real one, not the one in Ohio!) for a 4 Mile Road Race. The conditions were not typical, even for Ireland, in that it was only just a shade over freezing, and the wind chill factor ensured that long sleeves, wooly hats and gloves were necessary.
I run my first Marathon of the year next Sunday (26th), in Connemara, so this was a "warm-up" in that I wanted a faster pace run to get the legs turning over, and blow away the mileage that has been building in my legs during the distance training. I hadn't accounted for the Arctic conditions however, and any thoughts of an easy, pleasant run, were rapidly being blown away as we lined up.
The first two miles were gently down hill, around a sheltered part of the Park, The Glens if anyone knows the Park, and I quickly settled into an even pace amongst the few hundred brave souls who had ventured out (WE runners are all mad - it's official - )... The first two miles were 14:15, and my "target" of running under 30 minutes was easily being attained - so far...
Between Miles 2 and 3, I was blown away - almost literally. There is a steep climb here, up towards the Papal Cross in the Park, and whilst I dug in and ran well up the hill, at the top, the Park opens up into an unshaded open field, and the wind was howling across, bitter and carrying hail stones along with it. It was murder - No shelter at all from the elements and I was gradually losing the will to live - It was COLD!
Reached the Mile marker in 8:05 and at last some respite as we turned with the wind behind us for the last mile along the main road. I started to get the feeling back into my hands and legs, and although I couldn't speed up enough to challenge any one ahead, I stayed clear of anyone behind, and was so glad to see the Finish Line and my watch stopping at 29:30. As I crossed the line I was greeted by the President of the Irish Athletics Association who saw my club vest and told me that a Clubmate of mine, Paul McNamara, had won the Race, so a great week for him as he won the National Short Course X-Country Title last week -
I was Cold and glad to get back to my car and gather up my track suit, and then, being mad of course, I decided to team up with a friend and run the course again as a warm down and extra mileage for my marathon. This time we "jogged" it in 40 minutes, and the hail decided to play a trick on us by deciding to come down again just as we hit the Open Fields by the Papal Cross again - Maybe somebody was trying to tell us something -
Did I mention It was COLD
I run my first Marathon of the year next Sunday (26th), in Connemara, so this was a "warm-up" in that I wanted a faster pace run to get the legs turning over, and blow away the mileage that has been building in my legs during the distance training. I hadn't accounted for the Arctic conditions however, and any thoughts of an easy, pleasant run, were rapidly being blown away as we lined up.
The first two miles were gently down hill, around a sheltered part of the Park, The Glens if anyone knows the Park, and I quickly settled into an even pace amongst the few hundred brave souls who had ventured out (WE runners are all mad - it's official - )... The first two miles were 14:15, and my "target" of running under 30 minutes was easily being attained - so far...
Between Miles 2 and 3, I was blown away - almost literally. There is a steep climb here, up towards the Papal Cross in the Park, and whilst I dug in and ran well up the hill, at the top, the Park opens up into an unshaded open field, and the wind was howling across, bitter and carrying hail stones along with it. It was murder - No shelter at all from the elements and I was gradually losing the will to live - It was COLD!
Reached the Mile marker in 8:05 and at last some respite as we turned with the wind behind us for the last mile along the main road. I started to get the feeling back into my hands and legs, and although I couldn't speed up enough to challenge any one ahead, I stayed clear of anyone behind, and was so glad to see the Finish Line and my watch stopping at 29:30. As I crossed the line I was greeted by the President of the Irish Athletics Association who saw my club vest and told me that a Clubmate of mine, Paul McNamara, had won the Race, so a great week for him as he won the National Short Course X-Country Title last week -
I was Cold and glad to get back to my car and gather up my track suit, and then, being mad of course, I decided to team up with a friend and run the course again as a warm down and extra mileage for my marathon. This time we "jogged" it in 40 minutes, and the hail decided to play a trick on us by deciding to come down again just as we hit the Open Fields by the Papal Cross again - Maybe somebody was trying to tell us something -
Did I mention It was COLD
Connemara Marathon March 26th, 2006
Connemarathon 2006 –
We came, we saw, we got wet, but we conquered the Hell of The West.
I should temper my report with the sad news that a fellow runner, a Frank Haines from England, who was running the Half Marathon, collapsed and sadly passed away despite the best efforts of the wonderful medical team and fellow runners who assisted, and our thoughts go out to his friends and family. It puts everything into perspective when a tragedy like this happens, but we must go on and I dedicate my report to Frank and those that have gone before him.
We drove over to Connemara on Saturday, a 4-hour drive from Dublin, heading for out base in Clifden and passing the Marathon Finish at Mamm Cross on the way. As we passed, the preparation activity was going on, so we called in to see what was happening and bumped into a group of people who were running the Race Directors Marathon, a special Invitee’s race to enable those masochists who like to run two marathons in a weekend the opportunity. Some people!
We got to Clifden and checked in, taking in the Soccer on TV and relaxing with a nap before I went to the gym and jogged a couple of miles to loosen up. My training partner, Kieran, and his wife Barbara, met up with us in the bar before we headed to the Pasta Party going on in the hotel. A well attended and well supplied gathering, with plenty of food and a good selection as well. We were joined by First Timer Aisling from Cork, and after dinner we retired to the bar, the runners all on soft drinks, listened to some music and retired to bed, remembering to move our clocks forward an hour as “Summer Time” started this weekend.
Well, Summer Time, saw me waking up at 6:45 to see grey clouds, mist on the hills, and the wind clearly picking up as the trees in the hotel grounds were swaying in time to the rain! A brief breakfast and the coaches were ready to take our merry crew to the Staging area. There were three races taking place, the Marathon with 540 registered, a Half with a couple of thousand participants and the Ultra, over 39 miles with some 80 lining up. The races all finish in the same place, but the starts were at various points, so after a quick arrival and a chance to see the 9 am start for the Ultra, we were shipped off to Lough Innagh and the Holding area for the start of our race on the shore of the Lough.
10:30 was the time we were due off.
I saw a few friends, we all swapped our tales and hopes, casting our eyes skyward as the grey mist and low clouds were sure to be relieving their precipitation upon us at some point. To be fair, the temperatures were milder than off late, probably up to around the high 40’s, and freezing was never going to be a problem, so I ran in my club vest with a wicking shirt underneath. However the wind was likely to be a factor, so I ran with my woolly hat, and I have to admit to being glad I did, even if I may have looked a little strange (No comments about how I always look strange!).
The race was off at 10:30, having seen the leading Ultras pass us, and Kieran and myself settled into our pace easily, being joined very quickly by Ian, another First Timer, more about him later. Kieran and I had planned on aiming for 9 minute pace for as long as we could. The course was definitely a tale of two halves with the first half being the easier, and the second half having two significant climbs, one at around 13.5 miles, and a second, the Hell of The West, at 22 miles, and at 1.8 miles long, it would certainly be a challenge.
Our first mile was 8:55, nice and easy, and very comfortable on the rolling road along the Lough side. The rain was keeping off and we were running effortlessly. I don’t stop my watch on marathons every mile, tending to go for 5 mile splits, but my memory recalls that we ran the next couple of miles in around 8:30 each mile, as we were over a minute and a half up on our goal after 4 miles, but the pace was comfortable.
Between Miles 4 and 5 I had a Paula moment. I could feel my breakfast stating to work, and I needed to make a pit stop. Now you might think that a Marathon running around the wind-swepped fields of the West of Ireland would provide plenty of places to dive into to relieve oneself, but no! The fields are open, not a tree in sight, but thankfully I could see a Porta-Pottie coming up ahead, so I left K and Ian to run on as I took my pit-stop. I lost three minutes on this stop, and so my 5 mile split shows 46:11 and I worked hared than I would have liked to re-catch the boys and those next five miles of solo running saw 43:56 clocked, and a 10 mile 90:07, and I caught the lads up and we got back together, and had a good laugh as we prepared to drop into Killary Fjord, well drop into the village of Leenaune rather than the fjord itself, although the rain we encountered on the second half left us as dry as if we had run though the fjord!
Ian was a scream. It was his First Marathon, and as a training method he ran a half marathon a year ago, and did take the wise move to give up smoking last week, and only have a few pints on the Saturday night. I’m sure he was being economical with the truth, but it amused us and kept us smiling as the rain started to fall and the conditions worsened.
We reached half way on 1:58:11, and Barbara was waiting for us with bananas and goo, a welcome sight, and we ran through the village of Leenaune, famous for being the setting for the Richard Harris film, The Field.
Turning out of the village you encounter the first real climb. I love hills, and decided to work hard as we climbed the 250 feet from the harbour to the plain. This hill is steeper than the 22 miler, but given it was still within the “early” stages of the race, it didn’t feel as hard, and once we levelled off I knew we had some 7 miles to “coast” before the dreaded hill!
Mile 15 saw a 45:20 split for 5 and only 27 seconds outside our 9-minute pace goal. However, it was now that the wheels started to come off for me. The constant rain had soaked through my shoes, and the blisters I have been suffering for weeks, started to come into play, although it was the smaller one on my left foot that was to play the worst enemy to my progression. Around here I had to let Ian and Kieran run on ahead as I was having trouble on the flat and downhill stretches. The blister was on the ball of my foot, and although I could get onto my toes on the uphills, the downhills where the foot strikes on the ball was an “ouch, ouch, ouch” experience.
My now walk/run stretch was reflected in my time to Mile 20, a 53:55 split and any hope of breaking 4 hours was well gone. I was still on for 4:15, still respectable given the conditions, but knowing what was ahead I had my doubts. I had caught Ian, who was struggling, and he was walking on behind me, but Kieran was running well, tired but determined to run all the way and I had no sight of him on this stretch. With the rain now directly into our faces, and the headwind whipping up, thankfully not as fast as the forecast’s had predicted, but still strong enough for me, it was a struggle and making new friends along the way, I persevered, trying to block out the pain every time my left foot hit the road, thinking at one point, “I wonder if I could hop a marathon”.
We headed for home, turning by the pub (Keane’s I think!), crossing the river and my last goo stop, along with sweets and chocolates being handed out by the brave volunteers who were the only spectators on the course and a welcome sight every 3 miles or so. That’s not totally true, as I recall the watchful eyes of many a sheep wondering why their tranquillity was being shattered by the footfalls of a few thousand eejits, and baaing us along. At one point, two cows were stood at the roadside, and mooed as I passed, I thanked them for their support – It made a welcome change from “You’re Looking Great” or “Awesome”.
Mentally I was strong, but physically I was feeling drained, and somewhere after the Mile 22 mark, The Hill commences. It isn’t that steep, just never-ending. Consistent, and visual. You can see the road dotted with bobbing figures rise up above you, and as the saying goes, “This road sure does rise up to meet you”… It was tough, and I make no apology for walking at many stages, then getting on my toes for a while and trying to keep up a pace. As an indication, only two people passed me on the whole climb, and I was struggling – The rain, the wind, the climb were taking their toll on more than me.
Eventually the summit is reached, and only a little over two miles to go, downhill and flat were now awaiting us, and I was determined to finish strong. My blister was killing me, but my mind was working on the assumption that it was better to run through the pain barrier and get finished as quickly as possible, so I set off. The 25 mile split was 63:08, but I actually was checking my watch from the 24 mile mark, having clicked accidentally there, and I could see I was either starting to fly, or the mile marker was wrong, I ran 7:30 for Miler 25, yes you read that right, my fastest mile of the race was Mile 25 (OK, there is a nice downhill stretch here!), and I was suddenly flying, thinking about how fast I could have been on a flatter course, or maybe in a nice sun-drenched marathon such as Hawaii, not Connemara in March – Why am I a glutton for punishment?
Mile 25 was past and the last 1.2. I could suddenly see Kieran up ahead of me, and reeled him back, meaning to run home with him, but he was running on empty by then, and I had to keep my pace going, he told me afterwards, that he had been expecting me to rush past him, I think his quote was “The Old Fecker will come strong at the end”.
I persevered, clocked of Mile 26, and knew the finish was just ahead. I hadn’t been able to see anything for the last 4 miles properly as my glasses needed wipers, and has been steaming up as well, but I can smell a Marathon Finish Line and I kept running hard, could see the clock counting down to 4:20:56,… 57,…… 58,….. 59,….. 00……… I was done – 4:21:00 spot on, and the last 1.2 miles in 8:30, the last two miles and 385 yards in 16 minutes exactly, if only I can repeat that next time out I’ll be very happy.
I waited for Kieran to come through, shattered but immensely delighted to finish his first marathon. The Medal was very welcome, and the T-Shirt very apt with it’s phrase about Hitting the Wall in Connemara. The wonderful and welcome soup and coffee, sandwiches and fruit were a god-send, and whilst the army tents may have been dark and muddy by now, they were a wonderful place to be having braved the elements.
Having located our bags (thanks Barbara), and changed into dry clothes, we had a lift back to Clifden and Dee was waiting for me, a welcome hug and a nice pint, as we relaxed with fellow runners and swapped tales about our exploits in the Wild West. It was here that we heard about the tragedy, which brought everyone down to earth. I know it can happen anywhere, and has done many times before in races around the globe, but somehow it felt closer to home in this International Marathon with a flavour of being far more like a Local Race, an amateur feel to a very professionally organised event.
I would like to thank the volunteers, the Race Director and his team, the Medics, and everyone else involved with the staging of this event. It isn’t easy. That was Number 20 for me, and by a long way my hardest. If you are looking for a Marathon Experience that involves huge crowds, a fast course and a PB, then this isn’t for you, but if you love a challenge, welcome the camaraderie of fellow runners, enjoy great craic, before, during and after the event, then this is the One – A great Experience, tough and challenging, but then again, isn’t that what it should all be about.
The first leg of my 2006 Grand Slam completed, and I’m guessing (and hoping!) the hardest of the four. My goal is to run 16 hours for the 4 Irish Marathons, so I can now work on my target for the next leg, Belfast on May 1st.
One final note. I got through this race feeling strong, and apart from the blisters, no injuries. As I write this on Tuesday morning, some 36 hours after the finish, I feel fine, my legs are recovering easily, and whilst I can still feel the 26 miles in them, I can walk easily and will be running a recovery run this evening. I do have one injury that is really sore, and drew blood at the time. Creeping back into the Hotel Room at 5 am after partying after the race, and trying not to wake Dee who had retired around 3, I stubbed my toe on the bed –It really hurts !!!
We came, we saw, we got wet, but we conquered the Hell of The West.
I should temper my report with the sad news that a fellow runner, a Frank Haines from England, who was running the Half Marathon, collapsed and sadly passed away despite the best efforts of the wonderful medical team and fellow runners who assisted, and our thoughts go out to his friends and family. It puts everything into perspective when a tragedy like this happens, but we must go on and I dedicate my report to Frank and those that have gone before him.
We drove over to Connemara on Saturday, a 4-hour drive from Dublin, heading for out base in Clifden and passing the Marathon Finish at Mamm Cross on the way. As we passed, the preparation activity was going on, so we called in to see what was happening and bumped into a group of people who were running the Race Directors Marathon, a special Invitee’s race to enable those masochists who like to run two marathons in a weekend the opportunity. Some people!
We got to Clifden and checked in, taking in the Soccer on TV and relaxing with a nap before I went to the gym and jogged a couple of miles to loosen up. My training partner, Kieran, and his wife Barbara, met up with us in the bar before we headed to the Pasta Party going on in the hotel. A well attended and well supplied gathering, with plenty of food and a good selection as well. We were joined by First Timer Aisling from Cork, and after dinner we retired to the bar, the runners all on soft drinks, listened to some music and retired to bed, remembering to move our clocks forward an hour as “Summer Time” started this weekend.
Well, Summer Time, saw me waking up at 6:45 to see grey clouds, mist on the hills, and the wind clearly picking up as the trees in the hotel grounds were swaying in time to the rain! A brief breakfast and the coaches were ready to take our merry crew to the Staging area. There were three races taking place, the Marathon with 540 registered, a Half with a couple of thousand participants and the Ultra, over 39 miles with some 80 lining up. The races all finish in the same place, but the starts were at various points, so after a quick arrival and a chance to see the 9 am start for the Ultra, we were shipped off to Lough Innagh and the Holding area for the start of our race on the shore of the Lough.
10:30 was the time we were due off.
I saw a few friends, we all swapped our tales and hopes, casting our eyes skyward as the grey mist and low clouds were sure to be relieving their precipitation upon us at some point. To be fair, the temperatures were milder than off late, probably up to around the high 40’s, and freezing was never going to be a problem, so I ran in my club vest with a wicking shirt underneath. However the wind was likely to be a factor, so I ran with my woolly hat, and I have to admit to being glad I did, even if I may have looked a little strange (No comments about how I always look strange!).
The race was off at 10:30, having seen the leading Ultras pass us, and Kieran and myself settled into our pace easily, being joined very quickly by Ian, another First Timer, more about him later. Kieran and I had planned on aiming for 9 minute pace for as long as we could. The course was definitely a tale of two halves with the first half being the easier, and the second half having two significant climbs, one at around 13.5 miles, and a second, the Hell of The West, at 22 miles, and at 1.8 miles long, it would certainly be a challenge.
Our first mile was 8:55, nice and easy, and very comfortable on the rolling road along the Lough side. The rain was keeping off and we were running effortlessly. I don’t stop my watch on marathons every mile, tending to go for 5 mile splits, but my memory recalls that we ran the next couple of miles in around 8:30 each mile, as we were over a minute and a half up on our goal after 4 miles, but the pace was comfortable.
Between Miles 4 and 5 I had a Paula moment. I could feel my breakfast stating to work, and I needed to make a pit stop. Now you might think that a Marathon running around the wind-swepped fields of the West of Ireland would provide plenty of places to dive into to relieve oneself, but no! The fields are open, not a tree in sight, but thankfully I could see a Porta-Pottie coming up ahead, so I left K and Ian to run on as I took my pit-stop. I lost three minutes on this stop, and so my 5 mile split shows 46:11 and I worked hared than I would have liked to re-catch the boys and those next five miles of solo running saw 43:56 clocked, and a 10 mile 90:07, and I caught the lads up and we got back together, and had a good laugh as we prepared to drop into Killary Fjord, well drop into the village of Leenaune rather than the fjord itself, although the rain we encountered on the second half left us as dry as if we had run though the fjord!
Ian was a scream. It was his First Marathon, and as a training method he ran a half marathon a year ago, and did take the wise move to give up smoking last week, and only have a few pints on the Saturday night. I’m sure he was being economical with the truth, but it amused us and kept us smiling as the rain started to fall and the conditions worsened.
We reached half way on 1:58:11, and Barbara was waiting for us with bananas and goo, a welcome sight, and we ran through the village of Leenaune, famous for being the setting for the Richard Harris film, The Field.
Turning out of the village you encounter the first real climb. I love hills, and decided to work hard as we climbed the 250 feet from the harbour to the plain. This hill is steeper than the 22 miler, but given it was still within the “early” stages of the race, it didn’t feel as hard, and once we levelled off I knew we had some 7 miles to “coast” before the dreaded hill!
Mile 15 saw a 45:20 split for 5 and only 27 seconds outside our 9-minute pace goal. However, it was now that the wheels started to come off for me. The constant rain had soaked through my shoes, and the blisters I have been suffering for weeks, started to come into play, although it was the smaller one on my left foot that was to play the worst enemy to my progression. Around here I had to let Ian and Kieran run on ahead as I was having trouble on the flat and downhill stretches. The blister was on the ball of my foot, and although I could get onto my toes on the uphills, the downhills where the foot strikes on the ball was an “ouch, ouch, ouch” experience.
My now walk/run stretch was reflected in my time to Mile 20, a 53:55 split and any hope of breaking 4 hours was well gone. I was still on for 4:15, still respectable given the conditions, but knowing what was ahead I had my doubts. I had caught Ian, who was struggling, and he was walking on behind me, but Kieran was running well, tired but determined to run all the way and I had no sight of him on this stretch. With the rain now directly into our faces, and the headwind whipping up, thankfully not as fast as the forecast’s had predicted, but still strong enough for me, it was a struggle and making new friends along the way, I persevered, trying to block out the pain every time my left foot hit the road, thinking at one point, “I wonder if I could hop a marathon”.
We headed for home, turning by the pub (Keane’s I think!), crossing the river and my last goo stop, along with sweets and chocolates being handed out by the brave volunteers who were the only spectators on the course and a welcome sight every 3 miles or so. That’s not totally true, as I recall the watchful eyes of many a sheep wondering why their tranquillity was being shattered by the footfalls of a few thousand eejits, and baaing us along. At one point, two cows were stood at the roadside, and mooed as I passed, I thanked them for their support – It made a welcome change from “You’re Looking Great” or “Awesome”.
Mentally I was strong, but physically I was feeling drained, and somewhere after the Mile 22 mark, The Hill commences. It isn’t that steep, just never-ending. Consistent, and visual. You can see the road dotted with bobbing figures rise up above you, and as the saying goes, “This road sure does rise up to meet you”… It was tough, and I make no apology for walking at many stages, then getting on my toes for a while and trying to keep up a pace. As an indication, only two people passed me on the whole climb, and I was struggling – The rain, the wind, the climb were taking their toll on more than me.
Eventually the summit is reached, and only a little over two miles to go, downhill and flat were now awaiting us, and I was determined to finish strong. My blister was killing me, but my mind was working on the assumption that it was better to run through the pain barrier and get finished as quickly as possible, so I set off. The 25 mile split was 63:08, but I actually was checking my watch from the 24 mile mark, having clicked accidentally there, and I could see I was either starting to fly, or the mile marker was wrong, I ran 7:30 for Miler 25, yes you read that right, my fastest mile of the race was Mile 25 (OK, there is a nice downhill stretch here!), and I was suddenly flying, thinking about how fast I could have been on a flatter course, or maybe in a nice sun-drenched marathon such as Hawaii, not Connemara in March – Why am I a glutton for punishment?
Mile 25 was past and the last 1.2. I could suddenly see Kieran up ahead of me, and reeled him back, meaning to run home with him, but he was running on empty by then, and I had to keep my pace going, he told me afterwards, that he had been expecting me to rush past him, I think his quote was “The Old Fecker will come strong at the end”.
I persevered, clocked of Mile 26, and knew the finish was just ahead. I hadn’t been able to see anything for the last 4 miles properly as my glasses needed wipers, and has been steaming up as well, but I can smell a Marathon Finish Line and I kept running hard, could see the clock counting down to 4:20:56,… 57,…… 58,….. 59,….. 00……… I was done – 4:21:00 spot on, and the last 1.2 miles in 8:30, the last two miles and 385 yards in 16 minutes exactly, if only I can repeat that next time out I’ll be very happy.
I waited for Kieran to come through, shattered but immensely delighted to finish his first marathon. The Medal was very welcome, and the T-Shirt very apt with it’s phrase about Hitting the Wall in Connemara. The wonderful and welcome soup and coffee, sandwiches and fruit were a god-send, and whilst the army tents may have been dark and muddy by now, they were a wonderful place to be having braved the elements.
Having located our bags (thanks Barbara), and changed into dry clothes, we had a lift back to Clifden and Dee was waiting for me, a welcome hug and a nice pint, as we relaxed with fellow runners and swapped tales about our exploits in the Wild West. It was here that we heard about the tragedy, which brought everyone down to earth. I know it can happen anywhere, and has done many times before in races around the globe, but somehow it felt closer to home in this International Marathon with a flavour of being far more like a Local Race, an amateur feel to a very professionally organised event.
I would like to thank the volunteers, the Race Director and his team, the Medics, and everyone else involved with the staging of this event. It isn’t easy. That was Number 20 for me, and by a long way my hardest. If you are looking for a Marathon Experience that involves huge crowds, a fast course and a PB, then this isn’t for you, but if you love a challenge, welcome the camaraderie of fellow runners, enjoy great craic, before, during and after the event, then this is the One – A great Experience, tough and challenging, but then again, isn’t that what it should all be about.
The first leg of my 2006 Grand Slam completed, and I’m guessing (and hoping!) the hardest of the four. My goal is to run 16 hours for the 4 Irish Marathons, so I can now work on my target for the next leg, Belfast on May 1st.
One final note. I got through this race feeling strong, and apart from the blisters, no injuries. As I write this on Tuesday morning, some 36 hours after the finish, I feel fine, my legs are recovering easily, and whilst I can still feel the 26 miles in them, I can walk easily and will be running a recovery run this evening. I do have one injury that is really sore, and drew blood at the time. Creeping back into the Hotel Room at 5 am after partying after the race, and trying not to wake Dee who had retired around 3, I stubbed my toe on the bed –It really hurts !!!
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