Tralee 40 Mile Ultra Marathon Race Report

After last weeks shenanigans in the 102k ultra, I wasn’t exactly full of enthusiasm for dragging my aching legs out on another ultra this week, but I did it anyway.

I ran this race last year, and was determined to complete it again, especially as I am getting close to qualifying for my Marathon Club of Ireland 25 marathon bronze medal, and this race would leave me with just two more to go (hopefully they will be the MCI Tralee Marathon, and the Tralee 100k).

I had only gotten in one training session between last weeks ultra and this – a short swim/run brick session, and I definitely wasn’t fully recovered – my feet were still a bit tender, and my hamstrings were still tight.

On the morning of the race, I got to the start/finish line at the Rose Hotel, and got my drop box set up, and met the other runners. There were four of us that ran last week that were doing this as well, and there were lots of runners from Born To Run and Kerry Crusaders.

Myself, Mazza, and Brian on our second ultra in a week! (Pic by The Kerryman)

After the usual formalities, Marcus from Run The Kingdom set us on our way. The course consisted of 10 laps of a 4 mile route, which consisted mainly of public road, with some riverside walkways, and a small section through a public park. The route was very slightly under 4 miles, so there was a small loop around the hotel to do on the last lap. There were 2 long slow hills in the route, divided fairly equally along its length.

I set off at a nice slow, comfortable pace, knowing that I probably didn’t have an easy day ahead of me. My plan was to keep the pace slow, walk the two hills, and try to come in under 10 hours. I’d done it in just over 9 hours last year, but I’d had a lot more training miles in my legs, and hadn’t done a 102k the week before!

I had lots of company for my first two laps, but I knew I wouldn’t have them for long – I intended to stick to my slow pace no matter what, as I knew any effort to push on would end in disaster with my tired legs. I had a lot of stiffness in my legs for the first few miles – my feet especially, felt like they were ready to seize up.

By lap 3 I had settled into a bit of a groove. Weather conditions were surprisingly good – it had rained heavily the day and night before, and it had been very cloudy, but one we got going it was sunshine all the way. It was actually quite warm for the whole race, and I was very glad of my Elivar Hydrate Plus. I definitely felt last week in my legs as the mileage racked up – I was just weary, and the little reserves of energy you always find in an ultra just weren’t there. Every incline felt like a mountain.

The leaders lapped me for the first time on this lap, and one incident stands out in my mind, that pretty much epitomised this race, and my experience of ultra running in general. The two leading runners passed me, neck and neck, just before the mid-point water stop. The flew in to the stop and grabbed bottles of water. One of them looked back at me, noticed I had veered across the road to head for the water stop, and bent down to grab a second bottle of water. He then ran the few paces back to me, handed me the water, and took off again. This was a guy fighting for first place. You won’t see that in a 10k. Ultra running is tough, brutal, painful and not for the faint-hearted. It’s bloody brilliant though.

Every single time, without exception, that a faster runner lapped me, they said something encouraging. Many took the time to ask me how I was, congratulate me on last week, or engage in a bit of friendly slagging. I don’t know whether ultrarunning attracts exceptional people, or whether running ultras makes people exceptional, but either way, it’s cool.

My Tralee Triathlon Club and Born To Run teammate Poshey joined me for lap 4, and his naturally upbeat personality definitely helped shorten the road. We had a funny experience near the end of this lap when we were running along the riverside walkway (known to local runners as dogshit alley) when we nearly ran straight into a guy who had decided, at a very inopportune moment, to trim some of the trees overhanging the path. He had cut down one tree and completely blocked our way – blocking me wasn’t too bad, as I looked on it as a chance to rest my legs for a few seconds, but as we stopped, Rachel Stokes, who was leading the women’s race, came flying around the bend and nearly went straight through it. In fairness to her, she took it in better spirits than I might have had if I was leading, and we were soon on our way again. You need to be prepared for every eventuality in an ultra!

By the halfway point, on lap 5, my legs were gone awol. I was now finding the first section of each lap very tough, both because most of the climbing was in the first section, but also, I think, because I was finding it mentally tough leaving the start/finish line each time, and heading out to do another lap. It took all my willpower to keep going, but I was determined to finish.

The last 4 laps were fairly grim at times, and I went through a fair bit of pain. I was kept going by the encouragement of the other runners, and the supporters. Catherine and Lee came out and gave out ice lollys (if you have never eaten a Calypo during a hot ultra, then you have missed one of life’s great pleasures!), Ashley set up an aid station with Coke and sweets, and lots of others helped with drinks, bananas, and encouragement.

At the start/finish line for my second last lap, I had to stop to stretch my hamstrings, as they were locking up badly, and thanks are due to Vinny from Crusaders, who had finished second, and who did a great stretching job for me. I slogged through the second last lap, and I knew then that I would survive. I got a great cheer coming in and leaving the start/finish area before my last lap, and I set off to get it done. I was last at this stage, and, although I could see a few others not far ahead of me, I had no intention of even trying to catch them. I was on course for sub 10 hours, and I was uninjured, and I intended to keep it that way.My sister Gill (and cliff the dog) came out to encourage me through the last lap, and, with the prospect of the finish line to come, I got through it without drama. As I approached the end, I had a few moments of worry, as my legs started to get very wobbly, and I willed them not to give out before the the finish line. One I got to within a few hundred meters of it, I took the view that if my legs did go, I’d just crawl the rest of it.

As it happened, it didn’t come to that, though it wasn’t far off. I came in to the finish zone, had to do a lap of the hotel, and came back around. As I headed the last stretch to the finish, a young woman standing on the footpath decided to cross the road in front of me, and, lacking the reflexes at this stage to avoid her, I ran straight into her. If she knew ultra runners, she would have known that, with 70 or 80 meters to the finish line, we would go through a brick wall without flinching, and I could’t do anything other than keep running in a straight line. I think she was ok.

I crossed the line to a great cheer from the runners and spectators, and I can tell you I was very, very happy to finish. I found a nice patch of grass and hit the deck. I had done it under my 10 hour target.

A happy bunch at the end!

Another ultra under the belt (my 7th ultramarathon), and a step closer to my big goal for the year, the 24 hour.

Thanks to Marcus and the Run The Kingdom team for another fantastic event. If you are contemplating an ultra, especially a first ultra, I couldn’t recommend this event more – it is friendly, compact, well organised, and well supported.

Thanks to all the other runners, whose sense of sportsmanship, camaraderie, and mutual support, is fantastic to see, and be a part of. Thanks also to everyone who came out to support, encourage, and help. Well done to the winners, Denis Keane and Rachel Stokes, and to everyone who ran, especially those completing their first ever ultra – may it be the first of many.

Well done to my many friends and club mates who completed Ironman distance this weekend – you know who you all are!

A special mention for my youngest son Lee, who joined the parkrun Junior 10 Club, with his 10th parkrun.

My next event is the Tralee Triathlon Club mini Tri on Tuesday night, which I think may be done VERY slowly. I’ll be getting my first chance there to test out my new Ribble Aero 883.

Well done Lee!

Another one for the collection.

 

 

 

Dawn To Dusk Run The Ring 102k Challenge

Running a 100k is never easy. Running a tough, hilly, 102k with no training is madness. But then running ultras probably isn’t a sane activity anyway.

I looked forward to this race with some trepidation, as I knew I just didn’t have the mileage done – I am way behind the training mileage I had done last year, and have been carrying a hamstring injury for the past few weeks that has made what little running I have done, slow and painful. However, I didn’t want to miss this race – it was the inaugural running of it, and it just seemed like an awesome challenge, so I decided I’d have a crack at it. There were two races being run in conjunction – the individual event we were doing, and a longer relay team event.

I travelled to the start with my Born To Run teammates Brian, Mazza, and Dec, for the painfully early time of 5:21 (‘cos that was the official dawn time), and we lined up with the other runners.

Myself and Brian getting ready to go.

We set off with the ever-bubbly Mary O’Donnell-Bowler as our crew. My wife Catherine would be joining me later to crew for me. The first section from Killarney to Killorglin, around 22k, was bright and sunny, and we did it in a 25 minute run / 5 minute walk pattern. I felt from fairly early on that the pace the others were setting was slightly too fast for me, but decided that I’d stick with them until Killorglin, and fall back to a more comfortable pace then, as we would have to split the crew cars to accommodate different speeds. In Killorglin, Mary handed crewing duties over to Geoff and Ashley.

On the last couple of kilometres into Killorglin, I was definitely noticing that the pace was too fast, and I also noticed something more worrying – I seemed to be developing a hot spot on the sole of my left foot. I never suffer from blisters, and I hoped this wouldn’t be my first – especially this early in a race this long.

In Killorglin we had a quick pitstop, and when I checked my foot, my fears were confirmed – I had my first running blister forming in the centre of my foot. I stuck a blister pad on it, and hoped for the best.

We set off on the next section, the 13k to Glenbeigh. I soon fell behind Brian, Mazza and Dec, and Ashley and Kirsti took up crewing duties behind me, while Geoff and his crew followed the faster bunch. I felt better at the slower pace, and I wasn’t getting much bother from the blister, so I was happy enough on this section. My hamstring hadn’t given me any bother – in fact, despite it giving me near constant pain over the past few weeks, it didn’t once cause me any pain at all in this race. Maybe I killed it.

This section of road consisted mainly of long, fairly straight, undulating sections, with quite a lot of traffic, and wouldn’t be my favourite type of running. Kirsti ran some of it with me, and helped me keep my spirits up, while Ashley made sure I had everything I needed. I found it very warm at this stage, and when Ashley gave me a frozen facecloth to cool me down, I thought I’d weep with joy. In ultra running, it’s the little things that count!

Shortly before Glenbeigh, Catherine arrived, and she and my youngest son Lee took over crewing duty for me. I took this opportunity to grab a bite to eat, change my shoes and socks, and tend to my feet. The blister had grown a bit, but still wasn’t too bad, so I decided to let it be.

We soon arrived in Glenbeigh, and I had another quick pitstop, including more food.

Once we left Glenbeigh, we went off the beaten track on our way to Cahirciveen, around 27k away. I grossly underestimated how difficult this section would be, as I had only ever travelled it on the main road. Marcus had found an alternative route however, and, true to form, it contained some challenges….

The first, I soon found out, was an absolute monster of a hill. This seemed to go on forever, and at one stage, I was moving so slowly that some guy out for a walk caught up to me, had time to ask me about the race, and then passed me.
After what seemed like hours, I finally got to the top of this hill, and there was a much nicer section of downhill and flat running, on narrow country roads. Lee joined me for some of this, and we both enjoyed it.

I continued on my merry way, tackling occasional hills, and trying to keep taking small amounts of food on board. I was trying a new hydration drink on this run (breaking my mantra of “never eat, drink, wear or carry anything on race day that you haven’t eaten, drank, worn, or carried on at least two long runs”) from my sponsors Elivar, called Hydrate Plus, and I found it really good for thirst – it definitely did the business, as this is the first ultra of this length I’ve done without encountering stomach issues.

One of the Run The Kingdom team, Jim, who was keeping an eye on all the runners dropped in shortly before the halfway mark, and told me he felt I needed to increase my pace if I hoped to finish on time. I checked my pace notes, and I felt he was wrong – I had planned on reaching the halfway point in 7:45, giving me 9 hours to do the second half. This would have been fine if I’d looked at the course profile – I hadn’t, and had made the fatal assumption that the course was relatively evenly spread in terms of climbs. I would learn a harsh lesson. Note to self: In future, always assume Jim is right.
Eventually, after what seemed like an age, I reached Caherciveen. I grabbed some more food and checked my feet again. They weren’t pretty. As well as the increasingly painful blister on the sole of my left foot, I was developing blisters between the toes of my right foot. Nice.
I set off from Caherciveen with the cheers of some of the other crews in my ears, determined to get the job done, and feeling very positive. Then it started to rain.

Big stupid happy naive face in Cahirciveen.

The next destination was Portmagee, around 16 kilometres away. Most of what I remember of the next 10k or so is rain. Lots, and lots, and lots of rain.

Shortly before Portmagee, I began to feel some chafing in my crotch. The Runderwear I was wearing had done a great job, but the rain had soaked me to the bone, and nothing will stop chafing in those conditions. I decided to nip this in the bud, and apply some anti-chafing cream. I had a look both ways on the road to make sure the coast was clear, dropped my shorts, and reached down between my legs with a nice big dollop of cream. At this moment, a car pulled up alongside me, and the passenger window rolled down. It was an American couple, and their teenage son, who were obviously on holidays. We had a nice, casual chat about the race, and the area, all while my shorts were down, and I had my hand inside my underwear, rubbing vigorously. Wherever they came from, wet, bedraggled men publicly fondling themselves in the middle of nowhere is obviously not something that causes alarm.

We reached Portmagee, a picturesque little seaside village, without further incident, and I had more American tourists shout “God bless you” as I ran through. Goodness knows what they thought I was actually doing.

A couple of miles after Portmagee, we came to this:

Yes, that’s a mountain. Yes, it’s so high the top is lost in the mist. Yes, I have to go up there. I was not a happy bunny. Next time, as well as training for the race, I might actually have a look at the route profile too. I had an awful feeling that what I could see of this wasn’t even the worst part. I was right. The mountain turned out to be Coomanaspic, and it was fairly epic.

I put my head down and trudged onwards and upwards. I consoled myself with the thought that everybody else would find it just as hard as me, until I was passed by one of the relay runners (Thomas Bubendorfer I think) in what appeared to be a flat-out sprint.

The higher I climbed, the more painful my legs got, and the worse the rain fell. By the time I got to the top, it was pouring, and I couldn’t see more than about 50 yards ahead of me. I began to seriously think about taking up an easier hobby. Stamp collecting perhaps. Or flower arranging. Something you could do while sitting down at home in the warmth.

At the top of Coomanaspic, wondering where my life went wrong.

There was one of those holy statue/grotto things near the top, that are found at the top of so many high passes in Ireland, and I’d say there were a few runners that found religion at that point.

I practically had my tongue hanging out at the thought of the downhill at the other side, but it turned out to be a major disappointment – it was so steep that it was only marginally less difficult coming down than it was going up. Same pain, different muscles – with the added risk of slipping and landing on my ass, or worse still, faceplanting.

Once I got off the steep downhill, I was on to a much more manageable gradient, and this was far more pleasant to run – for the first time in a long while, I began to make some decent progress.

I was soon back to walking a bit and running a bit, when I was joined by my Tralee Triathlon Club teammate Fran, who had run as part of the team event earlier in the day, and he joined me for a few miles. I had gotten it into my head that the rest of the course was flat, but Fran dashed these hopes by telling me there was “a bit of a hill” coming up. I should have known by his manner that he was trying to break bad news to me gently. Fran left shortly afterwards to rejoin his team, but he would be back.

It wasn’t long before I discovered the bit of a hill was another bloody mountain pass. Not as bad as Coomanaspic, but not exactly a molehill either. It had the added bonus of being very long. I started to get passed by a lot of the relay team runners at this point, and while nobody likes to get passed, at least they kept my spirits up, as most of them (and their crews) gave me plenty of encouragement.

This section of the route really knocked me back, as I had thought I’d lots of time left, but now I began to fear that I was going to miss the cut off. I had little or nothing left in the tank, and I was getting further and further behind schedule. The blisters on my feet began to hurt to add to my woes. And the accursed rain continued to fall.

By the time I got over this pass, I was in fairly bad shape. You can hide under training in a lot of sports, but ultra running isn’t one of them. The course would well and truly kick my ass from now on.

Catherine and Lee encouraged me on, as my pace fell to a shambling walk/trot. Soon Fran appeared with his partner and fellow triathlete Trish, and Fran fell in beside me to keep me going. As the miles wore on, my pain got worse – I could now feel the blisters on my toes popping, and I have never known anything like it. It wasn’t pleasant.

Fran has an extremely calm demeanour, and I think his presence definitely helped prevent me falling apart at this stage. He’d make an excellent psychiatrist.

The road wound on. I passed the 10k sign for Waterville, where the finish line lay waiting. Then, what seemed like days later, the 5k sign. I was in very bad shape now, my body was one big ball of agony, and I could feel my willpower fading. I kept telling myself to think of my boys, to think what it would be like to face my sons if I quit. I stumbled on.

Jim came back, and he replaced Fran as my pacer. Jim had a very no-nonsense approach. He simply told me that he and I were going to finish, that he was going to set the pace, and that was that. I don’t know how he did it, but he made me run the last couple of miles.

We passed the 3k sign. Members of my club, Born To Run, began to appear. They shouted me in. I will never forget, as long as I live, stumbling in the last few miles with these amazing friends, my son alongside me, and turning the last bend in the darkness.

The main street of Waterville lay ahead, and it was amazing. I was the last runner home, but damn, did they make it count. Cars hooting and flashing lights, camera flashes, and the whole crowd cheering. I’ve never had a finish like it.

Coming up to the finish line with Lee. I’ll never forget the emotion of this moment.

My companions pulled out, and Lee and I crossed the line together.

What a day, and what a race. I hit the floor as soon as I crossed the line, and the whole agony and emotion hit me at once.

My friends helped me to my feet, the medic checked me out, and I was helped into the hotel where all the runners were. I got another huge cheer as I entered. Who needs to win when you get this for coming last!

I’ve said before that I consider ultra running to be a team sport. There are some runners I’m sure, that can do this all alone, and fair play to them. I’m not one of them. I wouldn’t be able to do this without the support of my family, and my running family, nor would I want to. I really feel a huge debt of gratitude to those who helped me finish this race; Catherine and Lee for crewing, and for their patience and love when I needed it, Ashley for crewing and keeping others updated, Geoff, Kerry and Denice for making sure I was ok, Kirsti for sharing the road with me, Fran for helping me on the most difficult section, and Trish for the many offers of water, hats, and bananas, Jim for his infinite patience, and his ability to quietly and calmly and inexorably  make a person do things they know full well they can’t, Mazza, Brian, and Dec for the company and encouragement on the first section, Gill for worrying about me, Adam for knowing that nothing would stop his dad finishing, Mary for getting up at an insane hour of the morning to crew the first section, Marcus for organising it all (illegitimi non carborundum), all the Run The Kingdom team and the volunteers for making it possible, the huge number of people who cheered me in at the end like I’d won it, and made me feel like a hero when I crossed the line. The wonderful, amazing, teammates of mine from Born To Run and Tralee Tri Club who cheered, encouraged, helped, and enquired. The staff of the Sea Lodge Hotel who will probably never get the sweat out of the seat I collapsed into. James for taking some wonderful photographs, and staying until the bitter end. If I’ve forgotten any name, I have not forgotten any contribution – thank you to everyone who helped me through this.

Well done to the amazing Fozzy Forristal who won the individual race, Team Liebherr 1 who won the male team event, and Star of the Laune AC who won the mixed team event. Amazing running guys.

Ultrarunning isn’t for everyone, and you wouldn’t want to go into one thinking you are doing a 10k, but the pain is in direct proportion to the reward. You have to want to finish it, and be prepared to suffer for it, in order to succeed. I have never come across a sport like it, where people are prepared to inflict such enormous suffering on themselves, purely  so they can prove to themselves they are capable of it, but I can say this – it is something to behold. Can’t wait for the next one.

 

Global Running Day 5k

My family and I celebrated Global Running Day by taking part in the Run The Kingdom 5k in Tralee. The event was organised by Marcus Howlett and the Run The Kingdom crew, and there was a great turnout for both the 5k and the 3k, with runners of all ages, on a fantastic sunny evening. Well done to the organisers, and to sponsors Radar Sports.

Global Running Day

Wednesday June 1st is Global Running Day, an initiative to celebrate the joys of running, and inspire others to get involved. There will be events held all over the world where people will get together to run.

I will be participating in the Run The Kingdom event in Tralee, organised by Marcus Howlett, starting from the Aquadome at 7pm – if you are in the area, come along – there are 3k and 5k options, with medals for all participants, and it is completely free.

Enjoy your run tomorrow, wherever in the world you do it!

An Riocht Kingdom Come 10 Miler Race Report

This morning I ran the An Riocht Kingdom Come 10 Miler. This was to be a last minute warm-up for next weeks London Marathon, so I wasn’t planning on breaking any records!

The last time I ran this race was in 2013, when it was my fourth ever race. An Riocht (which means The Kingdom in Irish) is an athletics club based in Castleisland. The registration and number pick up is based in the clubs impressive facility in the middle of the town, and the race starts a few hundred yards away on the main street.

Chatting with David before the start (pic by Peter Murphy)

There was a very large crowd at registration, both for the 10 miler, and the 5k which runs at the same time. Registration was well organised, and I was very impressed with the goody bag we received, which included a medal holder.

Love the medal holder I got in the goody bag (even though my son took it off me when I got home)

As usual I met loads of runners I knew, and had a great time catching up with those I hadn’t met for a while. Conditions were excellent – blue skies, and sunny. It was soon time to get ready for the off, and I joined a very impressive crowd on the starting line. After the formalities (and some photographs) we were off.

Ready to go! (pic by Colin Aherne)

The first section of the race brought us down the main street, before doing a short circuit of the town, and then we turned North out the old Limerick road. I took this section fairly easy, as I knew that there was a fairly horrific hill coming up – something that quite a few others either didn’t know, or ignored. Sure enough, from mile 2 on, the road began a steep climb. With one eye on London next week, I decided to run/walk this hill, as I knew it would make little difference to my time. I was passed by a few runners, but I passed a lot of runners as the hill went on and on. By the time we got to the water station at the top of this hill at 3.5 miles, there was a lot of suffering going on around me.

pic by Peter Murphy

I met a girl on this section who told me she was going for a 1:40 finish, and we would pass each other about a dozen times of the course of the race!

From here, we turned south West, and we had a nice long decent of almost 2 miles, back towards Castleisland. This was a big relief for my legs, and I picked up the pace a fair bit. I’d had the intention of finishing just under 2 hours, but as I came to the 6 mile mark, I realised I was a fair bit ahead of this target, and my legs were still pretty fresh, so I decided to revise this to finish under 1:50.

The last few miles brought us on a large loop east of the town, and I was surprised at mile 8 to find I still had a good bit of running left in my legs – in fact I did miles 8 and 9 at almost exactly the same pace as miles 1 and 2 – very unusual for me!

It was quite hot for the past few miles, and there was a few sneaky hills to test the legs, but I passed a surprising number of runners on the last 2 miles. I definitely felt mile 10 though – there was a small but testing hill shortly before the end, and I seriously considered walking it.

The last section brought us back down Main Street, and there was a sharp turn in to An Riochts grounds, before running the last few hundred yards to the finish on the race track.

I glanced at my watch as I crossed the line and saw that I had come in at 1:42 (my official time was 1:42:40) – not bad at all considering I hadn’t pushed myself terribly hard at any stage. Incidentally the girl who I’d met on the hill near the start came in just behind me – close to her goal of 1:40.

There was lots of food and refreshments available in the clubhouse after the race, though I had to rush off to a prior engagement.

Overall I really enjoyed this race, and I hope it will stand to me in next week’s marathon. Well done to An Riocht on a very well organised event, and thanks to all the volunteers and marshals who made it happen. Well done to Lee Strand on a very generous goody bag!

Congrats to everyone who ran today, and also to my fellow Tralee Triathlon Club members who competed in the Joey Hannon Triathlon in Limerick today – some great performances I believe.

If you can, please give a donation, no matter how small, to Children with Cancer, who I am fundraising for in the London Marathon – the donation page is here. Thank you.

Tralee Triathlon Club Trail Race Report

I decided a bit last minute that I would do the Tralee Tri Club’s 14k Trail Race that was set for today. After last week’s exertions in the Tralee Marathon, and a brutally tough strength & conditioning session on Thursday, my body wasn’t exactly keen for more punishment, but I have a bit of an issue saying no to races, and this promised to be a bit different to my usual runs. I was also testing out my new Salomon XR Shift trail shoes, which I will be writing a gear review on.

I joined the rest of the runners outside O’Riada’s Bar at 11am (after having went to the wrong starting point first!) for a briefing from Milosz and Bridget. We would do the first 2 miles or so on tarmac road, from O’Riada’s to Glenageenty Woods, then a mixture of trails and road, before returning by road to where we started.

Pre race group pic

I set off at the back with Margaret, determined to take it easy, as I knew this would be tough. And tough it most certainly was – the road section was a tough climb all the way, and I hadn’t gone a mile before I felt last week’s marathon in my legs. Margaret soon pulled away, and I was on my own.

After reaching the woods, there was a tough hill, followed by a brief respite of some downhill trails, and then the real climbs started! My legs muscle were practically squealing as I climbed steep hills, followed by even steeper steps, followed by more steep hills.

At this stage I hadn’t seen any of the other runners for quite a while, and wondered exactly how far behind I was – going by my very slow and painful progress, I guessed pretty far.

After crossing a stream, and passing along a farm track, I saw a flash of luminous yellow up ahead, and turned a corner to see a truly awesome hill ahead of me. I could see Margaret making her way up, and Bridget at the top. I have often joked about crawling a race if I had to, but this was the first time I’ve actually had to do it – this was probably the toughest hill I’ve ever run crawled, and I had visions of losing my footing and rolling all the way back to the start of the race. If this hill doesn’t have a name, then it should have. By the time I got to the top, I was totally out of breath, and my legs were like jelly.

The mother of all hills

I caught up with Bridget at the top, and followed her. This didn’t turn out to be a good idea……..
Bridget directed us over a fence, which had me puzzled. Ronald Reagan once said of politics “When you’re explaining, you’re losing” and I think you could adjust that for trail running to “When you’re climbing over fences, you’re lost” We soon met Margaret and Catherine coming towards us, and there followed a bit of a “what the fuck” moment as we tried to figure out where we were, and more importantly, where we were supposed to be going. We ended up crossing some fields, sliding down some embankments, crawling under some fences, climbing over some other fences, and having a right old adventure.

If you’re doing this, you’re probably lost…. Me, Margaret, Catherine, and Miss Google Maps herself, Bridget.

Oh look, a road….

We eventually found our way back to the road, which we knew would lead us back to the trail we were supposed to be on – or at least we were fairly sure it would….

Bridget bravely decides to continue after a near-fatal ankle scratch….

After some more twisting and turning (and some jelly babies) we found ourselves back on the trail, and soon we were climbing some nice steep hills again.

I once read a horror story about a guy who received a hand transplant after an accident. The hand had come from a murderer, and, after getting the guy in a lot of trouble, it strangled him. I sometimes wonder if I’ll wake up some night to find my legs have wrapped themselves around my neck after deciding that I’m just not worth all the torture.

After reaching the highest point of the trail, I knew that it was more or less all downhill from here, and was very glad to get there. The descent was going well, with Margaret around 100 yards ahead of me, when I saw her go down heavily. I caught up, and found she had caught her foot on a protruding stone, and had gotten some cuts and bruises. Being the tough trooper she is, she was soon back on her feet and going again. We ran the rest of the trail together without incident, and were soon back on the road to the finish line. I found this section the easiest by far, as tarmac road is what I’m used to, and it was almost all downhill, which was a big relief for my leg muscles. We finally crossed the line in 1:53:01 – not a great time, but acceptable all things considered!

When we reached O’Riada’s, there was lunch waiting for us, which was very welcome by then! Milosz presented prizes to the winner, and some of the runners who had shown big improvements over the course of the trail running training the club had run.

I really enjoyed this race, even the getting lost bit! It was a fun day out, and reminded me once again of how different trail running is to road running. Well done to Bridget and Milosz for organising it, I would definitely be up for doing another one!

Well done to winner Joe

Lunch with the triathletes

A Canadian Family’s First Experience of parkrun

This week’s guest post is from Kyra Paterson. Kyra is a 41 year old triathlete, runner, backcountry camper, canoeist, and blogger of racing and camping adventures. She lives in south-western Ontario, Canada, where she’s dreaming of her next outdoor adventure, and days away from her next race! You can find her blog, “Adventures of a Paddling Triathlete”, at http://kyraonthego.wordpress.com, or find her on Twitter: @kyrapaterson.

If you had told me at age 12 that one day I would do a 5k run with my English penpal Sally, our husbands (!) and kids (!!), I would have told you that you were crazy! I wasn’t a runner then, we had never met (I was in Canada), and a family was so far into the future as to be fantasy! Fast forward 28 years and that’s exactly what we did.

On Saturday July 5^th, 2014, we laced up our shoes and participated in the Shrewsbury parkrun at The Quarry, in Shrewsbury, Shropshire, England! Before making plans with Sally for the 3 full days we would spend with her and her family during our trip to England, Scotland and Wales, we had never even heard of a parkrun. No such thing exists in south-western Ontario, Canada, where we live (about 1 hour south-west of Toronto). I know now that parkrun, started in 2004, is “based on the simple, basic principles formed from the start: weekly, free, 5km, for everyone, forever”.

What a clever idea! A volunteer organized and led run that encourages everyone to participate, from children to accomplished athletes to parents pushing babies in strollers (these parents may also be accomplished athletes!). While it’s not a race – it’s a run – and there are no “winners”, you’ll see plenty of runners pushing themselves to run faster than they did the week before, and to earn a new personal best (PB)!

Paul Sinton-Hewitt, the founder of parkrun, believes that “no-one should ever have to pay to go running in their community regularly, safely and for fun”. I agree.

If you’ve done a parkrun before, you’ll know that you have to register the first time, which we did online at home in Canada, and you have to bring a barcode with you or you don’t get a recorded time. I printed off barcodes for myself, my husband Alasdair, my son Keaghan (then 11), and daughter Ailish (then 9). No one told me what not to do with my barcode…

Sally & Kyra pre-race!

 

Since it’s been more than 1 ½ years since our parkrun experience, the details are a little fuzzy! Whether a horn or a whistle or a shout started us off, I’m not sure, but the 8 of us, including Sally, her husband and 2 kids, and 216 other runners took off! We ran on tarmac paths along the River Severn, which was quite pretty. We split up right away, each running our own pace, though the 2 girls ran the whole 5k together. This was my daughter’s first time running that far.

I had never done a timed 5k before, so I decided to push myself to see what I could do. Alasdair intended to go easy, but then went hard! The course was relatively flat, with two fairly short inclines. In the end, I crossed the finish line in 27:05 according to my watch. When I reached into my water belt to get the barcode that I had carefully folded small enough so that it could fit into the zippered pocket, I found a soaking wet piece of paper that was impossible to unfold (apparently my water bottle was leaking – unbeknownst to be!)! It just ripped into a million bits. One of the helpful volunteers wrote my name down, along with the time on my watch, and that time became my official time, which was posted on the results page.

Heading for the finish line: Ailish in green and Harriet in pink on the right.

We were impressed with the organization of the parkrun, and as visitors from afar, we were even mentioned in the post race email.

I would highly recommend that if you haven’t been to a parkrun and there’s one near you, try it out! I think you’ll get hooked. And if you do, consider volunteering, since a run like this can’t function without volunteers. Check out my recent post, “10 Reasons to volunteer at a race (a running race, bike race, or a triathlon)!”

Keep it up parkrun! This Canadian family enjoyed our first (and only!) parkrun experience!

Post race: Back row: Keaghan, Kyra, Alasdair, Stu; Middle row: Ailish, Sally; Front row: Finnen, Harriet.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Messi, Magic, Ultramarathons, and the Power of Belief

One of the things I notice most with first-time marathon runners is doubt. Doubt they can survive the training, doubt they can make the distance on the day of the marathon, doubt they can push through the wall, or survive a setback, or tackle the hills.

I felt all these things myself in my first marathon, and, in fact, it was only after I crossed the line that I finally accepted I could complete a marathon. These days, a marathon holds no fear for me, only excitement – after completing so many of them, several while injured or sick, I now know that, barring disaster, I will finish.

The power of belief really struck home recently through my son, Adam. Adam is a soccer fanatic. He loves the game, playing it, watching it, studying it. Like many soccer fans, he idolises Lionel Messi. The Barcelona and Argentina genius seems more like a magician than an athlete, as he dances through defences to score so many wonderful goals. Like Messi, Adam plays as a striker, and he has a similar physique to his hero too.
Adam had been going through a bit of a goal drought early this season, and, like most strikers, his belief in himself began to flag a little as more games went by without a goal.
For his 12th birthday, he told me he wanted a pair of Adidas Messi15 boots like the great man himself wears. He duly got his boots, and went off happily to his first game the following weekend wearing them, an important cup game with his club. He had an amazing game, and he scored. The next weekend, he had a game for his county, Kerry, against Tipperary. He was in his second season with Kerry, and hadn’t scored for them yet. This time he did.

I noticed that his confidence seemed really high. In the club game, he had made some audacious shots on goal before he scored, shots he wouldn’t normally have tried. When I spoke to him about it, he agreed that he felt very confident, but wasn’t sure why. Except, maybe, just maybe, the boots. Messi’s boots. He knew the boots couldn’t be making a difference. But still. Maybe, just maybe, the boots helped, just a little.
Adam isn’t superstitious, and is remarkably level-headed for such a young kid. But I can see that light in his eyes when he watches Messi play, and I can see that the new-found confidence comes from a place beyond the normal, everyday, training he does.
Adam believes that the boots Messi wears help him, so the boots Messi wears help him.

 

Not just boots – MAGIC boots

Confidence, positive thinking, and belief in oneself are ethereal and unfathomable. It can come and go on a whim, and even a tiny thing can make a difference. I have noticed on races, especially ultras, that the effort required to keep going has a very strong correlation to how confident I am feeling at that moment. The pain involved in ultras always seems worse when the spirit is low, while it all seems like fun and games when confidence is high.

The key for me in long races has always been to visualise myself finishing, how it will feel, and how I will celebrate with my family. At times when I have wanted to give up or drop out, I have thought about the impression that will give my children – what kind of role model do I want to give them? Do I want them to think that if the going gets tough, quitting is an option? Or do I want them to see that anything is possible, that courage and determination will see you through any challenge?
In ultras, my kids are my Messi boots. They are the magic that makes me confident, makes me indestructible, makes me know, toeing the line, that I will finish.

Find your Messi boots, your piece of magic, your talisman, and it will get you through to the end.

And even if you don’t believe in magic, you can believe in Messi – that guy really is a magician.

 

 

Trail Running with Tralee Triathlon Club

On Saturday I decided to do something different, and join Tralee Triathlon Club on their trail running coached session with Milosz Wojcik. Milosz is a very accomplished athlete, and I had heard great things about these coached sessions, and had seen the benefits some of the tri club members had gotten from them.

The sessions are held in Glenageenty Walkway’s in Ballymac, just outside Tralee. The last time I ran with the club here, I found it slightly tough, so I hoped I’d be better able to keep up this time!

I arrived slightly late (as usual), but just in time for the start. There were a small handful of dedicated triathletes there already, and Milosz was soon putting us through our paces.
The warm-up consisted of a series of drills (high knees, heel flicks etc.) on a circular trail, interspersed with short jogs and stretches. I found this very beneficial in terms of easing me into the session, and getting used to the trail surface.

Next up it got a bit more strenuous – a series of fast climbs up a fairly steep winding trail, of around a minute and a half duration, followed by a gentle jog back around to the start of the hill to begin again. Although this was a tough part of the session, Milosz made sure that you only pushed yourself as far as you were able, and he was very astute in spotting flaws in your running technique, and advising corrections.
Hill repeats aren’t usually my favourite exercise, but I really enjoyed these – the technical trail surface makes it more interesting than repeats on the road, and the immediate feedback from Milosz meant that I knew where to work on for the next rep.

After the hill repeats, we went for a warm down run, with the first half on road, and the second half on a fantastic trail through the woods.

I found this session really beneficial – I worked far harder than I normally would on a road session, but I never felt out of my depth, and everyone there was friendly and helpful. I will definitely be making these sessions a regular part of my training – it’s obvious that there would be a huge benefit to my running, especially in terms of hills and speed, and the added bonus of increased fitness. I highly recommend trying this if you are in the area. The details are on the tri club Facebook Page.

Just to push the boat out, I followed this up with a 15 miler on Sunday with Born to Run. I was a bit wary of this, as I felt I might not have it in me after the trail session, and I was still aching from Thursday night’s strength and conditioning (I’m coming to the conclusion that I am seriously lacking in both strength, and conditioning, given that I am almost immobile for a day or two after each session), but it went fine. Myself and Brian O’Shea stuck to the task and got around the 15 miles okay, though I was definitely flagging a bit towards the end.

I think it’s safe to say that I put in a good weekends training, and hopefully will do the same next weekend!

 

10 Things I’m Afraid of as a New Marathon Runner

This week Fiona and I swapped blogs. On her blog you can find a post I wrote all about what you should be afraid of as a newbie marathoner. On my blog below, you can find her view, as a first time marathoner, on what she is afraid of.  You can find Fiona, aka Scallywag, at her blog Scallywag Sprints on her twitter account, or on her facebook page.

 

Hey, I’m Fiona, also known as Scallywag. I’ve never raced a marathon before, and am signed up for my first in 2016. The marathon distance is a fearsome opponent, and whilst I intend for us to go head to head on May 29th, there are some things I’m very afraid of. This list starts with my tongue-in-cheek concerns and quickly veers off into dark and deep territory…

 

I’m afraid of:

 

Learning to run without music: I likely will take music to Liverpool, but I really think I should learn run without it. Firstly because for paced runs it’s good to focus on your footfall, breathing, and pace. Secondly because I feel I could really use it in the later stages of the race to provide a proper boost. That will only work if I don’t use it all the time. But I have almost never run without music. The few times I have it’s because I forgot to charge my iPod, or some eejit ‘borrowed’ it. I’m not sure who I am as a runner without Tay Tay Swiftie…

 

Eating the amount of food meant for a small city: I didn’t sign up to a marathon to lose any weight. I’m aware long, long distance running is hardly the technique for Biggest Loser-style transformations, and it definitely isn’t my focus. However I’m already heavy for a runner and I’d rather not be a stone heavier by race day. Additionally, for climbing I’d like to stay solid, or even go further towards the leaner side. I know after long runs, my brain will basically be speaking with the voice of the cookie monster. I need smart food choices that can be prepared fast after those runs. I fear trying to carry around the equivalent of a mini fridge on the day. That shit is for charitable people.

 

Losing my social life: This will happen. I mean, I’m a PhD student, it already has. But it will get worse. I’m quite nervous about the damage that this will do to my relationship. And all my friendships. And to even my work colleagues. There is only so many times that people can bear hearing the smug reply, “Sorry, I’m going a run at lunchtime”. All the early mornings to wake up the SO. All of the sneaking away from drinks early. To everyone- I am so sorry. I do love you really. I just really want to do this. 

 

The chafing, oh god the chafing: I’ve seen some pretty bad chafing after 3 mile runs. Unless I keep the Vaseline close at hand, I don’t dare think of what that could be like after 15 or 26. I fully expect many sports bras and shorts that I have trusted for years to start failing me entirely. I once wept in the shower after doing a two day canoe trip. The chafing around my neck from the lifejacket was on fire. I hope it isn’t like that. 

 

That I will go out too fast: Isn’t this the eternal worry? That despite my best intentions I will get caught up in the moment and fly through the crowds like wing-footed Hermes at the start, only to be kicked in the teeth by the mile 12 hill. I can’t afford to do this and I know I have a tendency to think I’m making up time I can slow on later. Much research and experience shows this is a shit plan. I’m going to be really tough with myself and force a plod for at least the first 5 miles. 

 

I’ll get the fuelling all wrong: At least going out too fast is entirely my fault, but fuelling is scarily unpredictable. I mean, yesterday I vomited for no fecking reason. On marathon day you have your dinner the night before, your breakfast, your gels/food, and your sports drink to worry about. I have been very sick in a race before from incorrect fuelling (Edinburgh half, it was very hot and I overdid it with the food and drinks). I didn’t enjoy the reverse-smoothie vomiting effect produced by the mix of tropical gels, lemon and lime nuun, and porridge. And it didn’t exactly do wonders for my time either. 

 

What if my training program is all wrong for me?: Aha, now we are onto the real fears of the trembling inner me… what if I have made the wrong choices? Choices that only trial and error will teach me are incorrect? I have chosen to follow a rough program that emphasises quality over vast mile quantity, in the hope that it will leave me uninjured. What if that is just too much hard running? Or if it is not enough miles and I will hit the wall hard at mile 22? I don’t actually know much about hitting the wall, but it’s hardly a friendly-sounding metaphor.

 

Injury: That right there is the scariest word of all. Every single twinge or tweak leaves me sweating and paranoid. I worry about sleeping on a leg funny, about having my legs crossed under my desk, about jumping off of the pavement. I stare at my scar and ponder my injury-strewn history, and it makes me cringe internally. What have I been doing wrong in the past? Am I sure I’m doing it correctly this time?  Will marathon training leave me not only unable to do a marathon, but unable to run anything?

 

And what if running stops being fun?: I can almost guarantee this will happen. Make yourself do something enough and you’ll end up hating it at times. I’m scared that somewhere deep in week 15 or so I will stop thinking that the training is worth it. I’m really enjoying loving running again, and I really want to keep focused on that feeling of pushing it, and of flying. 

 

Most of all, I’m scared that I wont be enough: As this great article by RedWineRunner says, “You WILL find out what you are made of… and you might not like it”. I’m worried I will not like who I am. I can be a whiner, a perfectionist, avoidant to the max. I can be very mentally weak in places, and am prone to sudden emotional collapse. I can be lax on stretching, and lazy on weekends, and procrastinate for things I don’t want to do by doing something else ‘essential’. And these are only the personality weaknesses that I’m AWARE of. Essentially I won’t find out until I am deep in training whether I am the kind of person who can do this, who can dedicate to this at all. 

 

So yes I’m scared, very scared. But I guess in 4 months 13 days 19 hours 17 minutes (at time of writing, not that I’m counting or anything…) we find out what I am made of. 

 

Want to follow along? You can find my blog here; my twitter @ScallywagSprint, or if you only want to look at pretty pictures my Instagram is also @ScallywagSprint.

 

Post written by Scallywag and published on RandRuns on 18/01/16