Used and Abuse

Discharge of Personal Items Forum.

Name: Inov8 X Talon 212's.

Times used: 145 sessions

Distance Covered: 1014 km (630.1 miles)

Climbed: 34,616 m climb

Break down of abuse:

86 studs in the beginning. Now after 145 sessions of abuse, only 49 are left.

Of the 145 sessions, 72 were running sessions and 73 were orienteering sessions. Of those sessions, 31 were races of which 9 were Mountain races, 1 was an XC and 21 were Orienteering related.

During Active Orienteering duty in training and competition 1348 controls were attacked of which 1136 got spiked. It is impossible to take into account the sheer amount of time lost. It is believed to be in the region of days, if not weeks.

Area of Operations:

Saw action in 5 Countries - Ireland, England, Sweden, Norway, France.

Distinguished Service: Irish Relay Championships, NI; CISM Long Distance, NOR; Stone Cross to Lugnaquilla Relay, Wicklow;

Actions for reprimand: Carrauntoohil, failure to tackle the ridge at significant speed.

Suggested Action: Frame and keep forever

For Office Use Only

Suggested Action Approved: No

If no, state office action.

Office Action: Bin and Dispose of in location X

Status: Approved

Future Action Required: Replace and continue Winter Training as was.

Base Camp Blues

After download we were having a good laugh, chatting to the Foley-Fishers on the SI and the other race organisers. Eventually we slowly walked away chatting about where to pitch the tent. Looking along by the wind sheltered hedge, all the very sheltered ground was taken. We got to the end of the field and say wee Mark, seeing that the ground wasn't too bad we lamped the tent up - it was smaller than I remembered!

Once the tent was up, we quickly got changed and threw in the sleeping bags to let them puff up. After a few mins we noticed the water seeping up through the ground sheet - in went the survival bag. More padding and something to keep us dry. Dry clothes on, rucksacks into the rain cover and into the tent. All the warm clothes on and crawled into the sleeping bags. It was so warm and comfortable. Its amazing what a day in the mountains can make you think is 5* luxury. A small dry pair of socks... prefect. Slowly we come to our senses as the blood begins to flow to the extremities and we just begin to laugh. The tent was tight, very tight. This added to the hilarity. I had the warmer sleeping bag. We crashed for a while after we stopped laughing at the state of each other.

Time dragged on and it meant one thing and one thing only - food! I blagged two plastic bags from Gordon (guys a legend) to keep my socks dry. Grabbed the "food", water and all the rest of the bits and bobs and curled up beside a rock. From my sheltered view I had a great view of the camp site - everyone looked tired and wet. The mist came in again. I brewed up a cuppa scauld and then got cracking on the main course - rice. Plain, bland rice. It was beautiful - or thats what I kept telling myself. Seamus, when he finally got out of the sleeping bag, didn't agree that it was a 5* meal.

Greg showed up and brewed up beside me - got chatting about the day. He was leading the mixed class overall. Plenty of MM experience in those legs. Twas a bit late to be getting advice but it was all taken on board anyways. Once the grub was cooked and eaten, Shea vanished (back to the tent) and I just sat there - curled up on my bag in the shelter of the rock. I just looked out on the camp site slowly expanding. It seemed crazy. My legs were in bits, I was mentally extremely tired but couldn't sleep. I was in a very very low moral place. I was at rock bottom.

Eventually when I got up to do a walksy around the camp and see who was alive. Got chatting to Ciara and with the Medic in charge. Then it was back to the tent, climbing in I took off the plastic bags and put my foot in a puddle. My only dry pair of socks - now wet and cold. Another serious moral blow. Climbed in, and Seamus the cheeky fecker was in MY warm sleeping bag. I attempted to get him out of it, but he wasn't moving. His one would have to do. More laughing and jokes continued for a few hours, taking in a strong coffee. Chilling out.

Panic arrived when the tent was shook violently - it could only have been one set of people - Paddy and McCloy. Both were in very cheerful moods and we got the low down; they had burgers and chips and were spending the night in there own beds. Jealousy of the highest order. After a while I went to go for a walk again. My leg was in bits. I was struggling to more it. It was becoming worried. By this stage darkness had fallen on the camp. Chatting to Barbra at the SI as we watched lights come down off the mountain. Night sticks went up on the controls to help struggling teams. A few elite teams come in. They didn't look too healthy.

After a while I went back to the tent only to find Seamus brewing up some smash. 250g of the stuff makes 1.5kg - we ate the lot of it. Beating the food into us. This was washed down with a litre of Oxtail soup. Not exactly amazing but it did the job. Crawling into the tent, we got Greg to shake our tent in the morning. Just in case we forgot to wake up.

Crawling into the sleeping bags, warm, uncomfortable and a tight squeeze. We could both lie down, if one of us were on our sides. It wasn't so bad. I crashed out. Out like a light.

I woke up with a start, I couldn't feel my arm. The thought was awh balls. I tried to use my useless arm to push myself up - no dice, I decided to use my legs to turn over. They wouldn't move either. It was pretty funny. Eventually I got myself sitting up, gave Shea a shove and rolled over... This continued throughout the night. To roll over, you had to sit up into the only part of the tent with space. It would have looked very funny from outside.

We both woke with a start as some b*llocks was shaking the tent - before we could curse the person we decided to thank Greg. I gave my toes a wiggle - everything was still alive, good good. I tried to move my legs, pretty stiff but nothing that a 20km run in the mountains wouldn't fix. As I sat up I felt a very sharp pain in my groin. This wasn't the good pain of a 20km tempo run, this was bad pain. Really bad pain. I kept my thoughts to myself. Shea bailed out to fix us breakfast. I got out after him and stood up. The second I put weight on it I knew I was in the shit. I decided to go for a walk to see how bad it really was. It wasn't a walk. It was a hobble.

I went over to the start tent and asked Barbra what was the story with drop outs, I mentioned my leg and she said to warm up and see how things felt - but don't be stupid. I hobbled a few laps of the field and eventually got into a brisk walk. It'd be grand. I began to feel better and went back for breakfast. Porridge, made with water and a few raisins - thanks be ta god there was raisins. We wouldn't have been able to stomach it otherwise.

Food gone. Tent packed. Off to the jacks. Clear the SI. A good luck from the organisers and we were out the gate. As we hopped the fence the whistle went. We grabbed the control description and it was game on. Some teams legged it off, deciding to mark in on the move. We decided however to make sure of the grids, the last thing you want is a 20min mistake due to stupidity. Shea began to plot them.... pen runs out. A brief second of panic. Whip out my pen and its go go go. Grids down. We don't have to get 3 of the cluster and we were gone. We gave chase up the hill. Greg took off at the exact same time as us. he reached the road in front of us, when we hit the road, I put my head down and began to push. Seamus was just jogging away from me. I couldn't lift my right leg. My groin was in bits, but we were still making up a little ground. Up the track further and we weren't going too badly. Catching and dropping teams, however the lead pack were still 3-4mins in front. We reached the river and began to go through the terrain. The second I got into it, I knew I wasn't going to make 20km in it, but I refused to give up with out a fight. I took off after Seamus and began plugging away.

Up and up we climbed. I was down to a walk. I was max'd out, it was as fast as I could go. I was shuffling. I couldn't break into a run. I tried again and again but it wasn't happening. I could feel my groin getting sorer and sorer. I reached a flat section and tried to run. Wasn't happening. Shea was 30m in front, I said I'd run as far as where he is now. It wasn't happening. A pair walked past me, I couldn't keep up. They walked past as if I was standing still.

I got off the flattish section and got stuck into the next climb. I got 5 paces before I had to stop. I screamed out a few obscenities and tried again. My leg just wasn't playing ball. Seamus stopped and waited for me. I eventually made it up to him and looked him in the eye. I knew I was fucked. He knew I was fucked but neither of us wanted to admit it. I turned around, looking away from him and put my head in my hands. I knew I had no dry clothes left and if I did more damage I would be seriously fucked. I knew my pace would be at snails pace if even. I didn't want a lecture from Mountain rescue in the back of a chopper. I thought of McCloy the previous day curled up in the tent in the double sleeping bag.

I turned back around and apologies to Seamus. I had to bail. It was one of the hardest things I have ever done, but I knew it was the correct decision, but that didn't make it any easier. Turning around and starting the hobble back down the hill was the final stray that broke me mentally. Greg and co walked past me. I couldn't look him in the eye. He knew I was messed up. I should have been a DNS but I couldn't have bared not to try.

We made straight for the trail. Seamus gave me the map and ran on to make sure there was still transport there when I finally made it down. I hobbled back along the track. The mist rolled in as I plodded back along the track. Any time my toe hit a rock or whatever I got a short sharp pain in my groin.

When you have a 3km walk back after dropping out, you really have a LONG time to think about everything. Throwing away our 30min lead was completely my fault. I was stupid enough to only ware a pair of shorts. I didn't bring enough kit to get by in bad conditions. I gave the Mournes the two fingers and it hit back. 30mins is 1min/km faster than everyone else the previous day. That's a serious amount of extra pace. A lot of very harsh lessons were learned.

We arrived back at base camp. Didn't even have dry clothes to change into to. We waited for the Bus of Shame. Climbed on and took it back to Silent Valley. Hung around for a bit, our parents arrived and we shocked that we had dropped out. The were expecting to be cheering us in to a big win - not picking up one injured and two bitter runners.

We hung around for the prize giving. I stood there and watched it all. And it hurt. It really hurt.

I don't like to lose.

The Mournes before last weekend were just for fun, it didn't matter how we did. We were expecting to be 30mins down, not 30mins up.

Next year, the Mournes has a much higher priority.

Once wounded, twice as dangerous.

I don't like to lose - especially when it is completely my fault. I despise people who let other people down. I have 360 days to make up for my mistake. And I will make up for it next year.

Bitter, dejected, pissed off, injured. Motivated.

The Valley of Indecent Exposure - D1

Its always difficult to sort out one's thoughts when things are going perfectly and then it all falls apart at the seems. But, sure, shit happens.

Bernie dropped Seamus and myself off in Silent Valley with about 30mins to spare. We were both bopping. Got changed and the kit sorted. As one of the last starters we were having a good laugh with the orginasers. Feeling very relaxed but excited about the up coming race. We were ready to lay waste.

Over by the start, we were laughing and joking and generally been good CNOC members. Having a laugh, been chilled out and staying calm. Clear, check, take a leak, collect the control descriptions and we were off. We calmly plotted the controls and were off up the hill. I was tempted to break into a run going up the first steep slope but I had a sharp pain in my back. This paniced me slightly, last time it happened was Prince Williams seat. We got the first control, merely following the wall. On the descent the pain vanished and I breathed a sigh of relief. That was one niggle I didn't want coming back to haunt me.

I was glad we were travelling light. We got a good laugh from everyone in there rain jackets, hats and gloves at the start. We were dressed in shorts and a good set of running tops. Down the hill to control 2, Seamus knew the ground due to his nasty rock climbing/ bouldering habit. For once I wasn't complaining. We weived and meandered along sheep trails, climbing all the time. Then we hit the 2nd climb up to the control. Climbed further to the next crag up and contoured across. We hit two crags but no control. Shea seemed a bit flustered. Bouncing off each other we calmed down and dropped the few contours down to the 2nd control. A small bit of time lost but nothing serious.

Heading off to control 3, Shea spotted a around route more so than following the crowd up and over the top. This was to become a tactic for the day - go around and keep the pace high rather than suffer up needless climbs. Running across the shallow heather, it seemed like the perfect day in the Mournes. Confidence was high and the buzz was mighty. Just the simple feeling of getting to run in such spectacular surroundings. In awe of the sheer steepness compared to Wicklows flatter rounder summits. We continued to contour and we hit a track. Blitzed along the track until we came to a wall and straight up to the control.

The 4th control was a very long leg. Shea picked another sweet route, going over the saddles, down around the lake and up a sheer wall of contours. Giving me a glance, it seemed perfect. Running towards the saddle, we were on a well beaten MMM track, this lead to fast but slippery running. I lost time dropping down to the lake, partly my shoes slipping, partly other runners taking up the track. I caught Seamus at the dam and off we went across. As we entered the rocky gammy section I laughed out loud saying I hate my life. It couldn't have been further from the truth. We began to jump through heather, ferns and rocks. The going was slow so we descended to the shore and began a km of rock hopping. Shea was bouncing along, I was slower on the granite boulders, the fear of smashing myself and a quick flash back to the ridge... As the rain began to fall, I upped the anty, I didn't want to get stuck on wet rock!

When we got off the rock and into the terrain I began to question Seamus route choice. The going was very slow. More rock and ferns, and more climbing. I asked Shea was he confident about the route and he seemed insulted by the question. Asking to see the map, I realised that I actually did not see a perfect track going to the control. Once I realised my error, I got a good mental boost, realising that the route was actually a sweet route choice and not a death march. Up through the ferns, across a river and we climbed higher again. Looking behind us, we had a tail. They looked pretty small at the base of the hill. Cresting the hill was a good buzz. The view was pretty amazing. Once again we put the head down and got the control.

The next route looked nasty. We were headed in Meelmore direction. The same O map that we usually do a spot of O training on when ever the junior squad is up north. We reckoned heading up through the pass and then over the big dirty spur. We got to the pass, and saw the spur. Looking at the map again, Shea saw that our track lead straight to below the control. Needless to say, it was just a matter of motoring on. We took off down the trail, and literally just kept running. After a fair few minutes of descending, we crossed the river and landed on a sheep track, and then onto another trail, shea snotted himself, and over onto the Meelmore map. Across another river and then we began to recognise features. We hit another track section and then it was straight up to the control. It was another near perfect route choice by Shea. He was on fire.

We had debated the next leg for a while, originally, we had thought about going back the way we came, but that took us forever to come down so climbing that way wouldn't be pretty. It was decided to hit the Mourne/ Ulster Way. We followed it along (Shea went splat on the wet grass, shea went splat again, colm found it funny, colm went splat, colm no longer found it as funny) and hit another lake. At the lake we stopped and leaned the beans and took out the hats as the temperature dropped all of a sudden.

Little did we know that we had just entered "The Valley of Indecent Exposure".

As we began to climb, the wind picked up and it began to rain. It got very cold in shorts and light tops. I put the head down and pushed on hard hoping to warm myself up. I had a bite to eat and told myself to HTFU. It wasn't that cold. I began to shake and I got annoyed with myself. I was beginning to lose feeling in my face. My legs got colder and colder. I pushed on, following Seamus. Climbing further and further. On reaching the wall, a voice shouted out in a northern twang "alright colm". Twas the one and only Paddy! He was all smiles. The banter started. Asking how he was running etc etc.... McCloy was in a tent on the far side of the wall with hypothermia...! It was a bit of a WTF moment. Both Paddy and McCloy had an extremely high amount of mountain experience between them. We screamed a few words at McCloy in the tent, in the double sleeping bag. The final thing I heard was the marshal telling Paddy in a don't ask any questions manner to put on all his clothes, he wasn't going anywhere.

We set off around the mountain to descend down to the next control at the river. As I was running. McCloy kept playing on my mind. Also that I only had 1 dry thermal that wasn't coming out until I reached the campsite. I also wanted to keep my rain gear dry until the campsite (brain was clearly getting fucked over by the cold is well).

We crossed the Mourne Wall again and I knew I was getting close to been in the shit. My legs were cramping badly with the cold and I was beginning to shiver badly. After a few minutes of pondering what to do. I told Shea I was stopping to get on my warm gear, he agreed and we bailed into a ditch. I pulled off my top and my chest was lashed red by the wind and rain. I through on my thermal and rain gear. Getting to the campsite became my only priority.

I looked down at my legs. The water partials catching on the hairs. They were completely tense. Every muscle had contracted to decrease an area to lose heat from. The thought went though mu mind, my god my legs are ripped, there isn't a gram of fat on me - i was very pleased with myself, until I realised that having a few kg's of body fat would probably have been a very good thing to have at that moment in time. I jogged down to the control as Shea did up his rain gear and followed me on. At this stage I was extremely cold. I was cursing not having an extra fleece or something along the lines of that. Shuffling along the track I think I told Seamus I was fecked. I can't really remember. All I do remember was that I was cold and my legs were cramping very badly. I was down to a shuffle. Seamus took charge and got me motivated. I just put the head down and kept plugging away. The only thing I wanted was a warm dry camp site. We began to fantise about a warm tent and hot food... what could possibly be nicer than plain rice!! Leaving the custard at home was a bullcrap idea.

We wandered and ran across the flat top of Spelga. Finally hitting the control after what felt like an age. The the descent off of Spelga. This was steep. Like the North Prism on Lug, but slipperier. We walked and slid down. Making good time, and onto the road. The fence/ditch jump onto the road and wall jump after the road were interesting. This is the first time I can remember my groin beginning to get at me. We pushed on up the Mourne Way. Slowly put surely hitting the last control before the cluster.

The cluster decision was easy. Head down and climb. Up and up and up and up. We climbed constantly for 3omins before we were put out of our misery. Down all the ground we had just gained and over to Hen Mountain for the 3rd last control. I had vivid memory's of this mountain from 07 with Niall. I knew the ground was runnable so I forced myself to run. Around the big lump of beautiful climbable rock... (dam it).. and we got the control fairly handy. It was a big push down the hill and up the track to the 2nd last. I ran past Seamus and gave him a small push on the back. If I stopped I wouldn't start again. He dropped down and got the control. Out to the track and it was a horrible yet beautiful run down to the last control. We got worried as we couldn't see the forest beside the control, but I caught sight of the flag from a far distance off. Over the fence and a nice run in along a flat field. Punched the finish control and I was dam glad Day 1 was over. My legs were in bits and my groin was worryingly sore. The pushing hard in the cold probably wasn't the best. Downloaded and we were all good. 27mins clear of 2nd. A good start to the competition. Sunday would be a tough one but we could afford to lose a bit of time. Part one, job done.

Warning Notice

This is an automatic published blog report.

* * * * * *

On the weekend of 18th and 19th of September 2010. Colm is committing an attempted murder of his cousin Seamus O'Boyle. This is believed to be Colm's second attempt on his cousins life. The previous time was in 2006 at the Wicklow Rogaine. Smaller attempts have taken place in recent years under the blanket of the Stone Cross to Lug Relay. This latest attempt on Seamus's life is been committed under the blanket of the Mourne Mountain Marathon.

This race is a two day, unsupported race in the wilderness that is the Mourne Mountains. Seamus is believed to have seen through the plot and has convinced Colm that the B class is a more achievable goal. Needless to say, it was decided to press on. This, however, will only result in "Death been quick and efficient, no survivors".

In a separate murder attempt, McCloy and Higgins are believed to be in a serious domestic dispute - which also has resulted in a Mourne Mountain Marathon stand off. It is believed that the only way forward to try resolve this dispute is through the fearly named ELITE class. The most intensive therapy for couples who's relationship is under strain.

We wish both parties successful deaths so that the issues can finally be buried.

Results, photos and more are viewable here over the weekend.

* * * * * *

This is an automatic published blog report.

7, 15, 52

Niall, 7mins clear on Leg One... Relay over - Game, Set, Match, CNOC

The clouds part. A silhouette appears on the crest of Tonelegee. I scream out loud. Seamus is minutes from the hand over at the Wicklow Gap. My week of hell is over. Its game on.

People begin to laugh at me in the car park. No one believes Seamus has come over the top. I scan the mountain side. Seeing nothing, I get slightly concerned that I might be hallucinating again. Sleep deprivation messes with ones head.

I saw the black blob bouncing again. I scream out in triumph again. Ripping off my CNOC squad jacket and warm up bottoms. I run out onto the Wicklow Gap road. Eyes fixed on Seamus bounding down the hill. I have to fight the urge to scream abuse at him. I know that in the wind he won't hear my blood curling abuse.

Controlled aggression

I pace up and down the road, watching Seamus push himself to his limit. All I focus on is Seamus. I hear muffled cat calls from behind me. They don't concern me. My system is flushing my body with adrenaline. My mind is gone into over drive. Shea nears the road and I start to jog off. He hits the tarmac and sprints off after me. We tag hands, clock on. I start to accelerate. He follows, screaming instructions. Watch the compass, watch your compass. He looks complete wrecked. I try take his words of wisdom on board. A cheer from the car park as Seamus drops off. Its all up to me now.

I switch on and drive up the hydro road to Turlock Hill. Keeping my strides short and fast, my HR at a controllable level. Trying to squash the waves and waves of adrenaline trying to take over my brain. As I cut the first corner of the road I have managed to calm myself down. Its just my own personal open mountain TT to see how well training has gone. I scramble up the sheep track and out onto the road. Up 30m and off the road again, up the massive earth bank and into my first taste of Wicklow heather in 2 months. I am welcomed back to hell. The small branches brush and fight against my legs, every stride is a fight. I got a little panicky. I wasn't strong enough for the record this year. No worries, we'll just enjoy it. I take a cheeky glance behind me, no sight nor sound of any runner descending Tonelagee. We have the win. Its just a matter of surviving and enjoying the view.

The Hand Over

Seamus - Job Done

I climb through the heather, down to a fast walk. Looking up, I see the short grass that signals the upper road. Making a bee line for it, I hit the sheep track and pop out onto solid tarmac. I instantly get the legs turning over short and quick. Keeping an eye on my HR as I climb up the road. I try to settle my nerves and cram the adrenaline back into its box. I'll need it later. Its was going to be a long day. Give or take 2hours on the mountain, with severe cramp at the end.

Looking up again, I see the cliffs. I'm thankful I'm running this leg, I would be concerned if we had put Seamus on this leg, I'm not sure if he could have resisted a quick climb. I can see the track leading to the communications hut. Cutting the corner through the short heather, my self confidence comes back. It feels so cool to be just floating across the ground. Out onto the track and following it along, skipping across the puddles, trying to keep my socks dry. Around the bends and I catch a glimpse of the small aerial that stands tall on the hut. Running over, touching the building and off we go on the first route choice leg of the course.

(I covered the first section in 15:25min compared to my previous best of 16:35, which was a blood thirsty sprint been chased by Tucker...)

Poor relay change over... dropped a few precious second

Setting off to Convalla, I decided on the slightly, ever so slightly right of straight line. Descending through the heather, it felt as if I was just hovering across the ground. I wasn't pushing the pace but my HR was sitting exactly where I wanted it. Down to the river, I had to back track slightly to get a nice crossing point. Leaping across, keeping my socks dry. So far so good. The second climb of 4 started. Head down, leg stride short and rapid, watch the HR. I was in complete control. It was a run in the mountains. Up through the heather. Looking up and picking out the nicer ground. It felt great. I summited the first spur and caught a glimps of the Lugduff Ridge and Conavalla behind that. Behind that again was a barrier of mist and low lying cloud. Sitting a top Lug. After summitting Lug 3 times the previous year, each time I was baked in what some people call "perfect" weather. The swirling mass of mist was my perfect weather. Dropping down off the first spur, I just floated down. I didn't drive the pace, just cruised down. Feet flying, brain casually picking my foot holds. I couldn't put a foot wrong. As I descended I looked up and looked for a good line up through the peat hags. Imaginary lines pop up all over the terrain, looking for the optium route. I see a line that looks squeeky clean. I can't believe my luck. Down off the spur and into the climb up Lugduff Ridge. At this point I begin to swing myself back in a straight line to the cairn on Conavalla. I have to jump a peat hag or two, but that was the extent of it. The ground I picked was solid. My luck was holding out. I crested the ridge and scanned the ground. Conavalla seemed dam flat this year. How the hell did it look flat! I wasn't complaining as I picked my lines again and went for it. Jumping a few serious peat hags, dropping and climbing. My mind is flashed back to 2008, I was running scared. My legs were cramping, all the god dam peat hags. This year, I was avoiding them to the max. I got across the section of peat hags and saw the gravelly section that I ran down in the CoA. Gravel = soild fast running ground. I began to make a straight bee line for it. Squelch. Up to my ankles in soft wet marshy peat. The ground looked so flat and dry. I was gutted. I got so far with dry socks! Worry one was out of the way. I hit the gravel and was up onto the flat summit, hanging a lefty to the small cairn. On hitting it, I hit lap and looked down. 19:25. I was pretty happy, as far as I remembered, the previous years I had run it in 20ish mins. I was on target for sub 2hours. Something that I had completely forgotten about.

(I covered the 3.09km in 19:25 with my previous fastest split been 23:21.)

I was approaching the 2nd last climb of the day. Conavalla to Tabletrack and Camenbologue. In CoA I ran this in 20mins. As I had completely foored it in CoA, anything close to 20 I would have been happy with. Heading off of Conavalla I keep a cool head, my legs want to floor the descent, I keep myself cool. No point doing anything stupid. Dropping down, I can see the valley, I pick my spot and head for it. I think I went slighty too far to the right, but I corrected it as quickly as I could. On reaching the far side of the valley, I began to tough pull up. The ground here is always grotty. Deep heather, and I still couldn't find a sheep track in the area. Keeping the HR steady I climb up. I can see the track up ahead, out onto it and I've nailed it again! Just below the corner. Perfect, I put the head down and get up the track, I can see a hiker further up the road from me. I have a pulling target. Get to the junction before they do. The rutted track is like a motorway, hitting the pole, swinging around it and off again. Up through the peat hags again, running through the maze before popping out onto the flat short grassed summit. Head down, legs turning over. Hit the cairn, hit lap, dumfounded expression has to appear on my face. 18:27 on the watch. In CoA, I was over 1:30min slower. I was ripping the mountain apart. I shelved the thought and began the descent from Camenabologue.

(From Conavalla to Table, I covered 2.27km in 14:07. From Table to Camenabologue was 760m in 4:20. My previous bests were 15:42 from Conavalla to Table - so I took over 1:3o off and I even knocked off a further 20sec between Table and Camenabologue.)

The Map with my Route

I begin the descent. My mind is in over drive. I was flying without pushing that hard. I knew my shoes were in bits from the summers racing and training in scandi so I had to take it careful. I flung myself at the slope. Waiting for that one moment where the tracking would give. After a few hundred meters I realised that in the mud, my shoes weren't amazing so I dropped back the pace to a get through it pace. I was sticking to the trail that I avoided on CoA. It wasn't amazing but gave faster running than the deep heather and peat hags. Down and down and down. The mist cleared briefly and I caught a glimpse of the Cannow Ridge leading up onto Lug. It looked steep and hideous. Across the last of the descent. It was now time for the final climb of the day. The big one. The daddy of them all. I put the head down and got into a rythem. Jumping from rock to rock. Solid ground to soild ground. Step after step. This was not the usual blood thirsty sprint. It was a calm, calculated climb. Get to the top with just enough energy to go flat out on the fireroad at the end. Guss and Ger were giving chase. I was the hare. I was swollowed up by the mist. Passed the first group of hikers, looking up, spotted another. Head down. One foot in front of the other. I had found my rythem and it felt great to be comfortably hurting running up Lug. My mind went numb to all thoughts. All of my energy was now been pumped into my legs. This was a maximum effort. I felt a little tweek in my leg. The onset of cramp. I shoved my thumb in it. It was going to shut the f up until I reached Fentons. I caught the next group of hikers. I was off the trail and onto the short grass of the Cannow Ridge. It all looked the same. I got a bit panicky so I whipped out the compass. Map still in my pocket, I took a random baring. Looking all cool to myself. I didn't meed a map. I can't get lost on Lug.... Then a little voice in my head came back at me "Colm, can you imagine the sheer grief you will get from Seamus, never mind anyone else, the grief from Seamus, if you f**k up now". Needless to say I whipped out the map, took a proper baring and began to thumb the map. The brain does messed up things when craving for oxygen. I am close to the top. I could feel it. But the ground kept climbing. Head down, I can't really over shoot Lug - be quiet a challenge! The mist is swirling. I think I catch a glimpse of the cairn to my right. I resist, trusting the compass and contours. An extra 100m and I see the cairn loom up out of the mist. Bingo. Game, Set, Match, CNOC. I am most pleased with myself. Hitting lap I look down. 28:36. I almost trip over my jaw that has landed on the ground. I take a baring and head off in the right direction off of the summit. I begin to play with my watch - see what total time I was 1hr20mins. My brain goes into over drive. "Its a 20min descent from Lug to the gate. The best descent time is 16ish mins. I usually run it in 20mins... ooh shit oooh shhhhiiitttt. Thats the f**king record been broken by seconds".

(I covered the 4.9km to Lug in 28:36, with a previous best of 34:35..)

I tried to calm the elation I was now on. I wasn't running, I was floating across the ground. Running across the flat summit I was constantly checking my bearing. I couldn't afford to throw away this perfect run. I reached the rocks and took it gingerally. I did not want to smash myself now of all times. Slowly picking my way down through the rocks. I hit the nice boggy heather. I take off. I'm bouncing with each step. Across bog and peat hags and beautiful short heather. Its perfect. I was whipped back to my sences as I couldn't see a thing. It was still a white out and I hadn't reached the path. I got a little nervous but my compass said I was right. We had kissed and made up in Norway so I wasn't going to not trust it today. After what seemed like an eternity I popped out of the mist and hit the track at the same time. The entire valley openned up in front of me. A crystal clear day. It looked amazing. I took the rest of the descent at a fun descending pace - not quiet toying with death as I usually do, I could still see the line of sanity. I was floating down. I neared Camarahill and I waited for the kick in the teeth, but it never came. I hit lap again, but I with held myeself from looking at the watch. I didn't want to be tempted and risk everything. Down off Camarahill, skipping at this stage. Hit the gate, 1:21min off the record. I was feegin bouncing. On hitting the road, I wanted to go sub 7 for the last 2km. I got the finger out and upped my cadience. I didn't care what my HR did now, all the work was done. Rocked over the last 2km in 6:46. Ran past the statue, hit stop, screamed the usual crap, on a serious high. Looked around, no one there. It was kinda funny. After I came to my sences I looked over and saw Philip over in the car. Time check done. Gave me a coffee which I gladly took as I rambled on about my run. A few mins later, the CNOC car pulls in.

Seamus, been Seamus, jumps out and begins telling Niall, "I told ya, didn't I tell ya, I knew he'd be here". Needless to say the sambo was delicious.

The CNOC Team - (Tri) Niall McAlinden, Seamus (the boss) O'Boyle and me

I got down from Lug to Fentons, the 7km in 26:03. My previous best was +28mins. A good day on the mountain by all accounts. A challenge at the record looks more likely year, after year.

The record will fall, eventually. Its only impossible until its done.

Stone Cross to Lug title back where it belongs, in CNOC hands

Map is located here

Count down to CISM

For the past two weeks I've been training and racing in the Trondheim area of Norway. The majority of my trainings have been short enough but have tried to keep the speed high while looking to stamp out the small errors.

This week brought with it, the World Champs, but more importantly for me, The WOC Tour, my last chance to get some high quality training in before the World Military Orienteering Champs starting next week down in Kongsberg (close to Oslo). Kongsberg last held a major Championships back in 1978 where Pat Healy finished 48th.

Day One of the WOC Tour was a short long distance. I was kindly shadowed by Marcus Pinker who sat behind me for the run and apparently was hurting - he dislikes dropping contours apparently.

I was pretty happy with the run excluding one or two slips in the circle. After dinner Marcus explained just how many seconds I was leaking by not been aggressive enough in the terrain. This gave me some important things to think about for the up coming races.

Map quality isn't the best but is located here.

Day Two of racing was held on the Middle Qualification map from the previous day. The plan was to go out really hard and see what would happen. Needless to say I spiked the first control ouvit! Then got in a panic leaving the control, pulled a 180, corrected the 180 and ended up in the wrong marsh. Stupid mistake, apart from that and been slow coming down the steep slopes at the end it wasn't all that bad. Highlight of the day was Dav H making the Middle Distance Final.

Day 3 came the sprint. The plan was simple, go out hard and pick up the pace. I believed I could get a top 10 in the race in the Elite class. My run from the WUOC had me bursting with confidence. It was just a matter of picking up the map and running until I dropped.

Report on my attackpoint here and the map is here. To summarise. I was tanking it around running aggressively, slip on 4, ran someone over heading on the long leg to 5. Monstered around to 12, lack of oxygen made me get confused and miss 13 dropped 20sec. 14 to 18 were a matter of game face on as I was hurled abuse from the fort. I was on the perfect line to 19.... then I didn't see the buildings and paniced, completely freeked out and thought I was going wrong. If I had gone 10m further I would have been sorted, but no dice. Massive blunder. Ran home in 14th 1:04 down.

Our rest day say the WOC Long Distance Final. Needless to say we all got very excited over Nick and Niamhs runs. Great day out cheering on the two Irish Champions.

Day 4 was my last competition day before CISM. It was a 4.8km middle distance race that was used as my last test before Kongsberg. I went out hard and orienteered aggressively. I was taking straightish lines and attacking the circle. I had one small error in the circle at 5 and a massive error on 8, dropping 2.30. However I am taking more positives than negatives from the race. Coming in the run in Niamh got to return the abuse hurling with a very choice comment of "What would john downs think, come on colm, push it". Needless to say I smiled and accelerated :) Map is here.

All thats left now is to collect my washing from Longs, give Dav abuse in the Middle Final, give the Irish teams abuse in the Relay before jumping on a train to Oslo to meet up with the CISM Panel.

With a summer of high quality orienteering behind me, I'm excited about the last big challenge of the International season. Bring on Kongsberg!!

Norsk Style

NORWAY ROCKS!!!!

After a 11 hour road trip, taking in a 15km Line O on some sweet Mora terrain we ended up in the hilly world of Trondheim Norway.

Since I landed in Trondheim, its been a world of pain. Started off session one with a Sprint.... didn't have a clue. I felt as if I was getting slow so I did a class 2,1,30 on the rolling hills around Mikes house.

Today, we headed to the most open, runnable heaven I have ever had the pleasure of running on. It was awesome!! The short course I ran is here.

Tonight will probably be another sweet terrain session but we'll see how things play out. Things are shaping up for an EPIC World Military Orienteering Championships down by Oslo!

All trainings done will be posted on Attackpoint. Any interesting races will knocked up here

Now... if only I can find me a mountain race over here . . . .

Oringen 2010

I basically got destroyed by technical swedish forest.

Etape 1 - A disaster, couldn't hit a barn down.

Map here

Etape 2 - Middle distance, a lesson in how to read control descriptions.

Map here

Etape 3 - It was horrible. So horrible and so demolalised so I bailed out at control 6. I can't remember if I drew in my route, but I was an hour to 6.

Map here

Etape 4 - My best day by far - I remembered how to orienteer, the terrain was runable and I ended up in a train. We were motoring along, really had fun this day... because I could run!

Map here

Etape 5 - The chasing start at 15sec intervals.... it was crazy. It was extremely wet. I ended up to my waist in mud/water/rivers/ditches many a time. Didn't really have fun at all.

Map here

Oringen was cool..... but it was long and very tough. It drained me mentally and physically.

I reckon if your going to race Oringen hard - racing a world championships the previous week, its the worlds greatest idea. Twas an experiences to say the least.

Marsh, Contours and Forest

Been in Sweden for the past while. The orienteering is sweet!

The first day I landed in Nicks gav and just fell into bed. Pretty hot and humid.
Day two was a jog around the Bosom complex. Its part of the swedish sports training facilities thingy. It had a lot of stuff. Indoor track, massive gym, outdoor sprinting strip, soccer pitch (outdoor and indoor) and its beside the sea, on an orienteering map! I ran, jogged, walked around the Bosom map. Missed a few controls, found a few controls. In the afternoon I ended up on IFK's home map. I loved it. Not that technical but fun none the less.

The next afternoon, after watching the tour I did this training.

The training was set up by Theirry Gueorgiou, middle distance master. The basis of the course is to get the fundamentals of orienteering down to a tee in the one orienteering session - must be a bitch to do in OCAD!

As can be seen, I was crap. Contour only was a horror, can't do it, at all. But once I gave up on that and bailed out on taking a compass over nothingness I opted to tackle the control picking and I was pretty happy with it. If only we had one may like this in Ireland. The guys living in Sweden have no excuses for not destroying the rest of us.

The day before I headed north to Borlange, the location of the World Student Champs I ran the 2009 IFK Lid KM course. It went ok. Some good, some bad but overall I really enjoyed just been out on the map. (Neil scoffed when I told him I enjoyed it).

After this training I caught the train north with Nick. Friday was an easy day. Just a light jog around Borlange, bumped into some Kiwis, hotel room, food, sleep and chilling out. Neil and Niamh arrived and Team Ireland were all in one piece.

Saturday was my first look at Borlange terrain. It was tough. Very tough. Very physical. Roz told me back in september that it was going to be a sufferfest and she wasn't joking. I did a "short" training session and ended up been out for 90mins. Some of the course was nice, some not so nice. I reckon my problems will be in the control circle so just have a BFA (big feckoff attackpoint, last seen JWOC, Gothenburg) and it'll be grand.

The model event is tomorrow and things are heating up to be an epic week!

Revenge attack on Sweden has begun . . . .

World Students - the Good, the Bad and the Ugly

The Good.... WUOC Sprint

The Bad.... WUOC Middle

The Ugly.... WUOC Long

I'll start with the Ugly and work towards the sprint.

Day One of the World Students was going great, then I got worried that it was going well and this happened... or something like this anyways resulted in something like this....

The fail

So after that I hit the wall.

My report on my AP log can be read here and the map is here. Needless to say I was very disappointed with the run.

After the Long Distance, there was the Sprint. This was the race I was looking at all year after my MP at the Irish Champs... and also the reason I've been battling it out on the hills of late.

I was completely pumped for this race, but pumped in a calm sort of way.

I ran pretty cleanly for the entire race and was planning ahead and had good control flow. It really hurt. The worse bit of the race was that I had prepared mentally for the final hilly, grassy section. I was caught by suprise and suffered, I suffered badly!

Report from my training log is below.

I walked this...

The hills....

I really wanted a good race - this was kinda the race I was aiming for all year so I'm pretty happy that I avoided any massive fuck ups the have plagued all my international races. I would have liked to have no run the long yesterday and ran all out today but DIT wouldn't have liked that :P

Started off by going on the twenty min walk to the quarenteen... 3mins later we arrived! A ploy by the organisers maybe?

Warmed up and was pretty pumped. Let the nav decide the running speed and keep it cool, while flooring it....
Running out of the start, I found it difficult to realise which direction I was going in but got it sorted and picked a clean route, fell on my ass as I went over the contour. Kinda shocked me a bit as I wasn't expecting it at all - difference between spikes and stupidly light racers.
Two was straight forward, vaulted the fence, avoid the bus going past. 3,4 both easy route choices. The route to 5 reminded me of the WC in Finland last year, I cut the bridge tight, catching my singlet on the railing. (its still in good nick, slight dam).

5-6 was the shortest leg on the course, I ran by it, realised it was mine and had to back track, dropped 5sec I reckon. I didn't expect it to be so close at all.
Off to 7 around the building, heading to 8 I came back on myself. Leaving 8 was the fence crossing. As I came up to it the Finn who started behind me vaulted it cleanly - I, been ever so slightly shorted had to put my foot on it so I didn't polax myself.
10 involved another fence jump.... It looked small, but as I neared it kept changing size. Almost missed the jump but got over it in one piece.
Hitting 10 I was 1min down on Nick - he was monstering it!

Took a shaky route to 11, weaved a bit but caught the guy who started in front of me leaving the control. 12 was straight forward, leaving the control the Finn had caught me. I raced him to 13, punching at the same time. At 14 and 15 the 3 of us punched it together.

Leaving 15 my brain was fucked. I should have taken a split second to look at my map but I didn't so I took a fucked up route - going up and over 2 nasty spurs. Lost ~15sec maybe. Contoured around to the control and looked UP at control 17. It was a 40m long leg with 5 contours in it. Nasty stuff. Contoured around to no 18. Then ballsed 19 is well, dropping another 15-20sec. I should have run down thw spur but I ran down the wrong side of the fence, was forced to climb again before contouring around to the control. Hammered the run in. Beat someone by 0.5sec.... happy with that :)

Finished 47th which is my best international result by far. Possibly with a near perfect run I could have been top 30 but perfect doesn't happen in O.
Happy with the days efforts.

I'm slowly getting to where I want to be . . .

Map with route here

The Middle is best summed up by Nicks email to the O Group...

"Today saw the competition turn back towards the forest. It was the

middle distance and the team were hoping to carry some of the good
from the sprint into the hilly forest of Gustafs. The weather was
showery which made the already long wait in the quarantine that bit
longer.
Colm was the first to head out of the Irish. He never really got it
going as the hilly, tough, and technical terrain was not his cup of
coffee. Again showing that the hours of technical training on the
curragH is only really suited to the curragH. One large mistake plus
some smaller ones saw him drop from a potential top 80 finish to an
87th place.
Niamh was the first and last of the irish girls to head out. She
started off slowly and safely, but on the first long leg was thrown
off by a indistinct track which caused major problems for many other
athletes. She managed to keep going and finished in 62nd place which
she was not totally happy with. We had to keep a safe distance. On a
positive note she is feeling that her preparation on getting back on
track for her main goal in 2 weeks,  the world champs in Trondheim.
Nick was a last of the Irish to head out, never really got the body
and legs going during the warm up and knew it would be a tough battle
out in the forest physically. The first few controls on the first hill
were met with some wobbles but was still fighting heading towards the
final part of the course.  A large mistake on the third last control
ended any hope of him getting a respectable and  similar result to the
sprint race.

The Irish team has now finished there competitions for the week a day
early as we do not have a relay team in both classes to compete in the
relay, which is a pity as the relay is the often the most fun and
interesting race to run. Hopefully in two years a large enough team
will meet the "selection criteria" to be able to run this great
competition.

On behalf of the runners, I would like to thank Neil for his work (or
lack thereof) as team manager. His enthralling and informative team
meetings have prepared the team for each of the days challenges ahead.
However his team's staple diet of potato salad has been met with mixed
success.

Nicolas

Mud and Mist on the Mount

My third and the final race in the Leinster Champs.
This race was always going to be my going away race before I left for scandi for the international races. The prep for this race was a 3,000m track race in Santry on the Wednesday (only 9:22).

Arrived at the base of mount leinster completely pumped after a 0530 start. As things usually go, if your up before 7 its going to be an epic day.
For the first time all year, the weather is on my side, and none of the big guns have shown up. Mist, rain, wind but warm enough to ware only a singlet. The plan was simple. Pace the climb myself, ignore everyone else and burst my gut on the descent to claim the first losers place in the leinster champs.

Start line, Jane makes it clear that a rain jacket is needed at minimum or your'll be DSQ'd. Seemed like a fair call to me.

Start line, 12:00 and we were gone. Gerry Brady set the pace going up the fire road. I sat in behind. The pace was pretty easy but I wasn't going to do anything stupid (yet).

I was surrounded by North Laois runners. I was vaguely intimidating at first - then I looked down at the shows there were wearing and I resisted the temptation to laugh, road runners for a bog. I'll have fun at the top! I also noticed that none of them had rain jackets - so they were out of the running anyways. After helping Brian on FRG, I was in no mood today to share a helping hand to anyone. Today, this mountain belonged to me.

We tipped along up the road, at the bend I took a glance over my shoulder and the pack was well spaced out, looking down at my wrist, I was just in time to see my Garmin battery die. This was going to be a purest run.

I felt pretty comfortable as we climbed the fire road. The first group was reduced to myself and two North Laois runners. Up and up. One of them panics at a junction and does a bit of a double take. We leave the fire road and we're onto a grassy trail. The lead is chopping and changing. At this point I decided to take the lead. My pace stays the same but they lads are probably sliding in the road shoes.

At the S bend I take a look back. I have a guy on my shoulder and a gang coming around the bend. They don't look comfortable. We pass Izzy and she gives encouragement as always. Arriving at the rocky section of trail I study as much of it as I can to give myself an advantage for picking my line for the descent. If I have a group on my shoulder at this point on the way down, aim right and sprint, on the verge there is some softer ground if I want to bail out. Things are looking good.

The NLR (north laois runner, don't know his name, no results up) makes a break for it. He's only faking. He comes back to me pretty rapidly. Off the trail and onto a more cut up section. I decided to see what he has and upped the pace for a few seconds. I get by him and open up a gap. He's unhappy in the sloppy stuff. I'd use this to my advantage at every opportunity further up the climb. I still felt really fresh. It was an enjoyable mountain run so far. As we climbed further we were surrounded in mist. Looking behind all I saw was white. The race was between me and NLR.

We reached the main ridge line and I put the head down. I was going to be first to the cairn. I didn't care. Today was my day. I was bouncing through the slop. I could hear the nlr's feet splash on the ground. This was my marker to where he was behind me. The wind had picked up at this stage. The visibility was down - I felt at home. We continued to climb. We appeared to be climbing for ages. We changed places every now and then but the pace remand high. I still felt comfortable. It was a strange sensation, knowing in my head that I could take someone on the descent and been completely calm, completely in control of the situation.

We reached a smaller steeper climb and descent, I put the boot down to see would nlr follow me. I opened a gap straight away on the descent. This only boosted my confidence. He closed the gap on me again and sat behind me, allowing me to take the wind. I was convinced he was hurting bad.

Running across a wet trackless section and up through a few more peat hags. The mist was still down. Nrl made a move. I followed, he opened a gap which I struggled to close. The gap was 5m. A seed of doubt creeped into my mind.

What happenes if he was bluffing. What happens if he's making his move now. This pace is beginning to hurt a little. This is actually maddness. Your in shorts and singlet up a mountain in the rain been dropped.

My brain countered it pretty well - Yea, we're on a mountain in the rain in shorts and singlet - but we ain't been dropped. Where are you in the LC standings - your fucking second. The only reason your second is because your a nice guy. Therefore, your number one. You had Brian beaten but you didn't put the foot it. Yea he's climbing well, but look at what you have to come down through - no one will hack it at pace. You can give this guy 10mins at the top and you'd catch him on the line. Look at him now, he's struggling through the peat, his line is completely wrong for this terrain. He's watching the flags, not the ground. Finish this, NOW.

My legs suddenly felt as if I started running 30secs previous. I let him have he's 5m. It gave me a chance to survey the ground in front. Brendan comes down and says 3mins to the top. Climbing climbing climbing. We hit the peat hags, I go forward and make my move at the metal wire holding the mast up against the wind. First to the road, we go different sides of the big puddle. I make the turn up around the corner of the fence first. I can see the cairn silhouetting out of the mist. I look back, see I have a small gap and put the boot it. First to the cairn, a shake of the hand from Graham (he looks crazier than I expected, probably isn't helped that he's sitting at a cairn on top of a mountain in the wind, rain and mist) and I turn for the descent.

The rocks coming off the cairn move slightly, I get a small fright but I reach solid ground and take off. I'm in my own world. Its me versus the mountain and I wasn't in a mood to lose. I reach the road and sprint straight down the middle. Through the puddle and dive off the road into the peak hags. I run straight, as hard as I can. I was in a flat out madding sprint through the peat. Only one route choice, straight. I up my pace and its just perfect fluid descending. I was so focused I don't even remember passing runners. It was just a matter of driving the pace as much as I could. I had to slow once as a climbing runner attempted to avoid me but stepped into my line.

I remember a couple of rocky sections that I just danced down. My rain jacket was bouncing on my back. I ripped it off over my head and ran with it in my hand. On reaching that flat trackless, featureless section I was no longer runner, it was more floating. I was wondering where Brendan was, and as if I knew he was there he appeared out of the mist. Up the small rocky climb, getting a hand from the wind as it pushed me up, around the massive rock feature and then battling into the wind on the short drop.

I reached the turn off from the ridge and I knew I had the race won. I splashed happily through the puddles. I was just going through the motions. My mind began to drift. I had a sudden urge to go to the jacks. I was racing past knee deep heather. Suddenly realised I was no longer running. I came to my senses and realised I was face down on a rocky trail, I lay there confused for a split second. Not entirely sure what had happened. I was shocked. Had I fallen! I never fall. Of course you didn't fall I told myself. Then why are you lying on the ground... oh yeah! This is weird! I stood up, did a 360 degree turn, realised I had stopped running and took off again. I felt kinda dizzy and was concerned that I may have actually fallen and hurt myself badly. My head was ringing. I decided that I did have to stop and go to the toilet. I ran off the trail by 20m or so and attempted to untie my shorts. After a few seconds I couldn't untie them so I decided I'll go when I get down. Back to the track and I still had that weird sensation of dizziness.

I felt my toe hit a rock and I was whipped back to my senses as I hit the ground hard. Cutting the left side of my body. This second fall snapped me out of my daydream state. I was suddenly hypersensitive. I paniced, I had lost a lot of time. I was back on my feet in a flash. My rain jacket in my hand saved it from been gouged open by the rocks, but was now saturated from the stream/track mix. I had reached the section of rocks, stuck to the line and flew down. At the S bend again, I looked behind and all I saw was empty mountain side. I knew my gap was still big but I was still nervous of been caught on the fire road. Down the grassy bank. Opening up my stride. The first track junction.... still running hard. I took another glance behind me, I could see plenty of fire road and no runners on it. Perfect. Down through the first bend, second bend in the road. Out of the forest and I could see the farm house. Game, set, match O'Cnoic. I upped the pace anyways. I was flying down the road. The usual thoughts went through my mind. I was delighted with the win.
About 200m for the line I let out a scream in triumph. According to Izzy, she heard me scream, went, Oh, sounds like Colm. I think he's probably won - she was in her car in the far corner of the field.

I rocked across the line in 59:59 and through my rain jacket on the ground in the puddle. Spend a few seconds shouting and cursing everything in the valley. I was pretty pleased with first loser in the Leisnter Champs for a first year mountain running. I was even more happy when I heard I had finally managed to take a record :)

Learned a valuable lesson on the mountain - Don't fall, you'll only hurt yourself.

Count Down

With the weather set to lash rain this weekend, it of course turns out that I've scratched Lug from my racing list. With the count down timer firmly on the World Uni Orienteering Champs in Sweden its time to cut down on the beasting sessions and to get focused.

This means attempting to relax and cut down on the distance been pumped into my legs and focus more on quality sessions. I was down on the track last week chatting to the boss and we've sorted out some sessions to have me (hopefully) flying come the 19th.

The two big sessions are a 3,000m on the track on Wednesday, followed by Mount Leinster on Sunday, then its off to Scandi for a few days of map before the racing begins.

A lot of my runs recently have been with map in hand in the mid day heat just visualising the races and preparing myself for what will be an intense sprint and suffer feast of a long.

I've never been this physically strong or fast before so I'm hoping that it will enable me to orienteer better with a clearer mind. Only time will tell.

Following the World Uni's, it'll be a month until the World Military Champs in Norway at the end of August. But before that, the Big Mountain races of the Galtymore (allegedly the toughest race on the calender) and the World Trial are on the menu.

It'll be a pain filled 2 months! Bring it on :)

In The Hunt for Redemption

Brian Furey may now be crowned the Leinster Champ but I sure as hell made him work for it.

The morning dawned early, 0700 is an ungodly time for an alarm to go off. Up coffee, rush to pack kit and out the door. Got dumped off at the Red Cow and luas into town, followed by a rasher sambo, picked up by Shane and off to the steep steep slopes of Glenmalure. Again.

We arrived and I was disgusted. Not a cloud in the sky again. It was hot and zero wind. It was going to be a tough day at the office. Bouncing around the start there was the usual gathering of hikers shiver. Brian, Jason, Aidrian, it would be fast at the start. I got changed, slapped on the factor 30 (missed a small bit on my shoulders) and got pumped. Running up the hill away from the start of the race, I got confused and couldn't work out where we were meant to be going. I decided I'd sit in and wait. It would be a long way to the top.

Back on the start line, 4mins till start. I dumped my left over pre race water onto my buff, necked what was left and went over a few scenarios in my head. Cover the breaks if they look serious, leave em go if I know I can reel em in slowly.

And we were off, 1200 on the button as usual. The nervous feeling has set in. I was keeping my wits about me - people are known to do crazy things in the heat!

I was covering Brian and Jason. From Carrauntoohil, they were the guys I had my focus on. We tipped along the road until the turn off across cleared forest. I upped the pace slightly and happly skipped across the felled area. Up past the building and I froze, I wasn't meant to be leading, I didn't know where to go! Brian ends up beside me, he looks at me as if to say "your the navigator, which way do we go!!", my look is a blank one, I had no idea. Neither of us is sure where to go, Jason is beside us. The 3 of us have stopped like stunned rabbits in a set of headlights. Zoran breaks left and we take off after him. Up a small track, following Pauls well placed tapes. Zoran, Jason, Brian and myself. It has a ring of the Euro Trial to it. Up a narrow steep track, not much space to pass. No need to do anything crazy yet - thats for the descent...

We climb up the switch backs, passing hikers. A few nice roots on the ground. The climb is pretty constant but its all runnable. After what seems like an age we pop up onto the fire road. I look up away from Brians heels and take in my surroundings, I wanted to spot a feature for when we'd turn back in on the descent. The ground was more open. A large earthbank with a boulder. Bingo. Can't miss a boulder 1oft in the air.

The pace ups, I focus on Zoran and slowly set about reeling him in slowly. No point making a sprint and wasting myself. Zoran is passed as Brian and I battle it out. Brian keeps the pace steady. I sit right on his shoulder. I want him to know I'm going to be right behind him on every step he takes on route to the highest point in Leinster. At present there are alot of bodies around us. Taking that sneaky glance over my shoulder I can only see Jasons top but I know that there is more than that. Too many clattering of feet and studs on the fireroad. The road contuines to go up, suddenly it dips dramatically - take note for the descent, have something left.

The fire road eventually runs out along with the clattering of studs. The sound of the studs is now a faint distance sound. Up the gravel track, feet sliding a wee bit. Not too worried. Up the final piece of track and we're into the serious climb. Brian keeps a constant pace and gets a gap. I settle into my own slower climbing pace and begin to plug away. The aim is to not give away ground. Keep it simple stupid. Turn the legs over. Jason passes me by and hangs onto Brian. I'm sitting in 3rd and the climb isn't letting up. I'm down to a hard walk. Up in front so are Brian and Jason. Possibly the past 3 weeks racing is taking its toll. I have to keep them as close as possible on the climb. Can't afford to lose too much ground. As we go up, Des catches and passes me. My focus is still on Brian and Jason. I've never seen Des, his shoes don't look good for the descent. I'd take him at the turn.

The climb flattens out (550m up). I open up my stride and get the shuffle going as try in vain to open up my stride into a run. Upfront, Jason has legged it off across the marsh. He's flaking it. Des follows. I look up and catch a glimps of Brian off to my right heading for the spur. I assumed Brian recced the route so I follow him off right. Jasons route is tempting, a brave one. I put my faith in Brian and go after him.

As I chase Brian, I see him struggle in the rough terrain. I suffer up each step, its just like that bitch of a climb that O planners love to throw in for no good reason. I can see Brian hurting so I put the head down and get on with it. Just getting one foot in front of the other. My route choice of up the spur, contour into the re entrant and then up the "wall" seems like a good one.

I shuffle up the spur. I look behind me and I see Aidrian about 100m back. Too close for comfort. I force my legs to get running. I have no idea where Brian has gone. He drifts from my mind as I get stuck into the job at hand. As I climb I see a ROAR top ahead. I have a pulling feature. I make a bee line for it, assuming Paul Mahon will give me dog abuse. Turns out to be John Shiels clicking away like mad as usual. As I near John, I hear none other than Don shout out abuse from above.

I run hard wanting to get a gap on those behind me. I reach the wall. Its fecking vertical. I can't wait to come down this! I start into it. Its one foot in front of the other. I can't see any other climbers, I wonder where Brian, Jason or Des have ended up...

By this stage I'm using my hands. My legs are coping well but my brain needs blood. Don shouts up from below "get a move on, your meant to be proud to run in a CNOC top". This makes me get the finger out and I up the anti as much as I can. My hands are grabbing at the tuffs of grass as I use every means necessary to drag my sorry ass up the wall. In hindsight it has a sence of pure beautiful maddness to it.

As I near the plateau, I look left and see Des flying up along the flat(er) ridge coming up from Arts Lake. I force my legs to get running as it flattens out almost immediately. Up in front I only see hikers. I wonder where Jason and Brian are. I can't see anyone. That split second of elation. First to summit - SWEET! I have a spring in my step as I bounce towards the cairn. Over to my right, I see a runner flying. It appears to be a black top. I can't believe it. I grit my teeth, put my head down and force myself to run harder. The mystery runner does a lap of the cairn and begins to descend towards me. My thoughts are one of, whoever you are, you better descend hard, because I'm hunting for you. As the mystery runner nears I realise its Brain Furey. He is bouncing. He looks comfortable.

This look of calmness incises me. I gun it for the cairn. As I run the lap of the rocks, hikers seem horrified. I get a nice smile inside - can't let it show on my exteriar. Its war face time.

I sprint off the plateau. Jason comes around the South Prism as I head for the drop. I want, need, have to catch Brain. Losing again wasn't an option. For descending you have to believe you are the best to have good technique. As I hurtled off the flat summit, heading for the drop. I was oozing with confidence. Brian was mine. I didn't care how hard I had to run.

I looked up and spotted my sheep - my marker for where to descend. At first people might think thats crazy, sheep move! Well my logic was that the runners were coming up to the left of the sheep, so that means that the sheep would go further right, away from the runners. By aiming for the sheep, this shortened my descent distance.

I hit the vertical drop and I let go. I was keeping my weight back so if I fell I'd only slide on my arse. My legs turned over as quick as I could. My eyes began to water so much I couldn't pick out my foot placings. I used my sweat covered buff to try wipe my eyes clear - it did enough that I could see.

I could see Brian further down the slope. I was gaining on him. I could feel my legs take a hammering as I dropped. Studs at there limit. Waiting until the slope was no longer 80% so I could open up my stride and let it loose. I aimed for the ridge and ran hard. On reaching the ridge I went to its tip and let gravity do its job. I passed a marsh I remembered on the way up. I hung a right after the marsh and ended up in the re entrant, the same one I chased Brian up. This time, he was only half way down. He was mine. By the time he reached the bottom, I was ontop of him. I went for the river and got across before him. On the far side of the river, I got cragged out. It annoyed me as I should have remembered it from the way up.

I ran around and began to push the pace. I had to get to the second drop first. Get my preferred line coming down. I was bouncing through the marshy bogy crap. It was a perfect day to be shin deep in crap.

I made a bee line for the tip of the river, where it vanished from sight over the edge into the Fraughen Rock Glen. I was making good progress. I looked up and saw Brian, he was licking it along the track I was hoping to hit. A few minor expletives to myself and I made my way across to the track. I was on his shoulder as he begun the descent. This was make or break. I tracked his foot steps the entire way down. Picking 6 steps ahead and keeping the steady fall controlled. I didn't feel as comfortable as I did coming down the wall but I was keeping up with Brian. The race was gone purely tactical.

I noticed Brian almost take a slide on a root, took note and avoided it. We dropped down to the final flatter section and it was game on. Brian hit the rough track and he upped the pace. I tried to go with him but the legs wouldn't/couldn't respond.

I attempted to make deals and barters with them but they were having none of it. My legs were just heavy. No spring in them. With out the bounce I usually have at the end of a race I was paranoid as hell that Jason or Aidrian would be hot on my heels, ready to pounce at my first sign of weakness.

I kept the gap constant between Brian and myself, or as constant as I could. He seemed much more relaxed, bounding along. He disappeared around the final bend of the fire road. A few seconds later I went around and began to drop down. The sight that met my eyes shocked me. Brian was running back up the track towards me. He yelled wheres the track. It my shock I said keep going. Its miles down. As we descended side by side. I was looking out for my boulder. Brian was looking for the tapes. Catching a glimps of the boulder, I looked left and saw the track. Brian almost went in too early, I gave him a nudge to keep going and he took the lead into the switch backs. He took a tumble, bounced up quickly and resumed the descent. I was about 1m back. He had maybe 20-30m on me before his error.

We dropped down through the first turn, then the second, onto the final piece of track. I catch a glimps of Izzy leg it off to tell Paul that runners were on route. I followed the tapes wide and ran back through the felled stuff the same way as I went out. Brian went straighter.

He got out onto the fire road first for the last 200m. I was just behind him. He kicked. I tried to go with him but the legs were shot. Completely empty. I gave chase but he wanted it more. 2nd place, 5seconds down.

If I said nothing, and got into the switch backs first, who knows - maybe I could have set up a grand final on Mount Leinster, winner takes all. However this year it wasn't to be.

For the Leinster Champs next year, I'll be stronger and there will be a hunger. Bring on more open mountain routes!!

My Runners Up Mug :)

(coffee wasn't included)

Winning feels great, but its your loses that motivate you and get you out the door when its the last thing you want to do. To lose every now and then keeps the hunger alight.

Lugnacoille, Take 2, July 3rd. We'll see who's running scared.

Once wounded, Twice as dangerous.

Setting a Wrong, Right.

I was gutted after last Sunday. I didn't want to orienteer, I didn't want to run so instead I went out on the roadie and hammered it. After 4 days of biking I began to get over it and hit the tank hills on the Curragh for a session. I ran some hard, some easy. Jogged home. Didn't feel to amazing. Friday night I got my first good nights sleep of the week. Lounged around Saturday before heading out to the Curragh again for an easy run to see how the body was going. I was floating. I was taking it easy but I was floating on a runners high. I began to get a buzz. The adrenaline began to flow as I thought about Sunday morning. A chance to redeem myself for the horror of the previous week. It was payback. Not to Brian. Not to Peter. Not to Jason. To Myself. I had to race this hard to prove to myself that Carrauntoohil was just a blip in the system.

Sunday morning dawned and I felt rough. Generally a good sign as I necked a coffee. Waking up I felt that nervous feeling eating breakfast. It was going to be a good day at Crone again. I could feel it.

Bopped into Crone carpark, out the door and began my warm up after having a chat to Gerry on what to expect. Jogging up the road, just after the switch back, the climb up should be just here..... or not. Continuing up the road, I knew I'd gone past it but I really didn't want to get straight into a beast of a climb without been warmed up. After a km I turn back and headed up the climb. And what a climb it was. It keeps on going. Relentless. Up and up. Cross a track and its up again. Its only 200m further but its a murderous 200m. Out onto the fire road and I know exactly where I'm going to attack from. Then its a long descent before a steeper section that I'm more accustomed to slogging up, and down to the end of the lap. Its one hell of a loop. And we had to knock out 3 of them. No where to hide. It was guts out the entire way. Pacing was also going to have a massive effect on the race out come. Go out to hard and you'd know about it.

On the start line there was about 20 brave runners ready to be tested by Gerry's newest course. 30sec count down. You can get a feel for the nervous tension that was building. 2,1 and we're off. Instantly the pack splits in 2. The "road runners" flack it off up the track while IMRA's finest sit back and take it handy. We know what's coming up.

Up around the switch backs and the gap stays solid. The roadies hit the climb. In the chase for IMRA, Brian is leading. I'm sitting as tight to his shoulder as I can get. Jason makes a break for the climb, clearly not wanting to be boxed in. I try to get in front of Brian by jumping over the ditch. He side shuffled and I missed my chance. We start climb 1. I sit on his shoulder and look at his feet. One foot in front of the other. Keep the legs ticking over. Climbing steadily. Beginning to feel the burn. Jason still leads, Brian on his shoulder and me on his. I had one of the Healys on my shoulder (i still don't know which is which!). The posé pass the first road runner. On crossing the road its onto a steeper section. The guys that went off hard are now walking. It puts a smile on my face. We continue to climb. Across the river and wall and up the final section. One of the Healys passes me out. I'm not too concerned. Its along way to go. We drop off the climb onto the fire road.

I try to open the pace as quickly as I can and I begin to reel runners in. Up in front I can see the Crusiaders top of Jason. He's my target. I passed Healy and we get working together to reel em in. In the distance the roadies have taken off. The distance between Healy and myself, and Jason and Brain is closing. With 2 more climbs to go I'm careful not to push too hard. As the climb levels out and begins to drop I turn the legs over as quick as I can. I have to be on Brians shoulder for the 2nd climb.

At the first corner Jason and Brian have a small gap. I take the corner hard and drive up the pace. I catch and run along side Jason before moving onto Brian. I take a tight inside line and get by him. Hanging a left I fling myself down the steeper section of climb. I think I got a gap but I'm not sure.

I cross the line for the first time. 15:52. One lap down. Two more to do. I try maintain leg speed as I near the base of the climb. Mary says I'm 5th as I start the climb. I was shocked. How the hell did I end up 5th. Where did everyone else go!

I got stuck into the second climb. It became a mental battle of attrition. Run on the flatter bits. Walk the steeper sections. Brian bounces past. Currently leading the chase for King of the Mountains (i can see why) I try to latch on. I just put one foot in front of the other. The climb just keeps going.

As I suffer up I can hear Jason gaining on me, followed by a Tullamore guy (John). I know I'm hurting but I just keep it going. I get past by the two on the steep section at the top. Only once more up this climb. As we reach the final section, I give Jason a push on the back and tell him to get back running as quickly as possible once we hit the track. I really wanted to catch and drop the Tullamore runner. On reaching the track we upped the pace and ran along side John. I opened the pace, concluding that I needed a big gap going into the final climb as I was suffering on the ascents. On coming down the final road, Brain (Hill, not Furey) was running in the mens junior race. I began to scream at him. Telling him to get the finger out and stick it to the Mullinger Harriers runner who had one hell of an attitude problem. He was jogging, walking. Complaining about his ankle. When I yelled at Brian he took off. I ran along side the now sprinting Harriers runner, continuity shouting at Brian to "bury him".

I cut inside of the Harriers runner and he gave me a push on the back. I kept the elbows to myself (even though I wanted to deck him) and focused on blitzing the steeper descent. I hammered it down the descent and he attempted to follow my suicidal sprint. I felt a hand on my back as he gave me a shove and a whimpering followed by much complaining about "my ankle". I'm still not sure if he expected me to stop when he was clearly fine and was only suffering from a serious ego problem. Brian continued to hammer the pace - with my continued abuse following him down the mountain as I hurtled towards the line.

Apparently the Harriers runner sat down ~100m from the end complaining it was too sore to continue. Personally I would have left him there. He had no clue about the etiquette that exists in IMRA of letting faster runners descend. I was glad I made him suffer on the descent. The is a difference between road/track and mountain. (I have strong opinions on this but I'd have to mark my blog as mature content)

As I crossed the line for the second time I knew I was hurting. On reaching the climb I knew I'd somehow have to catch the Riocht runner and/or Brian Furey if I wanted selection. He had 17sec on me at the finish line. I knew it was a very tall order.

I began to focus on my climbing, running and walking. Up ahead I could see the Riocht runner walking. I could here John breathing heavy. He had cut the gap very quickly. I wondered if Jason was with him. I could potentially lose two places. I put the head down and continued up. I could hear Gerry yelling at runners as they climbed.

Crossed the road and I took a sneeky glance behind. Its was only John, Jason had dropped off the pace. Up the final climb. I didn't push myself to the limit, I knew I still had a hard downhill to go. Just before the wall, he went past me. I tucked in behind him and hung on. Wanting to be as close as possible on the fire road. He hit the road and upped the pace and got a gap. I tried to up the pace but I was really hurting. I chased him, wanting to be on his shoulder when we hit the descent.

He had a gap on me going into the descent. Maybe 15m. I set about reeling him in. I pushed and pushed. He went around the bend and almost ended up in the trees - losing his rhythm slightly I got closer to him. I knew I was running out of time. The gap was staying constant. I knew he was flat out. Dropped down through the next cross roads. The gap is still the same. I tried to up the pace again. My legs were at there limit. I hit the steep descent hard. My balance was at its limit. I was glad I wore my talons on the lose rock. I had closed the gap ever so slightly. John had thrown himself down it. The gap was still the same. Taking the last bend tight I grit my teeth and went for it. The gap was closing ever so slightly. I was running out of time. I was running at my physical limit. It was infuriating not to have that extra gas to go 2:00min/km. The 10k had taken it out of me. John crossed the line. I drove across the line anyways. Looking for at least a good percentage.

Really happy with the run. I ran a good tactical race. Pushed it pretty much the majority of the way. Maybe I saved myself on the climb a little too much but I knew I had to go up it 3 times and it was followed by a punishing 2.3km descent. I finished 2:41 down on the winner and 56sec down on 4th place (and European Team spot). Apparently it looks good for the Irish Team for Snowdon anyways :) Happy days. I was also pleased that I was the 2nd "IMRA" runner home. Brian ran a great race to finish 3rd. Solid climbing - I wonder will someone beat him to the top of Lug. I for one will be looking for all 10 KOM points....

Bring on Fraughen Rock Glen!

(i'll lash up pics and stuff when there up)