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.
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