Dropping the O'Boyle

Race 2 of my post exam sufferfest/getting back to normal. After beasting a 6km mass start orienteering event on tuesday night, head to head racing against fellow CNOCers and struggling out of bed wednesday morning, i knew the Scarr hill run would be bordering on epic. What was also playing through my head was that our newly signed CNOC monster of Niall McA would be missing tonight so I had to get my racing spot on if CNOC were going to take two races on the trot.

The two CNOC cars pulled into the carpark one after another bang on 1900. We'd have a team in mix again with a selection of guys to choose from, Shea, Roar, Conor (MJ), Brian (MJ), Edd and myself. I felt as if we could pull it off. As i bailed out of the car, my legs felt pretty rough. I thought to myself, your goina be feeling a hell of a lot rough later on. With a sadistic smile on my face and a mug of coffee in my had I bounce down to the reg to get read to lock and load.

Warmed up with Seamus, running up the hill. We wanted to see how far we had to go before we got a bit of a flat to burn it. 1 km of up at the start. Note to self, don't do anything stupid. Take it handy at the start. On the way down we did the usual beasting to get the legs ready for the punishment and to remind the brain to wake up. If it likes all the body parts attached when we finish it was time to start firing a hell of a lot faster. On the way down, I bailed to the left to do some strides before Shea and myself dropped down to the start, grabbing a drop of water from the random tap. It was good, cold and refreshing - the opposite to what was about to happen.

The start was slightly manic - people everywhere and no one backing up. After a few mins we were all on the start line. The race director begins to yell out the race instructions - last thing he mentioned was for slower runnings to left faster runnings through. It amused us in the front as we were the only ones that heard it.
From looking around the only members of the Rathfarm team I could see was Peter and Mike. CNOC may be clear in the team race.

Race started off and there was a bit of banter between Eoin, Peter and myself about race tactics (i know, during a race, twas shocking). Peter goes, so can you deal with this colm...and blasts off up the hill. I couldn't help myself reply ,"tried it before on Prince Williams, didn't really work".

Needless to say the laughter died down fairly rapidly and we got things under way. I sat on Eoins shoulder. He climbed steady while I just sat there and waited. Stick to the plan - don't be a muppet! Up the rocky track and Peter maintains the same gap he made when he accelerated. Tristain was beside him. It'd be interesting to see how they race together.

When climbing I'm usually looking around me to see who's with me and who I may have to go with on the descent. This week it was just about pacing myself up the climb and not going too hard and dying on the way up. With Carrauntoohil just around the corner I wanted to nail the climb perfectly. During the first km, the only thing I really remember was a little bit of blue on the tip of the heel of Eoins runner. I must admit that the thought went through my mind of talking a photo of it after for my blog. Twod be funny.

After about 900m ish the climb began to level out. Peter and Tristan upped the pace. Eoin state constant so I was forced to up the anti and try close the gap. I ran beside him for a small bit but then opened the pace up a bit and wanted to get some breathing space. I hit the bend onto the main track up scar. I felt my studs slip on the gravel. Got a bit of a fright but I had a small gap. I didn't look behind me, I could no longer hear his heavy breathing so I knew I had a gap. It was a matter of upping the pace, but not so much that I over cook it.

Running alot the small rise I could see the gap closing between Peter and myself, Tristin had pace but Peter seemed much more content on the climbing sections. He recent burst of high altitude training in the swiss alps did wonders for his already awesome climbing endurance.

I plugged my way up the track. Trying to keep the effort constant. I knew that running at a constant effort would get me up faster than beasting it off at the start and dying within the first few kilometres.

As I went past the junior turn around point I was feeling great. I had found my rythem. Up and up, the gap stays constant. Peter and Tristain were battling away, Peter showing his strength but Tristain showing his pace. It would get interesting at the turn around. I just kept plugging away. Eoins heavy breathing was now a distant memory. I must have had enough of a gap. Sweet. My concern was Seamus. He had paced himself to perfection the previous week. I was worried. I knew I had to keep in constant and not over cook. And most important. Don't show an inch of pain. Look strong no matter how much pain I was in. Break him mentally.

I reached a smaller rocky section and I pushed a little harder the usual up it. Just bounced up it but once I reached the flatter area I knew something was wrong. B***s. I over cooked it. F**** F**** F****. Trying not to panic, I just turned the legs over. Keep moving up and try to recover. The climb was now about recovering, going easy enough to flush out the gank from my legs but fast enough to stay in front of Shea and Eoin.

(Chatting to Eoin afterwards, he knew I had over cooked it a fraction. He saw my legs do a slight pause - and knew he had me.)

As my pace slowed, I began to hear a faint breathing behind me. I knew he had closed the gap. I just kept at it. Pretend I was fine. He was on my shoulder and ran past. I attempted to keep up, but my legs well like "ooh no you don't - we demand fair working conditions, we're on strike". This attituide of my body didn't go down well. I began to try the carrot and stick approach on my body. Lying to it, saying the top is just over the next peak. My foolish body believed me. I felt the pace slowly begin to pick up and crawl back in Eoin. We went across the wall. I ran around the big puddle and got my rythem back. Eoin was slowly coming back to me. Inch by inch. I knew I'd be on top of him by the summit.

Up over one summit, down the craggy bit on the far side. I felt my muscles tense on the descent. Rocky roller coaster to the top. I say a lone body standing on the horizon. Summit marshel? I assumed the peak was the one after.

I just kept the legs ticking over. I was closing on Eoin. I was still relentlessly working for every inch. I could see Peters white singlet up ahead. Depending on how far the summit was, I reckoned I could have him is well. Down again and then attacking the next small hill. My mind was solely focused on Eoin.

Dropping off the last of the hills I looked up and saw Peter and Tristain circle the rock. I dropped off the last hill and kept the legs turning. I had the hard work done. As I was half way up the final rise, Peter and Tristain came past me, they both looked to be hurting. Eoin hits the cairn, I do the lap and its game on. (Are you meant to go left or right??)

I come off the peak hard, wanting to put a bit of a gap between myself and the chasing runners. As I descended I noticed that I had a bigger gap on 5th than Peter had on me. This meant that I could be caught by the surely hard chasing Seamus.

On crossing the first flat section I pushed hard, wanting to get as close to Eoin as possible. It was no dice. He was gunning the pace. Hitting the climb Dan Morough yelled something, I was bordering on obsessed. Climbing and descending, climbing and descending. Trying to close the gap. I knew I had to catch him before the gate.

I was trying to stick to the faster sections of track. Soft ground where it didn't matter if I took a spill. I was stumbling at stages as I tried to get every centimetre closer to Eoin.

I could no longer look at just where my foot would land. I was concerned of killing a climbing runner - been hit by 60kg at +30 km/hr is going to hurt, no matter who you are.

My apologies to all those that I screamed at - if you couldn't make it out I said it consisted of "Excuse me, I can't stop -thank you" or that's what I meant :P

As the runners thinned out I could up the pace again. I began to feel the flow where your not running, the floating sensation of where your body is gliding down the slope in one constant fluid movement. Eyes watering, with the occasional stumble that snaps you back to the reality of the fact that your hurtling down a mountain as fast as your legs can turn over.

The beautiful view of a sun kissed mountain side.... scarred by that white singlet bouncing in front of me.

I hit the flat section and it was just a matter of turning the legs over. Eoin had secured a gap on the descent so it was unlikely I'd catch him. Plugging away I knew I had about 5mins left of running.

On turning the corner to begin the final drop to the finish , I took my first sneaky glance behind me for the first time all day - I knew I had a gap and I reckoned it was enough. Apparently Seamus was leading the chase pack, baring down upon me at pace.
When I looked back I didn't see individual runners, I just saw a group. According to Shea, I upped the pace.

The final section of the descent was along a hard packed rutted track. I skipped from one side to the other, attempting to find the softest ground. I was still giving chase but I knew the gap was too big to close. Coming up to the gate by the Wicklow Way, I upped the pace and could feel my studs wanting to give way again, it didn't agree with the stupidly sharp turn I was taking. Down the drop and through the gate. Eoin just in front, I couldn't live with myself if I didn't attack over the last section of the course. Down around the last bend, accelerating, just in case someone had cut the gap.

Got covered in sand by the young scouts - and crossed the line to finish 4th. A slight wait and Seamus crosses the line just behind me. He dominated on the descent.

This was just the warm up... the count down for Carrauntoohil is on . . . .