A race of four halves

14 February, 2022 - Greg Byrne

A new year arrives and so the grand reset means all the trepidation of towing a start line returns, doing nothing for the resting heart rate, especially on the mountain equivalent of a home game. And the queue in registration indicates it would not just be a home game, but a local derby. The knowing nods being read as “I’ll see you on the mountain”.

The old first tee in the GAP… What could be the best start line in IMRA allowed us to line up 30 wide and 5 deep, an interesting change from the usual 5 wide and 30 deep which probably confused those who chose the marginally extra yardage with a left side position. The small things… or so I thought.

With the off the angst was released, but I found the field more eager than myself. I’d strategically lined up behind Warren thinking his 5.3 mile speed would be a useful bungee. Not only was he gone, but everyone from the left hand side was also ahead of me. Head scratching was nearly done, but I figured leaving grey hairs on the course could be construed as littering so focused on picking the overtakes with the aim of getting into a race position by the start of the open mountain climb to 2Rock.

Each pass was accompanied with a club athletes nervous scan for a pair of gaa shorts, or worse team Ireland lacrosse socks.

As we crossed over the start of the GAP Jump Line I was back in the feeling of a local derby; there was Rian, Warren, Peter & Ed. The fireroad allowed a higher glance, Enda, Shane and Mackenzie were still in sight…

Just as the mind began to wonder if there was someone else way ahead, the ground steepened and my line of sight was reduced to the usual 2 metres in front of my nose. The process didn’t change though and step by step I focused on the chase and the search for grip. One poor slip gave Peter a half a yard, one good choice allowed me pass Mckensie… who responded by passing me and Ed in one surge… Doh!!!

While 2Rock is not quite a false summit, it doesn’t appease the inner peak bagger… but no time for dwelling, we’ve a river to run down. Racing was an equal priority with finding a suitable spot to land one’s precious toes. We ran down the fence line, zigzagging across the trail, not for position, but for survival. The sweeping left turn at the bottom brought back the memory of passing the legend that is Calvin Torrens at the same spot in 2006… the memory gave enough energy for a spurt, into the gap at the ‘tree’ just ahead of Ed. Would he hold up the inevitable coming of Peter?

No, was the quickest of answers, and the best I could do was hold the gap down the rocks to the Boneshaker. By then there was no gap, and Barry Minnock shouted “15 seconds off second” to both of us as the entrance to the Boneshaker beckoned.

Peter now let go and slowly started to vanish into the trees on the left and gorse on the right. By the time we hit the right turn onto the open mountain I was 10 metres down and my mind was now wondering… we were in ankle deep mud, too tired, too focused to pick a line, just running to stay in the race. Would Peter’s mountain running or my cross country racing stand up to the condition better… OH, no… Peter O’Farrell chose THAT right turn… Oh, why did I wear shorts. I could feel the stinging shower before the first furze scratch.

Back in the forest Peter was no closer and the footsteps behind were loud… was it Ed? I ran a tight line under the fallen tree, accelerating straight after in the hope that the taller man would slow… no… sounds like he stepped over it… hmmmm…. okay so, Plan B it is…

As we hit the fireroad Ed passed with a word of encouragement… plan B is now plan Hang On To Anyone.

I try to hang on, but it is futile as the elastic is stretched and I can only watch as Ed closes the gap on Peter. Who thought that mountain running could be a spectator sport? But then if only I can hold out hope and chase them… the brain says Ed is on the up and holding on to him will bring me home… but Peter seems to think the same, and judging by the gaps he’s a lot better at implementing our shared plan than me.

I contemplate vaulting the gate back into the GAP… then the remember I am now racing M45… that might hurt, no, correction, that will really feckin hurt.

Back in the realm of the marshals I am listening for encouragement of the chasing runners. Wrong mindset, but that is the default setting of a tired mind.

I am still chasing, but there is no one in view… thankfully I am close enough to the finish line that I don’t have time to figure out how that actually works.

The finish line arrives, handshakes, sandwiches and a prize giving. Oh, the small things.

Thanks to Rob & IMRA for another great event. Hopefully we can get back in the habit of car pooling soon. Congrats to Enda and Sophie on their wins… a great course to test all aspects of your mountain running skill set.

For those with an interest… the M60 Calvin, like todays M40 Peter Bell also made sure my exemplary passing move at a random sweeping left turn above 3Rock was a short lived glory and Calvin beat me on that day in February 2006. Nice upcoming film on Calvin, including Q&A viewing in the IFI:
Calvin & Claire: https://youtu.be/kCoe1USSNvY