Ultra on a whim

26 March, 2022 - Enda Cloake

"It's all very exciting, isn't it?"
"... Is it?", Brian responded. He wasn't filling me with much hope about what was to unfold. Young and innocent me is a relative newbie to the mountain madness, not even racing a year, yet decided to enter the MMU. It may be the romantic idea I have of trail running that made me enter all those many moons ago. The idea of a nice day out on the hills, in the glorious Wicklow sunshine and an excuse to carb load was enough to persuade me. The first challenge figuring out why my card wouldn't work when I tired to buy the entry online. I'm told it's all to do with the "|". The thought of the race was put on the back burner and didn't resurface until last week at the WWH.

"It'll be a good recce for next week", I thought to myself if nothing more. But racing the WWH followed by Oughaval the next day does take its toll. Am I getting old? I check my hairline. Hmm debatable.

Race prep for the week is why I enjoy running. An excuse to cut runs short, eat loads, drink even more and sleep in. "I've an Ultra next week", I tell the Lidl cashier. Don't judge me.

Saturday morning comes after a surprisingly good sleep. Does pasta help you sleep? Probably after 4 bowls. I meet Brian at 8am to save the planet and our pockets with the carpool. Brian asked me do I want some Tailwind. "Can you do that?" Brian tells me it's a drink mix. I knew that. I had 4 cans of Red Bull in my bag. Nothing new on race day and all that good stuff. Are there electrolytes in jam doughnuts? I sure hope so.

Brian fills me in on his training, he's doing well, almost too well for my liking. Will he be waiting at the car for me when I finish? Must tell him where the key is. After a few near misses with cyclists we arrive at the car park. "Is that Barry?". I feel my PTSD from last week coming back. Window down, we tell him he's not allowed race. He tells us he's not, he had too much sense. If Barry has more sense than me, what am I doing with myself? A queue only seen at petrol stations with diesel at €1.79 is waiting for us at registration. We join and meet Gavin Byrne amongst others in the IMRA community. Next is the drop bag.

As our bags were getting binned afterwards I thought I'd be smart and put my morale in a Tesco shopping bag...as did everyone else. Snag. Brian said I can use his bag, a more obvious green one. Usual pre-race business ensues and onto the brief. Sounds good, you can't get lost. Challenge accepted.

Race underway and the usual and a few unfamiliar faces hit the front. I take the lead with Dillon, South African gent, nice chap. The relaxed pace feels good. The trails flirted, tempted and teased me to run faster. I can, but not for 50km. Gavin catches us and tells us it's like a Sunday stroll. Impossible, today's Saturday. I stretch the lead and meet JuJu by the JB Malone. Nice, only a marathon to go. My gaining lead was stopped by Dillon on my heels. I meet Barry at the Dargle and ask him if he knows why I'm doing this because I sure don't. Along the path of Ride Rock I weave amongst the walkers. "Is there a race on?", I hear a woman ask. I look behind to see Dillon. There sure is. First to the Crone barrier. "Back so soon?" she asks. I don't reply. Anyone else feeling hot? Down, cross the road and Dillon catches me. I tell him I was getting lonely, nice to have someone to distract you from the hurt. How much Panadol can you take before WADA's red van pulls up to your house? We run together until 28km when we take a wrong turn. I tell him the course is usually short so I wanted to actually run 50km. When we get back on track we bump into Gavin, tells us Johnny is 5 minutes ahead. Snag #2. Myself and Dillon push to hunt down Johnny. We cross him after he hit the turnaround point. We get there and lo and behold anyone who didn't use a Tesco bag is using a green one. I root around and find our one. Red Bull x2 in a Lucozade Sport bottle is the poison of choice, squirting into my soft flasks. Peter Bell tells me to get a move on. Where is everyone? I take the bottle with me deciding to just drink it as I go. Not sure if Gavin passed me at the stop but I quickly find out a few minutes up the hills. I give chase, first catching Dillon, then Gav. I soon find Johnny and claw him back. He tells me he's cramping up. I think I'll be experiencing the same soon. Gavin told me earlier it'll be a learning experience for me. Not knowing what he meant by that made me feel ill.

I kept the lead until the Crone barrier. Nearing the end of my fluids and feeling like a prune I fill my bottle with water at the station. Dillon passes me. The water is gone by the Dargle bridge. Getting to the business end of things and feeling fresh. Well, as fresh as a week old head of lettuce - far from ideal but not in the bin yet. Dillon pulling away and Gavin closing in. What do I do? The decision was made for me when my legs said they'd enough. Its not what they signed up for. Pushing hard, lack of long runs and shrivelling up like a freeze dried blueberry was enough. Can I quit? Yes but no, you still have the get back to car. Do Mountain Rescue work weekends? I thought my walk of shame days were over but I needed to get up to the shoulder of Djouce. "I told you so", she laughed at me with a wink. Or so I thought. If you think you're dehydrated you are most definitely right.

Gavin passed me, I told him what's up. He said I might make some ground back on the downhill boardwalks. The boardwalks! Forgot I had so far to go. I pass a small flowing body of water flowing off a rock on the single track. What did I learn in SERE training? Big bubbles, no troubles? Or never to drink water around livestock? Where is Chris Tarrant to offer me a phone a friend? I fill my bottle, quick glance, all good. Smells clean, is clean. I neck it, it's cold, doesn't taste like sheep bones which is a bonus.

Feeling less like death but looking like it I plod along to the boardwalks. Can't see anyone behind me, can't see anyone in front of me. Is that a good or bad thing? Is this purgatory. I check the watch, my heart rate has flat lined. I pass a walker and say hello, no response. Am I a ghost? I leave the boardwalks at the JB and look down at the glistening Guinness Lake. Could I jump from here? This part was familiar from the week before, I could almost taste a cold bottle of water, not from a river. I pass Barry at the final climb, mumble something about being goosed. He gives me encouragement and sends me on my way. Getting back into the forest the air is cool and damp. I like this, maybe this hasn't been so bad.

The finish comes as a relief. Coke and water greet me on the table, as do the 2 whippets. Dillon gets up of he's chair, rookie mistake. Good luck getting me up. After an exchange of congrats and post race thoughts we trek back into the forest for a photo. It was about 80m but I'm choosing to believe it was a mile.

Went to the car, put on something less skimpy, back to the finish to meet another two young lads, Brian and Johnny. They also thought it was tough, I don't feel so bad so.

For now, time to rest & recuperate, and drink my body weight in water. As much as I enjoyed the race and everyone at it I'll think twice before entering another Ultra, maybe after some training and lots of forgetting.