Caper

20 July, 2023 - Warren Swords

In all of my 164 IMRA races this is the first time I felt despair. After 4.5km of hard racing, I made the mistake of looking up the 40% degree slope and seeing other runners dangling high above me. Gasping for breath, struggling for grip, heart rate close to 200, I almost checked out, the effort was just too much.

It was my first time racing the Coillte Crone Caper. The course was designed by Alan Ayling so I should've known what to expect. His race course motto seems to be: "Look on my Works, ye Mighty, and despair!" And like the Ozymondias poem (ed note: you're beginning to sound like Brian Kitson), I was "that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare."

The race start was spectacular, looping around the falls. Enda and Peter hit the front from the very start, keen to make up for the nav mistakes last week. But within 10 metres of the start, the two of them almost went wrong and had to be called back several times to turn left. They reminded me of Derek Zoolander who famously can't turn left either. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uN4kS78vk4E

My rough plan for the race was to run the downhills and flats hard and then try and hang on the short sharp climbs. The start was a lot faster than I expected with early jostling for positions on the road. Took the first climb a bit too hard and the legs were already burning. The second climb was a mixture of running and hiking. Recovered a bit on the downhill but the legs were already on borrowed time as began the long climb to the Maulin summit. At some point Bernard and Alan came by me making the 40% slope look easy. I thought I was goosed at this point but the legs felt ok once we got back on the trail. The next mile I was able to hang onto the back of Alan who set a strong pace to the summit.

The descent was probably the most fun I've had running downhill in years. There was about seven of us together coming off Maulin. I couldn't believe how fast we were going, everyone knocking lumps out of each as we barreled down the mountain. Lots of toing and froing but there was no let up in the furious pace. I was exhausted by the time we hit the trail and was thinking of settling for position. However the less technical path suited me and I began to catch runners ahead, making some places as we hit Ride Rock. Into the forest and it came down to a sprint finish with Bernard. I stretched my toe and therefore race chip across the mat as we finished in a dead heat, recording the exact same time. Seven of us finished within 48 seconds of each other.

Brilliant race. Congrats to Peter who took the Leinster League 2023 Title with an impressive 23 points. And congrats to Enda on the win in a scarcely believable 51 mins and 44 seconds and Emily Ryan.

No Medal on Maulin

20 July, 2023 - Turlough Conway

1976: After a community games faceplant the boy cried and cried. He wanted to be a medal winner. His Dad explained that no, he couldn’t just buy him a medal. 4 hours later the Dad relented, utterly defeated. The boy grinned gormlessly and tried to bite the shiny medal like he saw medal winners do on telly. He chipped his tooth, bit off a bit of his thumb.

1980: The little psycho shows visitors around his ‘trophy room’...his parents look at each other then drop their faces back into their hands.

Present Day: Powerscourt Waterfall, Co Wicklow

"I hear the waterfall might be spewing medals today. Wonder will there be any for me!" A weird voice exclaims from the darkness inside the vehicle followed by a high pitched shrieking laugh. The gate marshall smiles nervously, quickly waves the car and its occupant through

A Little While Later: He remembered this hill: nice paths, easy peasy!
‘They have medals for 50 year old boys too!' He thought. Easy Peasy!

45 mins later: He is lying somewhere on the mountain with the side of his face and one eye submerged in muck...the rest of his head barely visible through the cloud of feeding midgies. Mercifully, his tongue is long enough to drink from the puddle. Birds startle into the air on the mountain side as a gutteral scream echoes down the mountain….“WHO DESIGN COURSE???!!!!!!!”

Later That Night: The medal maker hears the familiar wrap at the door….He wonders if the knocker used his fist or head this time....”Good evening young man!...what race did you win tonight?”
“Forget that!! Give me medal !!!”
He presents the medal nervously (and discreetly accepts the 20 note slipped to him).
A question is shrieked at him...he takes a few moments to work it out before replying:
“Eh, no son, I don’t know Alan or where he is ailing…”