How many times did you get lost?

13 July, 2023 - David Power

Every week I’m buzzing after a midweek IMRA race, but last night in Ballinastoe was great craic. Jeopardy, risk taking, evening sun, fly swarms, heather hopping, stream crossing and the dreaded sprint finish.
My race prep isn’t typical. Forget carpooling, why not cycle down? It’s only an hour, uphill. Perfect warm up. Throw in a work call at 6pm, which I take on my phone wandering amongst the ferns and trees of the car park. Little did my colleagues know – they weren’t surprised when I told them where I was. One colleague said her exercise was walking to the shop for coffee. Each to their own.
The usual faces appear for the start at the barrier. Such a great community of 200 people from 8 to 80. The top 3 “on paper” appear. Enda asks have I done it before, which suggests he hasn’t. All I remember is a DNF in 2019 after injuring my foot down by the stream. So can’t say I know it all. I do remember it was tricky and leader Tim O’D got lost a bit that day. But still won.
Off we go, up towards the setting sun and the Wicklow Way near White Hill. A long sunny enjoyable slog. Some dude appears and passes me into 4th. Rare to get people you’ve never seen before. I assume (hope) he’ll fade after a rush of exuberance.
Over the top, into the heather and traversing the felled forest. Lovely stuff. Liam Vines will love this. Not a fire road in sight. The course is well marked, with flags all over the place, but they can be inconspicuous, so you have to pay attention.
One moment of indecision, the same point in 2019 I remember. I can’t remember if it’s up or down. My new 4th place running mate goes down, following some earlier starters. I follow. We’re back to red and yellow tape, bingo.
Eoin’s course notes said something about a film set. I can’t remember exactly, but a few parked trucks appear. I see the tape to the right. My running mate is confused and says it’s badly marked. I didn’t think so, but moving at speed, everything can be a blur. Turns out this is the point of confusion for many, little did we know.
For the remainder of the race, my buddy hugs my shoulder. He does push me, so it helps. He’s not fading. I don’t look back. What a run journey through narrow grassy trail, ducking under branches, skipping over tree stumps, avoiding a few pools of water and hoping not to hit a mountain bike crossing our paths. Fun fun, til the flies swarm on the steep uphill.
I get back on top, eventually and know it’s only 2km downhill from home. I push on the nice runnable surface, but hear steps and breathing. Damn, my shadow runner is still there.
Two stiles and a fence remain at the bottom, I get over 2 ahead of him, but at the last, he surges ahead. Onto the last fire road, I push past him again, just like the battle I had with Ian Conroy in Brockagh. I can’t run any faster. But he comes back at me, surges past. The finish appears. 5th, sure it’ll do, I’d a good battle.
Then organisers start swarming like flies asking where we came. Turns out the top 3 had gone awol and were not in. So we had won. Our new mate was unknown to them, so they hadn’t spotted him amongst the early finishers. Damn, now I’m thinking – what if I’d push that sprint? Would I have found those 3 seconds if I knew it was for the win, rather than for minor placings? I don’t think so, as I gave it a good effort all the way, pushing when I could.
Either way, we all had fun. Our new winner is Denis. Hopefully he’ll be back – he was chuffed. The finish line is a flurry of people exchanging war stories on where they went wrong. That intrigue is what makes these evenings so much fun. Like the raffle, you never know when you might win.

Back at it

13 July, 2023 - Peter O'Farrell

I've been in an IMRA car-pooling whatsapp group for most of this season and between dis dat and the udder have never done any pooling but last night I finally managed it. Great chats with Mike and Warren on the way down and then - what a race! Brilliant brilliant stuff, thanks to Jiohn, all the volunteers and Eoin "the racemarker" Syron.
As I haven't done any racing in a few weeks I had the craic of chatting to many before the off and then took it cautiously from the start and that led into one of my favourite pastimes, passing people. Sometimes it's the simple pleasures.
At the top of the first climb I was in and around the go of my gracious carpool driver Warren and a couple of other lads. This was slightly unexpected and I had that love/hate feeling of being simultaneously happy to be up the field and not so happy at the balls out effort required to stay there. Sure enough Warren, myself and the couple of other lads took lumps out of each other for the next while, with plenty of passing and re-passing going on. We closed in on young Rian on a very slippy section and I (foolishly) thought that's the end of him but no, once his ice rink road shoes gained some purchase on harder ground he was goneski, never to be caught again.
Onto the homeward section and two exocets in human form passed me, in very close formation. Shirley, I thought, these 2 were in the lead and despite having no spare air for questions I had to ask, and yes they'd gone wrong. A pity for them. We were all fair warned though - it's Ballinastoe after all. There are many's the twist and turns between gun and tape in this one. Whenever I was leading our mini pack I made sure to keep the eagle eyes out and on the ball as tape could appear from almost any angle in Ballinastoe - and did!
On down to the finish and another blur, this time in blue, passed me. I complemented him on the fleetness of his feet and it was only afterwards I realised he'd taken the old man's prize. However, much like Dave in his race for the actual win there was nothing I could do about it and there's no point in revisionism and claiming otherwise :)
With Warren doing the driving Mike and myself left it up to him as to pub or home and sure pub it was . 2 tasty beverages, no old man prizes, plenty of chats about all things including the upcoming weekend of races and then it was away home. An amazing evening and sure now that it's nearly over I wish I could have made it to more of these Wednesdays but I didn't and that's that.
Well done to all the winners, commiserations to all the ones providing the chuckles on Flyby and see ye all soon.

I don't know what a magical tunnel is

13 July, 2023 - Rob Tobin

https://www.strava.com/activities/9439523585/overview

At half past seven the field was released by the squeaking of RD John's bulb horn, setting the tone for an evening of playful adventure in the hills. Off we went along a short section of fire road, soon turning left onto a steep grassy track. On a demanding first ascent I jostled for positions with Pat Foley, Alan Ayling and Bernard Fortune. I moved up onto Warren Swords' shoulder as we neared the top of the course, already feeling it but somehow finding enough playful energy to pull faces as I passed Andrew Hanney and his camera lens. Now running towards the Wicklow Way, the terrain levelled out along the northern edge of Ballinastoe Wood and looking up and outwards for a moment I briefly enjoyed views of the Vartry Reservoir and the sea beyond, while in the near distance, towards the bottom of Ballinastoe, I could also make out the glitzy film set at the bottom of a sizeable clearing and knew where I was heading.

Descending gradually to join the Wicklow Way, we skirted around the ornamental stile and then immediately turned off into the first of the soft going ground. We danced through mud and over rocks through ferns until we met Patsy McCreanor, who sent us to the right. The fancy footwork ramped up steadily as a fast and rocky technical section brought us downhill. Warren tore off ahead and brought others with him as I started to lose steam. I hit a physical and metaphorical rut as Alan and Bernard - who had been running on or near my shoulder for a while - passed by on slightly higher ground. Michael Dowling spotted a mountain biker coming through a gap into our paths and thankfully had it in his lungs as he shouted to caution. Michael too would move past as we approached the film crew's campground and they were all disappearing from my sight by the time I reached the trees.

I followed a trio of early starters into the wood and managed to stay on course around the point where many more runners seemed to take a wrong turn. Out the other side of the wood and into another clearing I passed some more early starters and from here I would run alone for the best part of 3kms. The task of stringing together markers while running at pace through dense tree cover and ferns proved to be exhausting both mentally and physically. Then, on a date commonly associated with a famous riverside battle, I had to fight my own battle to cross a minor right tributary of the Vartry River. I picked a line across the waters and clambered up the steep bank and started back up towards the top of the course.

Still running without anyone in sight ahead of me, I had to stop and assess where the next marker was a couple of times knowing that both the clock and the field would punish any lapse of concentration. Moving up through the trees I heard a couple of runners catching up from behind. I was soon passed by Mark McAdden and Peter Roche, who seemed to be thriving where I was struggling. Turning onto fire road Enda Cloake charged past, but not without taking a moment to compare our respective tallies of wrong turns taken up to that point. I ran with David McKelvey as we headed back up towards the top of the course, working together to spot markers until we got back to Patsy, returning to the Wicklow Way and the ornamental stile. I tried to stay with David who pushed on as we skirted along the northern edge of Ballinastoe and onwards to a ferocious fast downhill section. I skipped past some more early starters but there would be no catching David until we had both crossed the blue mat.

Chatting with other runners at the finish line, I floated the idea of running at Ballinastoe more often. If anyone is looking for me on Wednesday evenings after the summer league ends you'll know where to find me. This course seems to have a bit of everything in the right quantities. It has enough fire road to ease into a race and to spend whatever's left in the tank towards the end. There are plenty of ups and downs, where the ups give panoramic views over east Wicklow and the downs are moments when there is very little to see except for the next few strides. The natural order of Ballinastoe is one where runners battle the contours of White Hill while outrunning millions of swarming flies and dodging across the determined paths of downhill cyclists and rivers to survive. Thanks to John, Eoin and volunteers for a superb night of racing. Today my forearms bear the marks of a hundred bites and scratches and I still don't know what a magical tunnel is, but I do know this is a magical course and that I will be back for more.