Oglaigh na hImra

13 February, 2024 - Barry McEvoy

I thought it might be nice to write a race report from the perspective of a volunteer - a base level 'helper' volunteer, who has only volunteered 4 times in 22 races, and probably a reluctant volunteer, who does it out of duty rather than a burning desire to give back! I am currently not one of the people who make IMRA IMRA with tireless work off the trail. Mr.Volunteer of the year that's not me at the moment, so I won't pretend to be - just because I'm writing about one day of helping out.

I bolt upright, Frankenstein style, in the bed at 06:30. Five hours sleep is good, better after a double bacon king and chips at 11pm last night. Its race day but there's no nerves, no niggles, no phantom pain, no ruminating and no prayers to go toilet - just a simple sleepy caramel latte sachet before I go.
I’m listening to the ‘Woman's Heart album’ and ‘Kneecap’ to keep things contrasting but one hundred per cent Irish. The roads are empty but full of freshly squeezed Sunday morning orange juice energy and free of all hangovers.

Look at me I'm up early on a Sunday morning, I'm better than you a smug little voice inside my head says to people I don't know and who couldn't care less. I'm far from better than anyone else but I do feel good because early Sunday morning is a special time to be up and at it.

The car needs fuel in Cashel. I've no money except an All for One gift card of 20 euro. It has come to that... I put 15 in the car to be safe but the gift card doesn’t work so I spend 20 minutes trying to contact my brother Nialla to send me on 20 yoyo on Revolut while the attendant gives me the (you no more had money on that gift card than your chap in the moon) eyes. A sad situation which puts a dampener on Special Sunday morning.

I get over it and sing ‘it’s a long long way to Tip-away-wee’ as I pass through Tipp town. Cruising through Golden I noticed the Golden Bridge Kebab shop beside the bridge and I know I saw a statue of the great Thomas McDonagh somewhere too?

I’m one of the first to arrive and introduce myself to RD Damian Holihan, long red hair, big beard and muscular physique. He reminds me of an ancient Irish Warrior. Volunteers and early birds trickle in with coffee and smiles and howiyas. Damian jogs me up to my marshalling spot and let's me know I'll be directing the short course one way and  long course the other. Damian is a hands on, all action Race Director, fixing the awning on the van, emerging with a flashy camera and snapping pics and generally just bringing the energy. I meet a friend Nick Hogan and have a nice chat about life before rushing off up the finishing hill to my patch for the morning.

I’m 15 minutes early and have time to kill. I'm sick of looking up nothing on my phone so I put it away and have a look around. Little birds flitter and sing invisible in the trees, it’s a sweet and hopeful song. The wind has picked up and below me large trees sway and swirl in an exotic rhythm making a booming droning sound as the wind whips through. It lulls me into a sleepy trance and the worries and sadness inside me recede for a moment of solace.

Sean Quirke appears on his warm up and we have a chat and he's looking fit and I hope he runs well. He’s won the Carrantouhill Classic at least 3 times, a legend in my books. My solitary contemplation is broken by the soft footsteps of the leading girl who floats by me and out of sight with great confidence the way I'd expect a seasoned veteran might. I’m impressed. Soon a whole under 14 GAA team of girls must have gone by I cant believe it and feel excited and enthusiastic about sport and these young ladies out participating. All the youngsters filter by, some wear smiles and others grimaces, some daydream while others dig in, holding stitches and kicking on.Its the highlight of the morning. I rarely see underage sporting events but I am thoroughly entertained and inspired. How lucky they are to be out here doing this at their age, cultivating a subconscious love for nature and being active outdoors. I feel glad to be there shouting them on. As a self described cynical pessimist I feel more optimistic after such a feast of good honest innocent sport.


I’m alone again and waiting for the big boys and girls so I begin to throw stones at targets, then up high into the air, then I kick smaller pebbles and wonder could this be the year Laois wins Sam. Then a pig flies overhead and we have great chat before he heads on to Mayo to re-curse them.

I spot a pool of water to the side full of gooey glumps of frog spawn – then I see the frogs camouflaged in the spawn, 15 of them, kicking long legs and looking out with big eyes. What a wonder to see a frog can be! I'm so engaged frog watching I nearly miss the leader emerging from a mucky trail. It's Barry Twohig and he athletically powers upward climbing with raw strength. A topless Barry Harnett follows closely with a similar style. Go on the Barras!! Sean Quirke skips through lighter with his steps, pursued by Sam Hand whose hanging with Sean well.

I don't know every runner that goes by but I kind of do and there's a wide variety. Some wear big packs, some hold jackets, many tie them around their waist, someone looks to have a schoolbag on, theirs a few hip belts and shorts, running tights, leggings, peaked hats and beanies, headbands, ponytails, and a few big beards. Kelley Tideswell races through and she doesn't seem under any pressure moving with ease and Carol Finn is close second covering the ground well with quick strong steps. There's a great mix of young and old, male and female and as the 150 plus runners filter by me at the 2km point I'm thinking about my relationship to sport.


I've lost interest in professional sport lately, I can't relate to the Premier league anymore, golf and Liv and all that crap, the Formula one grid. I don't see the heroes I once did. I don't see the flare, the rebels, the risk or the desire. I see a mechanical process that's more about money than magic. Guess that's life and I'm a romantic who's out of touch, but I'd take a Paul McGrath or Seve Balasteros any day instead of another carbon copy pro. Jack O' Connor said recently Kerry were in the results business, not the entertainment business but I hope David Clifford is always gonna be in the David Clifford business. Down in Bansha sport is thriving at the amateur level, It still retains the unpredictability and richness of character I remember and connect with.


When a man raced by with 400m to go 'am I in the clear, am I in the clear' he shouts. 'All good, noone behind' I said and smiled. I was that man and I knew him well.

Three lads came around the penultimate bend, bunched and tired. '200m to go nows the time' I chirp in, then a kick from the last of the trio, this was his moment, there was no response but the slow swivel of 2 heads and 4 glazed eyes. I watched with wide eyes. 

The young girl who had been third after 2km emerged near the end in 4th, the tied up hair and early bounciness had been replaced with loose messy hair and a look of resignation I recognised. I've been there plenty of times. Third was still in her sights. 'Sprint finish, come on' I urged. She didn't seem interested but her legs started to tick again, hard effort and one second from third in the end. That's what I love about sport.

A Veteran runner in his 70's cruises by me. WOW, you have to say wow. Some say why, others don't even ask.

A woman approaches my junction alone. 'Sorry for holding you up I'm last'. I tell her to keep going at her own pace - all the way. She’s an athlete to me and I want to see more of her, follow her, I don’t care about the stars running for Adidas Terrex, why is she here this morning? Why isn't she a sports Star? The lessons are here in front of me, spread throughout this whole group of runners.

So many people offer me thanks and appreciation and I want to say 'I'm actually not one of the people who is out here in all conditions every week, I'm not that selfless, not the dedicated' but I just nod, no prob. It feels great to be of help and offer some kind words though and I'm beaming by the end.

After the race, I changed into my running gear and set out to do a run around the course myself and 15km later I ended up back where I started after getting terribly lost, as usual. However those hardcore Sunday morning Bansha bunch had reinvigorated my soul and my love of sport.

Thanks to all the Volunteers who come out and make the IMRA community tick. I hope to be of more service in the future. Peace.