The Hamstring and the Kerry Way Ultra Lite

 

"Oh Phil, why did you not do any strength work?"

The familiar sound of a medical practitioner asking me a totally sensible question and me hanging my head in shame in the knowledge that I should have known better. This time it was my physio Sinead Murphy, who made several appearances in my previous blog for my first MDS.

It was a week after the Kerry Way Ultra Lite (KWUL), which ran on the first Saturday of September, a month before we were due to land in Morocco. I was being put through my paces in the clinic, with Sinead confident that I would be some way capable of taking on the MDS. She was well used to my last minute physical dilemmas.

August had come and past, with me developing some nasty shin splints during the month, which kept me out of running for a couple of weeks. The KWUL was to be a final test, both mentally and physically, before I would start to wind down and try to maintain some fitness. 

Unlike most races that start and finish in the same spot, the KWUL is a straight 60km race, going from Sneem to Killarney. This presents a logistical challenge in that you have to get on a bus at 05.30 in Killarney and run back to your car. I drove to Killarney the night before and slept in the car, with the intention of what I thought would make my life easier. Really there was no right approach and you still get on a bus half asleep.

After check-in in Sneem, I ran into some old friends. Peter was a former hockey team-mate turned ultrarunner and Cian was a friend from college who I spent a summer with in the US. Just before the off at 07.00, some of the full Kerry Way Ultra (200km) runners came through, having covered 140km already and just the KWUL left. I was in awe. 

We took off on time and I decided to run with Cian for as long as I could. It was not long before we caught up with some of the full ultra runners, who were solidly making their way along the route. We passed another runner with a MDS tattoo, so we had a brief chat as well. 

I had the feeling that I was going too quickly (I could have used Sean), while Cian looked comfortable. Around 5km into the race, I got a twinge in my hamstring and about ten seconds later, it went from twinge to tear. I was all too familiar with the feeling. I slowed to stretch and told Cian to push on. My head was filled with thoughts of not being able to race in Morocco and for some reason, I decided the best course of action was to push on and stay going. 

I felt that the sooner I got home, the better off I would be - I also knew that this was not a good strategy but sure in for a penny, in for a pound. I caught and passed both Cian and Peter and trundled my way through rolling grass tracks before coming onto an exposed hillside. From here it was up and over the top followed by a 2km descent down to Blackwater Bridge, about halfway to Kenmare. I could still feel my leg.

You drop down through some forestry on the coastal side of the main road and cover some winding trails before eventually emerging at Templenoe and going north up a steep and long hill around The Ring of Kerry Golf Club. Once you descend back down, you have to climb again up over the hills to the northwest of Kenmare, before gently making your way into the town, a little more than half of the course complete.

The heat was getting to me at that point and I walked straight past the bag drop points and started heading out towards Killarney. After about 600m, I realised my mistake and turned back. It is unusual for me to stop and rest at checkpoints, but between the heat and my leg, I thought it was a good idea to take a breather. 

Everyone talks about the steepness of the hill out of Kenmare, which takes you along the route of the Old Kenmare Road. I was hoping they were exaggerating. I was wrong. The hill was indeed steep and I would love to see anyone run up it at that stage of the race. I could only put my head down and power walk up it for about 3km. Once over the top, the road narrows to a small country road with a couple of sharp climbs. 

Eventually you reach a crossroads, with the road in front disintegrating into a steep mud track. Of course, this was part of the route and I began to tackle it with a dread. A fellow racer told me that you would not bring pack animals up it but on we went. The track continued like this for some time, steep climbs with gentle downhills, so you could move well provided your hamstring was feeling well. Mine was not. 

One of the gentle descents along the undulating Old Kenmare Road. About 15km to go at this point. That is not a smile on my face. 

I managed to power walk a good bit of it before eventually turning up to the right onto a narrow track that entered Killarney National Park. At this point, there was about 12km to go but I knew most of the route from previous hikes. It was the usual mix of steep hills, bogs, rocky trail and rivers to cross, as your work your way along the valley between Mangerton and Torc Mountains. Eventually you hit the river that feeds Torc Waterfall and you drop down, past the Waterfall, under the road and in toward Muckross House.

I got a major cramp on my way down to the waterfall and gingerly walked past a herd of tourists down to the tunnel that leads under the main road. Once in Muckross, I could sense the finish was coming and I could not wait to get home and rest my leg. Muckross is bigger than you think, or at least than I though. The route is not well signposted either, so I got lost a few times and only knew where to go by following other lost souls. 

You emerge onto the Muckross road with a bout 2km to go and I jogged my way along to the finish line. I was exhausted and in quite a bit of pain. Cian was back and his wife Laura, who I went to school with, bought me a much appreciated ice cream. From there it was a painful stroll to the car park, a quick McDonald's and home to Cork. 

The journey back was primarily me worrying about my hamstring and dreading the fact that I would have to phone Sinead Murphy again and confess to my stupidity. I left it a few days before calling her (I have no idea why) and eventually bit the bullet. She was understanding but I could also hear the 'you should know better' in her voice. 

She started a fairly intense set of rehab exercises, which I followed religiously. While I was not in perfect condition, she felt I would survive. And with that, it was time to pack.       

Ballyhoura Ultra - July 2021

The summer months began with the realisation that there was going to be no jetting off to sunnier spots for a summer holiday with the kids. We opted for a house in Sneem, Co. Kerry, where we had gone the year before.

Sneem is a stunning part of the world, the gateway to the Derrynane peninsula, while also being a short drive from the town of Kenmare. I managed to get some really good runs in, including some adventures into the hills around the village and a long run into Kenmare along the Kerry Way. I was feeling relatively positive. Next up was Ballyhoura (again).

Getting up at 5.00am to be in Kilfinane, Co. Limerick for 6.00am is not the most pleasant experience, knowing you would be racing just an hour later.

Race Briefing at 06.45. The joys of it (white hat, red shoes). 

I had completed the marathon route on several occasions, both in the daylight and by moonlight (or lack there of). The ultra was another 18km beyond this, at just over 60km. I had never covered the first 18km of the route, so was looking forward to what the hills to the Northeast of Kilfinane would throw up. They didn't disappoint!

And they're off. I am chatting to Sean about what lies ahead.

The 18km route is a mixture of dense forest; forest tracks; boggy hillsides covered in thick vegetation; stunning views over Co. Limerick; and deep, wet marshes where you could lose a shoe. It was a lot of fun though and you eventually arrive back at the starting point, before refilling your bottles and heading out along the marathon route, which I have described in previous posts.

Sean was capable of setting a nice steady pace and sticking to it and we managed to hold it the majority of the way through the race. This is something I am not capable of when I run alone and I always go off too quickly. Sean's pace setting was hugely important in getting us home in one piece and the heat really picked up across the day.  

Water station around 30km into the race. The slog up and over the Darragh Hills was next. 

At 40km, you hit the second checkpoint in Ballyorban. You then have to scale Seefin, which is a 6km grind up the steep side of the mountain. It then eases and you drop down across the Ballyhoura mountains for the last part of the stage. I had an odd feeling between feeling strong and on the verge of cramping, so I pushed on as I did not want to get stuck with a cramp with 5km to go. I managed to get in in 8.43, with Sean just a few minutes behind me.

While I would not call it enjoyable, nor was it a fast time, it was a relatively pleasant day out and certainly reinforced my mentality for the coming months before October. 

Covid the Killjoy!

So Covid-19 had arrived and had completely turned the world upside down. 

While the organisers felt there was a chance that the race might still go ahead in April 2020, it quickly became apparent that this was unlikely to happen. This would not just affect the runners but also the entire race organisation, as well as our friendly organisers in the UK.

The next target was October 2020 and so I trained my way through the summer, more in hope than in expectation. My hopes were dashed as the world struggled to get a grip of Covid-19 and the race was once again postponed to April 2021. 

Over Christmas and into January, I continued to 'tip away' and get some miles in, but again nothing major given that the vaccine was still in approval phase and we knew it would not be tested and ready on time for a trip to the Sahara. 

The race organisers gave us various options, which included October 2021. I had enough of waiting around and decided to jump at it. 

So in March 2021, we got back on the horse. Sean and I began running in Ballyhoura and we both entered the Ballyhoura Ultramarathon in May and I was looking at the Kerry Way Ultra Lite in September. 

Onwards and upwards...

Muck, Misery and Misfortune: 2019-2020

In general, preparation for the MDS had followed a familiar pattern, considering my running history - train well for a few months; get my hopes up that I am becoming a super athlete; push myself harder; get injured; recover and begin the cycle again. Usually it was one or a combination of my shins, my hamstrings, my knees or in more recent years, my right Achilles tendon. Years of this cycle have taught me that I seriously need to strengthen myself and that running alone will not prepare me for longer distances. 

My problem is that I rarely heed the lessons that are presented to me every time I go through this cycle.   

So we are in June 2019...

Things were going well through the summer of 2019, as I pushed through 100 miles in June (including some mountainy runs), 108 miles in July (including long beach runs in France) and a plan to run 115 miles in August, pushing on from there in my MDS quest for the following April. 

August started well and I rattled off 32 miles in the first week before my left shin decided it had had enough and became very painful. To make matters worse, my left knee joined in for the craic. I decided to rest it and see what happened. By October, I had not run at all and was beginning to panic about April 2020. 

I knew deep down that my lack of additional strength and conditioning work was coming home to roost. Time for professional help and I had two options: go to my GP and get a referral for a MRI to see what was going on with my knee or go the less expensive route of visit my physio and hope that the issues can be dealt with that way.

I opted for the latter and found myself standing in front of Meghan in Performance Physio a few days later. She went through various assessments of my knee, hamstrings, quads and shins. I was put through several testing strength challenges, none of which I was particularly good at. The end result was that she was amazed at the lack of strength I had in my legs for the type of running I was doing. I, on the other hand, was not even remotely surprised.

I was immediately put on a strength programme, beginning with heel raises, bridges and squats. A week or two later, this had moved on to additional resistance work, again all based around improving strength in the muscles above and below the knee. I was also allowed to do some light running, so I re-joined my local gym (this is de ja vu from the MDS in 2014) and began to run a little on the treadmill.

Around this time, I popped a message on the 2020 MDS Facebook page to say that if there were any other Irish in the race, to let me know. A few days later I was contacted by Sean, who lived in Tipperary but was from Cork and more joined us afterwards. It led to an Irish MDS Whatsapp group as we all looked forward to April 2020. 

As December came and went, I began to increase my mileage again, so I entered another Ballyhoura Midnight Challenge in January 2020. A respectable time of 5.40 was achieved and gave me some hope. The I went to Millstreet in February...

Slog through the Bog: Sli Gaeltacht Mhuscrai Ultra February 2020

Hope was what was in my mind when I entered the Sli Gaeltacht Mhuscrai (SGM), a delightful 75km race from Kealkill to Millstreet in Cork in mid-February 2020. My mindset was that this was a major distance and it would prepare me both mentally and physically for what was coming in April. Sean entered as well. 

It was an early start. You had to be ready to go in Millstreet by 07.00, as we were bussed to the start in Kealkill and were running back over several sets of mountains. I left home at 05.00 in reasonably good weather conditions. Sean had come in his campervan and had slept in Millstreet the night before. 

After registration and a quick pot of instant porridge, we were off to Kealkill on the bus. It started raining heavily. I had two issues - a pinching sensation in my back which had been there for a few weeks and I had forgotten to use anti-chaff cream on the more delicate areas of my body. Sean gave me a cream, which had a strong deep-heat type smell. Not sure if it was ideal for my predicament. With no other option, I gladly accepted and was ready to go when we got off the bus. 

Sean and Phil at the start of the 2020 Sli Gaeltacht Mhuscrai. It would not take long for the smiles to be wiped off our faces. 

The rain was very heavy as we eventually were given the all-clear to go and off we went into the mist. The first section which runs to Gouganebarra begins with a short sharp climb, followed by flat terrain before you reach Douce Mountain, a slog through the wet, boggy terrain that leads over to the hotel. The wind was very strong as we got near the top and coupled with the rain and the heavy going underfoot, it was not a pleasant experience. 

Leaving the checkpoint, we had an undulating road section before turning off into a small wooded area that led to more open bog land. At times we were above knee deep in thick, wet mud as we slowly made our way across the bog. It was energy sapping. Eventually we hit the road again and continued on to the second check point in Ballingeary, about 20km into the race.

In Ballingeary, there were two race volunteers with maps who informed us that parts of the trail were under water and we were to divert through a road section. I was still a little shook from the previous section, so I was not paying much attention, so I hoped Sean was. We headed out of the village and along a river, which is normally nothing more than a stream. It was a raging torrent at this point and if you fell in, you would have no chance.

We came to a low road crossing, which the river had swallowed and we crossed it carefully. Again one wrong step and you were gone. From there we were back on the road again, albeit somewhat confused as to where we were to go. A group came walking back against the direction we were meant to go and we decided safety in numbers was a good idea, so we set off to around the flooded section. 

The road we took eventually came back onto the main trail. It was only after the race that we saw photos of those who had taken the main trail, waist deep in water. I know ultrarunning is a bit extreme, but this was the wrong side of crazy.

The trail and road sections that lead into Ballyvourney were mountainous but pleasant and the rain had reduced to drizzle with the occasional downpour. The checkpoint was in the GAA club and it gave us sometime to access drop bags, have a cup of tea and assess our physical conditions. I was quite sore in certain areas and the cream that I had applied to myself had not really worked. I borrowed some more and it was shear agony to reapply it - a valuable lesson learned.  We were just over 40km into our adventure. 

Having reset ourselves, we set off from Ballyvourney. The trail was wet and muddy and had been churned up by those that were ahead and by those running the half SGM race. We slipped and slid our way to open hillside and forest trails that led up over the hills to the north of the village. Another 10km later, we found ourselves at the gates of a wind farm and we knew we had to climb up over another mountain to begin the final section of the race back into Millstreet. The hill was steep and long but we kept a decent pace and began to eat through the distance. At this stage, it began to get dark, so it was on with the head torches. 

We switched from service roads for the windfarm to more trail which had wooden walkways in the particularly wet areas. My head torch was fairly useless, but Sean's lit the way as we scrambled through the bog again. We eventually came to a short descent and Millstreet open up in front of us. We had covered just over 65km at this stage. 

I began to smile and my head was looking forward to resting. A couple of the volunteers at the gate we had reached said we had to stay on the trail, which was another 8km. Just what we needed. We followed a boggy trail that leads around the hills to the south end of the town, all the time looking down at the lights wondering when we would see the finish. Not a good idea - we struggled on for another hour or so before entering a wooded descent and finally seeing the sign for Millstreet. Sean was able to jog the last few hundred metres, but I was spent. I limped across the line in 12.39. Not my best performance, but it was a slog and would no doubt serve as good preparation for the MDS.        

Two days later, the first case of Corona Virus was recorded in Ireland and at that stage it was beginning to have an effect on the world. Little did we know just how much it would affect us... 

Back to Ballyhoura

Ballyhoura Trail Marathon Start

June 2019

Three and a half months further down the line towards the MDS and I found myself back on the start line of the challenge that prompted me to sign up for it in the first place. I had returned to the Ballyhoura Trail Marathon, the same course I ran on a damp and cold January night, this time on a glorious morning on the 4th May 2019.

Whilst the January event was billed as a 'challenge', simply get from A to B and enjoy it with no finishing places or times recorded, this was an official IMRA (Irish Mountain Running Association) timed race. I had a simple goal of improving on my very slow debut on the course of 6.15 from earlier on in the year.  

The sun was shining with a tinge of cold in the breeze, perfect running weather. This time it was an 8.30 am start, no head torches and a new pair of Saucony Peregrine trail shoes to help with the terrain, which I broke in during a 4 mile stroll around Belfast three nights before, not the best preparation. Instead of a mini-feast at the half marathon mark, there were aid stations every 6 miles or so and we had access to a drop bag at the halfway point in Ballyorgan. I had no excuses this time.

The course takes the runners through some of the most beautiful scenery County Limerick has to offer and you get a very different experience in the daylight. There is less of a need to focus on your feet and more time to appreciate the route. You also get the visuals of just how steep the climbs are, maybe the one disadvantage that you do not experience when running at night.

I had trained a little on the latter part of the course in April, so I had a much better idea of what I was up against. My only niggle was a slight strain in my left calf but nothing too concerning. 

The first half of the race went fairly well. The course was altered slightly from the January route due to forestry works, but the detour made little difference at the beginning of the race. There was a change to the final 2 miles, where we were brought in along a quiet backroad instead of through the wooded section but the distance was the same.

Over the first half of the race, I managed to keep a reasonable pace on the flat sections, whilst the trail shoes made a huge difference on the descents when compared to my slipping and sliding in my road shoes in January. There is little you can do about the steep climbs, most of the runners around me were reduced to power walking. This is good preparation for desert running anyway so I had no complaints about trudging my way uphill.

First Steep Climb Of The Day

We reached the Keale River after about 11 miles. This was the point where I ground to a halt because of a sharp cramp in my calf in January. Thankfully there were no such issues and I was able to run the riverside trail towards Ballyorgan with the only real obstacles being the series of stiles to negotiate which disrupt with your running rhythm.

I reached the halfway point in Ballyorgan in 2.10, significantly faster than my January time. My drop bag gave me a little boost, with some energy gels, jellies and a banana before setting off to take on Seefin, the looming mountain sitting over Ballyorgan with its steep ascent. Again it was a case of trudging my way up it before descending into the Ballyhoura Forest below, near the mountain biking centre.

Leaving Ballyorgan After 13 Miles

All felt relatively good until a familiar pain hit me as I approached 19 miles. My hamstring decided to throw a tantrum as I felt an all merciful cramp take over and I was reduced to standing on the side of a road bent over trying to stretch it. At least I only had 6 miles to go and after 10 minutes of walking and stretching, I was able to run again, albeit gingerly.

I eventually made the finish line in 4.51, almost an hour and a half faster than January, so that was a huge positive. Goes to show the difference the right footwear and the ability to actually see where you are going makes. Admittedly my legs were in agony but I could feel a real improvement from January, so at least I was on the right track.

The trail shoes got me to thinking about my 2014 MDS, which I ran in a pair of Saucony Kinvara road shoes. At the time, I said I had no complaints about my footwear and in my head for 2020 was that I would not make any changes. The effectiveness of the Peregrines (essentially the trail version of the Kinvaras) has made me reconsider, in particular for the dunes and the oueds (dry river beds) of the Sahara. Further investigation required I think.  

Training has been good some weeks and non-existent others. I managed just over 50 miles for all of February but I was off for around 10 days due to a chest infection. March brought an improvement and I clocked up 77 miles including a couple of runs over the 10 mile mark. I set a target of 100 miles for April and only managed 78 miles as towards the end of the month, I picked up a calf strain. This set alarms bells off as my with previous MDS experience I had issues with my Achilles tendon, which was solved by a couple of months of calf raises to build strength and severe physio sessions involving friction treatment - I do not want to go through that again. April did include a solid 16 mile run, my longest training run of the year, so there were some positives.

This brought me up to May and again I had set a 100 mile target, but with the Ballyhoura Marathon and recovery time, I felt this was a stretch. It did indeed prove to be a stretch and I covered just over 80 miles all month, which I was disappointed with. My body was tired after the mountains, although I did return to Limerick to run/walk the Ballyorgan Loop on two separate occasions later in the month, a ten mile loop including the steep Darragh Hills and Keale River sections of the marathon route.

So it is on into June and again a 100 mile target. Let's hope I hit it this time.  

    

               

Ups and Downs - A Midnight Challenge and The 2020 MDS

18th January 2019

It was cold, dark and drizzling. My car headlights illuminated a sign in the ditch - 'Caution - Runners'. It was almost 10pm and I was winding my way along the R517 to Kilfinane, somewhat concerned about the steep-sided hills that loomed on either side of me.

I arrived in the village 15 minutes later and parked alongside others in the church car park. This prompted me to bless myself as I got out of the car in fear of what was ahead. It was a short stroll to Scoil Pol for registration for the Ballyhoura Midnight Marathon, a 26 mile challenge through the Ballyhoura Mountains in Co. Limerick on a dark January night. The hills are well known for their mountain biking trails but lesser known (at least by me) for their extensive network of hiking trails and tracks.

My preparation for the race was not ideal - some long runs up to 16 miles with a few shorter ones to fill in the gaps along with a trip to the physio for a sharp pain at the back of my left knee when I crouched down. I was a bit worried about it as I arrived in Kilfinane but I managed to put it to the back of my mind.

At registration, I kept an eye out for an old friend. I collected my race number and race beanie and returned to the car to get some food and water and to check my gear - road runners, tights, t-shirt, top, rain jacket, energy gels, race vest with water pouch, hat, buff, head torch, high viz vest, mobile phone - all check. One huge mistake already made, but more on that later.

Although I packed some sandwiches, my experience is that they do not suit my system during overnight runs, so I downed some cashew nuts and a pear before making some final checks. Now 'race-ready', I walked back to the hall for the race briefing bumping into my old friend and ex-work colleague Ross, who was running a little late but just managed to catch the race briefing. It had been almost 7 years since I last saw him and it was good to catch up.

Race Director Robbie Williams explained that it was not an official race but more of a challenge and times would not be recorded, except by the runners of course. After the usual night running safety considerations (spare batteries for your head torch, be careful on public roads etc.), there was a mention of the terrain and then Robbie said "I see some of you are wearing road shoes" as I tried to hide my Saucony Kinvaras under my race vest..."you really should have trail shoes on out there". I missed the rest of what he said as my mind was torn between 'sure, it'll be grand, I'll get a bit muddy' and 'oh for God's sake, I should have invested in trail shoes.'

Fifteen minutes later we were outside the church ready to go. It just started drizzling, so I decided wearing my jacket would be a good idea and would also protect me from the cold on higher ground, the disadvantage being that I would sweat more. On the stroke of midnight, we were off through Kilfinane and out towards the woods on the road I had driven earlier. I ran with Ross and we were deep in conversation after a kilometre or so when the leaders veered off the road onto a steep muddy trail that led up to a fire road in the forest. We followed and were immediately reduced to a walk as we hiked our way upward. It hit me pretty quickly - this was not going to be a 4 hour marathon, mountain running was a different kettle of fish altogether.

Once we hit the fire road, we were able to jog again as the runners began to string out. Another kilometre later, we veered onto a single track trail which fell away into a steep downhill section back to the valley floor. The downhill section was the first time I felt regret about my shoes as I cautiously stepped my way down the hill avoiding tree stumps and roots as I struggled for grip, constantly feeling pressure from the trail shoe-wearing man behind me. 3 miles down, 23 to go.

As we ascended the opposite side of the valley, we hit another steep track section which Ross and I walked and talked before we hit a grassy and wet downhill trail on which my shoes refused to play ball. On several occasions I had to resort to grabbing brambles to stay upright, which did my hands no favours at all. I was unable to stay with Ross who pushed on as I slid sideways down to another steep section into a ditch where I finally gained control of myself. From here it was an open field descent into the village of Glenroe (well holy God) and on to a road section.

The road was welcoming for me as it allowed me to find a steady pace and take on some water with about 20 miles to go. It was also an opportunity to shake some of the mud off my shoes. After a short jaunt down a farm track followed by crossing some fields, we were back on the road again as we began to ascend up into the Darragh Hills, which run along the Cork-Limerick border. My shoes were failing me again as the terrain undulated between steep climbs and sheer descents where grasping at branches was the only way to control myself. We eventually hit a wooded section which levelled out before another descent to the valley floor through some farm land.

I was just starting to feel better as I rounded a corner on a set of wood-supported steps when I got a sharp cramp in my right calf and ground to an immediate halt. I knew I was probably not at my fittest, but I did not expect a cramp after just 9.5 miles. I took on some water and a gel to help suppress it and gingerly walked and stretched my way down to the Keale river. Running on and off through a little wooden-built fairy village on a riverside trail picked up my spirits and I was able to keep pace with the group ahead as we moved towards Ballyorgan and the half way point. The trail was wet and muddy and had several stiles to climb over between fields, so I trudged and slid my way along until we eventually emerged at a bridge and back on country roads.

Ballyorgan was a welcome site, partially because we knew we were halfway but more importantly because race organisers had set up a base in one of the holiday homes and I knew there would be some refreshments on offer and there was a luxurious feast awaiting us - soup, fresh rolls, jellies, chocolate, cake, orange cordial and water to refill the drinking bladder from my race vest.

Ross was well in before me and while I was knocking back the soup, he was off again. I sampled all of the dishes in the buffet before refilling my water and walking back outside to get ready to go. My stomach felt over-full, perhaps I did not need the bread roll after all but I was determined to avoid cramping again.      

Leaving the Halfway Point

Looming above us out of sight due to the mist was Seefin - 528m high with a 2.5 mile steep trail running up it's north side. I initially left Ballyorgan in good spirits as I chatted to a guy from Kinsale about what was ahead. Once we turned off the main road and started to climb, I was reduced to power walking as running was out of the question. A country road became a farm road and then a muddy track as I pushed on and found myself alone following lights in the distance.

Once I reached the car park at the base of Seefin, I could see what was ahead - the lights from the head torches ahead appeared to be a very long distance away which brought me back to a familiar sense of dread. This is a sensation I had felt before, once during the Art O'Neill Challenge when preparing for my first Marathon des Sables (MDS) and then again during the long stage of the MDS in 2014.

This was going to be torture. It was initially level enough but soon became steeper and steeper again. Near the top, it became difficult to walk without stopping but it did eventually even off and I don't think I was ever so pleased to see the hill fall away in front of me as I began my descent on the south side of Seefin. Descending was a far more pleasant affair as it was not as steep as the uphill section and you could pick your way along the trail. It was very wet and my feet were soaked but I was so glad to be running again, I didn't care about the cold.

After another steep single track downhill section, it evened up onto forest road again and it was a good time to take stock. 8.5 miles or so to go, the worst hills over and I felt okay. We entered a narrow section of trail near the Ballyhoura Mountain Bike trails and I was able to run uninterrupted for a couple of miles. Another steep descent brought us out onto a main road before entering a series of short forested trail and mixed road sections over the next 3 miles or so. Somewhere during this phase and without either of us knowing it, I passed Ross but was completely oblivious to it. I would have preferred to stay with him if I had known.

With 5 miles to go, we left the road again and through an uphill forest section that eventually led back towards the first forest section we entered as we started the race. There is nothing for it at this stage except to put your head down and go for it. Along the forest fire roads, down the steep muddy trail and back onto the road with a kilometre to go to Kilfinane. I managed to run all of the last section before arriving back at Scoil Pol to sign back in again 6 hours and 15 minutes after I left.

I could not believe how long it took but on reflection as I was getting changed in the nearby GAA club at 6.45am, the terrain, the dark and my shoes all added up to a difficult night. Overall, I was pleased with how it went and the full Irish breakfast put on by the race organisers was a nice way to finish up. I cannot say the same for the drive back as I struggled to stay awake.

Thankfully there was no pain in the back of my knee and I slept for most of the day when I got back, which would have been a big help on the recovery front. This was followed by a reasonable night of sleep waking up on Sunday a little sore but well rested. It felt good.

It was this feeling of elation that led to another moment of madness on the following Monday. Sitting at my laptop, I spotted a Facebook post urging me to sign up for the 2020 Marathon des Sables. After a quick phone call to my other half, permission was granted and I completed the booking form without thinking too much more about it. An hour or so later it hit me. I had done it again. For the second time in my life, I found myself asking 'what am I thinking?'.

The bullet had been well and truly bitten at this stage. All going well, this will be my second MDS, having done my first in 2014 (see my blog - www.journeytothesands.blogspot.com). Along with 1,200 or so others, I will (hopefully) line up in April 2020 for the 35th edition of the famous race. It still bills itself as 'the toughest footrace on earth' although there are more and more extreme races being run these days but it will still be a huge undertaking and just like the Ballyhoura Challenge, there will be plenty of ups and downs between now and then. This blog is being written to document those ups and downs as I try to prepare with 16 months to go.