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.
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| Leaving the Halfway Point |
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.
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