Mourne Again

I remember thinking, as I limped from my car to the Spar on Friday night, that maybe a sky race was not the best idea for the following day. Recovery had being going well. I was back to training as normal until a busy weekend and some misadventures in the north sea had plunged me back to limping, with occasional bags of frozen peas strapped to my knee as I drove.

I’d come to worry it was Schrodinger’s knee – either recovering well and fine or the tendons were gradually peeling off the knee cap and I’d fall down with a ruptured quadricep. Unobserved, it was hard to decide which was true.

But also, I was there. I didn’t get a ferry to Northern Ireland to watch other people compete. More than that, after a two month lay off my mind was clamouring for the clarity that only mountain racing brings. If I couldn’t run steep and get high, I may as well quit for the season.

So the next morning I applied copious amounts of KT Tape and vaseline and made my way to registration. The plan was straightforward: treat it as a long training run and be cautious on anything that might be a slip hazard (Slieve Bearnagh, I’m looking at you there). The goal was to finish without doing damage and build into longer races to close the season.

The strange thing is that as soon as I heard the word ‘go’, everything just clicked into race mode. It was as though my body overruled my brain; of course I was back to mountain racing, it’s what I do. Weeks of doubt and nervousness were replaced by the effect of training.

I settled in for a comfortable pace up to the saddle. I remember ragging myself when I ran the course last year. It felt great to go up the climb quick but had cost me later in the run. There’s a lesson here because I was only two minutes slower this year, yet arrived feeling comfortable. Apart from the absolute torrential deluge that we were running in, that is.

I love running along the Brandy Pad and, fresher from the climb than last time, I’d made up for the steady start by the time I hit Hare’s Gap. I decided to get the poles out at this point, it was wet and the climbs up Bearnagh and Meelmore are steep and rocky so I wanted the extra support.

As we dropped off the side of Meelmore towards the Fofanny Dam the rain stopped and the clouds started to break.

I made it to the Dam at an almost identical time to the last time out and paused to refill my bottles only to realise I hadn’t been drinking. I did stock up on Baby Bels, however, once again using the patented O’Carolan nutrition strategy.

From the Dam it was all about keeping it steady. Because I’d not been on full race mode this was a lot easier to do than expected. The thing that took me by surprise though was the fact that I started to pass people on the climbs.

Having looked at my splits, I climbed 35 places in the second half of the race and it was all on the ascents. Mentally I felt that if I could come off Bearnagh with gas in the tank then I’d broken the back of this thing.

Bearnagh deserves a post all of its own. Everyone talks about her with a bittersweet mix of love and pain. It’s one of my favourite mountains full stop. Incredible views. Brilliant rocky approaches to the summit and it’s as good to look at is it is to look out from.

As I dropped off the summit, enjoying the now clear skies, and came to Hare’s Gap I allowed myself a grin. I was feeling great and launched on towards Slieve Commedagh and down towards the saddle, where the lads at the checkpoint had made a cheer tunnel and were giving great support.

I’m not going to lie: Donard, the biggest peak in Northern Ireland, felt like a bit of a climb. I was still motoring okay but starting to feel like I’d maybe climbed enough hills for the day. The effort was worth it though as I arrived on the summit to a magnificent panorama of the Irish Sea and the North East coast.

I was cautious descending back to the saddle, though still quicker than last year when I’d been limping and struggling with the early signs of hypothermia.* From there I started to pick up pace, folding my trekking poles and returning them to the quiver as I came down the rocky path.

When I hit the fire road with about two miles to go, two things happened: I decided to go full pelt and I started to get the munchies. It was a mix of hurtling down the gravel road and ramming as many Haribo as I could in my mouth, grabbing more every time I’d finished one load.

I turned into Donard Park and felt the rush of adrenaline that comes from a finish line. One arm in the air. No one close enough to make a sprint for so I just enjoyed the moment. I’d somehow finished with a thirty minute PB for the course.

It’s hard to know whether I could have done any more. I ran within myself most of the way, but if I hadn’t been in injury recovery I’d potentially have pushed too hard and risked blowing up again on the second half. Going easy on the technical descents, which I’m not very good at anyway, played to my strengths a bit by giving me more gas for the climbs.

The Mourne Skyline is one of my favourite races in the country. It’s brilliantly organised, the team behind it are great, and the scenery is magnificent. It’s also just at the right end of the year to make the weather gnarly. To get that many tops in such close proximity gives it a real feeling of constant pushing.

I can’t wait to get back on it next year and of course, to visit beloved Bearnagh again.

Gear: Salomon S/Lab Cross shoes, S/Lab Sense Set 8 pack S/Lab Ultra running poles, Suunto 9 Baro Watch

* I’m not sure I’m giving a terribly good impression of how fun this whole mountain running lark is.