Where Credit's Due - The Mourne Wall Part 2

When it comes to taking praise there are definitely different personality types in the world.  Some bosses greedily take the accolades for their staff's hard work, politicians cynically jump on the bandwagon of successful initiatives they had no part in implementing and the popular press announce that 'British' tennis is ever more successful whenever Andy Murray wins!  At the opposite end of the scale you find people like me, easily dismissed as being surly and never content but in actual fact just a lot more uneasy with the idea of taking praise when deep down we know it wasn't deserved.

I received a lot of positive feedback from the blog about my first Mourne Wall attempt, some lovely congratulatory e-mails, comments from strangers saying it was a great achievement and from friends who were just shocked that I happen to be half way literate.  The overriding theme of all comments was not to berate myself over my time, that the challenge itself is enough and my pace was admirable.  All comments except one...

Deon McNeilly is a legend of Mournes running and with decades of fell running records, myths and half truths surrounding him he undeniably has a certain gravity to his opinion.  I reckon Deon is like me, he knows when praise is due.  His e-mail to me was short and sweet, 'the record is 3:56 set by Jim Hayes in 1981 on Sunday 17th June (I knew it would be sub 4hrs), I finished 6th in 4:54'.  He then went on to mention that he was just 18 at the time, barely an embryo in endurance running terms. 

The underlying connotations to this e-mail were clear to me, even if they weren't intended.  I was way off the pace and I let myself down, poorly planned, poorly executed and if I was to erase the disappointment in the pit of my stomach then there was only one acceptable course of action, get out there and smash it!  As u-turns go, this one wouldn't look out of place in Stormont.  Despite what I said less than ten days ago about not recommending the Mourne Wall circumnavigation and vowing not to do it again, it was actually inevitable and it was going to happen sooner, rather than later.

I'm under no illusions, I've never met Jim Hayes but it's as safe to say that he was a better athlete than I am as it is to say that his record wouldn't be getting erased from the annals of history so sub 4 wouldn't be my target.  It's also safe to say that for all my annoyance, I did genuinely suffer out there last Tuesday, my legs were battered and the last run along the ridgeline from Slieve Muck looked like it needed to be accompanied by a zimmer frame.  However, the pain was a result of errors, not lack of effort or fitness and those mistakes needed to be rectified.  I figured my time of 5hrs 35 could be significantly chopped if I,

a) Started and finished at the right place.
b) Took enough liquids and edible food.
c) Pulled my finger out and really suffered.

So the new target was decided, 4hrs 45mins, fully 50 minutes faster than last time and quicker than the young McNeilly.  Knowledge is power, Sir Francis Bacon knew it and so do I which is why I found myself in Carrick Little car park with a full Camelbak, a rough idea of timings and some squashed jam sandwiches in my pocket... bring.. it..on...

The brutal drop from Binnian down to Wee Binnian

Me before

The weather was perfect as I jogged up the track, cool, clear and no indication of the gusty Westerlies that had been forecast and which would no doubt soon be trying to batter me back down Slieve Binnian.  I decided this time to use my i-pod, as trying to maintain motivation with just my own internal mental dialogue for company was tough last time and became counter productive when the pain really kicked in and my brain slinked off to some of its darker corners.  This time I was planning to plug in and switch off, letting the music carry me on a wave of euphoria.. or at least drown out my wheezing lungs and clicking hip.  As anticipated, the wind was very strongly in my face up Binnian so I settled into an easy rhythm and set a soft target of 35 mins to the top.  I was pleased to arrive in 31 but less pleased when I took a mouthful of raisins and realised that the wind was too strong for me to continue running into it and be able to breathe through my nose, I had to turn away until they were chewed.  A minute lost, it all adds up.

My report last time mentioned the fact that I descended the section to Wee Binnian like an arthritic old woman.  This time with fresher legs I was much smoother and also found a cleaner line, probably the speed of a healthy old woman.  The momentum carried me over the steep lump of the Wee one and on down to Silent Valley.  55 mins over the dam, on target and feeling strong.  The next section is where it all got lost in a blur of pain, annoyance, dehydration and frustration last time.  If you read the last report you'll know how much I enjoyed Slieve Muck but this time I realised that Slievenaglogh is a tight pull too, I'd just forgotten it in the hazy hysteria previously.  With Muck built up as the big enemy in my head though it was almost inevitable that I was going to cruise it.  I was happily running the lower slopes and taking a phone call (proper multi-tasking) when I spotted two walkers way up ahead.  That was all the motivation I needed and I clawed my way up the Muck Directissima line adjacent to the rocks (TD+), taking the straightest possible route.  The walkers were looking impressed (and a bit bemused) as they watched me run up towards them before clambering up the final gulley with an on-the-go explanation of what I was doing.  Slieve Muck summit, 1Hr 51.

On last week's run I definitely cocked up my fuel intake in a huge way, dried snacks and too little water meant that refuelling was near impossible.  This time I was armed with better food, instant energy and so I ate the first Fudge bar that I've had in about 20 years.  They've definitely shrunk but it did the job and I ran down towards Carn singing my adaptation of the old advert 'a finger of Fudge is just enough to get you as far as Slieve Meelbeg'.  Again the advantage of the Carrick Little start became clear as I hit this section still feeling alive and was able to run happily over Slieves Loughshannagh, Meelbeg and Meelmore, only power walking the steepest sections and I was definitely quicker on the downs, the confidence of recently doing the route allowing me to recognise a surprising amount of detail and make better line choices.

I was expecting my legs to give out at some point and where better than Slieve Bernagh.  Its steep, gritty slopes interspersed with agonisingly angled granite boulders sapped at my reserves, bringing on the onset of stiff legs and I almost hit the wall (metaphorically!).  I was a relieved man when I saw the Tors rearing up and jogged on to the summit, throwing down my bag and reaching for the aforementioned sandwich.  Bit of a tangent here but bear with me.  Many years ago I bet my friend Mark Palin that he wouldn't eat all the remains of a day's washing up from the sink at work.  Not one to turn down a challenge he arranged the remnants from the plug into three small piles (which were comprised mostly of food detritus but also metal shards from the scrubbers and detergent scum) and he forced them down one by one.  His face was grey and he retched a few times and yet I reckon he enjoyed that meal more than I enjoyed my sandwich!  All endurance athletes will be familiar with the debilitating nausea which builds up in your stomach and then starts to dominate your whole body.  My stomach was definitely not in the humour to accept this offering without a fight and so it was an ongoing battle to retain my sandwich all the way down Bernagh.  I won the fight, just, and felt stronger for it as I pushed on along the ridge.

Knowing how long the route was and how my legs reacted from last time was a huge advantage when it came to pacing this attempt.  I knew I was pushing harder and also anticipated some trouble on the steep final climbs of Commedagh and Donard but I didn't expect any cramp.  Unfortunately the familiar shots of pain started emanating from my calfs as I strode up the steeper lower slopes of Commedagh.  Fortunately, at that point I came across the water pipe which sticks out half way up the slope, yet another advantage of the Carrick Little start point.  Camelbak filled I hungrily gulped down a half litre, easing the pain and getting me shifting again.

Donard passed without too much hassle, the familiarity of its upper slopes allowing me to concentrate on striding out as long as possible and pass as many walkers as I could.  I was still aware of the obvious effort and started speculating on how much time had elapsed so far.  I'd made a conscious decision not to consult my watch between designated points and so I'd not even glanced since I passed the stile between the Meels which had signalled the end of my previous circuit.  As I'd been at 2:25 then I was anticipating around 4:10 on Donard summit so it blew me away when I looked down and saw 3:49.  Bugger the 4:45, I could nail the 4:30!

Recently reading the brilliant 'Feet in the Clouds' I remembered the tale of an aborted attempt on the famous Bob Graham Round, a gruelling 72 mile fell run which must be completed in 24hrs or less.  The author was pushing on through unimaginable pain as he drifted further and further behind his target splits until finally he decided enough was enough.  Quite literally the second he made that decision he went from functioning human being to a spent force, unable to drag himself a further yard without assistance, the brain very much dictates the body!  The same is true in reverse.  My aches and pains temporarily deserted me as I skipped on down to the Bog of Donard and powered straight in, oblivious to the soaking and unconcerned by the returning cramp.  This euphoria could only last so long though and as I hit the final couple of kilometres my body started to lodge some serious complaints, my calves were like rocks, both hips were agony and my quads were in ribbons but the goalposts had been moved, I sniffed glory and I wasn't letting go.  All fluency had gone from my running as I drove hard off the hillside of Long Seefin, down the track and on to the road.  The final sprint was fuelled by sheer bloody mindedness as I drew any remaining reserves in a desperate bid to beat an arbitrary time which hadn't even been my original target.  I hammered to the end, stopped the watch and...... 4:28:10, vindicated.  Credit where credit's due.

Pushing yourself that hard has a strange effect on your emotions and I was a bit choked up as I drove up the road, pride? exhaustion? I'm not sure.  I think that I'm rarely that pleased with things I do and on this occasion I knew I'd dug deep, I'd learned from my mistakes and I'd had the balls to get straight back out and set the record straight.  This may sound dramatic but I really can't explain the disappointment I felt at the first attempt knowing how hard I'd worked and yet how many errors I'd made and how poor I felt my time was.

So how did I take over an hour off my time?

1) Started in the right place - Starting in Carrick Little meant I was fresh for what I still consider to be the hardest section and I was able to stretch my legs out along the good running of the ridge line over the big peaks.  It also meant that I hit the water pipe on Commedagh at exactly the right time.

2) I knew the route - No dragging across fields, over fences and rivers.  The road finish is longer but much, much faster.

3) I could gauge my pace - Prior to my last run I'd never gone hard over twenty miles in the mountains before.  This time I knew I didn't need to hold back, I attacked where I needed to and kept it sensible on the worst ground.  I cramped up a little bit near the end but I've had that in 3 mile races too!

4) I wanted to - I went out once and suffered and ended up gutted.  I wasn't about to let that happen again.

So there it is, my Mourne Wall chapter is done.  This time I won't be returning anytime soon.  Do I think I could slash my time again?  Certainly not to that degree!  I think if I keep doing a bit of training and putting in some miles coupled with a stiller day and slightly drier ground I could get near 4:10.00 but at this stage in my running sub-4 is a bit unrealistic.  However, I'm enjoying my running so in a years time maybe I could come back with a GPS and have a dig at the very long standing record.

Next up, the Mourne 500 and a genuine record attempt.  Watch this space....