The Curse of Egotism

My Garmin bleeped at me signalling the first mile completed.  Glancing down I quickly absorbed the information, a 6:18 mile, heart rate 149, mostly uphill, all in order for a steady effort.  Rounding the corner the trail steepened and I should've backed off to compensate but instead without much conscious input my chest leaned forward slightly, knees rose and weight transferred to my toes as I upped the tempo and increased the pace.  Maintaining a casual, effortless facial expression I breezed past the lady sat on the boulder with a cheery 'hiya', the lack of heavy breathing despite the almost sprint speed highlighting my physical prowess.

The trail levelled and my watch insistently warned me of a deviation from the specified heart rate zone, the delayed reaction of technology catching up with the noticeable beating from my chest.  I admonished myself angrily, what was I doing?  Why the hell had I pushed hard like that?  This was meant to be a recovery run, entirely fuelled by my aerobic system, minimal effort and an opportunity for my muscles to actively recover from the previous day's intervals hell.

Recovering my composure and dropping the effort allowed time to analyse my bizarre reaction to being observed.  It certainly wasn't a primal, alpha male mating call.  I wasn't showing off my running capabilities as a weak effort at being attractive.  In many ways I wish it had been, at least that could be excused as a natural process, driven by the evolutionary requirement to attract the opposite sex, to secure a mate and guarantee the survival of the species.  Sadly it was something much cheaper, dirtier and indicative of an inherent lack of maturity, I'd accelerated past the walker because of ego.

These days I'd like to think I'm not massively egotistical.  I certainly used to be, breezing through my mid-twenties on a wave of financial and sporting success whilst located in the South of England where brash overconfidence is lauded, made it an inevitability.  Since then, a decade in Ireland has mellowed me.  The Irish have a mistrust of success to some degree and whilst they're still quick to congratulate, they're even quicker to ensure that nobody is allowed to take themselves too seriously, cutting egos down to size before they begin to grow and mutate.  I've embraced this mindset wholeheartedly, preferring to seek self-satisfaction over external admiration to the extent that I'm a bit embarrassed by praise, but on occasions that egotistical side can still fight through and become the dominant force again.

Winning breeds confidence, confidence breeds ego, ego breeds expectation and expectation breeds the fear!

Ego is a curse.  In running terms it has cost me the purity of racing for racing's sake.  I occasionally jealously watch competitors coming over the line together, way down the field but with smiles as wide as their faces, eschewing the sprint in order to share the final moments with their friends.  I'll have always finished way before, gnashing my teeth in a fast finish, often simply against the clock to put more time into my rivals and sew more doubt in their minds next time we line up together.  Don't get me wrong, I love to race, to compete and push myself, to move rapidly through technical terrain.  I delight in the camaraderie, sharing that indescribable pain of extreme effort and its unique bonding qualities that make lifelong friends out of new acquaintances, but I also love to win.  Winning fuels the ego and with ego comes expectation.

I'll rarely start a race unless I feel in peak condition because my ego won't allow me to lose.  I'll dig deeper, hurt more and grind out results rather than admit defeat.  And so I usually expect to win, but expectation can only bring disappointment as victories are anticipated and defeats are doubly gutting.  As a result I've probably missed out on some wonderful experiences and also probably further success because I was unwilling to take part for fear of losing.  This is ego and ego breeds the fear.

Often the races that I enjoy the most are the ones with no expectations, ones where I flog myself to death with no possibility of winning.  This season has seen me virtually undefeated but my favourite race was the Worlds where my body fell apart and I fought beyond the pain to just dip into the top forty.  For once I was the runner crossing the line way down the field, the relief of finishing far overriding any egotistical need to excel.  Perhaps I should only do International standard races?!

Shattered and satisfied despite defeat, the Worlds is no place for ego

Back to yesterday.  The unwanted sprint on unprepared muscles tore deep into my calves.  A pinpoint burning was a precursor to a wider tightening that developed throughout the rest of the session.  By the evening I was limping slightly and by morning today's scheduled tempo session was shelved.  Now I'm staring at a potential injury, disruption to my preparations and worst of all a possible inability to get into the mountains.

I'm hugely annoyed at myself for the frivolity of my actions.  Why would I care if someone saw me running slowly?  Why didn't I have the maturity to just maintain the correct outputs, keep the legs turning over and the heart in the right zone?  Why, at 38 do I still feel the need to prove myself to total strangers who don't give a damn whether I can run fast up a hill?  The power of egotism is strong and to maximise recovery, appreciate the truly important facets of life, avoid injury and guarantee my long term participation in the sport I love I need to keep taming its urges.

I'll think back to this blog next time I round that corner, and then probably still kick on regardless!

Dark Side Of The Mind - The World Long Distance Mountain Running Championships

'You lock the door and throw away the key, there's someone in my head but it's not me' 

Pink Floyd - Brain Damage.

Cramp hit instantly, a searing jolt up my calf with none of the familiar tickly warning shots.  Leaping high over the slippery jumble of wet rocks provided safety and speed but the repetitive jolts had extended my muscles too far.  The German I’d been tearing towards eased away and my mind went into instant overdrive.  I’m just 16km into a 42km race, there’s at least 1400m of climb and 2600m of descent still to endure.  If I back off and simply manage my physical state then I may be able to finish the course but this is the World Champs, I’m representing much more than just myself and it’s been an epic journey just to toe the start line.  There can be no let up, the World’s best mountain runners are biting at my heels and I’ve invested too much in this, too many hours slogging through the mire of a Mournes Winter.  Adjusting my gait I find a half skip that maintains momentum without further physical damage and try not to contemplate the suffering still to come.

Just twelve months ago I was a short course mountain runner, pretty rapid on unimaginably steep terrain but largely unproven on any distance over seven miles.  An unplanned sequence of events last season triggered a transformation familiar to many ageing athletes, I discovered an aptitude for the longer stuff and a liking for the protracted suffering of extended physical efforts as opposed to the horror of leg tearing, lung burning half hour sprints.  Twenty plus miles of mountain running requires a different approach, still constantly pushing hard but paying much greater heed to signs of physical degradation and playing off the odds of slower initial speeds to guarantee longer term survival.  This thoughtful, chess like approach to racing appeals greatly, it seems a more civilized way to suffer and so my pre-season race plans were devised around a totally different set of goals to previous years.

Half measures aren’t really in my make-up.  Having decided to focus on stamina based events I naturally sought out the race that would provide the greatest challenge.  The pinnacle of mountain running is the World Championships and so initial tentative contact was made with the Irish federation to ascertain what the selection criteria would be for the Long Distance Mountain Champs in 2016.  The upshot of that found me piling in the miles and battling serious injury over a stuttering, mentally draining but ultimately adequate Winter training block.  I’ve chronicled my unspectacular Wicklow Way Ultra attempt elsewhere.  It was an arduous and frustrating experience with a steep learning curve that ultimately saw me meet the Worlds selection requirements by just one minute in 250.  Duly chastened by my first ever Ultra I set about guaranteeing that Slovenia would be more positive. 

Subsequent training surpassed all expectations, particularly an eight week spell that saw me banging out multiple sub one-hour Slieve Donard repeats for fun, the fastest ever Mourne Skyline, a 3:34 Seven Sevens and all with minimal recovery time between epic mountain sessions and necessary tempo efforts.  I rounded off the block with a couple of races to check progress and duly broke my own Slieve Donard race record whilst comfortably defending the most prestigious of titles.  A late hamstring pull caused last minute concern but the enforced rest was probably beneficial.  I felt physically prepared and whilst obviously lacking pedigree over 26 miles I wasn’t overawed by the task ahead or the gathering of so many truly World Class athletes.

It's all about pulling on that jersey

The arduous journey to Bohinj, Slovenia took its toll with the final ninety minutes of impossibly narrow and twisting mountain roads compounding the nerve fraying madness of Italian motorways en-route from Milan.  It culminated in a vomiting child and a cramping arse muscle but this suffering was countered by the spectacular Alpine environment and the excitement of exploring a new country.  The timing of the Worlds, during a pre-planned holiday had presented a unique opportunity to drag my family along.  I was unsure whether the distraction would be a positive calming influence or would rob me of focus but having them there was a real joy and hopefully Anna and the boys were proud seeing me sporting the Ireland jersey.  The rest of the Irish lads arrived through the Thursday and so we gathered together on Friday to talk tactics and compare eating habits.  Although the usual Irish self-depracation was well in evidence as we mercilessly played down our chances I knew that we had a really talented squad.  Brian MacMahon, Eoin Lennon and Dan Doherty all have International experience in abundance and an enviable set of top class results in an extremely varied range of distances and terrains.  Having competed against Dan and Eoin before and followed Brian’s results I knew that I’d have my work cut out living with their abilities but evidently we had a very balanced squad and nobody could predict what order we’d finish in.  A Friday evening train journey to the race arena in Podbrdo allowed us a bit of time to scope out the finish area and stare up at the dauntingly steep surrounding cliffs as we guessed which of the distant ridges would form part of the Gorski marathon route.  The opening ceremony was predictably entertaining being paraded in front of the crowd accompanied by local school children and a repeat loop of ‘we are the champions’.  Formalities done we scoffed the available pasta and headed for bed, the familiar mix of excitement and trepidation multiplied several-fold by the unknown nature of the course and the stellar talent of the opposition.

Getting ready to be announced to the crowd inside

Race morning passed quickly, a 5am jog in already rising temperatures was a portent of the heat to come but I slipped into the standard routine and my automatic pilot landed me on the start line with a few minutes to spare.  The opening to the race was a confused affair with a mile long jog through the village behind a pace car.  The comfortable speed was a welcoming introduction but the additional unplanned distance certainly wasn’t.  As we passed under the huge inflatable barrier and over the timing beam the flags dropped and the car tore away, it was time to get down to business, months of prep over and no longer any hiding.  This was it, the World Championships, no excuses and no bullshit, just 120 of the best mountain runners in existence and a course that was deemed near impossible by local inhabitants when the Maraton Gorski was originally dreamt up.

The route itself can be summed up fairly simply.  Full marathon distance, from the start a continuous 15km climb gains 1250 metres of altitude before dropping about 1500m to the lowest point at kilometer 27.  Immediately kicking up again very steeply for another 1250 metre height gain over just 7km it then finishes with an eyeballs out 8km downhill sprint, quads screaming and feet burning, desperately seeking sight of the finish line and the relief of a dip in the river.

I was dreading the first climb.  I knew the gradient was too shallow and suspected the tracks too runnable to suit me.  I settled into a rhythm aiming to stay close enough to the front third of the race whilst hopefully not burning myself out for later efforts.  Initially going well it struck me that my pace would be tearing any Irish races to pieces but instead I saw the first forty runners gradually pulling away, lead by race favourite, team USA’s Andy Wacker, the differences between National and International competition perfectly encapsulated in one clear demonstration.  Just ahead of me Dan was plugging away with Eoin gaining distance and Brian long gone, he clearly had a slightly less tempered race plan than my own.

 

This initial effort lasted ninety minutes and passed through some of the most stunning scenery and enjoyable terrain I’ve ever experienced.  My body felt good and I was comfortably gaining altitude through the lower slopes before picking up places in the steep scree of the last kilometer.  I’d long dropped Dan who was clearly having a torrid time, form deserting him at the most inopportune moment.  He’ll be back in international duty again soon enough, defending his top 20 World Ultra distance ranking in October.  As the final rock strewn rise degenerated into loose switchbacks I passed Eoin, a friendly word and push on the back greatly welcomed, I can’t imagine athletes in other sports often being so warm spirited.  There was no sense of relief at topping out that first mountain, just a satisfaction that I’d got it right, my body felt strong and as I sprinted down the technical and broken initial track I picked up a couple more places, no indications of the sharp pain that was so imminent.

As previously mentioned, that initial burst of cramp was a real shock.  My body had given no indications that it was suffering and yet just a hundred minutes into a 270 minute race I was in real trouble.  A couple of minutes of a shuffling half-step relieved the pressure on the screaming muscles but the mental anguish wouldn’t dissipate so easily.  This wasn’t part of the plan; I’d paced well and am usually comfortable running these distances and elevations in training.  Perhaps the continual nature of the climb had pushed me further than anticipated and was compounded by the immediate repeated impact of the tricky descent.  I shoved a salt capsule into my mouth and awkwardly forced down a gel, no mean feat when skipping over such unpredictable terrain.  Shortly after this I was met by the unwelcome sight of Brian heading back towards me having abandoned the race.  His ambitious early pace, dualling with the front runners on the huge first ascent had emptied his legs beyond redemption.  Suddenly I found myself as the leading Irish runner, a thought that would have definitely buoyed me under better circumstances. 

I was praying to see this sight as soon as possible!

Missing out on the opportunity to pre-scope a course can be a serious disadvantage.  Mentally it’s extremely tough not knowing what awaits you around every corner and whilst I’d memorised the course profile it lacked sufficient detail for me to be truly confident.  I knew that this descent contained a short rise at some point but was completely unprepared for the length and degree of height re-gain.  Without fully recovered legs I crawled through this section, my mental state darkening as I slipped a few places, praying for the recommencing of the downhill.  The heat was beginning to play a part by now; sapping and oppressive every time we left the sanctity of the forests.  I’d joked with Dan prior to the race about the point of feed stations on downhills and why a 26 mile course had a full eighteen stops but with the fear of cramp and genuine prospect of chronic dehydration I was using every single one.  As an inevitable by-product of this re-hydrating I was hit by another unpleasant sensation, I was desperate to wee.  Dan had enlightened me about the ‘on-the-go’ technique sometimes employed during his crazy distance races.  Simply lifting your shorts a bit and maintaining stride whilst relieving yourself may be easy to the initiated but I wear knee length compression shorts and didn’t want to piss down my leg so decided to suffer on.  I had actually trained for this scenario, forcing myself not to go for hours during Mournes epics. The devil is in the detail!

After seemingly hours but actually only a handful of minutes the route descended again and my tough spell finally passed in time for me to speed through the low point where I grabbed a bottle off Brian and another off Team Ireland manager and all round gentleman Leo Mahon.  I was surprised to see Andy Wacker there, illness forcing his retirement, but unsurprised to see him smiling through his disappointment, I’ve never seen him not smiling!  The second climb wasted no time in kicking up to a 20% gradient and I glugged back some caffeine drink whilst settling into a rhythm.  Although I was now coping well I was disappointed at feeling sluggish.  This type of steep terrain is my speciality and would normally see me gaining time and places, even in such esteemed company.  I realised that all was still not well with my body and sank into survival mode, backing off to prevent blowing up.  With nothing to entertain me but the incessant grind my mind rapidly darkened again.  It’s at times like this that you really explore the inner workings of your psyche, drawing from more primal reserves to keep moving.  I have blurred memories of this epic ascent, a singing marshal, kind words from a Slovenian athlete, having to pull on fixed ropes as the trail was so steep and surprise at being passed by some top drawer athletes who I’d assumed were already ahead.  Rising beyond the tree line I finally saw the summit ridge laid out before me with about twenty athletes within striking distance.  I can recall shock at still being in touch with so many despite already having three and a half hours of running completed, I’d expected the field to fracture much more.  In better circumstances I’d have reveled in the task of chasing them down but the truth is that by that point the result was arbitrary to me; I just craved the relief of the summit.  A huge and vocal crowd at the top encouraged me to throw caution to the wind on the final descent and I duly responded, lifting my head from its stooped position and focusing on the narrow strip of rocky track ahead.  As with the previous descent I began well, immediately gaining a place but unfortunately another facet of that previous descent then took hold with the worst bout of cramp yet.  This time finding a comfortable stride proved near impossible and I had to ease off and simply see it through whilst frustratingly losing more distance and time.  As before, the contracting muscles ceased their most noticeable complaints after a few minutes and I was able to focus on the task of finishing with a bit of pace and pride.  This last drop proved to be a highlight as although the cramp had robbed me of the chance to gain many places I was absolutely flying for the last five kilometers.  I passed a Ukranian after a short tousle and then flew past a Japanese athlete as if they weren’t moving before fixing my gaze on the Dane about 200m ahead.  I was rapidly eating into his lead and having scoped this final kilometre I knew I’d be able to pass him shortly before the finish but a familiar tension was brewing in my calves and faced with the prospect of having to limp over the finish I gave up the doomed chase in order to finish in the style this race and my waiting family deserved.

Relief at crossing the line...

Sprinting down the picturesque final slope, adjacent to the Alpine stream and beautiful ornate water wheel towards an animated crowd lacked the emotion it deserved.  I was mentally and physically drained and craving the relief of the finish overrode any other feelings.  It was only after a few blissful minutes pouring water on my head, sat in the river and chatting to family and fellow athletes that the pride and satisfaction began to blossom.  I’d finished the race in 39^th place, first Irish finisher at 4:24:33.  It had been a monumental effort, exploring my physical and mental capabilities way beyond expectation for a course with those statistics.  I’d anticipated a tough day but am more than capable of covering 26 miles and 2800m of ascent and descent without ever requiring that degree of soul searching and gut wrenching.  Eoin crossed the line just under five minutes after me in 43^rd place; he too had suffered exceptionally, particularly given his undoubted and proven talent over greater distances than the Gorski Marathon route.

Soon turns to smiles!

I didn’t hang around long beyond a few thankyous and handshakes, we had a family holiday to commence and I had plenty of time to digest and analyse the race in the lengthy drive to Lake Garda where a chilled Belgian beer and a chilled Belgian friend awaited.

So what's the verdict?  Overall I'm pretty delighted, 39th is a big improvement on 81st at my last World Long Distance Champs in Colorado two years ago.  Even more satisfying is the fact that this was only my second ever marathon distance race and experience and miles in the legs count for a lot over longer distances.  I was only four minutes off the top 30 and twelve minutes off the top 20 in amongst some very classy athletes and I feel that with a bit more specific training I should be in that World's top 20, not bad for a 38 year old who's only been mountain running for five!  We spent the next three weeks enjoying the best of Italy during which I trained hard and discovered the only way to counteract that drained feeling is a constant flow of electrolytes rather than excess fluids to get past the sluggishness and unlock the underlying fitness.  I'll store that knowledge for next time.

Great Irish team relaxing post-race

Representing internationally is always a great experience and one that I’m immensely proud to do.  I came to mountain running relatively recently and so reaching this level and being offered these opportunities is slightly bemusing at times.  Knowing the sacrifices I make in terms of diet and lifestyle whilst dragging out the motivation to train endlessly in often trying conditions makes me eternally appreciative that there are other like-minded people doing the same thing.  Without fellow athletes to compete against I’d never have the chance to push myself so hard and explore my own weaknesses so thoroughly.  The dark side of the mind is a difficult place to dwell but visiting occasionally is a powerful drug, enticing you to seek the next challenge and further discover the limits of your capabilities.  I can fully understand why athletes are compelled to continually push further and harder in search of their breaking points, who knows where it will take me next?

Huge thanks to my fellow Irish athletes Dan Doherty, Brian MacMahon and Eoin Lennon as well as our excellent team manager Leo Mahon who made the Worlds such an enjoyable experience. Thanks also to Gerry Brady and all at IMRA as well as the organizers of the Gorski Marathon and the WMRA.  It was an excellent event, really professionally run and as ever the World Federation looked after us well.  Time now to get back to the Mournes and prep for a big record attempt.

Massive thanks to IMRA who even got Anna added as a team official!

Oxygen Debt - The World Mountain Running Championships

August 1992 - 14,000 feet above sea level

I bent double over my ice axe and glanced upwards.  Mont Blanc's tin box Vallot Hut didn't appear to be any closer than at my last agonised look, hardly surprising given that in the ten minutes since then I'd barely managed twenty steps.  The afternoon sun warmed my neck as I gulped in air, desperate for that reassuring feeling of deep breath hitting the bottom of my lungs.  The headaches and nausea were a portent of the horrendous night I had in store and the impending storm wasn't the main reason that there would be no summit attempt that year.  Welcome to 14,000ft Mr Bailey, now get back to the valley where you belong...

August 2014 - 14,000 feet above sea level

Where the hell is the A-Frame?  We're above the treeline and moving well but there's been no sign of the structure which definitively marks the transition to the open mountain section, the section I'd been repeatedly warned about in the last 48 hours, the one that reduces World Class athletes to arthritic wrecks.  My world has diminished to just the few metres directly in front of me.  Scotland's Claire Gordon is pushing a solid pace, still running towards a superb category win for her.  I'm more than happy to tuck in and keep pace, I was told we wouldn't still be running at this point, I was told wrong...

The Pikes Peak ascent and marathon is world famous amongst endurance athletes and mountain runners.  The ascent section climbs a massive 7,815 feet over 13.32 miles of constant uphill over trail and open scree slopes.  This year it had been selected to host the World Long Distance Mountain Running Champs adding even more prestige to one of the most coveted titles in running.

Pikes Peak in the background (from halfway down it)

Personally I'd spent the whole of last Winter telling anyone prepared to listen that I was done with competetive running and was returning to mountain bikes.  Damaged thumb ligaments in November and a call to arms from the Newcastle AC Cross Country squad had realigned my ambitions for 2014.  The possibility of representing NI at Pikes Peak and getting a trip to Colorado cemented them, I was destined to train harder and race better than ever before.  A mantlepiece full of trophies is testament to the success of the racing but the pure enjoyment and fitness gains from my longer runs in the Alps, Lake Garda and the Mournes also showed me that I could make the transition to longer distance racing from my usual five mile sprints over the peaks.  Final training efforts went brilliantly and it was with growing excitement that I realised that I'd be heading to the States not just injury free but also in superb form.

The 25 hour journey passed mostly without incident through Dublin to Colorado Springs via Chicago despite a desperate drive from the airport accidentally taking in the long stay car park and some tunnel visioned, sleep deprived Interstate terror.  On the way I'd met my NI team mates Justin Maxwell and Chris Stirling and waiting at the accommodation was Peter Bell.  The team was complete and full of excitement for the challenge ahead.  Despite the exhaustion of the journey the time difference played its tricks and I lay awake from 3am, struggling to relax but consoling myself that it'd make getting prepared at 4am on race day an easy prospect.

Where we stayed was none too shabby!

Having arrived a day earlier Peter had taken the brave move of walking the full Ascent course the day we arrived and so was full of useful information, the summation of which was that it was going to be seriously hard and that the lack of oxygen is a very real factor.  Having been out of breath on the stroll to the castle (yes castle!) for our breakfast I wasn't about to doubt how strenuous running would be at twice that altitude, however, we needed to experience it for ourselves.  We headed to Manitou Springs, parked up and ran a steady hour up the 'W's' to 'No Name Creek', about a quarter of the full ascent distance.  I have to admit that I was delighted how sprightly my legs felt, lacking the expected hangover from being cooped up on American Airlines flights for so long (basically it was like a long-haul Ryan Air!).  However, the thin air even below 8,000ft was alarming.  Any short increased effort put me in the red for way longer than it should've and I felt that I was only operating at about 60% of my lung capacity.  As such, I had mixed emotions as we enjoyed a brilliant jog down the switchbacks we'd just climbed.

Thursday evening we were joined by Dr William Elliott, renowned physiologist and seven times Pikes Peak veteran.  I'd been really looking forward to meeting him and gleaning as much information as possible about the challenge ahead.  I've never been faced with any event that has so many inherent uncertainties before and so soaked up his words of caution and inspiration intently.  After giving us a really detailed breakdown of the course and the efforts required, particularly for us sea level dwelling 'flatlanders' as we're known in mountainous Colorado he asked us for our predicted finish times.  I was caught in two minds, reveal my prior estimate (prior to the continuous warnings to go VERY easy for the first 7-8 miles since we'd arrived) or play safe and avoid risking looking like an idiot.  Being someone who is familiar with being driven by a risk of failure and not being overly averse to looking an idiot I stuck to my guns and gave a firm and confident sounding 'sub 3 hours'.  The reality in my head was that I had no clue whether I'd be much nearer the men's average time of 4:20.

Team NI psyched and ready to race

Race day started at 3:30am and for the first time ever I was praising the effects of jet lag as I took a night time warm up jog outside.  I felt awake, focused and really excited, any trepidation was hidden at the back of my conscience and I was delighted to finally be getting on with the thing that had been my focus for so long.  The World Mountain Running Association laid on transport to the start and it was quite amusing to see a queue of identical people carriers pulling up to the accommodation, the sort of thing you normally associate with FBI raids in crap detective films.  Arriving in Manitou Springs there was already a palpable buzz in the air, the sun was starting to appear in a beautifully clear sky and nearly 2,000 runners were trying to go through their warm up routines in the confines of the main street.  Team NI were all looking relaxed, posing for some souvenir pictures and laughing at the athletes who felt the need to add intense sprints to their warm up for a 13 mile uphill race, each to their own I guess.  I'd decided the day before to heed all the advice and set off extremely easy so as the countdown finished and the gun sounded I relaxed into the easiest race pace I've ever used and allowed a couple of hundred people to run past.  I'll continue from here with my stream of consciousness as it does allow you all to appreciate the inane thought processes that take place during these events!

Mile 1, relax, steady, don't chase.  People are streaming past and I could easily keep up with them.  This is contrary to all my usual race tactics but I'll see many of these people again when they're dying higher up.  Ignore the cheering crowd, ignore the pride, focus on the pace, find a rhythm.

Miles 2-4, this is too slow.  I feel far too relaxed.  I'm practically jogging and not even breathing hard, I warn people passing me to take it steady but most ignore me.  Some are wheezing and breathing really hard, I laugh internally.  Get passed by someone with a Go-Pro strapped to their head, a f***ing Go-Pro!!  This isn't a serious runner.  Have to fight the urge to pass him, bury him, teach him to respect the race and the mountain but relax, back to the rhythm.  Pass No Name Creek, into unknown territory.  Start passing the victims already including a South African I've been chatting to a bit, I tell him to relax, he tells me he's already in survival mode.  He's in for a very long tough ordeal and I'm still not even breathing hard.  I think the advice may have been right!

Miles 5-7.5, finally off the leash.  The course has flattened and I'm kicking on.  Ding Dong battle with a Polish runner, he's faster on the flats, I pass when it steepens.  Lost in personal competition we pass a dozen others.  Drink, measure effort and get a real sense of enjoyment.  Push on towards the half way mark and 'Barr Camp'.  I know I want a gel just before the aid station but how will I know where it is?  I hear it hundreds of metres before I see it, this is the USA, enthusiastic crowd support is practically a National passtime.  I really appreciate the shouts, almost as much as the Gatorade but what the hell does 'yeeeehhhhh represent real good' actually mean?  Check my watch, bang on 3hr pace, satisfaction.

Miles 8-10, I've read the course notes, I know that mentally these are the toughest miles.  Over half way but not yet on the open mountain, like a no-man's land of extreme effort.  Steeper narrower trails, uneven steps, legs rapidly deteriorating but I'm still passing people, still pushing on.  Cramping, out of the blue, really didn't expect that.  Been chugging the Gatorade but must've sweated much more than I thought.  Stuff in a salt capsule, unbelievably disgusting, instant relief.  Push on, enjoy the pain.

Miles 10-13, the open mountain.  I've read and been told so much about this section.  'It's unrunnable', 'it'll destroy runners', 'people lying and puking everywhere'.  Like anything built up that much it's an anticlimax.  Contouring trails are 90% runnable, don't walk, I haven't come all this way to walk.  Stick to Claire, she's going well and we're still passing athletes.  The body feels OK but the head is all over the shop, overwhelming dizziness, vision looks like it's through a filter, fuzzy peripheries.  I fall on to boulders deliberately to avoid falling on them accidentally.  No summit, does this mountain have a summit?  Why the hell does this fella keep sprinting past and then stop in the middle of the track?  Dickhead!

Miles 13-13.32, 'go on, you can make sub 3' shout the wellwishers.  I know this already, my pacing has been perfect.  I will make sub 3.  Just a few more short switchbacks, the finish, kick out a sprint, I always kick out a sprint.  2:56:50.  Medal round my neck.  Medics ask 'are you OK?'  Yes I'm OK thanks, but the dude who kept sprinting past isn't, he's collapsed at the finish.  I've done it, a rush of emotion, surrounded by smiles, I think I enjoyed that!

The next half hour...
I'm a firm believer that you have to grab your finish line emotion and hold on to it hard.  Like a snapshot, how do I feel right at this very moment?  If you wait even five minutes til the heart rate is down and the head is clear then you can forever be left with the unanswerable question, 'was that my best'?

As I crossed the line I felt great.  Even sitting here long after, even despite the drunken fuzziness of altitude I can still recall a deep satisfaction.  I wandered through the other international runners, chatting away.  Some were already displaying that post-race malaise, could've, should've, if only.  Pretty soon my thoughts will go the same way but that finish line sense of pride, completion, discipline, effort, pain and realised ambition has been banked and I'm all the better for that.

Summit smiles, just after the finish

Justin arrived shortly after and Chris soon after that.  The cameraderie of Team NI felt very real as we captured the obligatory post race pics, smiling faces with an astounding background vista.  I barely know these lads but I'm extremely proud to be associated with them, shared experiences that will last a lifetime.

The next ten hours...
Amongst the best of my life!  So many highs, enhanced by the mass euphoria of a town overflowing with endorphins.  Free pizza and beer (thanks WMRA), massages (thanks Billy) and easy conversation with some genuine running legends, normal people with abnormal abilities.  On the hour long drive down from the summit we got chatting to 3rd place finisher Andy Wacker, a phenomenal athlete and really nice guy.  He insisted on driving us to the team USA post-race pool party where we relaxed and drank amazing local beers with many of our fellow Internationals.  The chat was engaging and fun, I love being surrounded by people who do, not just dream of doing.  Next challenges were discussed, I'd better think of one myself.  The party wound down before midnight, virtually everyone there would train the next day.

Top of the infamous 'Incline'

The next few days...
Everything looked a bit different.  The subconscious weight of nerves had disappeared and I enjoyed everything massively, even the mundane tasks of shopping and driving around.  We ran the day after the race, a steady 13 miler with the hellish 'Incline' ascent at the end, a 3/4 mile long, 2000ft elevation gain climb which hits 68 degrees at its steepest point.  The following two days I did some of the best biking of my life, brilliantly guided by Kip, an ex-pro racer who showed me just a few of the incredible local trails including a 41km descent back off Pikes Peak.  It's no easier on the way down!  We ate lots, ran more and soaked up as much of the stunning scenery and effortless hospitality of the American people as we could.  As ever my mixed emotions of missing Anna and the boys began to tip the balance towards feeling ready to leave and so a perfect trip ended at the perfect time.

About to descend Pikes Peak.  Worth the trip just for this 36km of singletrack!

Postscript, what did I learn?

1) I'm not a World Class athlete.
Sage Canaday (Team USA) won the race in 2:10:03, nearly 47 minutes faster than me!  He is World Champion, I never will be.  No real surprises there!  I finished 81st of 1,760 starters and 14th in my age category, not bad for a flatlander!

2) I'm nowhere near as far off as this result would suggest.
The defining factor in this race was, as predicted the altitude.  I have no doubt at all that had it started at sea level I'd have been way up the field.  My 'Triple Donard' final training session ascent times were a combined 2:10:05 and that comprised over 200m MORE ascent than Pikes Peak as well as being steeper and on looser ground.  You could argue that I had the recovery time on the downhills inbetween but anyone familiar with running hard down steep ground will tell you that the opposite is true.  Team USA dominated Pikes Peak and they all live and train at altitude.  Likewise, it's safe to assume that all the athletes from the Alpine countries have been brought up in or moved to the mountains to train and race.  One of the Germans lived on Pikes Peak for the 17 days preceding the event, the others used oxygen tents and masks.  Team England had to commit to being in the States at least two weeks before the race etc etc, moan, excuses!  Team NI would've loved to have been out there long enough to acclimatise but we're part-timers with jobs, young families and very limited funding.  I'm happy I did the very best I could in terms of prep but was defeated by the unique attributes of the race.  

3) Could I have pushed harder?
This question is one I've pondered hard.  I definitely heavily heeded the advice to go easy for the first half and felt more comfortable than ever before in a race.  As a result, despite being a sea level dweller I actually picked up ten places in the real high altitude section above 10,000ft.  I wasn't going any faster but others were dying on their feet after clearly going out too hard.  I could definitely have gone 15 minutes quicker to No Name Creek and probably another 10-15 quicker up to Barr Camp, the question is would that have killed me in the second half of the race?  In truth, unless I do it again I'll never know.  If I did get the chance to do the race again I'd definitely run it in a completely different manner, going off with the leaders before settling into my own rhythm further up the mountain when they kicked on.  I'd love to go back for the marathon at some point but pushing hard in the first five miles of twenty six would be even more ill advised so I'll probably have to accept that I'll never truly know the answer to this one.

4) Colorado was amazing.
I love the USA!  As a natural cynic I always thought the over the top friendliness of Americans would feel insincere, an act put on for the tourists.  I couldn't be further from the truth.  The overwhelming openness and enthusiasm of people I met, from professional runners to garage attendants was completely infectious.  I felt like a different person out there, talking to total strangers felt so natural.  I met some truly interesting, interested and engaging people from all ages and walks of life.  Couple this with beautiful accommodation, great weather, stunning mountains, top drawer running and biking, cheap and good food and it was obviously going to be a truly memorable trip.  I'd love to get back there again.

This sums up Colorado Springs.  The Jack Quinns Tuesday night 5k sometimes gets 2,000 participants!

Being a part of the World Champs and Pikes Peak race was an incredible opportunity and experience which I earned through hard training, solid domestic race results and being prepared to stump up a large proportion of the cash required myself!  Massive thanks to Anna who is always so supportive of my 'holiday' plans and who I'm sure had a hard time looking after the boys and also working all hours whilst I was away.  To my fellow NI team mates Justin, Chris and Peter, you were brilliant and easy company as well as being great athletes and training partners.  Big mention to Dr Billy Elliott for the top advice, endless support and friendliness and for being the best possible advocate for the race and Colorado in general.  The WMRA looked after us very well and the runners from all over the world made the event truly special along with the Colorado locals who were all so accommodating.  Thanks also to Feetures Socks, 2Pure, NIMRA and Newcastle AC who all contributed in different ways.

To any runners looking for a challenge it's pretty clear from the tone of this blog that I enjoyed the Pikes Peak ascent.  I'd really highly recommend you do all you can to meet the entry requirements and get signed up.  It truly is an experience that'll stay with you for a lifetime.

Achieving ambition. The Donard hat trick revisited

Back in 2012 I was looking for a new challenge.  I was enjoying a new lease of life in a new sport and realising that I had a bit of potential in mountain running.  I wanted something that was achievable but seriously challenging and so the Donard Hat Trick was born, boasting three full ascents and descents of Northern Ireland's highest mountain and giving a 15 mile route with 2550m of climbing and obviously the same amount of descending.  Tough in itself, but the real killer was that to complete the challenge I decided on a maximum 3.5 hours to do it!  If you read the link there you'll realise that not only did I never achieve it, I never even got round to attempting it!  I also failed spectacularly to convince any of the elite mountain runners I asked to give it a go either.  Consensus was that it was a bit too ambitious/mind numbing!

Don't get me wrong, I had a good stab at it but limited myself to double ascents culminating in a 2:19:26 (the 1:19 in the old blog is a typo!).  That theoretically put me on target but the reality was that I was almost unable to walk after the two times round and the thought of putting in a 1hr 10m third lap was laughable.  Two pretty successful years of running and racing later, quite unexpectedly the Donard hat trick sailed back into my consciousness.

Slieve Donard in the distance on a much nicer day.  Funnily enough I didn't take any pics today! 

I'm heading off to the famous Pikes Peak race in Colorado in two weeks, representing NI in the World Long Distance Mountain Running Champs.  The route for that race is an all uphill 13.3 miles gaining around 2500m of elevation.  To make matters much worse, the finish is above 14,000 feet, a height where the limited oxygen can leave you gasping for air when you're just standing still!  Extensive research has sadly taught me that for us sea levellers there's nothing we can do when competing at altitude except turn up a month in advance and acclimatise.  Also sadly, sport's funding bodies don't value us mountain runners very highly and so there's no chance of our team being given that opportunity despite physiology tests proving that top mountain runners are at least on a par with top Olympians.  If it's not Olympic or Commonwealth, there's no cash available (not that I'm bitter!).  Anyway, I'm digressing.  Realising that I couldn't simulate high altitude I decided that at least I could try to recreate the difficulty of the Pikes Peak route.  I was fortunate enough to spend an amazing month with the family in Chamonix and Lake Garda during June and July where I was able to put in some big runs with big ascents, adding a new level of endurance to the fitness gained from a great season of competing in Ireland.  Upon returning home I was looking for a breakthrough session that would test me to the degree that the Worlds will, whilst also demonstrating to myself the pacing and nutrition approaches I'll need in order to perform my best in Colorado.  With a bit of thinking the answer was staring me in the face, it was time to resurrect the Hat Trick.

I planned to put the attempt at the end of a heavy training week which included a fast, hilly 18 mile trail run on Monday and a double Donard on Wednesday along with two shorter recovery runs.  In the end I only ran a single Donard on the Wed as I thought my legs were a feeling a bit heavy.  In actuality I ended up feeling great and knocked out a sub 1hr lap which felt so easy that a couple of hours later I'd forgotten that I'd actually trained that day.  A rest day on Friday and I was all prepped and psyched, and then I saw the weather forecast!  Torrential rain and a weather warning for County Down wasn't part of the plan and I felt an initial pang of annoyance but then I saw that the wind was coming from the North giving me potentially a rare tailwind for much of the climb and I perked up a lot.  I don't care about getting soaking but pushing into a headwind repeatedly gets boring very quickly.  The other great motivator was that the Seven Sevens race was taking place in the Mournes that day, a race I was originally going to enter but wimped out when I got injured scoping the course out.  The winner of that race is always aiming to go sub 4hrs and I knew that the winner was likely to be my occasional training partner Seamy Lynch.  A quick text to Seamy and a bet was made, whoever finished their race first was promised a free lunch!

So to this morning.  I prepared as I always do for a race, eating well 2.5 hrs before and then getting as much fluid in as possible.  I planned to start at 9:58, just before the 10am start time for the Sevens so I wouldn't be interfering in the race at all.  You get a lot of thinking time when running so I think the best way to describe my attempt is by sharing my own internal dialogue.

Lap 1
Start easy, find a place to stash a water bottle for later.  11 mins at the ice house is about right but I feel bloated, I clearly ate too much.  I'm sick in my mouth a bit but swallow it knowing I'll need those calories later.  The flatter mid section feels great, I've found a good pace and rhythm and it feels totally effortless.  There's a slight tailwind which feels brilliant, I lose count of the amount of times I've battered into a headwind up here.  On to the really steep steps and the wind is picking up.  Through the col and onto the summit ridge and it's blowing a gale, the icy rain is battering me and it can't be much above zero degrees with the wind chill.  My jacket goes on, I can't see it coming off again today.  Hit the top in 43:20, about perfect.  My legs feel great, no strain at all, time for a steady descent.  Eat three jelly babies, one makes a bid for freedom and jumps back out of my mouth.  Good measured descent, I hit the bottom at 1:10:45, close enough to 3hr 30 pace and feeling totally relaxed.

Lap 2
How the hell are you meant to take on a gel when running up a 25% hill?  I can't even open the stupid thing.  Finally bite the top off and extract the remains that haven't squirted all over my hands.  Grab the stashed bottle and have a quick swig.  Legs feel fantastic, still really easy and totally different to my old double Donards.  Loving the confused looks on the faces of people who have seen me ascending twice now.  Not even out of breath so saying a cheery hello to everyone I meet.  There are some miserable bastards on the hill today, can you really not muster a reply?!  Kudos to the Dub fella who asks if I've forgotten my wallet!  I tell him I left my fags at the top.  Meet Jim Patterson, local running legend walking down.  He tells me he knows I'm in training but today is the wrong weather.  I respect Jim's opinion and his observation worries me.  Five minutes later I meet Anne Sandford, NI team selector and she asks whether this is my second or third ascent and gives me some support, I feel instantly much better.  The track is now a stream higher up on the mountain and the wind smashes me again on the summit ridge.  43:35 up, delighted to see that my pacing is near perfect so far.  All three jelly babies make it to my stomach this time, now for the descent.  I get a strange sensation of enjoyment, real enjoyment!  The descent feels fast and smooth, feet precise, plenty of grip.  So busy waxing lyrical about my new Inov8 X Talon shoes that I catch an edge and go over on my damaged ankle.  No amount of taping would stop that.  Familiar feelings of nausea but I know I can run this one off, concentrate, concentrate.  Hit the bottom in 2:19:53.  I've clawed time back and I still feel strong.  Last time I was in this position I was virtually crawling across the car park!

Lap 3
Better effort on the gel this time, learned behaviours!  The legs feel a bit heavier, calves stiffening for the first time and the quads know they've been busy.  Still hit 11 mins to the ice house so the pacing is still good but it feels harder this time.  I feel a bit fuzzy around the edges, slight hallucinations in my peripheral vision, other runners.  I'm convinced I've slowed but want to give myself a chance at 3:30 with a good descent.  Grind out the final section of the summit ridge, hit the top and touch the tower, glance at the watch, 3:03:03!  Incredible, my fastest ascent of the three at 43:10.  Amazing effort at constant pacing too.  Realise that I've still got plenty in the tank and with a decent descent should complete the challenge within the time.  Feet aren't so precise now but I'm attacking hard.  No need to hold back.  Loving the temperature rise as I descend.  Grab the stashed bottle, no way I'm going to come back up for it.  Out of the trees and sprint, a genuine smooth, relaxed sprint for the finish in the car park.  3:25:13.  Incredible.  I let out an involuntary whoop which gets me chatting to the walkers who hit the bottom at the same time as me.  The time has blown me away but more than that, I still feel strong.  I keep running back to the van, reckon I've got another ascent in me.  Pretty sure I've never felt this fit in my life, delighted and really excited.

So there it is.  A challenge completed and a really gratifying demonstration of how fitness can change and evolve.  I thought I was fit in 2012 but clearly now I'm on a different plane altogether.  The longer runs I've been doing have obviously contributed massively but the ease of it all, particularly in really trying conditions has astounded me.  With three ascents all within 25 seconds of eachother and progressively faster laps culminating in a 1:05:20 for the last one it's safe to say that I got my pacing pretty spot on.  The nutrition went well despite Fort Knox gel packets and freedom seeking jelly babies.  All in all I genuinely couldn't be more satisfied.  I just hope that I can somehow pull off a similar performance at altitude!

As a postscript, I let Seamy off the bet.  He won the Sevens in a very respectable 4:02 despite some questionable navigation and frankly it's a lot harder than my triple Donard.  I think the only fair thing to do is for him to do the Hat Trick and see who's time is faster.  I'll have my steak medium rare thanks Seamy!