The Dingle Marathon Weekend

September 1st;

What I wonder is the definition of madness ?. Is it when you keep doing the same thing and never learn ?. Well perhaps I suffer from it or something similar.  I went and entered the Dingle Marathon even though the suffering of the final four miles of my previous (and only) marathon in The Burren was still vivid in my mind. I hadn't done any special training except for the next to last week where I feared I had done too much. Anyway I went down in the Friday evening where Petra Tolarova ( the girl I am going to the Alps with soon) cooked me a meal. Indeed such is her energy that she had travelled by train to Tralee and cycled the tough 50 Kilometers to Dingle that afternoon. We had a nice chat over a bottle of wine and afterwards I retired to my campsite for the night. I slept really poorly but still felt quite refreshed and ready in the morning. The day was ideal for the event. It was partly sunny and cloudy  and the temperature was a pleasant 18 degrees or so. I had to walk about a kilometer to the start and was joined by an effervescent man from Brittany (not France) who chatted animatedly about his love for Ireland and the Breton language. All was going well until he asked me if I was retired....Grrrr. I left him in no doubt that I was not and that I was only 50. Thankfully he spotted another victim soon after and I was left to enjoy the rest of walk in peace. Merde Tete.

The starting line was at the large car park on the seafront. I was there at 08-20 and I met Petra and we enjoyed the mounting atmosphere and excitement generated by the large crowd milling about before the start. Soon enough the 09-00 arrived and we were off. I had it in my head that I would try to run eight minute miles and I was delighted to realise when I passed the two mile mark that I was comfortably inside that pace and I felt I was running well and within my comfort limits. There was a nice atmosphere along the route with people gathered in lots of spots offering great encouragement.

Things were going pretty well and as we left Ventry behind and headed out to the rugged wild beauty of Slea Head I was enjoying myself immensely. Don't get me wrong, it was still tough going but I was feeling fairly strong and confident at this point. The scenery here is epic and thankfully the road surface is good because I spent most of my time enjoying the views. After we passed the 10 mile mark I felt the first worrying twinges of fatigue in my legs. I realised it was too early and by the time we reached Dunquin at the half way mark I was seriously considering ending my run there and settling for the Half Marathon instead. However that is not what I went there for so I stayed in the lane for the full marathon and ran on. On the hill out of the village I knew that the eight minute mile time was beyond me and I slowed right down. I hoped that this would allow me to recover and enable me to finish the run. It didn't work and things continued to be a struggle and were getting worse. Passing the 15 mile mark I was feeling lousy. My legs were tight and I felt like I would have to stop soon. I resolved to keep going and tried not to allow myself think about the eleven miles that remained and focused instead on completing the next mile.

Passing Clogher Head I felt as bleak as the landscape and by the time I approached Ballyferriter I had to resort to walking for the first time. Other runners were great and offered me words of encouragement as they went by but it was tough. I was even feeling a little cold so I ate the remaining gels I had and after a while they seemed to give me a boost and I jogged on. The miles passed painfully slowly but they passed. Eventually the crest of the final hill at Ballynana arrived and I was facing the final three miles and I felt that I would finish it. It is surely a true ism that long distance running is a psychological battle as well as a physical one and today I was really tested on both sides. While I was still exhausted physically I actually ran the last few miles well and indeed passed several others on the way. I was given a great welcome near the finishing line and I found that I had to struggle with my emotions as I neared the finish. I crossed the line in 3 hours 43 minutes 03 seconds. Not the three hours thirty I had been hoping for but this time I had overcome both my physical difficulties and perhaps more importantly the real mental challenge of enduring the final 10 miles.

I've no idea who he is but its a great picture.

 I walked about a bit until I had sufficiently recovered my composure and then joined the queue for the massage that was badly needed. The girl that spent 10 minutes trying to unknot my leg muscles did a great job and I walked out much easier than I went in. I went and enjoyed the free food and festive atmosphere near the finish line. Petra had come in while I was getting my rub down so I had missed her and wasn't able to give her the rousing reception she gave me when I did the Burren Marathon in May. I guessed that she was after returning to her accommodation to freshen up so I milled about for a little while and walked to back to the campsite to try and freshen up myself. We went for a couple of drinks that afternoon and basked in the afterglow of our achievement. It was her first marathon and she finished in 4 hours 33 minutes and had found it easier than she had expected. She was already planning more in the future. The afternoon had turned wet and neither of us had the energy for a long night out so she made me a delightful supper and I went back to my tent and a well earned nights sleep followed.

Sunday September 2nd;

Petra before the hike

In the mist

The rain of the previous night had stopped when I got up but the clouds remained stubbornly low and there was a little mist wafting in from the ocean. I wasn't overly optimistic that we would get views if we decided to go for a hike yet the prospects of a nice cliff walk or some such didn't have much appeal either. I went and collected Petra at 9am and after a brief discussion we decided to do the normal route up Mount Brandon from Cloghane. This was the best option because Petra was travelling light and hadn't brought any hiking gear. The drive over the Conner Pass lacked its normal splendour as once we went above 300 meters we were in the mist. We parked at Faha near the grotto and commenced our hike. We took it nice and easy and let our muscles get used to exercise after yesterday. Actually we were both feeling quite good.  The path is quite easy and unspectacular and we walked and talked easily about our upcoming trip to Switzerland.

Drom na Muice

Mystic Ridge looking magical

As we got higher the warming sun started to do its work and the mist started to thin. By the time we rounded the shoulder of the Faha Ridge and entered the spectacular Coum under Mount Brandon there were patches of blue sky appearing and glimpses of the wonderful north face of the mountain started to emerge from the billowing mist. It was now quite warm and we were sweating heavily by the time we reached the summit ridge. Here we emerged finally from the mist and we were treated to the most wonderful views above the clouds. We walked the final few hundred meters to the summit and there relaxed for a glorious half hour in this special place. As we sat and watched the views south towards Ballyferriter and beyond to Slea head actually cleared and to the west Brandon Peak and Gearhane stood gloriously in the sunshine.

Up in the sunshine

Happy chappies

Towards Brandon Peak

Cloghane and Benoskee beyond

Eventually we took our reluctant leave of the summit and returned to the coum. On our return we passed quite a few people who were delighted to hear that they would also be able to enjoy wonderful views when they emerged onto the ridge. The decent seemed to take a long time and the effects from yesterday were being felt. However the day was ever improving and we were in bright sunshine for the latter half of the way down. We reached our car glad to be down but very happy with our day. Indeed how could we not, having seen this most majestic mountain at its most spectacular best. We relaxed on the drive back to Tralee where Petra went to enjoy a swim/sauna before her train to Dublin. It was a great weekend of struggles and triumph with the serenity of a sunny mountain summit thrown in. Next stop Switzerland.

The Knockmealdown Mountains Run

I went with the irrepressible Kevin Ring for a run on the Knockmealdown Mountains on Sunday morning. It was a delightful morning and the view across to the Galtee Mountains soaring up from a bank of fog was wonderful. We met up at the village of Kilworth and headed off to Araglin. From here we went a couple of kilometers north and found a suitable parking spot for the car on the narrow road. We had no set distance or circuit planned but from our parking spot on the Avondu Way we decided to go as far as Knockanchuillan and take it from there.

 From our starting point under Carran Hill the first few kilometers were along delightful country lanes. We were both feeling good and as usual my biggest problem was trying to ensure that Kevin didn't speed ahead with that long easy lope of his. When the first opportunity to break onto the open mountainside arrived we took it and headed up fairly gently sloping but slippery heathery ground for the top of Farbreaga and then to Crow Hill. After this came a delightful section when we rejoined the Avondu Way and ran gently for three kilometers uphill on fine tracks to the top of Knockclugga and turned north across rough ground to Knockshanchuillinn, at 652meters the highest point so far. Feeling good we opted to continue on to the next unnamed top three kilometers further on. This was tough going as it was across boggy ground with long grass and heather. Eventually we stood at the 630meter summit and looking down at the "Vee"  and being gluttons for punishment decided to drop down and go as far as Sugarloaf Hill. This meant a steep drop of 300 meters and an even steeper climb of over 330 meters up the other side. Eventually we reached the summit at 663 meters and sat for a while and had a bite to eat and drink and enjoyed the view.

We were tired (at least I was) and quite impressed with ourselves on reaching this point in two hours five minutes. After our rest it seemed a shame to waste the opportunity  to summit the highest in the range Knockmealdown itself at 794 meters. It was a mere three and a half kilometers away and didn't look that far on the map and only required an extra 250 meters of climbing. So almost predictably off we set. Fairly soon I was beginning to regret it but the dye was cast. We had estimated that it would take an extra half hour to get there and we arrived bang on time. A quick about turn and we retraced out steps to the col and down wet boggy ground to the road. From here we opted to follow the Avondu Way back to the car. It was tough. The many kilometers we had already travelled had taken their toll and I now found it impossible to run uphill so we walked those sections and ran the flat and downhill ones. Eventually we reached the car well nigh exhausted but really pleased with our effort. A total of 36 kilometers travelled, much of it across trackless wet bog and 1600 meters of ascent in four hours forty five minutes made for the toughest run both of us had ever done and I have no doubt it was in fact (in difficulty if not distance) a mountain marathon. Perhaps a bit of overkill as a training run for the Dingle Marathon which is on next week but a worthy day out in its own right. I think that this was near to the maximum effort I am able to make now but Kevin is a different animal. I suspect that even he is not aware of his potential and I know that he is capable of super feats in the future. I suspect though that we will not rest on our laurels.

One think I have to say is that despite the hardship it was, as always, much fun to have a day out with Kevin.

Fanore Burren Half Marathon Weekend

Fanore Half Marathon

August 17^th;

What an action

Not as close as it looks

Glamping ?

Glaikit and Crabbit

I set off from work on Friday afternoon and picked up Frank and we headed to Fanore in the Burren, County Clare. This is one of my favourite places in Ireland and since I rediscovered the area last year is one of the areas I most look forward to visiting. Already in May this year I had been there and run the Ballyvaughan Marathon. That weekend I was blessed with beautiful weather and I was delighted to see that this time the weather once again looked set to behave. A very rare thing in this miserable summer (weather-wise) we have been having. We were in great spirits and when we arrived in Ailladie and looked out across the Atlantic towards the Aran Islands and across Galway Bay to the Twelve Bens we felt the holiday had begun. We parked our car and just wandered about soaking up our surroundings. There were quite a few people fishing from the ledges along the shore and we were looking forward to wetting our lines over the weekend. We set up camp and after a bite to eat went down to the shore to try our luck at fishing. I put it down to lack of practice the face that we came away empty handed after a couple of hours hard graft. Upon arriving back at the tents we discovered that another group had arrived (who had passed us going fishing as we returned complete with bottles of liquor) and that they had brought a pile of wood for a bonfire and a barbeque. This gave a pretty clear indication that a late and possibly loud party was planned so we decided to decamp from this spot and opted instead for a spot about 500meters north which although closer to the road offered the prospect of a quieter night. Re-erecting the tents didn’t take long and we enjoyed a peaceful night.

August 18^th;

I hope nobody peed into that

Oops too late Frank



Happy the end is in sight

Mo who??

What a poser/plonker

All Scotsmen are giants

We awoke to a beautiful morning with clear blue skies and the promise of a warm sun-kissed day. We enjoyed lounging about and taking in the beauty of our surroundings. Yet again I was seeing The Burren at its stupendous best. I know I have said it before but it is a place that is unique in Europe and the rugged bleakness of the landscape is offset by the abundance of wildflowers that decorate everywhere that a bit of soil manages to cling to. Even without having the excuse of the half marathon to go to, the area is well worth a visit for its own sake. We enjoyed a filling breakfast of porridge and banana and coffee and rolls to follow. Quite the feast but we had two hours to go before the 11am start so the tummy would be well settled. Frank was entered for the 10K run and he had a great assortment of pre-during-race booster gels with him. I decided to carry two gel sachets with me. We strolled about and wandered deeper into the landscape and eventually left in good time for the village of Fanore. I say village yet it is really a pub and a shop at a crossroads. There were a few people milling about when we arrived but it was again clear that there wasn’t going to be a huge turnout. I was a little disappointed at this as in my mind it is an event that should draw people from far and wide. However the advertising of it is poor and the website isn’t great so I suppose a lot of people would be put off or be drawn to other slicker events. Still there was a nice atmosphere building and the day was glorious and both Frank and I were looking forward to it.

I left Frank to his own devices and went for a warm up jog. Back again and all of a sudden the start time arrived and we were off. I set off at a strong pace and covered the first two miles in just less than fourteen minutes. I was pleased with this and felt I had time in the bank for the more difficult sections that lay ahead. The route was altered this year and instead of going along the sea shore we wound our way instead through a caravan park set in sand dunes and after a short section running along a rutted track we arrived back on the road for another mile before again heading off road and heading uphill to join the “green road” that returned to the church at Fanore bridge. By now we had gained about 300ft to attain the “green road” and returned to sea level at the church. Any illusions that we had that this was an easy run were now well and truly dispelled. From the church we turned and ran up a beautiful little road that wends its way alongside the delightful river Caher. The going was fairly steep for about a kilometre where another 200ft was gained before easing off for the next few kilometres when the route joins the Burren Way. Here the steepest part of the route arrives and over the next mile 600ft is climbed across the shoulder of Slieve Elva. This is too steep in parts for me to run so I walked a fair bit of it and ran where I could.



Braving the chill

 After all this climbing comes the reward. A long flat section along the hilltop enables one to recover and enjoy the glory of the views. I was feeling fairly good and determined to have a good go at beating my time of 1hour 53mins from last year. So when eventually I reached the road and the long descent I ran as hard as I was reasonably able all the way to the finish. I covered the last 4.38 miles in 27minutes exactly. I finished in 1hour 47minutes and in fourth place. I was welcomed back by Frank who despite a pulled hamstring had finished the 10K and really enjoyed his outing. I walked about a bit and did some stretching and made up a protein drink for myself which I find greatly aids recovery after exercise. We then wandered the couple of hundred metres down to the rocky shore with a view to having a dip in the sea. A nice rock pool was soon spotted and I gingerly braved the water. It was bloody freezing and I limited myself to standing waist deep for as long as I could bear it. Still it was good for the legs and by the time I was back at the car and changed I was feeling good and I confess basking in the afterglow of what for me was a very satisfactory effort. Soup, tea and sandwiches were supplied and well fed and rested we headed to Ballyvaughan for a few supplies (tinnies) and back to Ailladie and our campsite. Another couple of hours fishing followed (Frank caught one mackerel) and an enormous portion of pasta was enjoyed for dinner. Then we sat and chatted into the darkness sipping our beers and had a great evening.

Sunday 19^th;

Nice an easy

Not as easy

Epic...poser

Nice climbs up the cracks



Lovely arret

Yet again we awoke to another excellent morning. A little more breeze was about and it was a little cooler but after the weather we had endured this summer any dry day was a bonus. A leisurely breakfast of coffee and “KitKat” and we packed everything up and went down the road for a few hundred metres to the crag to try our hand at some climbing. With all our travelling and the rubbish weather it had been quite a while since we had done any rock climbing but there were enough climbs at the easy end of the scale to ensure we would be kept busy. I led the first one. A nice easy 10metre arret they was an easy Diff or VDiff. It was just the job to ease back into things and we were off. Another shorter (maybe 7 metres) but more difficult route followed which took a bit of figuring out and rated perhaps a Hard Severe grade. We top-roped a few more before I led another 10mtr route at Severe. We were having a blast and we indulged in a late second breakfast of porridge and feasted in the wildflower meadow at the base of the crag. Back to the climbing and we got a couple of more routes in before the increasing cloud cover decided to remind us that rain is never too far away in this part of the world. So we packed up and readied for home. We didn’t mind the interruption and were very happy with our trip. Amazing as it seems and despite knowing him for years now, this was the first time Frank and I had managed to get away for a trip. We were soon on the road home listening to some music and reminiscing and planning for another trip. It was a lovely weekend, thanks Frank.



Led up right and toproped left

Loving it