Spent race morning watching birds.  Some black, some brown, some yellow, mostly white.  Down in the turlough in Craughwell!  The feathered kind, of course, in the company of a good pal and non-runner, PC.  A most interesting place and one that is almost unique in the world.  Go down there some day for a look and be amazed at the wildlife you might see.

 

And then back up to the race HQ at the national school in Craughwell just after mid-day for the 1PM start.  I thought it was all very calm and the people on reception were very relaxed.  The only people I saw who were under any sort of pressure were those getting the teas and buns ready for afterwards.  Parked about 75 yards from the finish line too, close to the all weather pitch  Perfect.

 

Met my old pal MK soon after.  He and I did the same warm-up: run down to the start.  We also leaned up against a wall to hold it up for a few minutes as an excuse to stretch out our “ageing” hamstrings and calves.  No point being tired before we even started.  I can officially add calf niggles to my expanding list of complaints, as I can a new-acquired left shoulder strain.  If I were a car, I'd be struggling to pass the NCT in my current state.  A change of oil is all well and good but a full overhaul is out of the human question still.  Even a new set of sparkplugs to re-ignite my running career is too much of a stretch (pun intended) at the moment.

 

Tried to impress on DQ not to go out too hard, a difficult thing for him to do in his current fantastic form.  Not sure he was really listening in any case J.  Another lad from AAC, MMc, was also in good form and I tried to pick him out a pacer to get him under 70 for the first time.  The person I chose, JO'C, did the job perfectly but he was already home & hosed and probably drinking his first cup of tea in the tent, having taken a full five minutes off his PB!  DD and I have another pretender to deal with in the upcoming 5KM series!

 

Athenry had a good turnout with lots of Maroon & White singlets to be seen around the start line.  It was Craughwell's second 10M, a distance that was previously not available in Connacht in modern times, let alone Galway.  I helped out last year as I was sorta (sic) injured, recovering from a slight case of ITB.  I gave Ballycotton a miss this year to be "right" for Craughwell.  I even did a bit of training, running a few 30 lappers of the Craughwell track in the previous few weeks, vvveeerrryyy slowly.  Appallingly slowly!  Two minute laps – 10+ minutes per five laps or 8:30+ per mile. When one starts running slowly, it's very easy to slide down into that gear and stay there, forever.  I wasn't able to go any quicker if I was to get the distance and time I needed to run those evenings.

 

I ran the Beagh 10KM (after timing it) the week before in 46-ish so was hoping – assuming I got the distance, which wasn't a given – that a sub-75 wasn't an impossibility.  My PB of 65:40 in 2006 seems such a long time ago nowadays L.  I had to go out easy, very easy, and get to five miles in as good shape as possible and hope for the best from there.  I'd not run a double-digit mile session of any sort since January 2010 – 14 months almost to the day.  That afternoon was when the ITB became unbearable, to me anyhow.

 

A very wise man once told me that it was important to go out handy and come back dandy (or words similar).

 

I started in the middle of the field, staying to the side of the road to allow the first flush of runners gallop into the distance.  Once the first horde had marauded through, I resumed my customary station on the while line i.e. middle of the roadway, so as to allow me to concentrate on the job in hand: getting to the finish line without the loss of any further pride...a hamstring...or worse.

 

Passed the turlough and nodded in at all my new friends there.  One mile.  Didn't look at the watch at all during the race – a delayed "pleasure" for afterwards.  Felt fast enough but there were still piles of people – especially women! – passing me out.  This continued for the next two miles, with BK and FD passing me very soon afterwards.  I knew I'd slowed down but I didn't realise I'd slowed that much, or so I thought.  It turned out that BK had gone out at a lunatic pace and paid for it later in the race while FD was on the way to a very credible PB.  Fair play!

 

Mile two and I was feeling poorly enough.  I'd already passed my first casualty on the road, soon after Killeeneen school, holding his hamstring.  "There but for the grace of God," I genuinely thought.  Mile three and I’m still being passed by people, sometimes on both sides at the same time – never good.  The course was a total surprise to me as I'd not travelled that road ever, or in at least 15 years.  I understand that the race went the other way last year, which meant a completely different experience for runners, from the few I spoke to afterwards who ran both.

 

Passed an elderly couple to my left between mile three and four.  They looked on at the procession of talent in front of them on the road with the same amusement as if aliens had just landed in the field across the road from their humble abode.  A perfect analogy of old Ireland clashing with new Ireland?

 

Every twist and turn brought something new to me.  Saw a few familiar faces along the way and a few strange 'Up The Bridge' signs and flags too.  I kept expecting a bridge up ahead but the only one I remember was before five miles and it wasn't all that bad :-].

 

I passed the sign for _10KM To Go_.  I wonder whose good idea that was as I could now have out and back 10KM times now.  More number crunching for afterwards, yippee – assuming I finished!

 

Passed more fellas stopped on the road.  Carnage…  Got to mile four and then eventually to mile five and halfway.  People were coming back to me slowly.  BK was still off in the distance but her ticket was stamped in my mind.

 

I had taken it very easy on the way out, not even breaking 38 minutes.  I'd run quicker first five miles in a marathon, incredibly stupidly without doubt, but that is for a report that will probably never be written, unless I want to indulge on another morbid bout of what-might-have-beens, which I'm very good at by the way!

 

I was much more confident of making the finish line now and started to push the pace a tiny bit.  People who had passed me earlier started to come back to me, one by one, two by two, three by three...

 

I missed the marker at mile six or else my Timex Ironman Triathlon didn't record it.  I hate that watch with a vengeance as it's also gotten a steel wristband that has never softened up, obviously, but the watch cost good money and I'm going to persist with it until it really annoys me some day sufficiently for me to just throw the thing away in disgust.  The split button is awkward too, especially for a left-hander.

 

The _10KM Gone_ line came up very soon after and I could feel myself quickening up, though I didn't want to push for home too much too soon, in case I did run out of steam in the last mile back up to the finish.  Shortly after mile seven, MW and BK came back into range.  Clubmate MW had started slightly ahead of me but had pushed on during the first five miles.  She had now come back into range very quickly.  Stitch.  Ouch!  I had a quiet word on the way past and told her to, "Follow me to the finish."  BK was quickly dispatched soon after, admitting her mistake of going out too hard in the process.

 

I had come up behind a fella soon before, who proceeded to push on as I came abreast.  I came up against him again very soon afterwards and he pushed on again.  I'd seen this behaviour enough times to know that he wouldn't do it a third (or if he was really cocky, a fourth) time.  He tried alright.  He didn't succeed and I never saw him again.  Why do I evoke this reaction in some recreational runners, or is it a general reaction of some non-club runners to being passed late in races by muckers like me?

 

I was still passing out people and came to the right turn in the road and "The Big Puddle."  I proceeded to do probably the one silliest thing I've even done in a road race and that was to jump it.  My excuse: there was someone else going around it the long way at the exact moment I came to it.  That could have been the end of my race there and then in the wrong circumstances.  If I could have kicked myself in the ar-se as hard as I could up the road for the next mile I would have.  Utter lunacy.  I fully expected to have to pull in at any stage over the next mile.  I didn't.  I learnt my lesson...but not the hard way.

 

Mile eight and still motoring well but a bit chastened after my water jump.  I was passing all those people who'd passed me earlier and was still to be passed by anyone since mile four, not that I was really counting, ahem.

 

I was on a small boreen at this stage so had to go to the other side to pass people, the field being really spread out now.  There were still targets I wanted to catch up ahead but I was running out of road and fast.  I felt I could really push on now.  Got to the top of the hill and was on the way back to the road out to the start.  There was one obstacle on the road, however.  Porter, Thomas!  He was shouting about being one and a quarter miles from the finish.  Delusional.  We were still at least 1.5 miles from home when I passed him.  I'll get him back when I'm next over in Craughwell on the track :-).

 

Mile nine and a stream of humanity up ahead of me on their death march to the school.  Passed a clubmate, walking on the side of the road, most unexpectedly.  RS's excuse was the playing of a soccer game that morning!  He probably went out at a breakneck pace too and just ran out of human capital.  I noted TB and JF up ahead, both with their recognisable club singlet on.  They were my next targets and both were dispatched with about a half mile to go.  I heard footsteps coming up alongside of me but I never dared to look at who it was.  I pushed on further and never saw him again.  I still have no idea who it was but it must have been someone who'd been tracking my hunched back and chicken-wing arms for a good while before.

 

I knew time was short as with less than two laps of a track to do, I knew basically what I had in the tank and let it all hang out.  I was confident of breaking 37 for the inward five but wasn't sure by how much exactly.  FF was my lastrecognisable target but Mary Porter in commentary box let that cat out of the bag by alerting him of my impending arrival just as we turned to go up to the finish line.  He doesn't run around my current level often enough to know that I have other calling cards to alert people of my impending arrival, like my extremely heavy footfall.  Another 20 yards and he would have been mine.  I’ll get him the next time, for sure.

 

74:30.  36:30 back.  6:51 last mile.  Happy enough with that.  I would have gotten a t-shirt for top 25 woman, if I was a woman!

 

After finishing and getting my excellent medal, I went to hide in my own little corner until I was ready to present myself to the world again.  I was searched out though, first by BM, who did his usual trick of going out way too quickly and coming home way too slowly.  He did have the "excuse" of having run in a 5KM the day before, breaking 20.  He couldn't figure out how he didn't run up to scratch less than 24 hours later.  Hello......

 

MMc came up soon afterwards grinning like the cat who not alone had gotten the cream but also a juicy mice and a fat bird to boot, taking the aforementioned nearly five minutes off his 10M PB.  Amazing what a bit of training and a word in his shell by my good self beforehand can do for a man's times.  I had taken half my own advice but omitted to do the training necessary to put it all together.  Another lad who did exceedingly well – for an auld fella – was TK who ran a PB, even after a very heavy evening before celebrating some Irish victory in an oval ball game or something.  DQ had a chastening day on the road, failing to break 7:10 for his last mile to get a PB.

 

I got my cup of tea and a bit of cake but didn't have the stomach to go back for a second cup as the queues were that long.  Debriefing was relatively brief as I had to head off for a warm down: reffing an U-21 B Hurling championship game in Carnmore at 4PM.  Kilconieron beat Annaghdown by a goal in an entertaining game.  I hope the referee did not have an unduly negative influence on the game.  After all, he was quite tired having spent most of the previous two hours shuffling around the roads of Craughwell/Clarinbridge :).

 

Kudos to the organisers on a perfectly organised event.  Long may it continue!  It further raises the bar on the rest of us in the county.

 

7:12.67

7:42.23

7:37.73

7:40.57

7:47.16

7:29.67

7:24.78

7:20.10

7:23.90

6:51.96

First 10KM: 46:59.97

Last 10KM: 45:43.38

JAL.