Send in the Clowns - BAC 10K Challenge

Last night: An enjoyable hilly 10 miles on the bike
Giving the calf a well-earned rest. As I panted and struggled on the steep uphill to Carrigologan, hundreds of mountain bikers passed me, screaming and yelping in delight on the steep down-hill (it's all just a question of perspectives). I had just missed an MTB race up in my neck of the woods. I don't think my skinny wheels would be up for the job anyway. Still, anything that reduces a group of grown men to giggling children must be good! Bike is going well again, but I need to get a nasty buckle on the rear wheel fixed.

Summary: 10 hilly miles on the bike, in 41 mins, @23km/hour.

Today: 6.2 Miles at Limerick marathon pace.
A nice chilled relaxing run, with some killer tunes, over an old familiar route, that seemed more pleasant, without the threat of a looming race. Limerick pace feels nice and recovery'ish, after a couple of months of tough races. Plan is to do the remaining 20 miles tomorrow morning, to cover the marathon distance at pacing pace.

Summary: 6.2 miles in 48 mins @7:47/mile, HR=143

Today: New Limerick pace target today, so set off to do 10k at the new pace to see what it felt like. Motored along comfortably enough, if a little too fast. I've agreed to pace the first half, but would hope to pace the whole thing. At worst, I'll rip off my pacer stuff, and tottle along to the finish.

Summary: 6.1 miles in 44 mins, @7:11, HR=151 (which is a little high for my liking).

I took a couple of days off, to make sure I had recovered fully from the previous week's 20 mile run. On the morning of the run I managed a small breakfast with Lecheile, before throwing on the gear, and heading to the marathon start line a little too late for Amadeus' comfort (given the stressed look on his face!). A nice chat with the other pacers (most of whom I knew already, which was cool), and then I tied on the balloons (for the first time *cough*), and walked the twenty feet to the empty starting corral. While there, I was chatting to a few of the locals and runners, handing out some pacing bands, and explaining my strategy, when one of the lads tapped me on the shoulder and pointed skyward. I looked up to see some idiot's balloons, disappearing over the cityscape. Sadly, that idiot turned out to be me, as the balloons made a sneaky getaway as soon as my back was turned.

I looked over at the glaring faces on the steps of the race HQ building, and spied the Spin 1038 girls mounting a wreath of balloons on a railing. Seeing my distress, the girls came to my rescue, and I securely tied a couple of new balloons to my shoulder. Unfortunately they were non-helium balloons, so I ended up carrying them, until one of them burst, and the other started to give me blisters and was ejected at mile 22.

The race gun went off, and within about 3 seconds we were over the start line. After an over-quick start, I settled back into target pace, and started to chat with those around me. Met a guy I ran with in the Connemarathon a few weeks back, who was targeting 3:45 (but thankfully had discarded the cut-off denim jeans and cotton T for this race!). I advised him of the risks of running with me at 3:15 pace, given his 3:45 target, and after a few minutes of chat, he settled back a bit, dropping off the pace a little (he went on to finish in 3:20, for a massive PB!).

The first 5 miles passed in a breeze, as I chatted and joked with the group that had formed around me (approximately 12-15 runners, with another 5-10 trailing behind). We headed alongside UL, on one of a number of loopbacks, that I thought added a lot to the race, as you got to see the leading pack in action, but also your brother pacers, and give them a friendly holler. Along the river, things got a little narrower, but we got into the habit of looking after each other, and offering a shout of 'bollard', 'rock', 'narrow bridge' and even a few 'low flying pigeons'.

Everybody was delighted to hit the 10 mile mark bang on the pace (I was shouting out our deltas from the target pace at every mile, so it was usually 10-30 ahead of pace). Lots of shouts of encouragement. As we headed back into the city, and the midway point, one of my balloons decided that it had (understandably) spent enough time nestled in my armpit and self-imploded with a dramatic pop. Left with only one balloon crossing the half way point, my brother pacer who was to join me at that point didn't see me, and neither did I see him, so I was forced to push on, with the realization that I had no choice but to go the distance at this stage. There would be no backing out.

Shortly afterwards, we headed out into the country. Green fields and forests broken only by the occasional house that would have impressed the Ewings of South Fork. The crew was motoring well at this stage, but the chit chat had all but dissappeared, except for the conversations I would have with the occasional runner who found the energy and need to share a few words. We picked up a few stragglers from Mick's sub-3 group, but their backwards journey was only beginning, and more often than not, they continued their journey of decline. A brief chat with another Connemara ultra runner who hadn't fully recovered from the race three weeks ago, before he too drifted off the pace (but happily finished as another 3:2x runner).

Mile 20+ is when things started to go wrong for the individuals in my pace group. We encountered a few hills, and the wind had picked up, and the group which previously had been shaped like an arrow, was now forming into a line as each runner ducked behind one another, with me at point. By mile 23, the line had stretched so long that I could no longer see the runners at the back. So around 5 of us made the journey through the alleyways and gates, past the lying fishermen (go straight, go left, go right), and made a few nervous turns, with no marshalls about to tell us which way we should be going. Eventually we arrived back out on the road, where the traffic cones signaled the way forward. Chatting to this guy, he revealed that today was his 25th birthday, so I was glad that at mile 26 he pushed on for a fantastic PB. For the next three miles the pace picked up a little as I missed a mile marker, and the guys picked up their pace as they got closer to their goal.

Hitting mile 26, the roars from Limerick city might convince you (if only briefly) that you're one of the mighty munster men, getting ready to line up against Biarritz. I left the other runners in the capable hands of my pacer buddy who had caught up with me at around mile 23, and slowed to see if there were any more marathon runners I could provoke into a last hard push, but looking back two blocks, I could see no-one. With the crowd roaring me forward, I had little choice but to step over the finish line in 3:13:11.

After picking up my medal, water and space blanket, those I had helped along the way came back to offer their thanks, which made the 26 mile journey worthwhile. I hung around the finish area, and greeted all the guys I had run with over the first 20 miles, congratulating them on achieving their respective PBs (the best being 68 minutes!), and exchanging happy back-slaps and handshakes, the relief of crossing the finish-line being very palpable.

As soon as I stopped moving my groin seized up, so I was greatful that it had the decency to hold off until my responsiblites had been discharged. A chat with the other pacers who all managed to meet their goals, and I hobbled my way back to the hotel, into a hot bath, and dosed myself liberally with a muscle rub I was greatful to be trying out. I'm not sure if it was the alcohol or the rub, but after several very enjoyable pints with the Boards pacers I was walking pretty freely again, so no long term damage done. Rest and recovery for a couple of weeks, without any specific goals other than getting ready for the Wicklow Way relay.

Some observations:

• My heart rate was substantially higher than the first 26 miles of my recent ultra run (at the same pace), and the same as my recent 2:55 marathon PB, so the repeated marathon distance runs are definitely taking their toll. Hats off (as always) to Hunnymonster taking on her new Malin/Mizen challenge. Days like this really put it into perspective.
• Carrying balloons under your arm for 22 miles is a pain in the a$$.
• Not many marathon runners achieve the lofty goals they set themselves. Very often they come close, and just miss the mark by a small margin.
• Running the last 385 yards over the finish line on your own, with a pacing sign on your back is a long, lonely journey.
• Tie your balloons firmly, and then tie them again... And again.... and again....
• Limerick is a city of great spirit, warm people and obvious charms, and I hope to return soon.
• Running a 3:15 pacing marathon is substantially tougher than running a 3:30, so it's definitely a good idea to have back-up pacers/options.
• The Boards guys are a great bunch of people with whom sharing stories over a couple of beers is a great pleasure, and an experience I hope to repeat over many more races.

Summary: 26.3 miles in 3:13:10, @7:20/mile, HR=152

Ha! Don't talk about racing lines and Limerick in the same sentence! What we thought was the race line painted on the road the day before the race was covered in traffic cones the following day. My watch measured it long by about 150 meters, but it's difficult to tell exactly how/where the original course was measured. We may have unintentionally cut corners at some points, and ran long at others.

Not so sure about Cork. Going to have to see how the recovery goes, and how the family would feel about another disappearance. We have a Junior cert student in the house too, so it's not very timely!