I asked club member Adrian Ryder to write about his recent
race in Connemara - the Connemara ultra (39.3 miles). Adrian in his maiden
ultra finished in a time of 5hrs48minutes - a cracking time, even more when you
consider how, em, relaxed his training schedule was. Read on......
A few people have asked me why I was doing this and I found
it difficult to come up with any kind of acceptable answer. I never had the talent, or
maybe more so the discipline, to excel at any sport. What I love about distance running is
that the farther you go, the less important it is where you finish, as long as you finish.
Distance running allows me to enjoy sport without feeling pressure to be any good at it.
However, I didn’t think “I’m too lazy to do anything else” would be a viable
answer to someone asking why I wanted to run 39.3 miles so most people just got the usual, “Why not”.
Ultra Training
Since taking up running 2 years ago I’ve
always been a poor trainer. I
joined Mallow AC last November to try to add some structure
to my training and although I
feel I have made good strides (excuse the pun) since joining
the club, I was still only running
2-3 times per week up to Christmas. I promised myself that
come the new-year I would
up my mileage considerably. While I did increase my mileage,
it wasn’t by nearly enough.
Any training plans I looked at suggested 5-6 day running
weeks. I remained stuck on 3. On Tuesdays and Thursdays I trained with the club. This was
either speed work or a tempo run and the mileage could range from 5-8 miles. Some days I
would add a few miles myself before sessions to bring it up around the 10 or 11 mark. At
the weekend I would go for a longer run at whatever pace felt comfortable. Initially I
had hoped that I might get up close to 30 miles before the big day. I didn’t get beyond 21.5.
Actually, over the course of the 3 months I only went above 20 miles 3 times.
Race Day
My wife dropped me to the Galway cathedral to
catch the 7am bus to Maam Cross. As I watched my fellow competitors climb onto the bus
I started to feel like I really didn’t belong there. Sleek, springy looking specimens
surrounded me and all had the air of people who had been there, done that and got the tech
tee-shirt. My feelings were compounded as I listened to people discuss the 50 miler they
had done here, the 100k they were doing next etc. After arriving in Maam Cross we
had a mandatory talk from race director Ray O’Connor. “If there is anyone in the room
running the half or full marathon”, he began, “You are at the wrong place. If you want to know how
to tell you are at the wrong place, take a look around you”. Everyone laughed and I
coughed a nervous chuckle (I don’t belong here). Ray then went on to single out a female
runner, Hannah Shields. He explained that Hannah was one of the first Irish women to summit
Everest but after she finished her first Connemara Ultra she declared that the run was harder.
More laughter. Thankfully.
The start line was a sea of Skins, CamelBak, compression
socks and multi-coloured
minimalist running shoes. What really struck me was that
virtually nobody was warming up.
This just didn’t seem right but what did I know so I slinked
into the crowd and settled for a
little shaking on the spot. Before long, we were off. I
settled into a nice slow pace as I waited
for my muscles to warm and loosen up and the first mile
passed quickly in 8:47. Grand. The
wind was already starting to pick up and miles 2-5 passed at
an average pace of about 8:30.
I wondered if this was too fast for me but decided that with
the wind behind me and the level
ground to this point it was ok as long as I felt relaxed. I
took my first gel just before the 5 mile marker. I would take another at 10 and
about every 4 miles thereafter. Mile 6 took 8:07 and I gave off to myself for
letting the pace creep up. Mile 7, 8:08. Now I was just annoyed with myself.
It was certainly unusual to be angry that I was running too
fast and the feeling was new to me but I knew how important pacing would be
today. Mile 8, 8:10. God damn it. At this point I had to really take stock. I did a full mental
body check. Are you breathing heavy?
No. Are you forcing your pace? No. I decided that I was
going to pay less attention to the
watch and more to how I was feeling from then on. Around
this time I had caught Caroline,
a young female runner who was looking very relaxed. If I had
to guess I’d say she was no
more than early 20’s. She told me it was her first Connemara
Ultra. At last! I had spoken to
a few people since leaving Galway and this was the only
other first timer I’d met. “Is it your
first Ultra then”, I asked. “No”, she replied. (I don’t
belong here). We chatted for a minute
about pacing and the wind behind us and she agreed that
there was no point in getting too
caught up about pace as long as I was comfortable. It was
good to hear that from someone
else. Then she told me that she had heard this race didn’t
really begin until mile 19. That left
me with something to ponder as I eased out ahead of her. 4
of the next 7 miles were run at
a sub-8 minute pace and I knew that there was a real chance
that I could pay for this later. I
picked up the first of my drop-bags at mile 16, nearly
losing a small bag of Jaffa Cakes to the
Connemara wilds in a gust of wind.
As we joined the full marathon route we started to come upon
more people who had
come out to offer their support. I got a good laugh from 2
guys who gave Paolo Di Canio style salutes as they shouted “Come on the Ultras” when we
passed. Close to the fullmarathon 5 mile marker I passed my first marathoners. The
Ultra runners had been given an ‘Ultra Runner’ sign to wear on our backs and I was amazed
at the amount of support and encouragement I received from other runners as I passed
them. In later miles there were plenty of runners suffering just as much as I was but they
still made the effort to cheer me on and it meant a lot. Miles 16-19 were all over 8 minutes. The
wind was now blowing in from my right and it seemed to be getting stronger.
As I turned right to take the road for Leenane I quickly
learned that Caroline had been well informed. It was a tough uphill mile, all the tougher
because the wind was now blowing hard
straight into our faces. I averaged a little over 8.5 minute
miles to mile 25 at which point the
pace slowed further. Despite coming downhill into Leenane
mile 25 was just under 9 minutes
and 26 just over. I had a hard job finding my drop bag at
the 26 marker. I felt confident that
I’d be the only one with a tricolour bag from Dealz in Cork
but I wasn’t as I learned when I ripped a bag open to find a carton of pasta that I hadn’t
packed. Just as I was about to give up on finding my own a kid handed it to me and I
scurried off asking the marshals to apologize for me to the person who’s precious supplies I had
spilled all over the table.
I passed the half-marathon mark, or the full marathon mark
for me, in about 3:43. This would
actually have been a PB for me if it was a regular marathon
I was running. Then things
got tough. Real tough. Immediately after crossing the timing
mats we were heading uphill
again, I forced down a banana, some more Jaffa Cakes, a
Bounty and a bottle of Powerade.
It wasn’t easy but I knew I had to get something inside of
me other than gels and water. Miles 27 and 28 uphill into the strong headwind both took me
over 10 minutes. At this stage
everyone around me looked like they were struggling but the
support kept coming from other runners and I returned it where I could. 29 to 31 were back
closer to 9 minutes again as the
elevation, but not the wind, eased. By now I was starting to
feel a little sick. I had my final bag drop zone coming up at 32 but the thought of it alone
was enough to turn my stomach.
I decided that unless this feeling changed quickly I would
skip it. I had been refreshing my
stock of gels at the previous stations so felt that I had
enough left to pull me through the last
7 miles. In the end I didn’t even have to decide as I ran
right by the bags without ever seeing
them. From 32 to 36 my mile times were closer to 10 minutes than
9. My legs were really sore
now from foot to hip but I wasn’t experiencing the energy
sap that had plagued me over the
last few miles of previous marathons so I was grateful for
that. I remember at one point the
wind suddenly seemed to disappear. It felt as though I had
been dragging a tyre behind me
and somebody cut the rope. Then, within seconds it was back,
pushing against me again like a petulant child growing tired of being ignored. A week
before I had been doing some hill training with Mallow AC in Doneraile Park. About 45
minutes into the session our trainer, Shane Simcox, had run back to a couple of
us that were lagging at the back and explained that we would be going over the
largest hill again and then turning around and coming back over it one last
time before finishing. One of the girls I was running with had a race coming up
2 days later so told Shane she might go her own way instead. As he ran off
ahead of us again he said “Just don’t be too soft on yourself”. Right now,
struggling to get up these hills against this maddening wind and seeing dozens
of people all around me take the easy way out by walking, those words came back
to me. I ploughed on.
After running over a few of these small but tough hills the
road seemed to flatten, even drop. I knew that there was supposed to be one really tough hill
before the end but with less than 4 miles to go I wondered if it was possible that we had
passed it. Sure, none of the hills seemed that huge by themselves but perhaps we had been
gaining elevation bit by bit fora few miles now. No such luck. Almost as soon as I had the
thought we turned right for thelast time and as far as I was concerned we were heading up
the side of a mountain. The run from miles 35.5 to 37.5 was one of the longest 2 mile runs
of my life. The one good thing I will say is that because we were climbing the hill in a
winding, corkscrew manner, there was some small relief around most bends. They also offered
targets. I’ll go as far as that bend before I start walking. I came this far, I might as
well keep moving to the next bend. What wasn’t good, however, was that you could see about 1.5
miles into the distance, small figures dotted all the way along but no sign of the top of
the hill. Almost everyone around me was walking. The marathon runners at this point were
probably at 4hr 15min pace. I’m sure the more serious runners probably made this look easy.
Occasionally I would spot an Ultra runner, invariable running. I felt an obligation to keep
running myself because of this.
If I was going to run with these guys I might as well make
the effort to run like them whether I felt out of place or not. Mile 37 was an agonizing 11 minutes and 2 seconds and yet this didn’t bother me. The way I
looked at it, if I was walking it would have taken 16 so I just saved myself 5
minutes. When I thought I was at the top a spectator cried out, “Come on, nearly
at the top of the hill”. Nearly? Don’t be too soft on yourself. Before I knew it
I was up and over and still running. Mile 38, 9:59. I’ll take it.
I try to remain focused until crossing the finish line but
with 1.5 miles to go I was happy beyond belief. It was all downhill or flat to the finish and
I could actually enjoy this. Another spectator spotted my number. “Come on Ultra, 38 behind you,
1 on front of you”. It felt amazing. Nearly everyone was running again but I continued
to pass runner after runner and on mile 39 I dipped back under 9 minutes again for the first
time since 25. I came down the home straight with a big smile on my face,
high fiving some random woman when she stuck her arm out. Less than 3 minutes after Hannah
Shields, I crossed the finish line in 5 hours 48 minutes and 51 seconds, my own
mini-Everest conquered. Race director Ray O’Connor was waiting behind the finish line to shake my
hand. “Welcome back”, he said as he guided me to an area taped off for Ultra
runners only. I marched in with my head held high
I belong here.