The Wicklow Round

I first made eyes at the Wicklow Round about 2 weeks before its formal adoption at the 2006 IMRA AGM. Joe Lalor had emailed me the coordinates asking how fast a super elite might get around. Joe and Brian Bell thought 12 hours, I replied 15. I wouldn't say it was love at first sight but I did find it a fascinating project to plot the ideal line between the nominated tops.
On and off for the following two years I'd go out to check options, sometimes alone, sometimes with my partner Isabelle Lemee. We'd spend the daylight on the hills then in the evening I'd write up detailed notes of our route and times into a red A4 hard backed note book.
This was all theoretical, for after two decades of Orienteering and Hill Running my body was damaged and nearly worn out. The days in the hills filled the need to be outdoors but not for one minute did I expect to try the Round myself. Over the winter of 2007/08 I managed to train a decent amount but as soon as the races started the injuries returned or new ones developed. I needed something new, but the Wicklow Round certainly wasn't it.
Two things happened to change my mind. Moire O'Sullivan nearly made it in July 08 and I had a chance conversation with Andrew McCarthy at the finish of the revived Lug Relay last September. I was miserable having had to miss this great event due to ongoing aches and pains. Andrew suggested a friend of his Siobhan O'Reilly as a possible route to the bottom of my seemingly never-ending injuries.
Sure enough over a period of 3 months Siobhan's healing expertise brought me back from the point of despair. I could run again without pain. By January this year I was orienteering successfully but found no appetite for the hill running winter league, all those days of checking routes and Moire's near miss kept the Round foremost in my thoughts.
Through the grapevine I know others were looking at the Round and thinking about having a go. I wished to be one of them but it seemed so long, too daunting to take on alone. One day while climbing Oakwood it hit me, I'd never start alone, I'd just let the May/June window slip by with some excuse or other as I had done in 07 and 08. A blog entry and an email exchange led me to Paul Mahon. Like me he wanted to try it but not alone. Unlike me, boredom was his reason, not the distance. I was nearly too late, Paul had just about agreed to team with kiwi Jason Reid. 3 didn't seem the ideal number, but it was better than 1. We met, poured over maps, talked of times and ambitions finding enough common ground to agree to give it a go. Leaving that meeting my soul was lighter. Theory was about to become practice.
I'd first meet Jason when he was new to this Isle. He showed up for a long training run in the hills so hungover he could barely stand up. Two hours later in miserable weather with a runner missing from the group he was the one making sensible suggestions, proving he was a sound sort. Our first group recce went well, we seemed a good fit.
Throughout March and April we recced as a team practising our logistics and finalising the route. Roughly 90% of what I originally proposed survived, Paul Mahon's 2nd view producing very worthwhile amendments.
These recces culminated in 2 half Round recces from which we drew great confidence and knowledge, particularly the importance of dry ground. We determined that no matter what happened we were going to stay our attempt until the conditions were right. After navigation, dry ground being the biggest influencing factor on completing the Round in time. But these long days followed by weeks of waiting took their toll. Colleen Robinson did great work in preserving the correct alignment of my renewed body but nothing could be done to prevent the focus even the interest fading as week after week the rain dictated that we postpone.
So it was with as much relief as enthusiasm that we gathered in Paul Mahon's house for dinner on the 4th of June. Final packing done we headed to bed to try for a few hours sleep. Sleep didn't come for me. I felt anger and negativity creep out of their holes but some short sharp words from Isabelle banished these useless emotions. Paul also spotted and re-killed them.
At 02:30 we smiled for the camera and did our final checks.
At 02:35 we started into the night.
At 02:38 we stopped. Jason had caught his toe and gone down hard onto the broken stone track. His starting had been in doubt during the week, but his good humour and natural toughness overcame the injured knee which had threatened his participation. Now there were a few frantic minutes spent cleaning out new lacerations to his hands and †good' knee. Afterwards I was asked why hadn't we turned back, dressed Jason's knee and restarted? We had started, we were only going to do this once. We carried on.
The mist came down as we neared Gravale, it was not to rise until Camenabologue. Running down to the Garyknock road junction was our only time to drop under it. What a heavy sight it is to see Oakwood lost in a thick grey wall of fog, it could have pulled any spirits down. But at this stage I at least had already been to the pit. I'll probably never understand why but climbing Moanbane was the low point for me. My mind wandered, the lack of sleep probably not helping, it was the only point in the day where I felt failure coming... it was too long, too much, too hard, I wasn't up to it... today. The exact same fears that had driven me to great efforts for years in races where returning. But this wasn't a race and I wasn't alone. I told the two lads I felt terrible, they responded and the low point passed. So we headed into the dark grey of Oakwood still as three. Still determined.
With the mist finally burning off near Camenabologue our Round really took off. Both myself and Paul began our battles with knee pain (a first in all my years) while Jason either ignored or banished the pain of his own weeping knee. The 3 bitches, Gonerial, Regan and Cordelia (or Mullacor, Camaderry and Tonelagee as they appear on the maps) where subdued without a fight. We talked, cajoled, feed and watered ourselves as a unit, feed stops flew by. The ever-smiling Izzy and her helpers the men of GEN Brendan Doherty, John Shiels and Alan Ayling providing what was needed with calm efficiency and friendly encouragement.
From Sheepbanks the knee pain was terrible but the desire for a decent time was strong. Paul Mahon's years of teamwork in adventure races made the difference as we motored northward. Jason showed endless energy while I just grinned and bared it doing my best to keep up. Prince William's Seat and Knocknagun came and went, a horrible out and back dog leg but nothing to do but do them. 20 jog paces, 10 walk, 20 jog, 10 walk was all I could manage towards the road and the final mile. We walked and jogged, congratulating ourselves as we went. Within minutes it was over, smiles for the camera, congratulations from our support and Jason's friends who had followed our final hours from the road side.
Then into the van or cars for quiet contemplation of what we'd just done. I tried to get changed but gave up, instead sending a text to some friends '19:39:25 shattered sore but happy'. Eva Fairmaner rang to offer her excited congratulations then Simon her husband, a member of the Bob Grahan club took the phone. He understood the feeling as only one who has undertaken such an adventure can. I hope in time to be able to relive that feeling with others after they have completed their Wicklow Rounds.
It's a great way to spend a day.