Our first marathon on home soil and it’s a pleasure not to have to get on a plane and fly half way across the continent to get there. It’s only been 3 weeks since Rome and in those 3 weeks I have run a paltry 14 miles. My hope is that by giving the legs a well earned rest they will repay me with a stunning performance on the day and carry me home in record time.

Inevitably this does not occur.

I pick Alan up at around eight and we drove as far as Oughterard. From there busses were supplied to take us to the race start at Lough Inagh. Lough Inagh is a beautifully scenic spot located in a valley between the Twelve Pins and the Maamturk mountains. But with a cold wind whistling through the valley and some ominous clouds looming in the distance it seemed like a pretty desolate location for a race start – a stark contrast to the start in Rome three weeks previously.

We greased ourselves up, ran and stretched, jumped up and down and employed various other strategies to keep ourselves warm. It seemed like an eternity before the race started and in the meantime we watched some of the ultra runners pass through what was their 13 mile mark. How people can run at that pace over such a long distance is an absolute mystery to me. One could only stand back in awe and applaud.

For some reason Alan and I managed to find ourselves at the head of the field at the start line and when the gun finally went I took off like a lunatic over the first few hundred metres. I swiftly realised that I was running at about 6 minute/mile pace and if I didn’t slow down pretty sharpish my race would be over by about mile 4. So I eased off and, as the Kenyans say, let the run come to me or in other words, let everyone else pass me out. By this stage Alan had long since disappeared into the distance and I would not see him again for some considerable time.

Connemara apparently has its own microclimate and we were introduced to this phenomenon by way of a hail shower of biblical proportions after around 6 miles. Once that eased the sun came out briefly before being obscured again behind some heavy black clouds gathering over the Bens. For this marathon we were sporting our new running tops (kindly sponsored by www.runways.ie) which listed our 12 marathons on the back of the shirt. This provoked many kind words from runners who were passing me by and sparked a conversion with a Kilkenny lad who ran with me for a couple of miles.

By the time I came into Lenane at 13 miles all was well but by the time I came out of it the whole show had collapsed around me. The road out of Lenane is a steep hill that rises for about 2 miles before flattening out again. 200 metres up the hill I knew I was screwed. My calves were screaming at me and before long I was reduced to walking. As my previous reports have demonstrated, a walk, run, walk, jog, hobble strategy is one that I have employed on several occasions in the past. This time however, it was being introduced after just 13 miles which did not bode well for the rest of the day.

I struggled along in this fashion until mile 22, where the infamous Hell of the West (the big pass between Maam and Maam’s Cross) begins. Since I had already been through my hell at Lenane, this particular version of hell didn’t faze me all that much, although it was still a struggle. From the top of Hell it was downhill all the way into the finish where I crossed the line in a personal worst of 4:37. Alan finished in a PB of 3:33 which was an outstanding time for such a tough course.

I definitely think the previous races caught up with me on this one, although I fail to see why it’s not affecting Alan as much. Damn him and his improving times! Next up is our closet race to home in the Burren on the 24th May. That gives me 6 weeks to eat pizza and drink beer. Nice one!  

Connemara Race Info

Marathon Type:  Road running through spectacular countryside.

Temperature: 10-16 degrees

Conditions: Overcast/Sunny spells/Hail/Wind

No. of  Participants: c. 400

Entry Fee: 70 euro