Connemarathon 2010

[Sweder]

It's a long way to the top
If you wanna rock 'n' roll
ACDC

On Sunday night the rehydration committee sat in session 'til the Witching Hour. Finishers' shirts, photos and trading tales of our racing day were de rigueur as the Guinness flowed. We ate at a pub two doors down from our hotel where the steaks were as good as any I’ve seen. Mine was inhaled, devoured with a rapacious fervor that alarmed nearby diners yet worryingly seemed to delight our waitress. After nursing a last pint alone with my thoughts I called it a night. As I slid from my bar stool it seemed rigour mortis had taken hold in my legs. My painfully slow, stiff-limbed ascent of the hotel stairs was a thing of cruel ugliness.



Next morning we met for breakfast. The descent from my room was no easier. My quads were raw mince, calves and hamstrings as tight as Will Scarlett’s drawn bowstring. My back throbbed and I was generally battered and sore. A generous full Irish repaired some of the damage yet I still had no idea if I’d be able to take part in the day’s planned activities. With M away to Galway in search of shops EG, SP, Down-in-One, Suzie and I were set to scale Croagh Patrick, a climb of some 2,500 feet over 10 kilometres (round trip) of rough terrain and, for the final push, up treacherous loose scree. I bade Antonio a fond farewell, my fellow Ultranista headed home via Galway and Dublin. Read his race report here. The sun had his hat on once more, beaming down out of a clear blue sky. There was a breeze of sorts that took the edge off but it was still pretty warm for mountain climbing.

I made it, but at some cost to the nails on my two longest toes, since turned black, even now still hanging on by the merest thread. Once I got some warm blood pumping through my legs they responded, but I’d be misleading you if I said the two hour climb wasn’t brutal. Thankfully Andy had travelled this path before and recommended we borrow stout staffs from the base camp café. These proved invaluable in both directions. On the ascent I leaned heavily on the long stick, using it to find purchase where my feet had none. I started the descent gingerly, concerned that should the scree suddenly yield I might start a small avalanche. After ten minutes of prancing about I cast caution to the wind and started bounding down the steep slope. To my delight I found the rocks gave way to a degree then stopped, allowing me to spring forward onto the other foot and repeat the process, creating a sort of surf-slide hybrid action. I whooped a few times as I slalomed my way down the mountain, grinning madly at the poor souls still clambering up the slippery trails. When the shale gave way a little too readily I planted the staff behind me in the manner of a crazy land-locked Gondolier. Suzie had started her return to base some twenty minutes before me and I caught her around halfway down. We finished together, perching outside the café to share an ice-cream, squinting back up the low-lying trails to see if we could spot our companions as we ruminated on the pleasures of lazing in the afternoon sun.

I snapped a few shots (via phone cam) which I’ve posted below. The views from the summit were breathtaking. Out across County Mayo, back towards the Maumturks and away across Clew Bay, where whelkers of human and avian extraction strode the mudflats side by side in search of supper. Sadly my paltry 2.0 megapixel lense does not do the vistas justice. You can read more about this and a perspective on the half marathon route here on Andy’s blog.
Well worth a visit I assure you.

LtoR: SP; Not half way; Still a ways to go; Pilgrim's Shadow; Author at rest; Andy close; Andy closer; View from the top; SuzieQ