180 km, 7000 m of elevation gain – in my head 13 Valleys was like the Kerry Way but with a bit more climbing. The Brits had put an Irish flag next to my name, which meant I could say I was doing the ‘Turteen Valleys’ with an odd sense of pride.
Rock or frog? Frog. Rock or frog? Rock. Rock or frog? Two frogs. It’s a Monday night on the North York Moors. The landscape here is fairly featureless on the brightest of days, which means there’s even less to distract you in the dark hours of the night. Except for the frogs. And the rocks. They are keeping me sane, although I’m not quite sure how I ended up here in the first place.
When I applied for a spot in Bauers Megabackyard Funrun (BMF) back in September, a friend of mine asked me why on earth you’d do that to yourself. I said something like ‘what could possibly go wrong’, half hoping race director Simon wouldn’t accept my application. Soon after that I received my official apologies email, meaning I got offered a place in the event.
2 am, middle of the woods, somewhere in Wicklow. A man has just passed me, shining around with his headtorch and asking me if I’m looking for something. I probably should have just told him that it’s my sanity that I’m looking for. Who signs up for a night race after dropping out of two races due to… not being able to run in the dark?
I enjoyed my training through a pretty bleak winter in Kerry, just delighted with the fact that I could go out and do all these things. I knew that there was one big race on the horizon, though: the Beara Way Ultra. In a way I was lucky, because I knew what I was signing up for. I had done the Beara Way before, so I should (emphasis on should) know the route and be familiar with the terrain.
When I didn’t get to do my 100 mile race in September, I knew right away that I was going to do the Beara Way instead. After a failed attempt earlier in the year and a good summer of mountain training, I was excited to give it another go.
I felt very lucky to be on the start line of the Ecotrail Wicklow 80 km race on September 24th, only a few days after travelling back to Ireland. From looking at the maps and talking to some people who had done the race in previous years, I knew the trails should be very good and that it could be a fast course.
I could have done without the trip to Slovenia. But every mile that I had run this summer had been worth it. All the routes planned, all the mountains climbed, all the time spent at less-than-ideal Airbnbs, it had been worth it.
The day had started with a bumpy bus ride from Gortin to Ballintoy on the north coast of Northern Ireland. We’d be running back to Gortin, a 170km route along the Causeway Coast and through the Sperrin Mountains.
As race day is coming closer and closer, it’s not just other people asking me that ‘why’ question. I’ve started asking myself the exact same thing. Why would you do this?