Kilmurray Ibrickane 2004

Kilmurray Ibrickane/North Clare 29th Feb 2004 - Mick Rice

I would be difficult to imagine a greater contrast in weather conditions for this race from last year to this. Twelve months ago the wind howled in from the Atlantic over the rocky coastline of West Clare and the waves charged relentlessly at the shore. One year later and the scene in Quilty was bathed in warm spring sunshine and was overlooked by an intense almost artificially blue sky. Quite literally the birds twittered in the hedges and, for the afternoon at least, winter was only a distant memory.

This small village is host each year to the Michael Egan Memorial Four Mile Road Race and around 140 locals and visitors had assembled on this stunning spring day for the 2004 renewal. Races in this part of the world are a constant source of surprise and entertainment; such is the mix of character and talent on display each time you lace up your racing shoes. For example, yesterday at the front of the field we had Seamus Power of the host club and Valerie Vaughan of Blarney. Seamus is a nine-time national cross country champion and boasts a 10,000m personal best of 28:18. With some luck, Seamus will be in Athens in the summer. Valerie Vaughan is another exceptional athlete and her 10,000m best of 32:37 is of true international quality. Whilst I'm not sure what Valerie's racing plans are for this year she can still run well in the very best of company.

The rest of the field in Quilty was no less interesting. A cast of characters that would do justice to a Peter Jackson film populates the running scene in the west of Ireland. Over the last few years I've learnt, many times to my cost, that you can never judge a runner by their shorts at these races. The hairiest looking 'mountainy-man' or the frailest seeming young woman can often disappear quite quickly off into the distance, never to be seen again, once the starter's gun goes off. Conversely of course the guy with the Nike shades and shoes that cost a week's wages can sometimes arrive home by parcel post. For an hour before the start of this year's race the throng mingled with no special service for the fast folk. Gradually but inevitably the clock wound down and we found ourselves lined up on the Lahinch Road with fingers on our stopwatches ready for the 'off'.

For my own part I had two simple goals for the day. In the first instance I wanted to improve on last year's time of 23:46 and secondly to run well enough to give me some confidence going into a race next week that I've targeted for some months back. In keeping with the contrasting weather from last year, this year's race would be over the reverse of the usual route due to road works. This fact meant that we'd have a flat straight road for the first mile followed by quite a hilly two-mile mid-race section and a generally downhill last mile. When the gun sounded we set off at a blistering pace. I had hoped to push quite hard for three miles and to bank on the downhill finish to keep my legs turning over during the last mile. As we set out it seemed like everyone else in the race was thinking along the same lines as I was quickly passed by a large chunk of the field. During the early strides I watched as a young boy of around thirteen years of age pulled twenty yards ahead and wondered for a moment whether I was getting my pace badly wrong.

There was quite a lot of jostling for position early on in the race. There were many sharp elbows flying and a not inconsiderable amount of weaving about. The road was narrow and you wouldn't have expected anything less. It's unusual in this part of the world to have an entire mile of a road race along a flat and straight section of road but that's what faced runners in Quilty. The group I was in passed the first marked mile in 5:30. Already the main contenders were forty seconds down the road and the race was starting to sort itself out into more manageable groups. I spied a mixed group of six or seven strong looking contenders that appeared to be edging slowly ahead of me and hung on for dear life. Just after the mile post the course swung to the right and away from the coast. This section of the route rose and fell regularly but in general was uphill and into a brisk breeze. I tucked in behind a green singlet from Tuam and ran as fast as I dared. After what seemed like about twenty minutes I saw the second mile pass by with a 6:10 split.

Whilst secure in the knowledge that a 6:10 mile is not to be sneezed at under almost any circumstances, I was a small bit surprised at the time because I didn't feel like I had slowed very much. I had to put it down to the hills and tried to stick with the pace. As time went by the group I was with was thinning. Some runners were pressing ahead and others slowed. Into the third mile the course swung to the right for the final time and back in the general direction of Quilty. Although we still had a little climbing to do we were well above the level of the start line and had a clear view of the small seaside village from whence we had come. A thin snake of struggling runners stretched ahead down the country lane that reached towards the finish line and salvation. I was fairly deep in trouble by now. The top of my chest felt like it was going to burst and I was placing all my faith and hope in that downhill stretch in the last mile. If only I could get that far without medical assistance.

When I saw the third mile marker approaching I was braced for more bad news on the stopwatch front but was cheered considerably when the figures 5:36 popped up for review. "The bastards!” I thought, "The second mile marker must have been wrong. Push on, push on we might get a time out of this one yet!" There was a double-bonus on the home stretch because as we turned and aimed directly downhill for the finish we had a nice breeze at our backs. I went hell-for-leather from that point on. My poor shins didn't know what hit them as I pelted down the little asphalt road past farm gates and rocky fields as quickly as my little white legs would carry me. The phrase, 'throwing caution to the wind' could have been coined for the last mile I ran in this race, no style, no strategy, no tactics, just go as fast as you can. I stabbed at my watch as I passed over the finish line. The last mile had taken 5:27 for a 22:44 total. This was good enough for 25th overall and I was a happy camper.

A little while later when Catherine Collins from Kilnaboy Co. Clare passed over the finish line after more than 43 minutes of effort, the 2004 running of the Michael Egan Memorial Kilmurray Ibrickane/North Clare AC Four Mile Road Race had come to an end. At the front Seamus Power had demonstrated his undoubted talent once again with a fine win in 19:23 but was pushed all the way by a neighbour of mine Gerry Ryan who was awarded the same finishing time. Apparently the lead changed hands for the last time only yards from the line. The aforementioned Valerie Vaughan picked up the honours in the women's race in 23:44, which was over a minute ahead of the second placed woman. Shortly afterwards runners, officials and supporters retired to a local hostelry for tea and sandwiches and to gossip, brag or make excuses as the case might be. It is on days like this that you make your memories.