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On the morning of the event, the footpaths were slippy with ice on the créche run. That made me a bit more nervous on the bus journey into Dublin Castle than I expected. Without Kevin, my trusty AON companion of the last two years, with me tonight, if I were to slip and do myself an injury running out of the city, or if I fell into a freezing boghole, would anyone notice? Would somebody stop and help me ring Dublin/Wicklow Mountain Rescue to come help?
The Art O'Neill is a hardy mongrel of road running, trail running and - in my case anyway - stomping across open country. There was no official run/trek hybrid option this year, just trek or run, but the same setup with a halfway point at Kippure made doing hybrid straight-forward anyway.
Start->CP0
I arrived at Dublin Castle around 20:30 on a mild enough evening. Registration was a breeze, and then I joined the crowds milling around. The trekkers had all left before 20:00, while the runners were encouraged to wait until 21:00.
I decided to have a small espresso while I waited, but the generous owner of the Last Lap gave me an extra shot, so I was buzzing for the big start at nine. I expected those doing the 25km Pursuit would also be starting, and we'd all barrel out through the gates in a mob. As the moment approached, the MC announced that the Pursuit wasn't actually starting until 21:30, but a gang from Cherry Orchard Running Club were heading off early. I got a quick hug with my auntie Margaret who appeared out of nowhere, and then ran after the CORC crew who were running at exactly the right pace for me.
They were great company on the way out through the suburbs, especially Coach Roche, and I was glad to be able to point them in the right direction once or twice. As we hit the dreaded climb of Ballinascorney after 13km, we got spread out. I was tempted to tackle it gung ho, but Kevin's voice was in my ear, wisely advising me to rein it in - there was a long night ahead. A fast walk was enough to keep pace with two lads who were cycling up! A few jellies at Checkpoint 0 (CP0) at the stone cross, then the first of the mental battles awaited.
CP0->Kippure
This section is less than 10km, but in the dark with no landmarks, limited visibility, no sense of progress - it feels interminable. It climbs for the first 3km, so I walked some of it. A slight headwind pushed the light rain into my face, and gradually it grew more persistent so the rain jacket came out. Then I realised my leggings were in my rucksack (not my running backpack). I dreaded the long, wet night that might be ahead of me. Thankfully it cleared up after ten minutes or so, and after another while the rain jacket went back in the bag.
A nice downhill section leads to the Sallygap road and the 'halfway' mark at Kippure estate. 25km done in three hours. Around the gatepost, there was still nearly a kilometre to the shelter where some hot food waited. I tried not to dither, but changed runners for boots, shorts for trousers, new base layer and fleece, topped up water and then warmed myself by the fire for a few moments - somehow that all took forty minutes! As I exited the estate, I realised I couldn't feel my fingers with the cold. Light gloves swapped for heavy gloves, but I was grand once I got walking and the blood started moving again. One of my walking poles refused extend though, disaster!
Kippure->CP2
A bit of a slog on the next section - 8km of tarmac in my heavy hiking boots. The view of the stars overhead was some comfort though. I passed by CP1 and onto a logging road. I was in an odd spot pacing-wise. I had passed a lot of trekkers, but now the runners were passing me. My fear was that as I came onto the first open section, I'd be caught with nobody in front to use as even a rough guide. I had a map, a GPS file and an idea, but it was always reassuring to see some headtorches heading in the same general direction.
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| My point of view on Billy Byrne's Gap |
As it turned out, I was able to find the first muddy trail of the night easily enough and sped up it. One light ahead of me. As I got to the open bogland, the uniqueness of the AON Challenge really hit me. Last time with Kevin, we'd disagreed about which way to head, and split the difference. Here I was now at Billy Byrne's Gap, solo and entirely responsible for my own fate on open boggy ground, in pitch black, and with only a compass bearing for direction. I could see several lights some distance off straight ahead, and the one person ahead of me was way off to the right. I checked my bearing which was bang in the middle of them both, and started to march with purpose. I instantly fell flat on my arse in the wet, soaking my trousers and leggings. There was a lot of slipping and sliding, but I made decent progress (20min/km) over the next two hours before the blessed relief of a forest road.
It was during this section that I felt most philosophical. I guess I wasn't quite punch drunk with tiredness yet, and still had the confidence that I knew where I was and how to get to the next waypoint. When doing this section previously, we'd stopped every five minutes to check the GPS and bearing. It was a hard slog tramping through boggy grass, stepping over clumps of heather or sections of rocks, or fighting through spiny gorse bushes. We'd kept thinking, there must be an easier way, a "right" way and we were going the wrong way. I knew now there was no right way, and while there was probably an easier way but it was a longer distance and I didn't know how to get there anyway. So now was the time to just put the head down and soldier on.
I also pondered the answer to a question a friend had posed - "who are you trying to impress?" Why am I doing this, I thought? To challenge myself, I'd told Lorraine. To get out of the house for a night off? To impress the weedy asthmatic kid I once was, to show him that sport is not just team ball games? To prove that my aging body was still capable? ...I still don't really know, but by the time I got to CP2, I was ready for some porridge, and I inhaled two cups of tea.
CP2->Art's Cross
I had noticed on the forest road that everybody else seemed to be running, and at CP2 I was the only one in boots. Everybody else seemed to be in trail runners. I had a brief conversation with a lad about the heaviness of boots vs the runners, and I wondered whether my legs would manage the lack of ankle support. One for next time maybe. For the meantime, it was 5am with 46km done in just over 8 hours, with the next stop being Art's Cross.
The first bit is easy going, a trail alongside a small river. As I leisurely made my way along, I noticed my headtorch was flickering slightly. I gave it a few gentle taps but after about a kilometre, it cut out abruptly. Pitch black all around. I had packed a spare battery, but didn't fancy trying to change it in the dark, so instead took out the backup headtorch that Santa had brought me.
My plan was to cross the river far up the valley, and then climb to the cross via a series of ledges up the steep hillside. I was a bit disoriented though, possibly because of the headtorch failing, and when another lad declared the river too wide to cross further up and backtracked, I followed him. I should've checked my GPS and stuck to my route which would have me follow the river for another few hundred metres and then cross. Instead I attached myself to another two lads - Alan and Rory, who were taking a different tack climbing up beside the waterfall.
This was the toughest climb on the route - it's near vertical, with some scrambling inevitable. There were frequent pauses to catch our breath and curse, but we steadily ascended and then cut left to where the cross was lit up by DWMRT with spotlights. It made it easy to pick out in the darkness, and I was secretly delighted to have made it here before sunrise. I took the opportunity to change the battery and get my headtorch back working. A quick photo and collect the mandatory buff, then a new bearing and trying to find the way home.
Art's Cross->Glenmalure
The next section is more open bogland, but full of hags and holes, so a lot of scrambling up and down and trying to skirt around. There was a heavy mist here, so visibility was limited - about 10 metres in any direction, though I could see lights farther off either side of me. They were also following the same rough bearing, and we dropped gradually into a valley. There was no dramatic sunrise, but the sky was gradually lightening, which let me pick out the forest I was aiming to pass beside.
The next section is more open bogland, but full of hags and holes, so a lot of scrambling up and down and trying to skirt around. There was a heavy mist here, so visibility was limited - about 10 metres in any direction, though I could see lights farther off either side of me. They were also following the same rough bearing, and we dropped gradually into a valley. There was no dramatic sunrise, but the sky was gradually lightening, which let me pick out the forest I was aiming to pass beside.
The Avonbeg river flows down from the bog through this valley past the finish, so reaching that was a major milestone. I crossed straight away to the high ground on the other side, where I knew there was a trail. (Thanks to DWMRT escorting us at the end of last year's edition!) I say trail, it was often a long muddy puddle, but was easier going than beating through the undergrowth. Then it was onto a forest road, then Table Track as it's known, which is less a track than a collection of pointy rocks dumped in a broad line. But it was a sign I was on the home stretch - down to Barravore car park and then the final hard-wearing 5km along the road to Glenmalure.
The rain started to pour down at this point. It was relentless, and seemed to just get heavier. I tried again to just put the head down for this part, it's not easy after nearly 60km but there were no shortcuts and the quicker I went the sooner I'd finish. Other people were running past me - I'd probably had a two hour headstart on them, and still they had energy to be running? Impressive.
There's one last steep rise in the road just before the finish where a small crowd applauded me across the line. Nearly 64km all in, 12 hours and 45 minutes since I set off. A sausage sandwich and a change of clothes, though I had realised earlier that I hadn't packed dry shoes! And I can't forget to mention a massive thanks to Kevin for taking a chunk of time out of his morning to come collect me and bring me right back to my own front door.
Hard to say it was a fun night, but enjoyable in parts and always satisfying to complete a challenge like this. Particularly with little training and so much time stressing and hanging around the hospital in the preceding weeks.
I'm wondering now... have I made my peace with the AON, or do I want to try do it every year until it breaks me?
