Reilly's torture during 'Toughest race in the world'

Last weekend Trim man Andy Reilly took on the toughest single day race in the world around, over and through the hills of Donegal. In his blog he recalled the torture he endured and the amazing sense of elation when completing 'The Race'. Read Andy's blog here and be prepared to be inspired.

 

And if I could I'd build a wall around old Donegal 
The north and south to keep them out, by God I'd build it tall 
Casinos, chicken ranches, I'd legalize them all 
We'd have our own Las Vegas, in the hills of Donegal…

With 15km to go I could see Gartan Lake and the finish line of ‘The Race’. My run had slowed to a walk / shuffle. It is pitch dark and I’m on my own near the top of another Donegal climb. Not a soul to be seen or heard. And over and over and over again the lines of the Goats Don’t Shave earworm reverberated.
I had been warned though, possibly the best piece of advice given to me before the race (that I didn’t heed) by Graham Macken:
“Be careful what you listen to as when you’re at your worst up there I bet that’ll creep into your head on repeat!!”
‘The Race’ first came onto my radar in an article in The Irish Times in 2015. It sounded horrendous. The winner was in tears during the race, tears from the pain and mental torture inflicted by the demands of the course and brutal weather. 
The organisers had succeeded in their goal of delivering one of the toughest single day races in the world. 
Why the hell would anyone ever want to put themselves through that I thought?
Roll on three years and I’m standing at the start line in the 2018 edition waiting for the gun to sound. 
How such a U turn in position came about I’m not exactly certain. At adventure races over the last few years the recurring inference was that if you haven’t done ‘The Race’ you haven’t tested yourself properly. 
I followed Graham’s exploits here last year with admiration but no inclination to do it. I woke up one just two months later after a few pints in Jack Quinn’s, Trim having committed to entering in 2018. The challenge was set.
The Beast from the East forced a postponement for six weeks and this allowed for a bit more bike training as the days lengthened. I felt my running preparation was good but still very light terms of cycling miles.
The Race is a solo race, you can’t draft on the bike or get assistance on the course apart from the organisers, but it is impossible to take these events on alone. 
Bernard Smyth of Ultimate Conditioning helped with my training programme and as far as I’m concerned he’s the go-to man for multisport conditioning in these parts.
Karen Westphal looked after any niggles and injuries I picked up. Her knowledge and skill as a sports physical therapist was crucial to being ready for Donegal.
I trained as much as possible with the running and cycling clubs and got to the hills a few times over the past few months and completed the Art O’Neill Challenge in January. But it is very difficult to prepare properly for these long events and balance everything else too. 
There is constant subconscious questioning going on in the mind, will the body hold up? Can I handle the hills up there? How bad will the weather be? Will I be able to finish? Will I make the cut off? Why didn’t I train more? Do I really want to do this? The only way to get the answers is to get out there and try. 
It is easy to sit at home and say I can’t do it. Henry Ford is attributed as saying “Whether you think you can, or you think you can't - you're probably right.” These words are the whole point of the race - can I or can’t I. 
At registration one of the marshals warned “It’s what’s between the lugs that counts out there tomorrow” as he pointed across Gartan Lake to the hills beyond.
The Race started with a mass start at 5am. 23.5km road run with a nice trot up Church Hill, to get the body warmed up. I took it nice and steady and ran with Mark Sheridan. With an average pace of about 5mins per km I was happy that the pace was comfortable and not too fast, too early.
At transition to the kayak I tried to force some banana bread down while running to the boat. Got onto the water and marvelled at how mild and calm the water was as I paddled out from the pier in Ramelton into Lough Swilly with a 10km paddle ahead to Rathmullan.
Immediately after emerging from the sheltered harbour the swell picked up and made for fair old slog. 
Every wave approaching from the right hand side seemed like the one that would tip the kayak over. I felt like the Bull McCabe beating back the waves.
Eventually, the cheers from the crowd on the pier in Rathmullan came into earshot, I paddled onto the slipway and was very grateful to get pulled up out of the boat. It was great to see Darlene (my wife), Ciara and Tosh there supporting. A full change was required before heading off on the bike, Graham and Mark were gone on.
My second favourite part of the day followed on the bike up Knockalla Mountain, Ballymastocker Bay, Portsalon, Fanad Head, Carrickart and Atlantic Drive Loop. Superbly scenic in the sunshine. Lough Salt climb followed and took a real push to get to the top. I was nearly out of water and rationed the bit I had left for the last 30k to Muckish Mountain.
Muckish is a hike up to the summit at about 500m elevation and a run back down. It is steep and dangerous underfoot in places, but that’s why I liked it so much. It was a pity not to be able to savour the panorama for longer. 
It is without doubt the best vantage point I have seen Donegal from and on a day like that nowhere in the world can top it. At the bottom the terrain is boggy and despite all the warnings I managed to go liathroid deep in the swamp. Great entertainment for those out spectating!
I was motoring well at this stage and felt great heading into the next cycle – 68km from Muckish to Doochary – via Falcarragh, Gortahork and Dungloe. 
The first 10 or 12k of descent were class, cruising along between 40 and 60kph. Then I felt it. A cruel headwind that began to sap the energy. The last 50km or so was torture, hilly, windy with no respite. 
Pedalling like crazy to get up the hills and then down again. It seemed no matter what way the course went the wind was waiting and getting stronger. 
After what seemed like an eternity I arrived at Doochary and was helped off the bike. I was feeling the worst for wear. 
Darlene was there and encouraged me to eat as much as possible, got a few mouthfuls of pasta and some soup in. It was just after 5pm, the Grand National was on in the adjoining bar and one of the locals had €50 on Tiger Roll to win. He did and the place erupted. Just then the prospect of starting a marathon was a lot less appealing than going on the sauce with those boys.
So just the marathon to go. I jogged the first 10k which was a gradual climb, slowed to a walk as it got steeper. The first person to pass me on the marathon did it on the hill. He powered up and kept going right to the top. This pushed me out of the top 10 and I felt like I was going backwards. 
I felt too warm, was carrying too much and struggled to get any rhythm going. The occasional bit of support from passing cars was it on the solitary road. A marshal offered me a can of Red Bull and told me in 20 minutes I’d be flying. (I hate that stuff, I strongly think it should be banned outright) I downed it though and hoped he’d be right. 
Turning off the road onto the track by Lough Beagh was a massive relief, I could run most of it as far as the castle. Then on to the next climb up and over Glenveigh as night fell. That’s when 'The Hills of Donegal' started in my head.
I was trying to count down the kilometres, the problem was I was doing more mental arithmetic than running. 2k done, that’s just four 10ks left. 30k left, just nine laps of Tara. 21k just a half marathon, 16k – the Trim 10-miler, 15k – 3 Bravehearts ….
Another few lads went past and I was about 5k from the finish. At a junction a Garda stepped out of the squad car. “Are you Andy Reilly?”. ehm yes? I wasn’t sure if I was starting to hallucinate. It was Mark Gannon on patrol in Churchill and had seen the tracker. 
He drove along side me for the next few kilometres and it was a great boost to have a bit of distraction. As I jogged alongside the squad car at one point I realised the video crew were filming. I tried to describe to them the day and the race and the overwhelming support of the community who came out to support and how great Donegal is. 
What actually came out of my mouth I can’t exactly remember and I hope I never find out!
I could sense the finish was near and I was definitely going to make it. An arrow to turn left off the road, just 500m left, still black dark. At the last turn I could see the finish line and hear the MC announcing my name. As I crossed the line I jumped to tap the banner. (apologies for the damage lads…) 
Darlene who was on the course all day supporting was there to meet me and it was a really class moment. A mix of relief, excitement, pride, sense of achievement. Job done in 18 hours and 13 minutes. 
250km travelled, 2200m elevation gain on the bike, another 1100m elevation gain on foot, 15500 calories burned, 76000 steps taken.
One medal, hard earned after an incredible day.