...an féidir liom dul go dtí an leithreas?
Races were a little slower to recommence on the Emerald Isle, so I was mega excited when Gillian Shorter suggested doing this event. I've had the pleasure of Gillian's virtual company for more than a year. I met her through BBRC, and meeting up for a race was long overdue. On 5th March, we finally got together at the Carlingford Half.
- It was sunny.
- Carlingford is beautiful, and it's a really lovely looped route
- Gillian is amazing and has the greatest start-line dance moves I've ever seen.
- Serious lack of leithreas!
- Leithreas fascists at venues close to the start line
- Lorna will send me to BBRC jail as, in spite of fervent searching the previous evening, my club vest was nowhere to be found.
- We had to drive home 😭
You can throw a stone from the start line in Carlingford over to Northern Ireland (ok that's not true, and that's a really, REALLY bad idea)... but you catch my drift. Carlingford is a beautiful coastal town beloved by Stags and Hens (other clienteles are available) from both sides of the border. It is breathtakingly framed by the Mourne mountains (Christ, am I trying to sell a house?!), and we were treated to blue skies and sunshine along with a tasty windchill on the day.
The race started at the sailing club on Carlingford Lough, and after a reasonably vicious hill at mile 2, it was a very gradual ascent until the half way point. Then there were cows. There were horses. There were some extremely dicey traffic arrangements. There was a Caffeine Bullet 4 pack wrapper littering the course. I picked it up and put it in the bin - I was not far from the back, so the marketing had already done its thing with the majority of the pack. (Stories of a rampaging bull escaping a local farm later that day are surely unrelated).
After crossing a major road at mile 9, a man with a white beard (who may or may not have been a mirage) was handing out Werther's Originals. I have had such a certain sense of things being the wrong way round...
The final miles were stunning - along the Lough, mountains in view, and a nice downhill for the final mile.
The water dispenser that had to be operated via a foot pump at the finish line was the perfect way to end our first race in more than two years.
We went for lunch, and as Gillian will confirm we genuinely talked quite a lot about various forms of potatoes (will save the trouble for those of you who are inclined to ask - you know who you are).
All in all, a lovely wee event and a cracking BBRC friendship!