Three Days In Ireland

Tranny and I race Ireland!

My frequent flyers may remember that I won a little trip to Ireland in April by besting the field at the Whiskey Off-Road in Prescott Arizona. The trip was to contest the Single Speed World Championship in Ballyhoura Ireland. Honestly, the thrill was in the chase as I really haven’t ever had any desire to race the SSWC even when it was in here in the States. Having won the trip, I was committed to the effort and since I can talk myself up to anything excited to go.

With my on/off battle with EB and ensuing chronic fatigue exacerbated by my sleep apnea, I didn’t expect to be great in Ireland but I will say that I planned to go fast—after all it was a race!

I’ve never been to Ireland before so I didn’t know Ballyhoura from any of the assorted “Bally’s” over there. When I asked some Irish where it was they didn’t seem to know either. It turned out Ballyhoura is the name of some “mountains” southwest of Dublin between Limerick and Cork. “Mountains” are sort relative term since they didn’t seem much bigger than the hills in my neighborhood!

My family wasn’t able to join me for the trip so I booked a short one—a day for jet-lag, a day for pre-running and a day to race. It took most of a day and night to get there so I arrived in the morning. After giving my Dad no end of harassment when we traveled to New Zealand as kids, it was time for me to man-up and learn to drive the wrong way. Turns out shifting and driving on the left isn’t so bad but begs the question: “why?”

I was within a few km’s of the alleged race course within a couple hours, so I booked a room and drove out into the countryside to have a look around. Driving on the motorway wasn’t so challenging, but the narrow backroads littered with lorries, tractors, animals, etc was a bit more like the “European Vacation” I deserved. Did I mention that it was cold (15C max) and raining? Summer in Ireland is the same as “spring/fall” in Oregon… not too inviting!

My travel fogged brain had become a bit overwhelmed with it all so I stopped to get the essentials. Apparently purified water isn’t an essential in Ireland since three markets later I was convinced that water could only be sold once infused with an assortment of minerals and/or CO2.

After filling my CPAP machine with said water, I passed out into a dream restless sleep that lasted no less than 15 hours. Sweet—jet lag cured! I got up a bit after seven in the morning and since that is apparently too early for Ireland, I ventured out for a walk. Mitchelstown, where I was staying, was a nice little place but I was instantly greeted by the taint of sewage. Europe, Mexico, Ireland… whats up with the stench?—sure puts a damper on nice stroll!

Upon returning to the hotel I ordered the “full” Irish breakfast. Some of my recent labs came back a bit low on the lipid panel, so I suppose this was an opportunity to recharge. Breakfast consisted of eggs, hash brown potatoes, sausage, bacon, black and white pudding (fried hash?), and one tomato—fried of course! With my hunger monster unleashed, I threw down some yogurt, grapefruit, prunes, and muesli for good measure then had to go promptly back to bed to sleep off the food-coma!

After waking up in the afternoon, I drove back out to Kilfinane the host town and picked up my race registration. I inquired about the course, gearing, etc, but I figured it was best just to go have a look despite the incessant showers that kept the ground permanently saturated. Another short drive (riding a bike on these roads seemed even more suicidal than driving) and I found the Ballyhoura trailhead. Pretty rad little purpose built trail system complete with ala carte pay to park, pay to wash, but evidently free to ride area.

It was starting to rain when a fellow rolled up next to me and parked. He asked if I had ridden the course and when I said I was about to and offered to ride along. His “misses” and him had just driven all the way from the “eastcoast of England” and so he didn’t have much idea what we were facing either. Trying my best not to fume too much about the drizzle, I kitted up with my Ibis Cycles hooded sweatshirt over top since I was a bit light on winter clothing.

We rolled out and had a nice ride around the loop. It consisted of some gravel flat to uphill sections and single track flat to downhill sections. Not much in the way of climbing, but enough since the track was more or less cobbled the whole way and wasn’t much on momentum. The trails could be best described as “zig-zaggy” as they nearly followed a straight shot through the woods but were always turning to and fro, but nearly never more than 90 degrees. There were also endless up/down undulations and several sections of well-made wooden catwalks several feet above the ground.

The wooden structures were suspiciously missing any form of traction enhancement which definitely multiplied the pucker factor! My trail partner was a good mate and waited up for me at each intersection since I was trying my best to dodge as many puddles as possible. I had to put the bike in the microscopic rental car post-ride and didn’t want a full ensemble wash after the ride. We finished the course in good time—just about an hour and said our goodbyes and good luck for the next day.

Once I returned to the hotel. I rolled the dice and geared up to 34-15. It seemed no problem for the hills and maybe better for endless trail gnar. Sometimes a little harder push is nice in the rocks! Ready to roll, I ordered a traditional Irish supper including liver, onions, mashed potatoes, chips (French fries) and bacon. Feeling like I was already severely neglecting my inner vegan, I ordered a side of veggies (green beans, peas and boiled potatoes). Having satisfied my meat and potatoes needs for the year, I headed for bed.

Race day began with more showers—oh, well a dry track in Ireland is probably unheard of so we just had to bring it! Back through the driving gauntlet to Kilfinane and I was kitted up for the pre-race meeting and the escorted ride to the trails. Once there, we were instructed to place our bikes upside down and proceed to the start line just down a the road switchback away. After much ado about YMCA and other foolishness seemingly with the sole intent to lower our core body temperature pre-race, we were done standing around and watched some dude “guzzle” a beer about a slowly as I’d ever seen to officially start the race.

Not being much of a runner, even a couple hundred yards on cold legs is a slog for me, so when I noticed that some of the group had already cut the switchback and was off to a head start I was chuckling! Then we discovered that during the hurry-up-and-wait routine many of the bikes were now piled up well over head high! I suppose it was game over for the folks on the bottom end of that one! I suppose if you have a beautiful bike like my Ibis Tranny the leprechauns had to be respectful, so I was lucky enough to find my steed simply hidden in the woods nearby.

By the time I got rolling, the leaders were out of sight which is pretty much where they would stay for the rest of the race. I set about passing everyone I could see which took the better part of a lap. Then we passed some poor euro on a Specialized who was re-chaining his bike. He passed me back and forth a couple times with his chain dropping antics, but soon learned to keep it on and disappeared making him the only guy I came upon that I wasn’t able to tame.

My ride was smooth, fast and powerful—assuring me that all had not been lost during my own personal “great recession”. By the end, I finished fourth, which was basically the best of the worst, or first of the last however you want to call it. It really was about all I deserved since I hadn’t ever really given myself to the event. As I mentioned the thrill was in the chase, and it was fun to simply chase all day!

No podium appearance meant I could hit the road immediately so after a nice conversation with Queen Phelan, I pushed off for home. With only a few minor navigational stumbles, I had the car re-fueled and found a hotel in time for a few hours of rest. When I arrived at the airport a couple hours early, I discovered that hurricane Irene had fouled up my travel plans which was about par for the course after a good run to that point! Four hours late leaving Dublin would be mean that I missed my connections in Chicago and would have to be re-routed through Seattle.

When it was all said and done I arrived home more tired than when I left, with a substantially higher lipid index, and a few good truths: I reaffirmed that you can experience a great ride even if it is called a race; it does rain everyday in Ireland; payback can be well earned if it involves driving on the wrong side of the road; the potato famine may have been more than a supply-side problem; hurricanes still win even if you route through Chicago and…

Last but not least–my final racing chapter hasn’t been written!