Ras Mumhan

Ras mumhan is a 4 day international stage race held in Kerry each year, it is fast and very hilly, a real test for any racing cyclist. It is the second most important stage race in Ireland behind the Rás Tailteann. I rode it with my club, Cork County CC and another member of the team Brian Canty who writes for the sport section in the Irish Examiner did a blog each evening on his day, it is copied and pasted below in full. I think it says all that needs to be said about the experience.

Stage 1

How happy I am that today’s stage is put to bed!

It was a nerve-shredder of epic proportions and only this race has the ability to do same.

Purely because these roads we ride on have to be seen to be believed!!

Around the dinner table this evening we chatted about our own individual days, how are the legs, what happened, did you see such and such and so on..I’ll tell you about some of the more curious incidents in a minute, but the one common denominator was the roads! Treachourous doesn't come close to describing them!

Anyway, enough moaning. The opening stage can be described in one word. Faaaaast. 

55kph back the road to Killarney in parts, up that slight drag on the Cork road, into Kilcummin and back to Scartaglin. From there my GPS went blank.

I’m only happy now because it’s over because it's over and the race won't be that fast again for the weekend, I hope!

Coming into Killorglin this morning, I mightn’t have looked it or showed it, but boy was I nervous. 

I had so much adrenaline in my legs that I barely resisted the urge to just go on a suicide mission as soon as the flag was dropped and take off!

Obviously I’d have grilled myself by the time we reached Fossa but that urge to want to just lash the pedals was overwhelming!!

So thankfully, the rain held off and 180 or so of us lined up and as soon as the whistle blew and the tannoy announced ‘racing is underway’ it was flat to the board.

To borrow a phrase used by the sports editor last year, there was enough grit showed by my team to tar that very stretch of road around Scartaglin!

In particular, Bryan Long and Dave Kenneally rode exceptionally well and you always know Dave’s going strong when he gives you a ‘yeeeeaaaahh’ when the race is at its hottest, as if to say, ‘hey, we’re doin’ okay!..Bryan Long, or crash test as he’s affectionately known is a cute rider and tucks himself neatly into the bunch.

Maybe he’ll shed that horrible nickname come Monday to stealth warrior or something like similar because he’s certainly that.

They were 14^th and 23^rd on the stage respectively and those, are decent results.

Anyway, back to that torturous road...Bottles jumping out of cages -the Dutch teams gasped in horror at the state of the pitch and got many tellings-off from the home guys when they took their hands off the handlebars to pull down their zips on their jackets! These guys are crazy!

Rail thin, usually up towards the front, beautifully tanned buttresses for legs and a waistline that’s more common at an U10 gymnastics event.

They do make this event though, to give them their dues, and on stage one it was Dennis Bakker from the Ruiter Dakkapellen team that came close to taking the stage honours – Corkman Paidi O’Brien edging him in the sprint.

I, unfortunately didn’t have a great day and finished in a group of 35 or so about eight minutes down.

When you get dropped on a climb it’s hard to take but you have to take it and resist the urge to ride yourself into a bodybag to try and get back on, which is often the case.

You pay for that effort on a stage-race like this so myself and Ryan were in that next group on the road, shouldn’t have been, but c’est la vie.

Donnacha was unlucky to puncture before the first KOH, or mountain and when the speed is really hot there going into a climb, a slow wheel change – like the one he got is the worst case scenario.

He is 14 minutes back but riding very well.

Tomorrow, such is the nature of this race and the brutality of the stage, that he could well take all that time back.

We’ll wait and see. Time for a stretch and then it’s lights out.

Stage 2

Day Two down. Halfway there. Are we over the halfway mark mileage? I’m not too sure.

I’ve lost all track of space and time and logic and reason and there’s two words to explain why. Connor Pass.

It mythical. It’s magical. It’s steep. It’s bloody steep and it’s a leg-snapper. No other words to describe and it deserves its reputation as one of the most beautiful climbs in the country. But boy was it painful.

Today’s finale just reminded me of that stage from the 2010 Tour, I think everyone knows where this is going, of when Schleck and Contador dualled it side-by-side to the top.

The wind was here, the mist, the cold, the breeze, the searing brutality of it and those etched faces of pain.

I often wonder how I look, am I in as much pain as my facial expression suggests?

I see some guys and I wonder are they giving birth to elephants but I can only imagine I was a face of sheer misery today.

The stage was dangerously quick but thrilling at the same time.

I think there were three KOH climbs before the Connor Pass and I said at the team meeting this morning that the first one at 40k is the most crucial.

I rode it last year on a mountain bike and struggled so I thought today would be similar but funnily enough it wasn’t, and it was only until I got over it that I thought, hey, I have legs today! Sweet!

These KOH’s are a battle for the front and you have to scrap for every place.

If you’re at the back going into a KOH, good luck to you because youl will get dropped.

Or, at worst, grit your teeth and hang on, ride yourself into the red and the misery will be offset until the next time the road goes up.

Being at the front you almost get swept over the top and before you know it, you’re in the descent. I said this morning that if we all got over this one okay, we’d have good days.

I sensed this morning that we’d have a good day and I was proven right for a change.

You can always tell. Dave was up early and chowing his way through boxes of porridge by the time I joined the table.

I was fourth to the table, Longy was fifth but still, as usual, he looked fresh for an old fella! He was in good spirits, as was everyone.

The ride to the start in Dingle was 40 minutes or so and from the drop of the flag it was super fast.

80kph my speedo read back to me and I thought, please don’t let anyone fall in front of me because I am gonna get flung right into the Atlantic.

Speaking of which, that hostile wind hammered us for the first half of the race and 60k of crosswinds, head-cross, and headwind, is hard hard racing.

But we all felt good and stayed as close to the front as possible. Out of danger.

The second half of the race began to take its toll and I could feel my legs under increasing pressure.

They began to struggle but still at 80k gone, all five of us were in the front group and riding exceptionally well.

Longy was best and just has that permanent look of ‘I’m enjoying this’ on his face.

Dave has legs bigger than my upper body and mashes the gears with impressive strength. Ryan, for a man of 18 and one of the youngest in the race was mixing it up front while Donncha was spinning effortlessly, it seemed anyway.

But myself and Donncha made a mistake and paid dearly for it.

Our team soigneur Ger Moore was in the unofficial feed-zone by Lispole with a bottle for each of us.

Ryan, Longy and Dave all got fed but with two bottles to hand out still, Ger saw myself and Donncha tearing towards him.

I lost. Simply because to go to the side of the road where Ger was, meant riding straight into the wind and as we were on a climb, this was wasting un-necessary energy. Donncha took the risk. I deemed it too much of a risk and now had no bottles, 40k to the finish and relying on energy gels to get me there.

I knew my petrol light was on but I’d passed the last filling station.

I panicked and started to waste more energy in doing so. Sweating, I lost more water.

This is a one way ticket to hell unless I get water. I sucked what drops remained in the bottles and dug in. But the cramps started.

Front and back. I even started to get them in my feet and toes. It was horrific. I offered three riders ten euro for a bottle but they each fobbed me off. As I would have had.

I should have offered them more. I have to get to the Connor Pass with this group or I will lose massive time otherwise.

So I dropped back to the car. It’s hard to do because you leave the safe sanctuary of the bunch and pray you will be able to ride back up. It doesn’t always work. So I was glad to see Colm out the window with the bottles and he gives me the bottle I coveted!

I’m suffering now though and the bunch is riding away.

We’re 20k to go. I have to get back up. Robin Kelly whips past me unawares and I’m sickened I didn’t sit on him because if anyone can rode back up it’s Robin.

But I don’t get back on and I am dying a slow death here. 10k to go.

I reach the bottom of the Connor Pass and break it down into manageable chunks.

1k at a time, 2 and a half laps of a track. It’s purgatory all the way to the top and I start to hear voices. I can’t be far away.

The smattering of people grows to clusters and the volume increases.

2k to go. I jump out of the saddle and hammer it to the top.

A dead weight, I cross the line and Mr Crowley who does a fabulous job of MC for this event tells me there are still 70 riders out there. I lost 13 minutes in 20k. It’s not too bad.

Our men were incredible and though Donncha came in just behind me, Longy is just outside the top 20 overall – ahead of many pre face favourites, Dave is just behind him and Ryan is 12 or so minutes down on the leader Mark Dowling. Not bad for an 18-year-old.

142k tomorrow. Six nasty climbs. Lovely.

Stage 3

t’s that time of night now again and this latest dispatch will be brief I can assure you!

The tiredness sets in and affects your decision making process. You’re more laboured and indecisive.

Climbing stairs is a chore and going down stairs requires the use of hand-rails. My legs are hammered after three days of riding but the good news is, there’s just one more day to go.

It’s hard to put into words how this race affects one mentally.

The key to surviving a stage race like this is energy conservation. Some guys are stealthy enough at it, others waste energy and it’s that look that people give each other, ‘is he mad’ (‘why is he standing when he could be sitting’)...Call me obsessive but I was in bed last night and I could feel a thirst coming on (the radiator is on in the room), but I even wondered will I go downstairs for a drink because those steps will kill me!

I drank bathroom water because it’s the same level as my room.

Anyway, you get the idea, breakfast this morning and Donncha’s ‘Rás stare’ was obvious from first glance, he’s looking at me but not really caring what I’m saying!

It’s that five mile stare where one almost looks dozy. Oh how we’d kill for a few hours more kip!

But we’ve a 50 minute commute to start our days work in Waterville and that, is 142 kilometres over six climbs and this stage, personally, was created by the angriest of men on his worst day in my opinion.

The stage winner usually has to get tested afterwards to see is he made out of sheer granite or just some sort of composite material.

That man today was Connor Murphy. Chapeaux to you sir. Murphy is a man with far more stage racing experience than my whole team combined and was a very popular winner today.

I’m still a novice when it comes to this race and today, I got a painful lesson and I’m struggling to find words as to where and what and how went wrong.

But all I can say is, it could have been worse and for some, it was a lot worse, but that’s clutching. It could have been better and more importantly, it should have been.

Success for me this weekend is doing all I can on each stage.

Not having one joule of energy at the finish constitutes a good day, even if that is last on the road, so be it. Friday and Saturday I was happy, because I rode hard all day and with a little more training, I could have been much higher.

But today, the short answer is, I was badly positioned going into the first KOH somewhere near Ballinskelligs, the bunch lined it out, somebody let the wheels go on front of me, the gap is opening and my window of opportunity to jump onto the tail of the bunch is closing.

It’s a split second decision, do I sprint and try to make it or do I wait here and hope to catch them on the descent. I went for the latter because this is only 20k into the race and if I sprint to get on, blow up further up the climb, then I have gone into the red and will have 120k to the finish struggling to recover.

What did I say about energy conservation?

So a bunch of 15 or so rode tempo home, over every climb. And As I’m p***** off I’m entitled to a rant so it goes like this, why would anyone in a small bunch that has lost 30 minutes to the leader attack those around him on each climb and race like there are KOH points on offer?, and then complain of having cramp further down the road and then not being able to ride through at the front so we can all get home quicker and end this misery? That’s all I’ll say.

As regards the other guys on my team, again Bryan Long and Dave showed they’re up there with the best and finished in a group less than two minutes behind Murphy while Donncha and Ryan were in the next group at 16 minutes.

Stage 4

Well it’s over for another year and Rás Mumhan 2012 for me, and many others, will be remembered in that most unforgiving of three-letter cycling acronyms, DNF.

DID. NOT. FINISH. The only thing that’s worse than a DNF is a DNS and that doesn’t take a rocket scientist to decipher its meaning.

I’m sitting here now after the race, still shivering, and thinking, did I make the right call? I spent the last 25k thinking, will I regret this decision in the car on the way home, next week, the week after. When people ask me how did that race in Kerry go for you, my answer will be, ‘ah, okay, it was hard.’

To the uninitiated that will draw out the next question, ‘where did you finish?’ and I’ll say ‘I didn’t...’

I wondered how I’d feel when that conversation moves swiftly onto something different because that’s what will happen. It’s hard to draw positives from a situation like this. But, as strange as it sounds, I’m quite content and I’d do exactly the same thing again. My head is up, not down. Why?
Well the race was as hard and as fast and as dangerous as I’ve ever experienced. It could be mental, it probably is, but rolling out of Killorglin this morning and the rain lashing off the road made for a miserable enough mood in the bunch. Everyone knew there would be casualties because during the rolling start down the hill in the town, wheels were touching already — the race hadn’t even started yet though. Some lunatics (one of my team-mates included) decided on carbon rims over aluminium rims! 

To a non cyclist, this means you might as well not have brakes on your bike! When it rains hard, it pelts a greasy road and forms a slick on the surface that makes it difficult to control a bike. When this gloopy paste is on your rims, it’s even worse. Factor in the man-hole covers and pot holes that were full with water (so you don’t know there is one until you hammer into it) and it just amplifies the hardship.

After three days’ racing, I could see from the start that bodies were tired and heads were down. In physiotherapy terms it’s called ‘compensation’- saving energy on some muscles to use somewhere else. It sounds like a mad concept but there’s proof in it down here.

At every team meeting last night, including our own, the message was, ‘get to the front and stay out of danger at the start’ but as I mentioned in an earlier post, 180 or so riders trying to be up the front is a recipe for disaster.

Now, I wasn’t in the race long enough to see or hear a crash but I know from experience that this thing happens all the time and I’m just not ready for one. If I was high up on GC, I’d stay here and suffer but down around 100th place or so, it’s just not worth it.

So when my legs gave out after a fast start, my head went and I said, ‘I don’t need this, I don’t want this’. There’s a long season and coming into this race under-prepared, I’m not sure what else I expected but it’s just one of those unforgiving moments.

Team cars pass you by and it’s funny, you have heads and arms and limbs sticking out the window offering you a bottle, a push, a rain-jacket, probably a bible there somewhere as well if I looked but nothing can save me now. I credit those with their hands out but my race is run. I’m cooked. I cannot pedal one more metre. I have exhausted every ounce of energy and I am fried. I don’t want to get burnt because I might not pedal for six months if I do.

So, with one hand on the handlebars and the other waving the respective team cars onwards to catch up with the race, I pull over, and say ‘that’s that’. A bus passed me at the most inopportune time and drenched me with splash-water but I just laughed. C’est la vie. Donncha had a similar day to myself, his body just gave out. He wasn’t p***** off, he gave what he could and that’s all we asked of ourselves at the first meeting.

To my team who rode incredibly all weekend. Longy, Dave and Ryan, they all finished and resembled Joe Frazier after ‘that’ fight with Ali. Puffy bloodshot eyes, drool pouring from the corners of their mouths, shoulders slumped. But they put our team, Finance First/Wills Wheels/Cork County on the radar with 12th on the team classification, out of 28 teams.

To the background team of our masseuse -Colm, our ‘mother’ for the weekend (she has asked me to keep her name anonymous) and to Ger Long our manager, a big thank you.

Colm and his partner had a baby six months ago but he left them in Dublin on his first Easter to be here for us, giving us nightly massages, making life easier for us. He’s there first at the finish line with a kind word, a warm jacket and a drink. He owns Fitnessworx gym in Douglas and could have made more money for less hassle at home or with his partner. Not Colm though.

Our ‘mother’ cooked three meals for eight men every day. Decent meals too. She would have trimmed the fat off the meat if I asked her. She cleaned up, washed up, had the water hot and the porridge thick, because we asked her. An incredible performance!

And Ger Long; no wonder he was smiling because his son rode his socks off for the team and finished just outside the top 20 but well inside many pre-race favourites. He said the right things, did the right things, and when I threw the bike in the corner after the race, he clipped off my race number and returned it to sign-on, because we faced a fine otherwise. No fuss. That’s Ger.

Finally a massive thanks to our sponsors for making the weekend happen and everyone who supported us over the weekend!

Thanks for reading.