The Snow Marathon

I opened my eyes; the room was still dark, time to get up. As I made my way down the cold stairs and into the kitchen I turned on the radio, the presenter on Q102 was talking about the weather, he informed me that today the Leinster area would be the worst hit with heavy snow fall of eight to twelve centimetres brought to us by blizzards. Well that was just too bad because today I'll be running a Marathon.
It had been several days now in which I had been unable to run outside and on occasion unable to leave the house at all because of the heavy snow fall. The roads were compacted snow and ice and deadly. As I quickly ate my breakfast of porridge mixed with strawberry flavour protein shake and a dollop of honey, the radio informed me that my area was a road hazard no less than three times. I washed the remnants of my breakfast down with a protein carbohydrate drink and started putting together my kit.
I always run Marathons and long runs with a backpack called a Camelbak, it contains my water with electrolytes, I also carry some cereal bars to eat on the run and a couple of energy gels just in case I get in to problems. Part of the reason for carrying it is to get used to running with a weight on my back as in Namibia I will have to run 128 Km carrying all my kit on my back.
I say goodbye to Fi and head outside, once my GPS find the satellites I begin my run. Today I am running the Grand Canal Way, the white silent roads are deserted and as I turn in to the entrance of the Grand Canal I am met by pure soft virgin snow. No one has ventured along the canal path today. As I run the shin deep snow gathers in front of me as my feet rhythmically pushed down on the powered snow it replies with its own crump as it impacts below me. Soon the sound of the snow and the birds is all that can be heard. As I run I looked down at the snow and can see the tracks of all the different types of animals that live near the canal. Birds have hopped across the path and over the snow covered frozen canal, foxes had done the same. I run for a mile or two in the tracks of a fox and marvel at how ergonomically it had moved through the snow with its feet one behind the other to save energy as it ran through the snow. I come across the site of a kill where a fox had caught a pigeon, a few feathers and a couple of spots of bloody testament to the violence that had taken place. Occasionally as I run I surprise a black bird in the hedgerow or brambles along the side of the canal and they franticly try to get away singing loudly in their panic. Suddenly a pheasant breaks cover in front of me and takes off noisily and it is my turn to be surprised and startled.
As the miles pass I come across a group of brightly coloured boats, from the grey wood smoke curling in to the air from their chimneys the people inside are doing their best to keep warm. Some of the boats list in the frozen water at funny angles evidence that their upkeep had not been all that successful in some cases. I run on and it begins to snow, ice cold flakes fall in to the gap between my collor and my neck and melt upon my skin, the hair on my neck stands up as the freezing water trickles down my back. I look up at the sky, grey and pregnant above me. While I run I find myself thinking about things, sometimes silly things sometimes matters that were more serious. Eventually I land upon a thought that led to a question. As I run the snow against my feet and lower legs slowly feels heavier as I became tired from the running and trying to remain upright in places. Snow weighs a fair bit I thought, how many tons of snow is in the cloud above my head? More to the point how much does that great big grey cloud weigh…and what the hell keeps it up there?... and on I run.
I reach the half way point my feet are soaked through I became aware of the fact after mile eight, I am tired and in need of some energy so decide to have one of my cereal bars, as I opened it a couple of frozen looking hungry swans pushed their way through some broken ice to where I am standing. Taking pity on the swans I split the bar into three and share it with them. Once the last piece has gone the larger swan looks at me and hissed loudly, ‘well so much for being polite’ I say then realising that I am admonishing a swan decided to start running again.
The clouds above me block out what watery light the sun was giving earlier this morning and I can feel the temperature dropping fast, I don’t know exactly what the temperature is but I suspect its around the minus two mark. I start to feel the cold and decide to pick up the pace to warm myself up. Its difficult going, the stretch I am running on has had some 4x4’s diving on it since the morning and the snow is now compact ice below my feet. I find myself with the choice of either running in the virgin snow which is very tiring or in the tracks on the vehicles which is like trying to run down a toboggan run with no grips on your shoes. As the miles go on I find that my hips are in pain, for every step forward I am taking I’m also taking one side ways. A couple of times I slip and land heavily on the ice bellow. I am tired now but still have many miles to cover before I get home. This is the struggle. This is part of my training, not just the physical endurance that I’m building but the mental resilience to be able to cope with what awaits for me in the desert.
I push on, no one is around me now and the wind whistles as it blows through the giant snow covered bulrushes that grow along the side of the water. The winter scenes in the film Doctor Zhivago come to mind I smile and I push on ignoring the pain in my knee and hips. At times it is hard to tell where the edge of the path ends and the snow covered ice begins; other times the path seems to disappear and I push on over rough ground and water rushes every step taking me closer to home. I need to be able to run however I’m feeling, to just keep going.
I think briefly about tomorrow I am due to run another Marathon with my coach Rory Coleman but force the thought from my head and focus on the here and now.
Eventually I see the exit to the road that will take me back to home and I take it the ground on the road is sheet ice and slows me down but I only have to push on for another half hour and I am done. As I turn the corner into my road I pick up the pace a little and push on until I reach my house. I have done it, its been painful, cold and exhausting but I have done it; 26.2 miles in the snow at minus two.
To stop the pain in my legs I walk in to my front garden and lay down in the deep snow which I then use to bury my legs and then lay back in to the soft freezing snow until my legs go numb. After ten minutes I get up and open my door and fix myself a warm bath, I have another Marathon to do tomorrow, I need food and sleep, its going to be an early start.