There's no F in team

If there's one thing worse than a kicking from your mates it's the fear of letting them down. We've got a nice group going at the moment with seven or eight of us similar enough in abilities to be able to ride out a session together. It's not the easiest thing in the world to keep a group like this on track so when it's working it's worth savouring and milking it for what it's worth.

Last Monday we had an opportunity to run as a team at the 4 mile county championships Interesting race's these championships - The first mile was a cagey affair (for the bigger hitters anyway) which had a group of 16/17 going through the first mile at 5.30/35.

Of late I'v been struggling with me mojo. When the hurt come's on I'v been going for option two (fuc* this) and I'd back off. It was easy, no skin off anyone's nose only my own. The downside - not entirely satisfied going home. On Monday though there was something to lose and if my running buddie's were going to put in an effort well then I didn't have much of an option not to. The fear. We had an outside chance of a team medal and that was enough, there wasn't that many heads warming up around Castlyons and if things went ok we might be able to take advantage of the situation. If we were to lose out it better not be from the want of trying on my part, anyone else fine - c'est la vie, but over four miles there's no excuses especially with an armchair fast first mile to the strains of big audio dynamite. "unoyted we stand- deevoided weh nuffin" they say.

I hadn't ran anything close to that pace since September so coupled with being part of the lead group gave me a right lift, for a few minutes anyway. The crash was inevitable and expected - how much shit you can put up with after is what produces the result. At 1.5 there was a bit of a reshuffle and it was time to play spot the mile marker. Any other day I could take a breather if team duties weren't a thing but the fear wouldn't allow it. With half a mile to go I'd already lost a scrap with Liam Treacy which left only one team prize left on the road (unless I stopped and gathered my thought's I wouldn't have known this at the time). Christ if I get passed - that's all you can think of. Calculations of by who? what age group is he? how many from eagle? are beyond me. Don't get passed that's all.

As luck would have it the three closest behind were in their own tactical battle which meant I just about made it to the line in front of them. An hour later and we'd a team bronze - we'd ran pretty well and taken advantage of the absence of some heads. Soft pot's you say but there's no such thing, a medal's a medal. Hardly a momentous result for Grange Fermoy AC but satisfying all the same.     

To hell and back in 12 minutes

Apart from the dizzy spells and shortness of breath brought on by going from zero to 13 miles an hour in 30 second's the first mile is pretty easy. Adrenaline ease's the pain and your waiting for the moment where you find your rhythm. The journey to hell starts when we hit the one mile marker at the bottom of a 3/4 mile climb.

The last 5K of the summer season wasn't loaded with heavyweight's which made it a more open affair than normal. Frank Hayes and Brian Hegarty representing two of Cork's heavyweight club's, East Cork and Leevale put daylight between themselves and the next man from the off. This left seven or eight of us scratching our head's to see who was going to take up the running behind.

Next up was Conor Tierney, I decided to go with him. That's when the trip to hell started, joined by an inform Johnny O Sullivan, we were now a trio half way up the climb following the two leaders. Trying to ignore the accumulating lactic acid is a skill in itself and something you become accustomed to over time. Fitness levels dictate how much of it you can deal with and a strong mind can put up with a lot too. I'm up for it tonight, it's kind of a home race. Neighbouring St. Nick's AC are running it and the start is a 10 minute drive from my place.

Pleasantly surprised and growing in confidence going over the top with these two, Johnny moved it up a gear to open a gap and leave us where he found us. Now I'm the weaker of the two, struggling to keep form and my breathing has gone wildly out of control. Hearing footsteps from behind is soul destroying, the thought of someone else joining the party is frightening. Then they disappear. Hey, we must be moving, whoever it was is after cracking. The intensity is insane, the noise in my head is deafening and it's just noise, no music, no word's, just a loud machine in a noisy dark factory. I couldn't be further away from the controlled effort of last Sunday's half marathon. At the end of mile two I'm pretty much out of it trying to hang onto my East Cork companion, he know's it too.

It's a novelty to see the leader of the race with a little over a mile to go, ok it's a long straight but still it's a plus to know I'm in the same parish as him. Still hanging onto Tierney inside the last mile and the head finally goes. I don't know what caused it this time, I knew the threat from behind had dissipated? I knew I wouldn't beat Tierney in a sprint for the line? am I getting soft letting him off? happy with fifth? Can't put my finger on it but the head went. When the head goes the leg's go. The head alway's goes first. You decide to give up, then you release yourself from the torture of the last 10 minute's, still suffering all the way to the line but at a different level, you still have to get to the line, your still being chased from behind, there's a good time at stake.

Pulling strange face's on the finishing straight, bystander's wondering "why do they do it at all?", crossing the line, it's finally over. The pressure release is huge, jelly leg's force me to take the nearest seat on the road against the side door of a ford focus. Quote of the night from an old friend "Sure these thing's are nothing to you".

Next stop, Charleville half, lacking on the mileage but happy with the form.