Downings, Co. Donegal, 25th June 2022
15th place in 4h47m (0:26 swim – 2:56 bike – 1:22 run)
Leaving Cert Irish aural exams were not on my mind on the trip up to Donegal last Friday evening, but the realisation I was far from home hit me, when I saw a sign over a shop for a “ceimiceoir” in the town of Carrigart. Accents and dialects are always a good frame of reference on how far you are from home, so this innocuous word got me. I’d say “poitigéir”, you say “ceimiceoir”. Pharmacy or chemist? Munster Irish or Donegal Irish?
I digress. The test we were up for was the Sheephaven Half, a middle-distance triathlon which I’d heard great reports of over recent years. I made the decision to travel up, when a race entry became available from a friend (Rory the Runner). I could have stayed at home and done the Metalman Tri in the familiar surroundings of Waterford, but life’s too short. Step into the unknown, take a road less travelled.
Downings in Donegal, where’s that?
So Donegal bound we were – Luke the Runner’s brother, in the driver’s seat, bikes racked, the car loaded with tents, race gear and bags. The weather forecast was foreboding – yellow marine and rain/wind warnings in place across the country. Most other races had swims cancelled (Metalman in Tramore or the sea swims in Dublin).
We arrived into the seaside resort of Downings (Na Dúnaibh which could mean the dunes, or the forts), in the Donegal Gaeltacht. The wind was blowing. No word of the swim being cancelled. We settled into a B&B out in the country ominously called “Four Seasons House.” We certainly got a flavour of all weather conditions the next day.
In the washing machine
Race morning greeted us with heavy rain overnight and strong gusty winds. Over 200 happy faces appeared on the beach, the swim was going ahead, albeit was shortened from 2 laps to 1, just to be safe. Good call, as it took us long enough to get around once, the swell tossing you sideways, the headwind throwing up waves making it tricky to sight at times.
I was happy, I made a good line around the 3 buoys, picking a reference to head towards, higher up on dry land (the white house, the hotel, the pier). The water was lovely and warm – the gulf stream on the Atlantic makes a difference. Looking at times after, I was only a bit behind Luke and Stafford, my clubmates who are much more like fish than me in the pool, but I can see that open water experience counts for a bit.
Into the wind tunnel
Ninety kilometres on a bike would be the furthest I’d cycled all year. Throw in over 1,000m of climbing and it could be a hard day at the office in anyone’s book. Ironically, I loved it, in a love/hate kind of way you like fixing your bike.
Headwind is not unusual for a windy island located in the Atlantic, however this was turbo driven wind from the south. Mountain I normally experience at the top of a mountain, or during a winter storm. I’m glad I’d adjusted the bike setup during the week, lengthening the stem and dropping the headset, to get me into a more comfortable and aero position on the tri bars. I wasn’t as hunched up, so was hoping I’d get through the wind like a 76kg knife through an endless wall of butter.
Not knowing the route made it interesting. What’s around that corner? Is it safe to fly down the Main St in Milford just because a marshal is whistling to alert the locals and the odd car? Luke (as usual) had done way more research than me on the route. He had all the little climbs plotted in Excel, noting the distance in KM as well as how many minutes they should take to climb.
All I remembered was a 10-minute climb after 55km. Knockalla I came to know it. In the end it was grand, I was more impressed with the stunning views of the beach on the far side, Portsalon. I made up good ground on the tricky descent, those on TT bikes struggling with crosswinds, sharp bends, and a few bumps in the road.
I was enjoying being a stranger in a race. I’m doing this long enough to know lots of faces, or at least the club gear. Up here, no frames of reference. Only 4 from Belpark and I wasn’t going to see them up ahead on the bike. Clubs from the north like Omagh, Lisburn, Invictus, 24/7 from Letterkenny and then loads of new colours I didn’t even recognise. The best being SLOW Swimmers, which made me smile, til I saw it was “Strabane Lifford Open Water Swimmers”. Very good.
We nearly got blown into the water coming over the majestic new Harry Blaney Bridge- the mix of cross- and headwinds grinding me to a halt nearly. Finally back past Rosapenna golf links and into the GAA club. I nailed the dismount and then nearly slipped on the grassy corner.
Running up a hill of air
Not even on the top of Carrauntoohil have I experienced wind like we did in Sheephaven. Running 21km over 2 laps turned into one of the hardest road runs I’ve done. There were actual topographical hills marked on the map with an elevation gain, but it was the invisible mountain that made it hard. The wind. Running one way was like climbing up Brandon the other week. Turn around at the Roy Island and you’ve this turbo pushing you back down the road. It was mad stuff.
I was motoring compared to most, so in my happy place. The music outside the hotel on Main St was great, for 11 in the morning. Gigi D’Agostino “L’amour toujours” brought me back to 2002 and living in Maastricht, making me smile and run faster.
Where is Stafford?
No sign of Luke on the 2 lap course, he was miles ahead. So, Stafford it was. Could I catch him? Before the island I met him and started counting the gap on the out and back bit. Damn, he’s miles ahead, literally about 2 of the old money distance.
My fancy new Suunto watch is proving less than useful, as I don’t know how to switch modes from swim/bike/run. So I’m looking at a screen telling me I was doing 14 s / 100m. I figure it’s in swim mode still (after 100km), so entertain myself on the run converting that to running pace. About 3:20 min / km I figure, which means I must be with the wind at my back! Hopefully Stafford isn’t blitzing it that fast.
He motivates me at any rate, so I try see him at the halfway turnaround. Damn, no sign. Onwards I go, back into the physical and metaphorical hills. He’s in black, so I try pick him out ahead, but half the runners are in black. On the island road I meet him, but it’s way too early, so I know the gap is still large. About 2km, so no way I’ll make 8 minutes up in 6km.
Like all good races I’ve done, we finish with a run around the GAA pitch. Blackstairs Adventure Race in Wexford, or the Ballyhoura Marathon in Limerick are all helping put athletics back into the Gaelic Athletic Association (GAA).
It’s great to be done
We finish up in the GAA hall, exchanging stories, all revolving around the wind and the general brutality of the course. No let up for anyone. A nice massage by a fella with a wonderful name of McIlwaine, off to the hotel for a hot meal. We’re so hungry we go into the bar after for a warm chowder or dessert.
I’m really impressed by the other competitors still streaming in now in the windy rain. It’s not pleasant, less so for the volunteer marshals who’ve been there since early morning. Hardy people, generous with their time and so encouraging all day. Fair play to everyone who was out there for 5-7 hours. It’s easy to give up, but people kept going.
Part two, here we go again
Our weekend was only starting really – part 2 was a summer party near Donegal Town. So, after a drive south, we call into a friend’s house, pitch a tent along with a load of other people and end up at this mad “Midsummer’s Night Dream” fancy dress party. What a welcoming family to host a party for so many.
We’re wrecked but food and drinks get us going. My voice is gone by this stage, my body saying “enough!” We finish the next day with a relaxing walk around Salthill House & Gardens, coffee by Mountcharles Pier looking at a peacock spread his wonderful tail and then off to Tullan Strand in Bundoran for a splash in the waves.
Amazing how much you can pack into a weekend. Not sure if I’m more wrecked by the race or everything else. Life is for living, whether you’re a chemist or a pharmacist. Great thing is that we’ll be back in Downings in November – the national senior cross-country championships will be hosted in Rosapenna, so I’ve no doubt it can’t be as windy as this time. Who knows…
Results from Coretiming
David Power Blog - Silence is the Question 
Well done David. As usual, an engaging account of your triathlon.