Racing against the partial solar eclipse over Knock Ma

In the parish of Caherlistrane, immediately west of Belclare, between the towns of Headford and Tuam, lies this giant, historic, spiritual and culturally significant mountain. Its height captures you and brings you to a place of beauty, nature, peace and escapism. To get to run up here is a pleasure, but to race it under a partial solar eclipse is a memory I will treasure.

The occasion would have passed me by only for my son mentioning the eclipse, and I had already planned to do the Knock Ma race. Part of the necessary race gear was a head torch.

‘In August at 7pm?’ ‘Yes, we might be covered by darkness.’ The humidity building since lunchtime, something heating up in the sky, redicted to start from 6pm, the race planned for 7.30pm. Football training in one direction, rugby training in another and I am volunteering before racing.

On arrival there is a circle of excitement around the foot of Knock Ma. Locals arrive to do their daily ritual up and around, some hoping to be at the top, for the sighting in the sky.

A space in the trees allows us to keep an eye on the darkness creeping in. The warmth in the air is different; it’s a damp, sort of warm air, that would have you sweating when standing, never mind running in a forest. I get a break from checking people in and head off for a warmup down the stoned alleyway. This evening it’s shared with runners doing the same.

Surrounded by trees, sheltered by the mountain, the brightness fading to an eerie, unnatural twilight, where one thinks they won't make it back on time. I know this route so well, but I have a sense of fodín mara (sod of confusion) if this last, light fades. Catching up to two of the lads with torches, they guide our way.

A crowd of people at the summit, some with eclipse glasses, sharing them around. Only a tiny sharp crescent of the sun exists, the sky pitches black, what a beautiful sight People amazed by the sky, by our surroundings, by the sea of walkers and runners.

We’re called up. Ready, steady, go, we’re off. Today we are turning left and must run a figure of eight twice, involving more uphill and less fast descents. If you push hard against Knock ma, it will knock you back – it’s a long number eight, to do twice! I go out hard on the flatter part, up and down the alleyway, get into a comfortable stride, forget about the watch, people and everything else; I’m here to enjoy this one.

Over the last month my legs have climbed a lot of elevation, my body has run in unexplainable heat, and my legs have miles clocked up. The body feels good and strong; the mind needs a lower level of concentrating and an evening of fun. The first climb, a mile of uphill with turns and steepness, over stones and rocks, passing the fairy doors; we are racing on Finnbheara’s palace, the powerful king of the region's fairies.

I am in the zone, running nicely up, not feeling the push yet. Passing a few, a lovely downhill, I go with the flow. Across the middle of the mountain, Queen Meave’s statute directs us up a sharp, steep climb; there is strength in history, in us being able to run the ups and downs through a magical place of power, strength and freedom. A close, narrow, fast speedy run downhill, where the briars scrape your arms and looking down could lead to a fall. A sharp left and there ahead is the most breathtaking view for miles. Looking out on the vast, flat landscape below instantly makes you feel physically dominant and elevated above everyday life.

Another steep climb, feeling good, I tear up, a courage to push with knowing what's coming ahead. A lovely but tricky downhill, where some will hold back. I don't plan to spend long on it. We’re on the second loop. I see a few that went out hard, now walking that tough first climb. I plough on up, my body completely saturated from the intense moisture in the air. Closing near the few ahead, I am in the fun zone, having a laugh with the volunteers I know so well and locals cheering us on. The trail brings us up and down, over and back, through the fairy routes where during the devasting potato famine, locals claimed to see hundreds of fairies engaged in massive violet warfare in the night sky.

Under the eerie, humid, twilight of the eclipse sky, I see a female, must be the lead. I move nearer, she begins to walk, I overtake but on the downhill she comes back. My non-race run now moves into a fun battle of pushing and holding back over the last two miles. We catch up to the lads, the battle heats up, us against them. I push on the ups, she leads on the downs, the fun, friendly competitiveness continues amongst the mountain runners of Knock ma.

The last mile, like a sprint for home, we like wild deer gallop down, one male leads, then another, then the female takes off, I hold back a little, my legs now feeling the months of racing. I stay in the feel-good zone, the home straight up ahead, I go for it. Pass the male and cross the line twelve seconds behind my friend. Very happy days. What started out as a fun run around the familiar fairy ground under twilight skies, developed into a friendly battle between the leaders of the pack. Maybe the fairies played tricks, maybe the history drove us on, or maybe the darkness in the sky put the fear of fodín mara in us.

There are many wonderful events, some pass us by, but some can be found by embracing the moment, in life simplicities, with likeminded people.