A world medal triumph to cherish

It’s 12pm on a Saturday night. As I sit in my hotel room with my legs elevated, I stop, reflect and think about what has happened today. I first am over the moon with excitement, adrenaline, emotions, pride and it goes on because today was one of the toughest events I have taken part in. I have run half marathons up mountains, on trails, in horrific weather conditions but this today was like nothing before.

I was lucky to have ran here earlier in the week and had an idea of what was ahead. Some weren’t so lucky, got a shock and died a death trying to get around.

In sport we all have a plan. We even have plan A, B and C but sometimes all three plans go out the window and something is telling us that today there is no plan, that today is about survival, it’s about enduring, just put the head down and keep going, it’s about completing the task at hand. The plan for today was us as a team to do our best and so we did. We were on for a World Team Medal but one of the girls took ill and needed to pull out; we were so proud she made that very brave, hard decision. Health is number one; medals will always be there to be won, they will gather dust, they will sometimes be forgotten about but the consequences of not listening to the body outweigh all the rest. Yes, all members could feel disappointed but no, we represented our country with pride.

For me having won Team Silver earlier in the week, my body needed to run on feel and so I did. After wearing tight spikes with no socks on Tuesday, my blisters weren't fully gone. My ankle swelled from the tightness of the shoe but I was OK. Worse things could happen.

It’s been a long week. After celebrating Tuesday’s win, some of my friend’s head home. I'm emotional, I will deeply miss them, I miss my family and I miss my Dad. I go for a slow jog with a friend. We begin to loosen out our tired legs, it's absolutely teaming rain and humidity is high. We bring a rain jacket but turn to leave them back. Running here is difficult. It’s so hot but there’s no sun, so humid but there’s no air, so wet but it’s not refreshing; I will never complain about our lovely Irish weather again!

We chat about yesterday’s wonderful experience. It’s all a bit surreal, we have celebrated and kind of taken it in but until the next challenge is completed one must focus. Another team depends on you, another event must be run and another few days of being good must be got through. As one moves through the motions, the emotions change from loneliness to feeling part of something, from missing home to representing our country with pride, from feeling sorry for oneself to thinking of all who cannot be here. As we move through the forest the positive mindset begins to set in, the soreness gradually disappearing, the feel-good factor appears and one looks forward to another good event.

Saturday morning finally arrives. The rain has gone, the breeze has arrived and I'm ready for off. I feel good, I leave my base and head off through Slottsskogen Park which is now as familiar as the Phoenix Park. I begin to see some familiar faces; in a world championship you begin to recognise the competitors, the supporters, the stewards because in a strange way everyone is a friend. At times we are enemies but it's very short lived.

I have met the most amazing people from such amazing countries; from USA to China, from Australia to Japan, from Italy to Ireland. Everyone has a story, everyone has overcome obstacles to come here and crossed barriers in life; that's what makes us stronger and makes us appreciate how lucky we are. I walk along the grass, the hills we ran over winning our world silver medal. I know whatever happens today, I will be happy. I hear a roar, I see a green vest, another Irish runner. What a pleasure; we have a laugh, we reminisce on past achievements and walk to the start. I see my team mates, all are in good form. We warm up together, we hang together, we get each other through to the start.

I am excited but calm. I am rearing to go but cautious. One of the Ireland managers arrives over to give me the best advice; start slow, build through, we’ve four laps to do, there are hills in every mile, run on feel. In a race back home, I'd be watching the time, or heart rate or something but in that moment, something clicked, the manager didn't waste his time giving advice; I'm rearing to go and needed the reins to be halted, I decide to run on feel and so I do.

The gun goes off, a half mile of a steady climb, elbows, arms, ponytails flying, shoving, pushing, elbowing, I keep out, I don't fancy getting knocked, a black eye, or for someone to stand on my already blistered toes. As my Dad would have said with football; keep out wide and today I do. I twist and turn my way up the hill, the atmosphere is electric, flags from all over the world, languages I've never heard of, countries from faraway places, but us Irish hang together; it’s a bit like running for Mayo AC in Dublin, the crowd roar for the Green and Red.

In Gothenburg today, the crowd love the Irish. They roar for the Emerald Green because out here the rain made us grow, the sun brightened us and we are beaming today. I run like an Irish racehorse on the downhill, I gallop like the west of Ireland wild deer on the uphill, cautiously climbing up through the gradients because this is tough today. It’s four times around and the sun is beaming through a hot wooded park. A half marathon is a long way to go if you die early, and I've no intention. I hear the managers words, the Irish girl beside me advises to take it handy. I do and I feel good. That's the difficult thing with miles to go; you don't know what’s ahead, you don't know what the body has left in the tank after a difficult week and so one must run in the moment.

I turn a corner, a beautiful smile, the happiest face. I scream back, I am overjoyed to see my brilliant friend and I push on. The next corner, the Irish manager is screaming. I scream back, I am delighted to hear her voice, the next corner the Irish physio, I didn't go near him all week but give him the biggest wave today.

The first lap is done. I'm hanging for water, we're not allowed bring our own, we’re not allowed to take from anyone and not we’re not allowed water from the well because right now I'd jump in. The rules in the Worlds are strict, rigid, and cruel but it’s OK; the cups are up ahead, I drown my head with water and sip the last drop. Its round two and off we go.

I know we are doing good. The three of us have a good placing. I tuck in behind a few and just smile because this is a wonderful experience. At the end of a hard few months, now the facing of a new school year, I need something to take me away, to re-focus the work mind and wow, this surely does just that.

We begin another climb. The music is blaring, Abba is blasting, I sing the words, music has a way of lifting one up high from the present, when the head could drop the dancing queen pumps me up and over. We're almost around to our supporters again. I smile, roar, wave because they are working so hard for us. They have also had a tough week and they want us to succeed. We’ve all worked as a big Irish team all week, we’ve made lifelong friends and we will achieve. As the loops continue the athletes spread out, some push on, some pull back, some don't feel well, some need to stop. I'm in my own world and don't notice too much only that my Irish running buddy has fallen back.

As we move through the miles, I no longer hear her breaths, I no longer hear her footsteps but I must keep going. With three miles to go, the head could go. I start talking to myself, I pick a target up ahead, I begin to focus on my arms and not the legs. I forget about the miles and focus on having less than one lap left. I know the support will bring me home.

I smile wider, I roar louder, I wave both arms, I know I'm on the home stretch. ‘Simply The Best’ it is this time and what better song to pump a downhill; we are doing our best. I hear the crowd and I see the finish line.

With as much as a lap of a track left I run hard for home. I am beaming, overjoyed, relieved, full of tears of happiness, of grief, of loneliness but the adrenaline is keeping the good stuff flowing. The Irish are over, they know I'm ok, I'm walking, talking and smiling; then reality kicks in and one realises what's important in all of this. One of our teammates did not feel well and needed to pull out, we are worried, but assured she is ok because that's all that matters.

I was told to run on feel. I did because in this crazy, difficult world how we feel controls everything. If we feel good everything will work out. Our next athlete arrives, crosses the line and collapses. We race over. She’s OK. I tell the girls. Yes, today we could have won a team medal but our medal today was being well. Other teams in our lives need us and we must feel good for them, we must every day and not just today run with how we feel because in a world where the plan changes, the A, B and C goes out the window we need to take stock, count our lucky Irish stars and today I most certainly do.

I walk the long mile back to the hotel; my head is buzzing. I reminisce on a wonderful week, a lifetime experience like no other, where one emotion over powers the other, where in the world of joy, another person’s sadness is felt, where nothing can be planned for in a world of fierce competition. Sometimes that competition is with our own bodies, do we fight it or go with it. We must do the right thing because even though people depend on us, we have to be ok.

I will treasure this world medal for ever; Dad will see this year’s medal from a different angle. I'm looking forward to going home to our beautiful Emerald Green Isle and I won't complain about the Irish weather!