From chance call to becoming a world medallist

I try not to have any regrets in life. When decisions have to be made, if one has a little time it’s good to go to a quiet place, by one’s self and think clearly before making the final call. I go through the ifs, buts and only fors because in this case I do have a little time, not much, but enough to clear my very busy head, enough to get my thoughts together, to see what’s possible. My family always comes first and so I talk it out with my soul mate; he, as always, encourages me and my family tell me to go. My teammates now need me, my family are okay and so I know I am making the right decision to just go.

When you get a call and an opportunity arises to partake in something totally unplanned, you must consider how lucky you are, to have the health to go, to have the support to go, and to have the legs to go.

In sport, we train, we play, we partake and as the year goes around, we enter the same events. We like familiarity, we get very comfortable with our routine, but it’s good to push the body outside its comfort zone, to try new things, to meet new people and to go to new places. Sometimes it’s easy not to go, sometimes it’s easy to make excuses, sometimes it’s easy to say I’ll leave it until next year – but next year might be a very different world. If an opportunity arises, I like to grab it where possible, because life circumstances change so quickly. If you put things off, you might not get the chance again.

The phone rings with a call to go at short notice and run cross country at the World Masters Championships in Gothenburg. It’s unfamiliar territory but the words create pictures of challenges in my mind, obstacles to overcome. But sometimes I love a challenge so I say to leave it with me.

I weigh up the options; I haven’t run on grass in a year but it’s possible.

My first thoughts are that I cannot leave my family, I don’t like being away, we’ve all been through a lot but immediately I'm told by all to go. I can see in the youngsters eyes the excitement of getting spoiled and the maybe not-so-strict regime when mam is away, of being let stay up late or cycle to the shop. It’s also the last week of summer holidays, another positive. Now it’s just me, my mind and my thoughts. I’ve trained all week so my legs or body aren’t fresh but I’ll get around. The training plan will change but it’s the worlds. The mind went through a lot but is now is in a better place. My dad would have driven me to the airport and so I’m off.

With four days before flying, the focus turns to cross country and I go to the shed to find the spikes. They are rock hard from months of hibernating in the box, the mouldy grass netted around the 5mm spikes from the wet boggy surface of the last cross-country event months ago in Westport House and a strong mouldy odour like wet football boots left in a plastic bag. I try to put them on but they are way too tight. Vaseline gets rubbed on heels, toes and ankles to squeeze the feet in; no room for socks, this will be barefoot. I head to the pitch, still wrecked from flying home from our holiday overseas, and I begin to jog. The damp, wet grass provides a feel-good surprise from the hot sandy pavements of Lanzarote. But it’s pouring rain and the winds are fresh, which is less of a feel-good factor coming from beautiful sunshine and beaming bright blue skies.

I'm running and counting laps of a pitch, a mind-busting exercise compared to running up volcanic trails, but now the mindset has changed to a different focus, to running 8km on grass in an unknown place, on unknown terrain, and going to an unknown world. It can be good when one doesn't know what’s ahead because one cannot over analyse, one can't think too much and one can't be worrying about the what ifs. You can only just relax, move the body, do one’s best and get the job done. The mind focuses on the opportunity, the working together for a team, running for one’s country.

And so, the journey begins. Up at 4.30am to head for Shannon Airport, a quick stop off in Stansted and a sprint for the next flight to Gothenburg, a rush to the stadium to get one’s number, and finally it’s eat, sleep and get ready for the race tomorrow. The morning arrives and while I'm wrecked, an air of excitement exists. My body feels good but I know it’s done a lot. We begin the walk over to Slottsskogen Park, a 137-hectare wooden area in the middle of Gothenburg city. I'm looking forward to seeing what lies ahead. Surrounded by trees, greenery and water, this reminds me of home.

With some of the events started, we shout and roar for any Irish we spot. I can see some are suffering early. The debates begin: spikes, trails or runners, and with no water or assistance allowed, what’s the best way to run this? I blank it all out. It was a tight squeeze getting these spikes on so I’m wearing them, I’ve drank lots of water and we’re used to the hills.

We check in, drop the bags and warm up. A humid sticky air exists and I'm told the course is very tough, the ground firm and to go out easy. We line up, USA, UK and Kenya alongside, to mention a few. I am calm, I breathe and I know I can do this.

A steep uphill to start, some take off like bullets, but we’ve four laps to do, two kilometres more than our competitions back home. I start handy, the first lap feels good but then things begin to toughen. We’re in an enclosed park, on a hot sunny day, it feels like there’s no air, the sweat is pumping off people already, there's tree trunks to jump over, timber bridges to cross in spikes and paths to meander through, so concentration must be at its fullest. I stop looking at the watch, I begin to run on feel; today is about survival and I already pass some who have stopped.

I spot my clubmate, standing at a mile and a half cheering his heart out for us. He’s racing cross country afterwards but came early to support. In what can be such a lonely place, a place where we have loads of Irish but only two from Mayo, a cheer from a clubmate is like drinking Lucozade, it gives one a lift. A steep uphill seems fine on the first loop but by the fourth it's torture. There is something draining about racing out here, the body wants to go faster but the terrain slows one down, the mind gets tired concentrating on avoiding and surviving all the obstacles. I need to turn the focus, I think of all that are not with us, I think of my family back home and how they encouraged me to come.

My family are like my big boulder rocks pushing me up the hills around this route today. I am the pebble at the bottom of the climb. When I need to run up it they push me up, they are my strength, especially the ones just past. Today I feel like a pebble in the bottom of the pond in the middle of Slottsskogen Park, because I am in completely unknown territory. The pond is shallow, I can see the light, I know l will survive, not sink. Today we are each other’s rocks, pushing for each other.

The final lap bell rings, the crowd roars for Ireland, I use the arms to take the mind off the legs, I touch my Ireland vest and think I need this. I squeeze my fingers, it takes the pain away from my blistering toes, and I smile from ear to ear because in the middle of torture a smile can make one feel good. We turn the last corner, cross the bridge, I see the finish line, my legs are in bits, no sprint finish today just get there.

The Irish crew is waiting. We lie, we breathe, I remove the spikes, the heels cut, the toes blistered but I don't care. We survived. The manager runs over, we’ve won team silver at the world championships. We jump, scream, laugh, cheer, sing and cry. We are overjoyed. Sometimes in life you get a call, you need to make a decision, it might not always be the right one but if you take a moment, review all options, I do think the right decision comes easier.

I am glad I got to go and glad things worked out. Today, when I received my medal, I bowed my head and thought of my family. In times of sadness, we stand strong together. In times of joy, we celebrate together. Togetherness brings one through many of life’s ups and downs. Today the togetherness of the Irish brought us through.

I begin to pack my gear away, I spot a tiny beautiful ladybird crawling along my spike. It goes up and down, back and over. I smile. I do think someone else wants to celebrate with me today.