Run the Line is the end-of-season race for so many runners, and this year I was no different. I arrived with plenty of miles already on the legs from the year’s adventures, so I genuinely wasn’t sure how my body would hold up on the day. But my motto has always been, “Ah sure, it’ll be grand.” I always show up onthe day and give whatever I have, in whatever form it arrives, always hoping it really will be grand.
After a frosty week and a forecast threatening rain, race morning delivered a gift: sunshine, blue skies, and cold, crisp air, the perfect trail-running cocktail. You heat up quickly once you get moving anyway.
The excitement as you arrive at the GAP is always electric. Friends everywhere, nervous chats, last-minute layers being removed, and that wonderful hum of anticipation that only a race can bring.
Before long the race director called Wave 1 to the start. I was doing the long course and tucked myself right at the back—my favourite spot where I can be pushed along without holding up the mountain goats. The whistle blew, a huge cheer went up, and suddenly we were off on our adventure.
The opening 2km is a slow drag, the kind that reminds you your lungs aren’t quite awake yet. Heavy breathing is the soundtrack for everyone around. A short flat section follows before the first real climb up towards Fairy Castle. Seeing the line of runners ahead zigzagging up the mountain makes the name “Run the Line” make perfect sense.
Then comes the technical flat/down section—home of the fearless. Some runners absolutely launch themselves down it, and it’s thrilling to watch. Me? I definitely have the fear, so my focus was on stayingupright and keeping a steady rhythm. I knew what awaited next: the wonderfully messy, gloriously muddy forest.
This is where the fun truly begins. There’s something liberating about thundering through mud, pushing up and down the little rollers, knowing that if you do fall, at least it’s a soft landing. After the forest we popped out through Zippit and onto the Fire Road—a long, steady slog that I secretly love. Head up, power on. This is where I catch the fearless downhillers who flew past me earlier. I take their souls; fully aware they’ll steal mine again on the next technical descent.
The miles passed in a blur of ankle-deep puddles, dirty legs, and big grins as we made our way past Tribradden and back towards Ticknock. This part of the course is a mix of tough climbs and glorious downs. And the marshals? Absolutely unreal. Their smiles, encouragement, and thanks for supporting Dublin Mountain Rescue are genuinely uplifting. They’re a huge part of what makes this race special.
I knew the end was close when I scrambled up the final steep climb and hit the path leading back towards the GAP. The last 2km is pure joy, fast, flowing forest trail where you can fully let the legs go. Soft ground, little dips and rises, weaving through the trees. Magic.
Then you start to hear it, the roar of the crowd. That sound carries so much energy. I was buzzing to be finishing strong, but also a little sad it was nearly over. It’s always bittersweet. As I turned into the final 50 metres, goosebumps hit. The noise, the buzz, the atmosphere… it’s one of the best feelings in the world. I crossed the line filthy, exhausted, overjoyed, and incredibly grateful to be able to run.
And in the end? Yes – it was GRAND