Rás Tailteann stage 1 - Luke Keaney

A week on from Stage 1 of the Rás Tailteann and I’m only really starting to properly reflect on the whole experience.

This is only my second year racing bikes, but honestly, once last year’s Rás finished, my head was already fixed on the next 12 months. Straight away, I started planning everything out with my coach, Cormac. We looked at what needed to improve, where I could get stronger, and what it would realistically take to make the Orwell team again.

For me, that process started immediately.

I focused on getting myself into the best shape possible physically. I cut my weight down to 81kg, knowing full well I’d probably still suffer on the bigger climbs, but also knowing the level within the club was incredibly high. We had eight riders fighting for five spots and there was no room to stand still. The work had to start straight away.

A lot of the lads had years of racing experience behind them, so I always felt like I was playing catch-up — not just physically, but also learning how to race properly. Positioning, conserving energy, understanding when to move and when not to. That side of cycling only really comes with time and experience.

Coming into Stage 1 though, I genuinely felt like I had ticked every box I possibly could. I was in the best form I’ve ever been in.

That definitely wouldn’t have happened without Gráinne, my family, and my friends around me. There were plenty of dark days over the winter and they’re the people who have to deal with moody, tired Luke when training and life start piling on top of each other. Cycling can look glamorous from the outside sometimes, but most of the work is done in bad weather, in darkness, when motivation is low and nobody sees it.

After performing well over the winter and getting away to the sunshine for a few training blocks, I was really looking forward to the start of the season. At the same time, moving to Donegal while trying to save for a house meant there was a lot more juggling involved this year. Long drives for races, trying to manage recovery around travel, and being more selective with what events I could actually do.

Because of that, I probably had a small bit of doubt in my head coming into the Rás. I wondered if I had enough racing in the legs compared to some of the others. But once the race started, you quickly realise the level you’re dealing with.

You’re racing against full-time riders, lads who were previously at WorldTour level, riders competing on Continental teams, or younger guys trying to earn U23 contracts. The standard is honestly insane.

But that’s exactly where you want to be.

You want to be in the middle of it all, bumping shoulders with top riders and testing yourself against lads from different countries. That’s what makes the Rás so special. It’s hell for leather for five days. You’re completely inside the bubble and nothing else matters except emptying yourself for your teammates and your club.

There’s no hiding place. Just you and your bike.

Then came Stage 1.

For all the preparation and all the sacrifices over the previous year, it’s strange how quickly things can change in this sport. One second you’re fully focused and fighting for position in the bunch, the next you’re sliding across the road wondering what just happened.

The crash itself is still a blur. Mud on the road, riders losing control ahead of me, bikes going everywhere. Sean and I both went down hard and there was honestly nowhere to go. Looking back now, it’s frustrating because it felt like one of those situations completely outside your control.

At the time, adrenaline takes over. You don’t think about injuries or damage. You just get up and try to get going again because the race is disappearing up the road without you.

My bike was badly damaged so I had to continue on a spare bike. It wasn’t until after the finish that things started catching up with me physically. The concussion assessment, the road rash, the stiffness afterwards.

Joe, Evan and Padraig all came in together, but the atmosphere in the tent was one of disbelief and frustration. There was a feeling that the race should have been stopped at the roadworks, or that something should have been done with the time gaps. Ten minutes down on GC from circumstances outside your control was hard to take.

The three lads were understandably pissed off after being held up, and Padraig — who had really been targeting Stage 2 — was left devastated that his GC chances were effectively gone before the race had even properly started. It was the same feeling shared by our clubmate Liam Crowley, who was riding for Team Ireland.

Everyone was in a state of shock while I went off to get the wounds sorted. Meanwhile, Donal and Bernard immediately started repairing the damage on the bikes. People forget how expensive crashes can be. We needed new tyres, shifters, derailleurs — the lot. It turned into a late night for the lads, with Neal even driving to Cork to source parts for Sean’s bike.

That’s all part of it, but it’s also stress you just don’t need in a team environment during a race like the Rás.

What made it harder was knowing what was waiting the next morning.

Stage 2 was a monster and, for me personally, it was always going to be the hardest day of the race with all the climbing involved. I remember lying in bed that night trying to sleep and every time I moved, my skin was sticking to the sheets from the road rash.

That was one of those moments where the mental side of the sport really kicks in.

You know you’re sore. You know the body is battered. But there’s no real time to feel sorry for yourself. Mentally, you just have to lock in and get ready to go to battle again the next morning.

But I think mentally that was also the hardest part of the whole experience.

Not because of the pain, but because you realise how much emotional investment goes into something like the Rás. Months of planning and sacrifice can change in seconds. That’s sport though, and I suppose that’s also why events like the Rás mean so much when things do go right.

Five days later, the body is healing up slowly and perspective starts returning. The biggest thing I’ve probably taken from the experience is appreciation — appreciation for teammates, family, friends, clubmates, and everyone who checked in afterwards.

The result sheet won’t really show the full story of Stage 1 for a lot of riders, but that’s bike racing. Sometimes just getting back up and finishing is its own result.