IN THIS EXTRACT FROM MOIRE O’SULLIVAN’S BOOK, BUMP, BIKE AND BABY: MUMMY’S GONE ADVENTURE RACING, WE JOIN MOIRE THE EVENING BEFORE ONE OF IRELAND’S TOUGHEST ADVENTURE RACES. WHEN SHE REALISES SOMETHING IS PROFOUNDLY WRONG…

RUNNING MUM

Moire O’Sullivan is one of Ireland’s leading mountain runners, adventure racers – and parents!

Preparing for the 66-kilometre Gaelforce West, which is part of Ireland’s National Adventure Race Series, Moire is at her bed and breakfast accommodation with her husband Pete and 12-month-old son Aran, who she is still breastfeeding, when she realises she has mastitis

It does not start as anything major, just an overwhelming need to lie down. “Shift over in the bed there, Pete”, I say.

He grunts and turns as I curl up in a ball beside his back. “Pre-race nerves?” he slurs out of his hazy slumber.

“I don’t know”, I reply. “Probably.”

I pull myself closer to his body, and scream. “Feck! That hurts!”

Pete jumps up. “What? What? What’s going on?” He comes through, looks down, and sees me screwed up, tight as a foetus, clutching myself in agony.

“My boobs!” I scream. “They really feckin’ hurt.”

“Calm down. You’ll upset Aran”, Pete whispers, though it is clear that Pete is the one most upset by this confusing scene.

“I think I’ve got mastitis”, I groan through a contorted grimace. I have had mastitis before, but never as bad as this. My right breast is as hard as a rock. It is noticeably larger than the other one. The slightest touch makes me scream in agony. A glance with a feather would be sufficient, but instead, curling up beside Pete’s back has started this painful onslaught.

“The milk”, I try to explain. “It must be stuck.”

My boob looks like an over-inflated balloon that is on the verge of bursting.

If only it would burst, that might alleviate at least some of this agony. By now the localised pain is being augmented by sweeping waves of nausea. This is ridiculous.