Everything was going so well until it wasn’t.
This is a tale of 2 races in one, firstly a wonderful 26k trot through the streets of my hometown and then a 16k painful & sickening trudge to the finish line. So, all in all, a pretty standard marathon really.
Let’s start at the beginning of marathon day as I don’t want to talk about the shit show that was the expo this year, the best thing about Dublin Marathon being held on the October Bank holiday is that glorious extra hour in bed from the clock changes which I oddly slept pretty well and took that for a good omen. We left Garristown and arrived in the city with plenty of time to spare. We got dropped off at Westmoreland Street and we followed the stream of other marathoners toward the starting area around Merrion Square.
The bag drop was its normal chaotic yet oddly organised state with the crowds all packed together like sardines, the smell of deep heat would bring a tear to your eye. But luckily for me I had oiled up like a baby seal that morning, so I slid through the crowd with ease and dropped my bag off and made my way to the start pens.
This is where I had to make my first decision of the day, I was in Wave 1 but I also kinda needed to use the “facilities” and not the side of a building or some alley way where you could see more people weeing then after a Saturday night in coppers, so for my own dignity I decided to drop to wave 2 and run the gauntlet of porta loo’s with my trusty bit of toilet roll stuffed in my pocket.
With that business taken care of eventually I rambled up to the front part of the wave and stood just in front of the 3:40 pacer. I didn’t have any time goals for this Marathon and had missed a good few runs with a couple of injuries, so I somewhat optimistically placed myself slightly in front of the 3:40 ballons with the plan to try catch up with the 3:30 pacer over the course of the 42.2k, spoiler alert this did not go to plan.
And then we started we crossed under that start line and the Dublin City Marathon 25 was under way. The first few K’s zooming around the streets of the capital flew in. In what felt like a a few moments we had already past Christ Church Cathedral and where crossing to the northside to run along the Liffey. At this point it was raining and cold so I was thankful for the arm sleeves and the nipple protectors I was wearing. We turned up by Stonybatter and made way to the Pheonix Park, everything felt great at this point, and I had pushed on a little bit from the 3:40 fella.
We then hit the park and made our way up Chesterfield Avenue, took a gel and soaked up the crazy crowds calling your name even though they never met me. I came to one of the roundabouts in the park where my Family had taken up residence. There where high fives all around and I even gifted them to some impromptu dance moves in which I end up knocking my wife’s phone out of her hand and slapping my nephew in the face, but they saw the funny side. Thankfully
At that point I was feeling great even the sneaky climb up Chesterfield Ave didn’t affect me, spirits where high, I was loving the crowd and I my body was feeling no ill effects from the injuries. This was gonna be a great day I taught to myself with blind optimism.
The park came and went for the first time and I enjoyed the magical downhill section from Castleknock and back into the park. Still feeling great at this stage, I was in the zone and was oblivious to seeing the newly elected Irish president as we exited the park for the second time. Sorry President Connolly. I floated the next few K through Chapelizord, Inchicore and onto dolphin’s barn.
As I hit the halfway stage the 3:30 pacer was in sight just ahead and it was then I started to think I may have overcooked it a little in the first half of the race as at this point I was tracking at a 3:27 finish, but I wasn’t hurting too much then so I taught I could hold the pace. And I did for another 5K anyway.
Its now here just past Walkinstown where my race turned and eventually my stomach turned too. Hindsight is a wonderful thing looking back now I probably should not have gone out like a scorched rat and took it easier for the first 26k, particularly with my ongoing hamstring injury but lets be honest even after 4 marathons and countless 5ks, 10ks and half’s I’m nothing if not consistent with going off like a bullet and paying the price in the later K’s of those races.
It was at 26k according to Garmin when my hamstring tightened, then cramped and caused me to walk for a few seconds before it loosened out. Once it happened once I knew then my race had gone from a joyous run where nothing could phase me to a run for a couple of Km’s, tighten, cramp, swear like a sailor and the walk for a min to unlock it. It was maddening and I let it get to me. The pity party in my head had well and truly taken hold. The 3:30 pacer ran off into the distance without even a goodbye
After a while the pity party died down a bit and the stubbornness kicked in, although I was pissed off about the hamstring I tried to let it wash over me, sure I had no race goals today what the hell was I fretting about. This mental argument went on for the next 10k where I was able to run for a nearly 2k at a time but would have to walk then for 30 second (sometimes longer) to release the hammy. But I was still enjoying in a weird sadist way granted there would be no more impromptu dance moves but it was now about finishing and I gave myself little goals to reach, like running up heartbreak hill at UCD which I did and passed loads of folks walking up it, only to have the repass me in another 10mins when I had to walk
And then there was the Lucozade incident. I’m recalling this as eyewitness to it not a player in it. The last Lucozade stand is around UCD on Fosters Avenue. There was a chap in front of me who swopped in to grab a cup and then swooped back into the middle of road to take a sip. He must have only too a tiny bit before deciding he would discard it into the big red bin that where after all the water stations. Without looking he lobbed the half full cup towards the bin. This is where it got sticky excuse the pun. Unbeknowst to him another chap decided to take this opportunity to pass him on his inside right between him and the bin. Then hilarity ensued, well for me anyway. The cup half full with Lucozade hit the would be overtaker straight on the head soaking him with the sticky orange substance. After a few hearty apologies the two lads jogged on their merry way but for us who seen the incident random fits of laughs kicked in every so often when the taught about it
So back to me the next last 5K where honestly the toughest few kilometres I’ve ever ran. I took my last gel of the day and it completely turned my stomach. So I spent the last 5k of the race in a blur of cursing my hamstring to praying I wouldn’t puke. At this point of the race the crowd was massive and where screaming your name to try encourage you that your nearly there. But christ at that point I just wanted them to be quiet. I headed down Merrion Road and onto Northhumberland road without really taking in anything bar the 3:40 pacer floating by me. I just wanted this to be over all the joy of the first 2 thirds of the race where well and truly gone and I just wanted it to end.
Then a peculiar thing happened to me when I turned onto Warrington place and knew the Pepper Cannister church was around the bend. I got emotional. I don’t know if it was the joy of knowing its just over, knowing that you held in the vomit until the end or just the roller coaster experience of the day from such highs to such lows and now glorious highs again. But it did well up inside of me and I came closest I have ever come to crying in years. It peaked when I got the medal, but I held my composure and walked off to get my bag with warm dry clothes
After a few weeks I can look back at this marathon as a massive success even though that night it felt like I messed it up. I wasn’t in my peak condition going into it and still managed to run with 6mins of walking according to Garmin a 3hr 41min Marathon. I faced struggles with my hamstring and then the gel that near killed me but I managed to push through these to pick up my finishers medal. Already in my head I’m thinking next year I will do it different, I’ll stick to my training plan, do some S&C to keep the injuries away, lock in with my diet and pace myself better on the day. But on the day itself I will probably start the race as always like a scalded cat and start making the excuses up around 26k why it went wrong