I finally made it to the start line of a marathon! I was so excited in the days coming up to the race, and even picking up my race pack and number gave me a buzz. It was very warm in the morning as we walked to the start line. Because it was Halloween, we saw a lot of weird and wonderful costumes – a guy in a full robot outfit, the Cowardly Lion, and of course Mankini Man who must be personally keeping Vaseline in business after his painful pursuits at both the Dublin half and full.
I trained hard for this marathon, and although I was hoping to complete it in sub 4:26, my first goal was to have a good race – I’d pulled myself through enough training programs and injuries to get here only to ruin the race for the sake of a time. My two 20 mile runs had both gone well and I hadn’t felt much from my IT band for a good while, so it was looking positive.
The first six miles were very uncomfortable – I still don’t know why. It could have been the weather, which was far too hot and humid for me until the rain started. I completed the first five miles in 53 minutes – well below my target pace of 10 minute miles. At around mile 6 in the Phoenix Park, I relaxed into it and found my pace. Then, suddenly and only 50 metres or so later, I had a pain in the outside of my left knee – my old friend the IT band injury. It wasn’t so bad then that I couldn’t run on it properly, so I carried on, although coupled with the sluggish first hour I knew it wouldn’t be a PB day.
My knee became more inflamed and painful as I went on, and at somewhere past half way, I really started to struggle with it, and stopped by some St John’s volunteers who were handing out Deep Heat. I didn’t even know if Deep Heat would help, given the inflammation, but a part of me just wanted to stop for a while – I felt far more tired and worn than I should have been at that sort of mileage. A few other people had also stopped, and I started chatting to them – one was a Guard from Ennis called Shane, who hadn’t run a mile before in his life, and was (predictably) struggling. He had settled into a run-walk-run pattern with another guy, Jonny, who was suffering with shin splints and calf pain. I fell in with them, and because my first goal was to have a good race and I knew I’d no chance of a good time, I relaxed and started enjoying myself.
My IT band pain was getting worse and worse and at one point it gave way and I nearly fell. Shane was having quad problems and Jonny was hopping from one foot to the next with his shin splints, so the three of us looked a sight. The boys seemed to be fuelled by jelly babies so we were stopping a lot en route to pick up sweets from the spectators. As the miles dragged on, the running became more painful and the sheer nonsense of our sorry situation became more amusing. Jonny realised at one point that we surely weren’t going to finish in less than five hours if we carried on the way we were going, so he left us and hobbled on ahead. At around mile 21 the 5-hour pace balloons passed me, and I tried to stay with them but I just didn’t have the strength, so I dropped back and eventually Shane caught up with me again.
Somewhere along the Merrion Road, around mile 23, we came across a girl who was swaying as she walked, and almost staggered into the traffic lane. She said she was fine when we asked her, but she clearly wasn’t – she could barely walk and couldn’t talk coherently at all. She almost fell and we brought her to the pavement where she collapsed and sat looking numb and emotionless. A patrolling ambulance came almost immediately, and took her away on a stretcher.
We were so close to the finish line, but it could have been 20 miles away for us in our state. I kept saying to myself, three miles, that’s thirty minutes, it’s five small loops of the park at home, but the mile markers didn’t seem to be changing. People were saying to us that we were there, we were nearly there, just one more road, one more corner, but we got into the city centre and there were more roads and more corners and still the finish line evaded us. I couldn’t understand it, I started to think I must have remembered the route wrong, and that they’d added more onto the end of it, because this was definitely not right. I couldn’t run properly on my left leg at all by now, and my right leg was very sore from compensating. Shane and I were talking to each other but it didn’t make sense, just nonsense supportive sounds. But then we were there – finally, somehow – the magical mile 26 marker, and let me tell you, that last 0.2 of a mile is the longest, most beautiful and agonising stretch of any run. There were still a lot of spectators at the finish line, almost as wet as we were, and runners crawling over the line in every state, like some bizarre Halloween sweaty zombie parade.
My time was 5:21 – a personal worst and a significant achievement because it was the longest time by far I’d ever spent on my feet during a run. I must have looked pretty bad over the line because I was quickly wrapped in a foil blanket – I was freezing and couldn’t stop shaking. But the maddest thing about the whole mad race was that I had actually had the time of my life – I really enjoyed myself, and Shane decided there on the finish line that he wanted to do another one (and train for it this time). A sure sign of a successful marathon. And I have finally broken the curse I put on myself in Cork when I vowed at the finish line that I’d never do another marathon again. Next marathon, Waterford 30th June 2012.
I trained hard for this marathon, and although I was hoping to complete it in sub 4:26, my first goal was to have a good race – I’d pulled myself through enough training programs and injuries to get here only to ruin the race for the sake of a time. My two 20 mile runs had both gone well and I hadn’t felt much from my IT band for a good while, so it was looking positive.
The first six miles were very uncomfortable – I still don’t know why. It could have been the weather, which was far too hot and humid for me until the rain started. I completed the first five miles in 53 minutes – well below my target pace of 10 minute miles. At around mile 6 in the Phoenix Park, I relaxed into it and found my pace. Then, suddenly and only 50 metres or so later, I had a pain in the outside of my left knee – my old friend the IT band injury. It wasn’t so bad then that I couldn’t run on it properly, so I carried on, although coupled with the sluggish first hour I knew it wouldn’t be a PB day.
My knee became more inflamed and painful as I went on, and at somewhere past half way, I really started to struggle with it, and stopped by some St John’s volunteers who were handing out Deep Heat. I didn’t even know if Deep Heat would help, given the inflammation, but a part of me just wanted to stop for a while – I felt far more tired and worn than I should have been at that sort of mileage. A few other people had also stopped, and I started chatting to them – one was a Guard from Ennis called Shane, who hadn’t run a mile before in his life, and was (predictably) struggling. He had settled into a run-walk-run pattern with another guy, Jonny, who was suffering with shin splints and calf pain. I fell in with them, and because my first goal was to have a good race and I knew I’d no chance of a good time, I relaxed and started enjoying myself.
My IT band pain was getting worse and worse and at one point it gave way and I nearly fell. Shane was having quad problems and Jonny was hopping from one foot to the next with his shin splints, so the three of us looked a sight. The boys seemed to be fuelled by jelly babies so we were stopping a lot en route to pick up sweets from the spectators. As the miles dragged on, the running became more painful and the sheer nonsense of our sorry situation became more amusing. Jonny realised at one point that we surely weren’t going to finish in less than five hours if we carried on the way we were going, so he left us and hobbled on ahead. At around mile 21 the 5-hour pace balloons passed me, and I tried to stay with them but I just didn’t have the strength, so I dropped back and eventually Shane caught up with me again.
Somewhere along the Merrion Road, around mile 23, we came across a girl who was swaying as she walked, and almost staggered into the traffic lane. She said she was fine when we asked her, but she clearly wasn’t – she could barely walk and couldn’t talk coherently at all. She almost fell and we brought her to the pavement where she collapsed and sat looking numb and emotionless. A patrolling ambulance came almost immediately, and took her away on a stretcher.
We were so close to the finish line, but it could have been 20 miles away for us in our state. I kept saying to myself, three miles, that’s thirty minutes, it’s five small loops of the park at home, but the mile markers didn’t seem to be changing. People were saying to us that we were there, we were nearly there, just one more road, one more corner, but we got into the city centre and there were more roads and more corners and still the finish line evaded us. I couldn’t understand it, I started to think I must have remembered the route wrong, and that they’d added more onto the end of it, because this was definitely not right. I couldn’t run properly on my left leg at all by now, and my right leg was very sore from compensating. Shane and I were talking to each other but it didn’t make sense, just nonsense supportive sounds. But then we were there – finally, somehow – the magical mile 26 marker, and let me tell you, that last 0.2 of a mile is the longest, most beautiful and agonising stretch of any run. There were still a lot of spectators at the finish line, almost as wet as we were, and runners crawling over the line in every state, like some bizarre Halloween sweaty zombie parade.
My time was 5:21 – a personal worst and a significant achievement because it was the longest time by far I’d ever spent on my feet during a run. I must have looked pretty bad over the line because I was quickly wrapped in a foil blanket – I was freezing and couldn’t stop shaking. But the maddest thing about the whole mad race was that I had actually had the time of my life – I really enjoyed myself, and Shane decided there on the finish line that he wanted to do another one (and train for it this time). A sure sign of a successful marathon. And I have finally broken the curse I put on myself in Cork when I vowed at the finish line that I’d never do another marathon again. Next marathon, Waterford 30th June 2012.
Hi, enjoyed your report, very entertaining. I finished in almost the same time. Great day, roll on next year.
ReplyDeleteVery Nice Blog !
ReplyDeleteI Like This Very Much.
Snail Farming