Get On, Clip In, Fall Off

Dublin Marathon

On Halloween morning it had been raining overnight, but was more or less dry as I peered out of the window at 0645. A quick breakfast later, I decided that there wasn't really any excuse for just going back to bed and staying in the warm, so pulled on my shorts, club vest and shoes and headed down the road to the start on Nassau St.

This was about the time it started raining. It started raining that proper determined Irish rain, and at twenty minutes before the start time the start itself was still almost entirely empty as people crammed themselves into the spaces under shop awnings looking for a bit of shelter. A couple of the elite runners at the front were seen hiding in phone boxes. Then we were called out to line up, so couldn't avoid getting properly wet any more. After an impressively wet 20 minutes involving standing in the rain while the bloke on the PA wittered on, the gun finally went and we were off. By now everything and everybody was soaked, so we set off in a kind of squelching mass as peoples' shoes tried to squeeze out the water. I was already grateful for the Vaseline I'd applied to my feet in an attempt to avoid blisters, but which was doing a secondary job of helping keep my feet dry.

The first few miles were spent working our way out of the city centre and up to the Phoenix Park. The traditional congestion of the first two miles cleared itself out and I settled into a fairly easy pace of about 5 minutes/km - a little faster than if I'd been completely paranoid, but reasonably sustainable. We crested the long shallow climb through the park at about the six mile mark, and I split through the 10k point in about 53:20. Not too bad. At about this point, the rain eased off and then stopped entirely. The weather remained overcast and dull and windy, but the rain only returned briefly a couple more times before the finish. A couple more miles downhill took us out of the park and back onto the streets. There was plenty of support around even given the bad weather, and kind local residents were handing out goodies like Jelly Babies and pieces of fruit. The large number of American participants also led to plenty of vocal American support, although I regret to say I didn't hear "Awesome, dude! You rock!" once. Shame.

From nine miles to the halfway point the trend was uphill again, and still going nicely I split through the half in almost exactly 1:50. I was happy with this pace - it wasn't exactly rocketing along, but I could live with it having not exactly done a lot of training for this marathon. And as my personal best was 3:48 anyway, I wasn't really aiming for anything other than a finish in a vaguely sensible time. A new PB would be nice, but it wasn't an essential.

The second half of the race is somewhat more uppy-downy than the first. The official description of the course is "mostly flat", but as race organisers always claim their courses are sort-of-flat even if they go straight up the north face of the Eiger (in which case they might concede that it was "gently undulating") I was expecting some hilliness. The hills weren't big, but there were quite a few of them, including a two-mile uphill slog between miles 19 and 21. According to my data, the ascent was only about 30m, but at that stage it makes a hell of a difference. But hey, I kept the pace up anyway, and hit the mile 21 marker at 2:55.

At mile 23 the lack of training and lack of preparation (and being ill for much of last week) suddenly made itself known and I hit the wall hard. My legs just weren't interested in holding the pace any more, and even after dropping it a little I just couldn't resist the occasional brief walk break. These continued until I was sufficiently embarrassed to start running again, and at least that way I kept moving. My pace dropped a lot - to about 5:50-6:00/km on average - but I was still on course at least for a PB.

The final insult on the course is the last mile - although you're tantalisingly close to the finish in Merrion Square, the course sends you off down Westland Row for a nice lap of Trinity College to make up the distance. I turned into the home straight with my eyes peeled for the finish, but it was nowhere in sight so I walked a bit more in protest. The 26 mile marker gave me the kick I needed to put in a proper finish, and at the end of Nassau St the course turned sharp right onto Merrion Square and there was the stealth finish line, about 75m away. I summoned a kick, passed a few people on the final straight and crossed the line in 3:40:44, according to my timing chip. This made me the 1521st finisher out of 7932, and the 837th senior male. Not stellar, but I was happy to have finished in one piece.

Feeling mostly relieved at having not only finished but also set a new PB, I picked up the enormously chunky medal and my T-shirt before heading back to the hotel, showering off all the gunk and crashing for a few hours. That evening I didn't get very far - out to Wagamama (about 150m from the hotel), then a couple of pints of Guinness in the Hairy Lemon (about 50m from the hotel) to restore vital nutrients and hydration. At that point I was thinking "Why do I do this? Maybe I should just stick to more sensible distances and forget about marathons..", but a few days later that's turned into "So, if I ran 3:40 while untrained and badly prepared, what are the chances of dropping that to 3:20-something if I actually train diligently for the next one?". Must be a glutton for punishment.

Posted by mpk at November 4, 2005 11:15 PM