My legs were starting to lock and my
stomach was churning a little but as I looked at my watch as I passed
the 25 mile mark I knew that I was on for my best marathon time in more
than ten years and my initial target of breaking 3.30 was in the bag. At
just under 3.17 I had 13 minutes to get through the last mile and a bit
and for the first time all day I allowed myself to relax a little and
enjoy the atmosphere. While I’d had outside ambitions of maybe getting
under 3.20, I was more than happy with how things had gone on the day so
I was going to enjoy this last mile. This would be my reward for the
months of hard work I’d put into getting here.
That hard work had started early in the
year. After missing the last two marathons through work and family
commitments I was determined to give it a go again in 2008. In January I
got my first indicator that things were going in the right direction
when I took over a minute off my 2007 time in the Raheny 5, coming home
in just over 32 minutes. After the couple of months training in the dark
and wet it was just the encouragement I needed and gave me a good
platform on which to start the ramp up towards Dublin.
Over the next seven months I ramped up
the training gradually putting in the miles both alone and with the
club. The races of the summer league went well and my form was
improving. Even more encouraging was that I was hitting this form
without compromising my long Sunday morning runs. I was fortunate to
have good company on all of these long runs from Viv O’Hanlon, Liam
Jones, Martin Haddock, Colm Barcoe and later Bryan Sheridan. From May on
we ramped up the miles through 15, 18 and 20 miles. By September we were
hitting 22s and 23s and things seemed to be falling into place nicely.
Early on we did most of our long runs around the Waterworks,
Ballinascorney and Glenasmole. Through August we tackled a few on the
marathon route from Walkinstown through to Ballsbridge and through
September we became familiar with the section from the Phoenix Park to
Walkinstown via Lucan and The Strawberry Beds. These runs on the course
covered miles 6 to 24, something I found very useful on the day.
By the start of my taper in mid October I
had 10 runs of 20 miles or more with the same number of 15 miles or
more. I’d felt comfortable on most of these long runs with only two that
I’d suffered on. One in July on probably the only hot Sunday of the
summer when I reckon I became dehydrated and crawled from ten miles.
Thankfully Viv waited up and encouraged me through the last eight and
put any negative thoughts out of my mind. The other came in September at
the end of a week where I’d been laid up with a heavy cold. My three
hour run ended up being almost three hours and ten as the tanks
literally emptied in the last hour and I had to dig deep to get home.
Despite these, all other runs had gone
well and as I entered the final week of preparation I was confident that
the work was done and I was better prepared than for any of my previous
marathons. My only concern was a niggling pain at the top of my left
hamstring and into my hip but I iced this every day for the last couple
of weeks and was happy enough it wouldn’t pose too many problems.
On marathon morning I got up at quarter
to six. My bags were prepared from the night before so it was just a
matter of getting some breakfast and making final preparations before
heading off. Outside it was cold and dry and the forecast wind appeared
not to have arrived yet. We may be lucky. I picked up a friend, Gavin,
who was running his first marathon and headed into town. We met up with
my brother Len and a friend of his and Viv O’Hanlon, Bryan Sheridan and
Pat Kelly at Tara Street Fire Station where we left most of our gear. It
was quarter to eight and despite the cold it looked like it was going to
be a good day for the race.
We chatted amongst ourselves as we walked
up Pearse Street and Westland Row towards the baggage area on Merrion
Square. The nerves were kicking in a little and I was glad of the
company and the banter to help take the mind off things. On Merrion
Square we grabbed a doorway and geared up – the usual routine, Vaseline,
deep heat, check the laces, check the number, check the water bottle,
dump the gear in the baggage area, quick visit to the loo then we were
ready to head to the start. Things were quite congested on the walk down
to the start area but soon we were in position about ten yards from the
start line. We’d lost Len somewhere on route but he was keen to start at
his own pace. Myself, Viv, Bryan and Pat were going to start at about
7.50 pace for the first couple of miles and take it from there depending
on how we were feeling. Gavin said he was looking for 8 minute pace so
he’d sit in behind us for a while. My target was sub 3.30 with an
outside hope of 3.20 if I could hold it together in the last six miles.
At five to nine the wheelchair athletes
took off and we began to strip off to our racing gear. The air was
filled with t-shirts, jackets, plastic bags and hats as everyone did
likewise, flinging their excess gear to the sides. I quick handshake
with the others as we began to inch forward and suddenly the gun went –
we were off. For a couple of minutes we fought to make our way through
the crowd. Though we were literally yards from the start line there
seemed to be a lot of people in front of us. Coming towards Holles
Street Hospital we passed Ray Fitzsimons as he led out his group. A
quick exchange of pleasantries and we were on our way. Down onto Pearse
Street and the one mile mark. I checked the watch – 8.00 bang on.
Despite the slow start we were ok. Bryan, Viv and Pat were a few yards
behind as we moved along O’Connell Street and onto Parnell Square and I
eased up slightly to let them come up to me as we came onto Dorset
Street and two miles. 7.31 for that mile and it felt comfortable, though
still a little quicker than I’d hoped so I eased up a fraction
encouraging the others to do likewise. Bryan was chomping at the bit and
obviously in good form but seconds gained now could result in minutes
being lost later. Onto the North Circular Road and even with the slight
drag we were 7.42 for the next mile. It seemed an effort to ease up but
I was determined not to do too much early on. We shared a water bottle
at the first water station and moved effortlessly into the Phoenix Park
and four miles. 7.29 for that mile and remarkably comfortable but I was
adamant we were not going to get sucked in. The morning was glorious and
it was a pleasure to be here. This is what it was all about – still I
knew we wouldn’t have it so easy for the whole day and slowed it a
little to five miles which we reached in 38.22. we’d been 7.38 for that
mile. We ticked off six in 7.45 and passed the 10K point and the second
water station. There was only occasional chat between us, mainly
comments on the split times and the conditions. As we headed through
seven miles (7.40 for this mile) I encouraged the others to enjoy the
down hill stretch to Chapelizod as we had five miles of work ahead of us
after it. We passed eight miles at the Chapelizod gate, putting in 7.30
on the downhill stretch and rounded the bend through a huge crowd. Among
them was former clubman Ronnie Fitzroy and we got a big shout from him
as we passed the water station.
From now we were onto our training route
and we knew what to expect in the coming miles. On our training runs
through Lucan and the Strawberry Beds we’d be hitting 15 miles at this
point and coming towards our final miles. Thankfully today I felt a lot
better than I had done at this point on some of those runs and was
looking forward to getting stuck into the section to Walkinstown. We hit
our first climb here as we headed towards Inchicore. Despite the climb
we were 7.43 between eight and nine and 7.36 to 10 which we reached in
76.39. I was feeling strong but in the back of my mind was the worry
that we’d gone a little too hard. The crowd in Kilmainham and Rialto was
large and very vocal and it was hard to hold back. Our next mile to 11
was 7.42. By now we’d gathered a bit of a crowd as a few others had
copped onto me calling the splits. As we turned at Dolphins Barn an
Italian guy beside me asked me to repeat the 11 mile split. As I turned
to answer I noticed that Pat had dropped off a little. We were entering
into a tough stretch up the Crumlin Road so it was really every man for
himself now. The mile to 12 was our slowest yet at 7.54, an indication
of the drag. Despite this I was comfortable and tried to up it slightly,
more to get the climb over with than anything. At the water station at
twelve we got split a little. I looked back 100 yards later and noticed
the gap. I didn’t pick it up but kept going at the pace I was on
expecting Bryan and Viv to come up alongside. At 13 miles just past The
Halfway House I was surprised to see my split of 7.29. I felt as if I’d
slowed and was very comfortable. At half way I was 1.41 and still
strong. Perhaps things were going to fall into place today. There was a
long way to go but I was feeling good and confident so I decided to try
holding the pace for as long as I could.
As I rounded the bend at the roundabout
there were lots of cheers for Tallaght and I pushed on even more,
passing some of those who’d gone by me earlier. I looked back for Bryan
and Viv but could not pick them out – ‘just keep going’. I thought to
myself, ‘they can’t be far off’. I put in a 7.18 mile to reach 14 miles
and another 7.28 to hit 15 just past the KCR. For a minute I got anxious
and considered easing off, but then decided to push on while I felt
good. I might blow up in a couple of miles but I was still feeling ok
and if I didn’t give it a try reckoned I’d regret it later.
At Bushy Park I got great encouragement
from John Fitzsimons from Raheny – I knew it was only a matter of time
before I saw him somewhere and shortly afterwards Sean Walsh came
alongside cycling. We chatted for a minute and before I knew it I was in
Terenure and 16 miles – my split was 7.25. There was another big crowd
here and for the first time I started entertaining thoughts of maybe
breaking 3.20. I was waiting and waiting for the bubble to burst but
everything just seemed perfect. At 17 miles I got a slight fright as the
split read 8.01. It rattled me for a second but I knew I hadn’t slowed
and reckoned the marker was in the wrong place. Down to hill to Dartry
and the 18 mile mark. The split here was 6.50. That confirmed the
previous mile marker had been wrong – my pace had been just under 7.30s
for the last two miles – I was still ok.
Just before the arches in Milltown
Deirdre, the kids and my mother were waiting with my drink. I’d gone
through a half litre bottle of Power Gel diluted in water up to this
point and wasn’t sure if I could stomach another one as I was feeling a
bit bloated and a my stomach was churning a little. I’d also developed a
slight stitch, something I hadn’t had in years but soon ran it off.
Despite this I knew I’d regret it if I didn’t at least take the bottle,
so took it on board as I passed.
I felt strong as I passed and seeing them
gave me a big boost so I pushed on towards the next stage up hill to
Roebuck Road. The hill at Milltown took its toll slightly and when I saw
my split time of 7.57 at 19 miles, I knew it was accurate. Despite the
initial boost of seeing my family, I knew I’d slowed in that mile and my
legs began to feel the onset of cramp. From 19 to 21 was the roughest
part of the day. Over tea in the clubhouse the morning before, Martin
Haddock had been recalling how all sorts had gone through his mind on
this stage of the Amsterdam Marathon the week before, and for a while I
too began to question what I was doing here. The hill, my tiring legs
and the fear that it was all going to go badly wrong from here began to
get to me and my head dropped a little. All sorts went through my mind
and the next ten minutes were a blur. As if fate intervened, I got a
shout from none other than Martin himself near the 20 mile mark. Maybe
it was coincidence, but his encouragement snapped me back to life and I
tried to push on again. My split to 20 was 8.37 to give me 2 hours 33
minutes. Despite the mental trauma of the last ten minutes I was still
moving ok. I knew that if I could get to 21 miles and over the hill at
Roebuck Road I’d be ok. Whatever had been going on physiologically or
psychologically in those last two miles was thankfully beginning to
pass.
The hill was torture but right at the top
was another friend of mine, Frank Kennedy, who gave me a huge cheer. As
I looked ahead the road appeared to drop significantly. It was just the
boost I needed and I was now determined to make the most of the downhill
and hit 21 in 8.34. Now it was just a matter of trying to hold the pace.
If I could stay under nine minute miles to the finish I’d be on for sub
2.30.
I took on some water at the drink station
here. Even though I was still carrying my own bottle of diluted gel, it
was beginning to taste sickly sweet and I began to crave for plain
water. Onto the Stillorgan Road and I could see the tower at RTE in the
distance. My legs were locking a little at this stage and I could feel a
twitch in my calf muscles and both hamstrings. I had to avoid a full
cramp so eased up a little, if not, and I had to stop to walk, any
thoughts of 3.30 were gone.
The 22 mile marker came up quite quickly,
the last mile had taken 8.03, and I got a big boost. Four miles to go
and I was still only 2.49. Every mile I got closer to the finish, the
more buffer I had left to play with to come in on target. At the end of
Nutley Lane I took on more water even though I was quite bloated now.
Around onto the Merrion Road and I was still feeling strong. 23 miles
came and went, 8.39. Barring disaster I was home and dry – the only
doubt in my mind now was the bridge over the Grand Canal Dock, which had
brought on cramp in previous years. Past the RDS and onto Shelbourne
Road and 24 miles was in sight. Passing Lansdowne Road I glanced to my
right to see the new stadium being built, anything to pass another
couple of minutes. At this stage I could feel the twitch in my legs
getting more severe and I knew cramp was not far off. My gait became
less fluid and though I felt I was still strong and had plenty of energy
in reserve my legs were starting to take on a mind of their own which
worried me. I’d have to ease a little more. Despite this I reached 24
miles with a mile time of 8.59. Slow but moving – at this stage I had to
look for the positives.
As I passed Beggars Bush more familiar
faces came into view, Peter, Garry, Eileen and several others from the
club. Just past them Ronnie Fitzroy again. I pushed on over the canal
bridge, grimacing as both legs began to cramp. I hoped nobody was
photographing me here – I wouldn’t be a pretty sight. Encouragingly
though I was passing people in droves - many walking, in worse shape
than myself. At 25 miles Tom Fitzpatrick came into sight. ‘Come on’, he
shouted, ‘you’re comfortably under 3.30’. That was reassuring, and as I
checked my watch the split was 8.56 giving me 3.16 in total. It would
have been nice to be at 26 miles in this time and an hour earlier I felt
it was on but I was very happy with how things had gone and how strong
I’d felt despite the cramp so was more than satisfied to get under the
3.30. For the first time all day, I was fully sure I’d succeed. Even if
I had to walk I was sure I’d make it. Coming around onto College Green I
got a shout from my sister in law Fiona and the kids. The atmosphere
here was great. Maybe it had been like this every other year and I’d
just never noticed it. This time around though I took it in – I think I
even smiled my way up Nassau Street. At the corner of Kildare Street I
heard Deirdre shouting and then spotted her on my right so I pushed on
even more. Around the bend onto Merrion Square and the clock came into
view reading 3.26 odd. I’d done it!
The last 100 yards were great – the best
I’d ever felt at this stage of a marathon. In other years there’d been
relief, for the first time ever I was actually enjoying it. I crossed
the line and clicked my watch – 3.27.06. It wasn’t a PB but it was
certainly my most competitive and enjoyable marathon to date. When I ran
my best in 1991 I’d hit seven minute miles to 20 miles and walked most
of the last six. My most recent marathons had seen me run all the way
but at a much slower pace in the closing miles. Today I felt I’d done
myself justice for the first time. It had taken me five attempts but at
last I’d gotten something right.
I crossed the line and eased to a stop.
My legs were tight and slightly cramped but I felt remarkably good. I
walked on slowly and was guided into a chute where the timing chips were
being removed. After the din and excitement of the last couple of
hundred yards it seemed quiet. Nobody was talking; everyone appeared to
be in their own little world. I pulled off the timing chip and handed it
in, then moved on and was given my medal. I joined a queue, not quite
realising what it was for and a minute later was placed in front of a
Dublin Marathon sign to have a photo taken. I hung around for a minute
or two to see if I could spot any of the others behind me. In the final
miles I was fully expecting Viv and Bryan to pass me – I reckoned they
couldn’t be too far back now, but it was impossible to see them in the
throng behind me.
I moved on further and was given my
goodie bag and t-shirt and then wandered aimlessly towards the baggage
area. I stopped again to try spot someone I’d recognise – I needed a
familiar face. Seeing nobody behind I set out towards The Pepper
Canister Church where I was due to meet Deirdre, however she met me en
route. She appeared reluctant to ask how I’d done, afraid that I’d
missed the 3.30, so I just muttered 3.27. She gave me a kiss and a hug
and linked me as I shuffled towards a doorstep. I started to sit down
but thought better of it as every muscle in both legs locked instantly.
The knot under my arches was unbearable and even stretching my feet
seemed to do little to relieve the cramp. Eventually it eased and I
began the slow process of changing out of the damp gear.
Deirdre took out her phone and noticed a
missed call from Len. The time was still only 12.45 – that meant he’d
finished in less than 3.45. Another PB for him and a remarkable run. She
called him and told him where we were. As I changed I noticed Bryan
emerging from the finish area. I called him over and he made his way
across to join us. We exchanged handshakes and finishing times as we
continued to change. He’d run a brilliant 3.33. Deirdre went into
overdrive, sorting gear and pouring tea from flasks. Then we noticed Viv.
He was moving very slowly and Deirdre ran over to help him. I shuffled
across to meet him – I think we both looked as bad as each other,
probably not a great advertisement for marathon running. He’d gotten
3.31, another great achievement given the training time he’d missed
through injury. Minutes later Pat and Len arrived. They’d run 3.43 and
3.41 respectively. Another couple of PBs.
By now I’d been finished about half an
hour and the effects of the day began to take their toll. Suddenly I
began to feel quite nauseous and my head felt light. I sat down but
could literally feel the colour draining from my face. I knew I was
going to be sick and there was nothing I could do about it. For a while
afterwards, I felt a little better but the walk back to Tara Street was
slow and uncomfortable. Deirdre assisted me all the way back and Viv and
Len both watched out for me. By the time we got back there I was feeling
unwell again and although Viv had arranged food for us, I was not able
to face it.
It took me a few hours to get over this
nausea but despite this I was very satisfied with how things had gone on
the day – my training had gone well and for once I felt as if I’d gotten
something back in return for the effort. It would have been nice to hold
the sub 3.20 pace but I am more than happy with the 3.27. At least it
gives me something to aim for next year.