I couldn't sleep last night, it was so bad that I got up a 1am to clean the kitchen. After emptying the dishwasher (what did we do before dishwashers?), filling the dishwasher (I love it), sweeping the floor, and a host of other kitchen related tasks I went back to bed to try to get some sleep. It didn't work, I kept waking up every hour until it was time to get up. This always happens to me the night before something that requires a good nights sleep.Well, morning had broken and all the athletes in the house were up getting ready while the rest of the household caught a few more Z's. After an extra big bowl of porridge and a final gear check we were out the door.
The cold air hit us like a wall; it was freezing outside, literally freezing! I had to defrost the car windows and crank up the heating to max before we could move. I drive a French car and as we all know the french do style really well but fall down on the engineering bit, so we looked fantastic as we willed the engine to start. As there were very few cars about at that time of the morning the drive to the city was quick and easy and we arrived at the hotel car park with plenty of time to spare; the plan was to leave the car there overnight and pick it up tomorrow.
With the car safely parked we joined a steady stream of runners heading for the baggage area. After some last minute lubrication (runners will understand) we made our way to the start line.
This is where the excitement really kicked in. I could sense that every single person on that start line, every one of the 12,000 people around me, are having the same thoughts running through their heads... "the next step is the first of many for the next 26.2 miles".
There was plenty of chatter as we waited for the starting gun. One guy behind me commented on the "Impossible Is Nothing" wording on the back of my t-shirt, I turned around and was very impressed with his "Bjorn Borg" costume; he had the long hair, head band and wrist bands down to a tee. After a brief conversation I quickly realised that it wasn't a costume, and I was all the more impressed!
My conversation with Bjorn was interrupted by the starting gun and we were off... to a very slow start. Such was the vastness of the crowd that we shuffled towards the start line but thankfully we managed to break into a slow jog as we approached the start line, two things you must do when participating in a race like this: run across the start line and the finish line, what happens in between is down to you and/or the forces of nature!
We jogged past an enthusiastic and noisy crowd which, if you weren't there already, put everyone in the right frame of mind. After running for less than 4 minutes we came to a complete stop as we rounded Merrion Square. No-one could quite figure out what the problem was; had we stopped for a red light? It turned out to be a barrier that significantly narrowed the road outside the entrance to the maternity hospital that the police wanted to keep in case of a unexpected arrival. I reckon the cops on duty had a warped sense of humour by forcing 12,000 runners through a tiny gap outside a maternity hospital! That's my kind of humour.
After a tight squeeze the road opened up again and we're back pounding the streets. I was feeling really good and easily kept up with my running partner Alain and the plan to run 9 minute miles for the first 10 miles we're looking like a real possibility.
A little after the 5 mile mark I took my first gel of the race, it was the last SIS gel I had and I knew what to expect. This was also the first water station I used, I missed the first one. I was managing to maintain the planned 9 minute mile pace and was feeling remarkably well as we entered the west end of the Phoenix Park.
Miles 6-10 were very pleasant. The weather was perfect as we ran through the park. Much of the zip zag route was lined with spectators which made each step a little easier. We exited the southern end of the park and ran across the liffey and through Chapelizod. We then ran west and hit a monster of a hill. Reaching the top of the hill without walking was very difficult but we managed it but it did take a toll and I could feel myself slowing down as my running partner began to slip ahead.
Miles 10-13 were spent recovering from that Chapelizod hill. I also took my second gel of the race, one of the untried Hammer Gels I bought in the marathon expo on Saturday afternoon. By taking one of these gels I ignored the advice that had been thrown at me by experienced runners since I started this game: during a race never, ever, EVER wear, eat or drink something that you're not used to. Eating that hammer gel was like eating tar, and it tasted as bad. It was thick, doughy and sucked every drop of moisture out of my mouth, and with the next water station over a mile away this was not a good place to be. I almost threw up several times for the first time I really wanted to stop. But I carried on and made it to the water station. Taking two water bottles I spent the next mile consuming this awful stuff. Once I got over that episode I was feeling pretty good. The gel did the trick but if only I had used that brand before... On the down side I began to dread mile 15... my next gel stop!
At mile 13 we were approaching Clondalkin and the half way mark.
Miles 13 to 18 were great. We ran through Terenure, Churchtown and downhill into Milltown. I was still feeling good, perhaps getting a little tired but no real worries.
Miles 19 to 21 started something that I wouldn't recover from. I began climbing that virtual wall and it was getting taller and taller. I started to get very tired and what's worse is that I became obsessed with it. This point is critical in any race, this is when you need to be mentally strong to keep the legs moving for the next few miles. Easier said than done and I found it almost impossible to stay positive. But the crowds were unbelievable and actually kept me going, every clap and cheer was like a little lifeline thrown out to me which pulled me a little closer to the finish line.
Miles 22 - 24 were so tough, now I'm really tired and I started to make deals with myself. "Keep running until mile 23 and then you can take a break, just keep going until mile 23" I repeated in my head over and over. It worked and was still running long after I passed the 23 mile marker when the mantra change to "keep running to mile 24".
Mile 24 - 25 broke me and as I passed the 24 mile marker I had to give in and walk and I slowed to a heartbreaking walking pace. The heartbreak was short lived as I realised that my walking pace was as slow, or as fast, as my running pace... that's how tired I was in the last few miles of this race. I kept up as fast a walking pace as I could and marched towards the 25 mile marker.
Miles 25 - 26 were not good. After I passed the 25 mile mark I tried to get back into running but it was difficult, not only did I have to convince my mind but my body was not co-operating. It was a series of walk-runs for this last mile, each run getting a little longer but still painfully short.
The last .2 of a mile was a different story. The crowds swelled, filling the pavements and the atmosphere was electric, I guess they knew what we've been through, it was very exciting as the energy levels rose and swept us along. As I rounding trinity I was back in full flight, just in time as some of my family were there. That extra boost made the last stretch even sweeter!
Crossing the line was an awesome feeling, I don't think I'll ever get used to it. I just beat my previous best by 3 minutes. My official time was 4.44.00, I like that time, easy to remember. At the finish line I met one of my colleagues who ran it in 3.55 and looked remarkably fresh! I, on the other hand, must have looked a fright. I hung onto the railings while we chatted before the long, slow walk to the baggage area... a few meters away.
The next stop was a the pub via a hot shower in the hotel. I've said it before and I'll say it again... the first pint after a marathon is the most perfect pint ever created! Once sitting it was hard to get moving again, so we didn't fight it.
The next day involved a trip to the hotel to pick my car up. It wasn't a pretty sight (the trip not the car, we've established that the French do very good looking cars). Both my knees we incredibly sore and my thighs and calf's felt like concrete blocks; walking was comedic to say the least.
If getting to the car was a laugh, driving was hilarious... every gear change involved an agonising press on the clutch pedal, and I had to drive across town with many, many traffic lights, stop signs, roundabouts and turns... there were tears in my eyes.
Here's the link to my marathon route: http://connect.garmin.com/activity/1208344
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