The blog has been quiet in recent times, mainly because I've been keeping something to myself. Since June, I had been building up to have a crack at the Commonwealth Games time for the marathon of 2:19:00. A fairly high target but if you don't try, you will never know. Throughout June until my summer holiday in mid July, I trained at my winter mileage with a maximum long run of 18 miles. On holiday I churned out 63 hot, sweaty miles in week 1 then a chilled 30 in week 2. From late July, I upped the ante again, reaching over 70 miles per week for the first time ever with long runs of 21 miles and one of 3 hours duration 4 weeks before race day. By my standards, this sort of mileage was a lot and I was feeling it big time, e.g. feeling ready to sleep by mid afternoon at work every day. On Fridays, this feeling lasted all day. However, I managed it. The target race? Dublin Marathon on 28th October.
I'm not keen to dwell too much on the experience. Suffice to say, I did not enjoy the race at all, even when I was running well which I was for 18 miles. I realised early on the Commonwealth time was not going to happen so focused instead on having a good run. I went through 10 miles, just after exiting Phoenix Park where I saw some deer, in 55:40 ish feeling okay. I encountered a strong head wind between 11 and 12 miles where my pace dropped as shown by my half way split of 1 hour 14 minutes. A time of 1 hour 30 minutes however for 16 miles showed it had only been the wind slowing me down. I even thought at that point "right, it's just a 10 mile race now. 10 miles in under an hour and you've a good time." Just like the poor mouse in Rabbie Burns' poem, "To A Mouse," the best laid plans of life and men left me nothing but grief and pain for promised joy.
By 18 miles, I felt my right calf twinging slightly. Nothing major but a little uncomfortable. From 18 to 19 miles, I started to feel I was dragging my right leg. Then came the cramp in both legs. It was as if someone had turned off a light switch. One second, nothing. The next, unbelievable discomfort. 20 miles in 1 hour 54 minutes confirmed the drop in pace. I was now in a lot of trouble.
Among the things I expected to let me down were my body's fuel burning economy and my breathing due to having asthma. Neither of these did. I at least expected to have the legs to see it through. Every time I turned into a new street I tried to lengthen my stride. I couldn't lift my legs. I was fuelled up but on a pair of legs which had caved in.
In running terms, this was a new experience. I'm not strongly religious but I'm not ashamed to say I said a few prayers during those long, painful miles. Quite how I got there I'll never know but I kept running, taking 43 minutes for the last 6.2 miles, and crawled over the finish line in 38th place in 2:37:58.
Above: a few hundred metres to go, despite everyone around me, feeling very isolated.
I certainly don't regret having a go (the training was a worthwhile learning curve) but those of you who run marathons are welcome to them. I've been told by a few sources my time entitles me to an automatic place at the London Marathon. Absoloutely no thanks. Stuff it where the sun doesn't shine!
For the record, the race had an Irish winner for the first time since the early 1990s, Sean Hehir in 2:18:19. Fellow Scot, Stephen Trainer, ran strongly throughout in 10th overall with a time of 2:26:36, a personal best by around 5 minutes. I narrowly avoided my first loss to a lady since 2008 with Maria McCambridge finishing 44th in 2:38:51. She ran a much more even pace than me.
As for Dublin itself, apart from the above timeframe, I thoroughly enjoyed my 4 days there. I defy anyone to say they were more grateful than me to hit the Temple Bar area for a beer that night. I'll definitely be back, on a different weekend from the marathon.
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