One of the 0.5% - Dublin Marathon 2019

The renewed sense of optimism I felt after completing GaelForce North had me in a positive mood as I switched my focus to the Dublin City Marathon. I had never run a marathon before and my intention was just to get it done. I had about five weeks to focus my training on the marathon distance. Pace was not my concern so I focused on working up the distance. I planned to do two plus 30km runs followed by a 26km run in the weeks preceding the race. Unfortunately, life and my own stupidity got in the way. When I was due to do my first 30km run I managed to injure myself doing some home improvements. Little tip, don’t change a radiator with no shoes or socks on. My other 30km run was cut short due to excessive heartburn. I kept telling myself that the marathon wasn’t a priority but after the disappointment of Lost Sheep I needed it to go well to save my year.

I had set myself a target of 4 hours and on the tram on the way to the start line I doubted if this was possible. The tram was packed with nervously excited competitors, clearly identifiable with their large marathon see-through bags. Even without the bags they would be easy to spot, runners and shorts are not a typical sight on an Irish tram in October and they spoke loud and anxiously of their race aspirations. Maybe it was because I was more nervous than the others or just that it was my first time but I didn’t join in their anxious energy. Sitting down, I nestled my head against the window and thought dark thoughts, how my training didn’t go well and that I had never run more than 30km. By the time the tram reached my stop I had convinced myself that this race wasn’t going to go well and I had mentally moved on to how I would explain this to all those I shared my plans with.

I walked through town towards the bag drop and the nearer I got the more competitors there were around. The hint of excitement I sensed from other competitors on the tram turned into a wave of excitement that I could feel as I brushed past eager racers and into the zone of no return. The Dublin City Marathon is extremely well marshalled and without knowing it I was being carried to the starting position by the throngs of competitors. There were four waves, each coloured coded with their own holding area. I was in the third wave and reached my wave holding area 30 minutes before our start time. The excitement was replaced by a sense of calm and I could feel myself being distracted by those negative thoughts again. I focused on those around, looking at what shoes they were wearing but my mind kept going back to the 30km. I had never run more than 30kms and I had no idea what was going to happen when I reached that point today. As we walked towards the start I made a decision to just run my race pace and see how far it got me. With any luck I would hit the wall and be able to fall over it and over the finish line.

Our wave started with a cheer and a bang and we shuffled our way over the start line. Slowly breaking into a run, I began working my way through the crowd. Going from left to right I tried to find gaps and push through them before they closed up again. This process meant that my first kilometre was a little on the slow side but in the second I began to hit my stride. The movements to make my way through the crowd were less dramatic now but still required. My pace seemed quicker than those around me and I passed the 4-hour pacers within the first three kilometres, hoping I would never see them again. Entering the phoenix park I first noticed the crowds cheering everyone on, offering sweets and biscuits. They were everywhere, smiling and cheering. Some had banners with specific messages on them, others would read your name from your number bib and shout it. This continued to confuse me, with every shout of “Come on Gary, you are doing great” I would turn around expecting to see someone I recognised. As we left the park, I noticed for the first time two girls running at a similar pace to me. They were from a club called Crusaders and regular shouts of come on Crusaders reminded me of their presence. For the next 10 kilometres we shared the tarmac, I took it as a positive, I had settled into a good steady pace. In and out of the park and then down towards Kilmainham, I felt good and relaxed enough to contemplate how the freedom this Marathon symbolised was inextricably linked to Kilmainham’s jail and the events of over 100 years ago. I didn’t allow my mind to wander for too long, to continue this pace I needed to concentrate.

I reached the halfway point in 1 hour 45 minutes and 28 seconds. A new record for me for that distance. I was thrilled, happy enough to sing along to a Bruno Mar’s track that someone was playing loudly at the time. It was here that I made, what I would consider, my only mistake of the race. I ran past the halfway point water station. The first and only time I would pass a water station and not take a drink. Luckily the only negative impact of this decision was the anxiety it caused while I waited to reach the next station. The gap between those two water stations felt like the longest part of the race but my pace still didn’t slow.

It was at the 30km mark that my pace first slowed but it thankfully wasn’t a “wall” as I had feared. The two girls from the Crusaders running club, who had been running beside me for over 10 kilometres, slowly started to move away. The gradual increase of this gap as we approached Milltown suggested a slowing of only a couple of seconds and physically I still felt in good shape. Exiting Milltown at the 32km mark Karen was waiting for me, cheering from the side-line with her friend Sharon. They both briefly ran beside me providing much needed Jaffa cakes, jelly babies and support.

I eventually came face to face with the wall at the 35km mark and it was brutal. At first, I hoped it was just the hill I was running up but as I descended the far-side I couldn’t pick my pace back up. It was at this point that my body and my brain decided they can no longer agree on the best way forward, resulting in my body going rogue. Mentally I was still in a positive mood, I had gotten this far so I would get to the end, but my body had other ideas. The attempted sabotage started with my calves turning to concrete and my knees losing all ability to provide any shock absorption. I kept going. Running by the RDS, the venue I had picked up my race number and pack the previous day, I decided for the first time to walk. I had not far to go but I was starting to lose the argument with my legs and the pain was now working its way up my back. I started to hobble, then jog again.

Shortly after the RDS I was surprised to see two friends cheering from the side of the road, they were equally surprised to see me and their reaction was a moment of light relief that was badly needed. My mood was further improved when Karen was again waiting for me further up the road. This time I managed to sneak a quick kiss and I was on my way with a bit more pep in my step.

I crossed the canal for the second time. I could see the finish line ahead and a quick check of my watch told me that I could do this. I just had to keep going. The crowds were three deep either side and the random shouting of names was replaced by all out cheering. I ran on. Over the cheering I could hear the finish line announcer calling out names. I ran on. Blue carpet was laid across the final 50 metres and as I stepped on it I could make out the times above the finish line for the first time. I ran on. Now only metres away I saw my wave time overhead. I walked. Stepping over the finish, I closed my eyes, stopped my watch and tried to take it all in. Done. 3 hours 50 minutes.

5 years from “I can’t run” to sub 4-hour marathon runner. From can’t swim to triathlete. From being stuck in a job I had grown to hate to loving my job. From avoiding social gatherings to new friends and outlook. Everything about the marathon defined who I now was, who I had become. 2020 and all the races it would entail couldn’t come soon enough.