The Dublin Marathon 2026

I have gotten used to being injured. I am not sure if it is a triathlete thing, a general athlete thing, or just a too many birthdays thing (maybe all of these), but being injured is now part of my life. Something always hurts. In the lead up to the Dublin City Marathon 2026 it was my quads that were causing problems. It started in early September in Cascais Portugal. Out for a run over rolling terrain, I noticed a twinge as the path pitched slightly downhill. And that was it, the injury persisted over the next couple of months rearing its head every time I thought I was in the clear. I trained as best I could, I limited long runs and took breaks when needed. When I couldn’t run, I went to the gym and used the elliptical. Standing on the start line on that cold Sunday morning I was not stressed, not optimistic, and not pessimistic. I was ready.  

When the claxon sounded and my race began, I nonchalantly strolled over the start, pressed my watch and began my third attempt at the Dublin City Marathon. I seemed to find a natural running pace quickly. By the third kilometre I was settled and happy. Ok, it is the start of a marathon, no need to get carried away, but it is worth mentioning because this felt different. I felt in control. I made my way into and then through the Phoenix Park without looking at my watch. When I turned in Castleknock and began heading back downhill, I remembered the congestion on this section the previous year. Back in the park I noticed a runner pass me and strangely felt no urge to try to keep up. In Chapelizord the crowds seemed bigger, and louder than ever. Everywhere people held banners and screamed names. Through Ballyfermot, Kilmainham, and Rialto the crowds continued, groups of people everywhere having their own supporter party, cheering on the crowds while they tucked into sweets and drank coffees.   I didn’t notice the half way point go by, and as the road started climbing towards Crumlin hospital I made a mental note not to push too hard, there was a lot of racing to be done, no need to work too hard on this long drag. As I passed the point where I had pulled up the previous year I simply thought how strong I felt now. The race continued on, I ran through Kimmage and down by Terenure, and through Rathgar, all the while enjoying the race, and the atmosphere.  At the aid station as I turned on to Milltown road I slowed to take on water, when I began to pick up the pace again I first noticed some stiffness in my legs.

Then I heard it, a strange whaling screeching noise, as if a hybrid banshee/wicked-witch was being tortured. As I grew closer to the origins of the sound I thought I could just about make out my name - “Gareeeeee”. The nearer I got the louder and more piercing the sound, but still I thought my name was there. Then the crowd parted and I could see where that noise, that monstrous sound was coming from. Standing on the road, just off the curb was Karen waving her arms vigorously in the air. In my tired and confused state I mistakenly thought Karen was there to greet me, so I slowed to talk to her. Immediately she screamed “go, go, GOOO!”. Karen was in full cheerleader/motivator mode, so I quickly got back up to speed and could just about hear her yell “You are doing great!” as I made my way up the hill.  

From the 33rd kilometre the road starts going uphill. This far into a marathon any incline feels challenging, three kilometres of climbing is torture. Everything was starting to hurt now and my pace was starting to slow. I feared what was to come next, I knew the descent from the top of the hill would sting, and it did. My back, legs, arms, neck were all fighting for the title of the most painful part of my body. It was now survival mode. 5k to go. I could do 5k. I pushed on, forcing my body to continue when it clearly didn’t want to. The 3 hour 30 min pacers passed me by with three kilometres to go, and I wished them luck. I knew my time would be everything I could give and that was more than Ok. I trundled on, watching as the crowd grew bigger and louder again. With the finish line in sight I pushed with everything I had, and then just before the finish line I walked, my eyes watered whether from emotion or pain it was impossible to tell. I was happy. 3 hours 31 mins. A PB.