Race report thread

Was told to post this race report from a friend, makes good reading...His first marahon and coming from a swimming background gave it a good lash, He sends along his thanks to the pacers.. even if he was too close to the 3:00 pacers for the first half... I can see this guy going close to 3 horus in his next marathon if he decided to focus on it.

Hi all,

Well, we're finished. I've attached a long race report for all your reading pleasure. It's not been proof read etc. so leave me alone re: spelling and tenses (Paul). Suffice to say, this was the single most difficult thing I've ever done, yet. This is a good read for anyone considering doing it next year, as it will either swing you one way or the other

Training and Targets
Training started in real earnest after the 10 miler in August. It went better then expected with long runs at the weekends and ~3 runs at mid week. I stopped cycling fairly soon as my calfs were at me for the long runs. Running was fun! For the race series, I got around the 10 miler in 1:16, and the half marathon in 1:34. Both those runs were tough but I was getting fitter all the time. A different sort of fitness to what I was used to though, as I went for a swim at one stage and couldn't believe how weak I was! My bulk, including any muscle that was still left was disappearing. We did two 18s, a 20 and a 22 miler as long slow runs, but we're not sure on the distance of the bigger ones, my footpod has been playing up recently.

Based on the race series, I was confident of a 3:20 but had my secret goal set at 3:15. I foolishly set 3:30 as my absolute latest I should come in at. What I've learned since the marathon however is to forget about times completely. Finishing the marathon comes first, and while pacing is essential, finishing times are not. If anyone is to take any advise from this, let it be to relax on your first marathon and take it easy!

Race Day
Our darling daughter woke us at around 5am on the 26th, she was still refusing to comply with the daylight savings rules. I was too excited to stay asleep anyway, I was mentally going through the contents of my bag and my short pockets. I got up and brought Soapie downstairs after Sel had bottled her. I had my 3 weetabix topped up with a layer of cheerios that I had prepared the night before. It was 6:40, perfectly timed breakfast for a 9am run according to the literature I had read. I started sipping on a lucozade sport, jumped in the shower and got dressed, "no need to tie the laces yet" I thought.

My watch said 'Marathon today' on the display, ominous! I threaded my carefully crafted 3:15 pace planner around the strap of my watch wondering how useful it would be. I stuck plan B (3:20) and plan C (3:30) pace planners in my back pocket, I hoped I wouldn't need them. I had 10 jelly babies wrapped in bunches of two, and half a packet of dextrose tablets. I spread them between my two side pockets but they felt uncomfortable. I ate two jelly babies.

Go tobann, thainig an.... Dee's car pulled up outside, it was 7:20, time to go. I hadn't been keeping an eye on the time, I hadn't devoted enough time to my family! I gave my wife and daughter a rushed goodbye, I wouldn't see them until mile 18.5 at Milltown. No time for emotion, too nervous for that anyway. Quick mental check, runners, footpod, watch, dextrose, drinks, number chip.... good. The car journey was fine, not much traffic, we passed marathon people walking from Clontarf station, we decided they were insane, isn't 26.2 miles enough? Anna kept my mind off things, we played peekabo in the back while XXX and XXX plotted a safe route close to Merion Square and back to Beaupark.

We walked around to the Davenport via Pearse street train station. This was around about the 25.5 mile point. I pondered about reaching here in good shape later today, Alan concurred, the gods chuckled. I tripped on my laces. The Devenport was full of athletes eating breakfast and sipping drinks. Did I eat too early? Have I drank enough? Where's the toilet? How come these skinny fit looking guys have blue bibs and mine is gold? Why did I put sub 3:30 on the entry sheet? Why does everyone keep standing on my laces? Johnny Donnolly (Run Johnny Run) turned up and his devoted followers gathered for a group photo at the finish line. It was 8:20, I had other things to do, I found out other people had the same thing on their minds, there was a long orderly queue formed for the cubicles. I lubed up while waiting in the queue, doubling up on the nipples.

I met Alan posing for the 'Run Johnny Run' photo on the way to leave in our baggage. Ray D'Arcy had just arrived after holding up procedures. I presume I'll beat Ray? What about Johnny? We moved off to the baggage area, it was well organised and well laid out. Plenty of porta-loos etc. There were hundreds of people stretching and lubing. Plenty of other people decided to stand on my laces. I'd had enough of that, the trousers came off and the shoe laces were tied, and then untied and tightened and tied, and then finally double tied. We dropped the bags in and went off to settle in our pen. We were in the first pen, starting directly behind the elite athletes. The sub 3:30 runners. The cream of the crop. The really tall and really skinny guys. The guys with drink belts and GPS watches and running shades and no fat. What on earth are we doing in here? 8:50 and everyone started to de-robe. Tracksuit tops and jumpers were cast to the side lines, most of which landed on a few heads before making it. The pacing balloons began making their way back to their starting points, one balloon was set free and soared into the sky, I think it was one of the 3:00 balloons. I began wondering if you could get enough lift from a balloon to aid your running, providing you with sufficient weightless-ness to.... Big cheer, the wheelchairs were off.

Last minute nerves set in and then passed. I was OK, there were seconds to the start and I was going to be OK. I know I can run 22 miles, I've done that. I don't care about times any more! I just want to run it and be smiling for Selena and Soapie when I go by. I want to sprint up the finishing straight with my arms raised, I want to.... Bang! The gun, and we were off!

Miles one and two were quite slow as we tried to get around traffic, the city was cheering us as we moved up O'Connell street and we broke into a comfortable pace on the stretch into Phoenix park. "It's all down hill from here" someone shouted, "I F%&kin hope so" someone retorted, "I think he means mentally" I concluded. We hit mile three and Alan reckoned we were too fast, I consulted my pace thingy and we were behind overall because of miles 1 and 2. We agreed to keep the current pace for another while. We passed Peter (Alan's brother) and Padraic (Alan's brother in law) on the sidelines, Alan noticed them and got a big shout back. Things were going well. We got some water and went through the 10K marker, very much ahead of what our pace should have been. We were still comfortable though. A nice down hill stretch took us out of the Phoenix Park and I remember thinking "We can't keep this up, can we?".

We hit kilmainham and the pace was still very fast, but we were both very comfortable. Although Alan was finding it hard to breath because of his cold, I told him it would pass when he got warmer. In hindsight, after someone has ran 10 miles faster than they've ever done before, I don't think they'll get much warmer! We'd gone through some Spar cheer zones, they were fantastically loud. There were hundreds of people cheering, clapping and shouting at people they didn't even know. There were drums beating and people chanting. I'm not surprised we didn't slow down. Colin and Orla were at the top of Inchicore road, on the right where they said they'd be. Despite knowing this I had seconds to react when my eyes finally adjusted on Orla, Colin had less time to react and I'm surprised he managed to snap us at all! I grabbed the drink yelled a thank you and continued on at sub 3:00 pace, like a fool.

I noticed over the next few miles that Alan wasn't on my shoulder any more, "I'm not catching up to you" he kept warning. This was probably breaking point, we were nearly at half way, we both felt good, but we were both going too fast, and we knew it. I looked back every few minutes to make sure he was there, and he always was. The last thing I remember hearing from Alan was "let's slow it down to 7:20 pace" (3:20 finish), a few minutes after that he was still behind me, and we were still doing 6:50 minute miles (2:59 finish). The road narrowed, I'd no idea where we were, someone shouted "Go on Alan", it sounded like Mark Foley, we'd past the half way point and it was a fast time, very fast: 1:36 at that stage. I thought I should slow down. There was a motorbike beside me, maybe they had water, I really needed water. I glanced over and I was staring into a camera. Sh1t3! better make this look good, glance at watch- still too fast, but I don't want to look bad on Setanta on Friday, dig in!

I took a full bottle of water and energiser at the next station and gobbled them down, I was parched. The crowd continued to be astonishing, I took a handful of sweets from a girl with a bowl around mile 15... excellent! thank you. By mile 17, I needed to wee.... badly. I tried convincing myself it was all in my head! But it wasn't. I saw a water station and cursed the gods, for while I was thirsty, the bladder needed emptying far worse than my thirst needed quenching. I ran straight through the station to the porta-loos. I ran into the last one. What seemed like an age later, I emerged... the knees said no more, but I growned aloud and set back into my sub 3:00 pace. I presumed Alan has gone by at that stage.

I must be in Milltown, I was thinking to myself as I felt the pace start to hurt... and then I heard noise up ahead. Noise = people, people = support + water. I'll be going past Sel and Dee soon, how soon? I've no idea. I hadn't been looking for mile markers since I noticed Alan was missing, that was a couple of miles ago. That's Alan's job not mine, I don't notice markers. I tried to think of the map, all I could think is that we hadn't gone past UCD yet. Or had we? I'd never actually known where UCD was exactly, wasn't it near RTE? No matter, there's a lady giving out water. Yoink... thank you! get it open, get it open... there's Sel! Yay, again mere milliseconds of an acknowledgement and I was away again. Thought one: I'm only at 18ish miles, though two: I can't carry a full bottle of water and this lucozade sport for ever! I downed a few mouthfuls of the lucozade and offered it to whomever could see me. It was grasped with thanks by a 'West Waterford AC' or some such runner.

The pace fell, I glanced down and saw I was at 7:30 pace. That's not a bad pace, but I knew I couldn't hold it. People began overtaking me, I passed out a few walkers, I was envious of them. I think I need to wee again. I don't know if I did need to, but it happened. I got going again, back to 7:15 pace or so for a quarter of a mile. I think there was a hill, spectators were forcing me up it with encouragement. I fought the urge to walk and forced myself up. A guy in a beard, who must have been 60, passed me at the top- I didn't care, I'd made it, I was dying, but I made it up that hill! I had to get my breath back. "They're looking at around 3:10" I heard someone say. I was dizzy, my vision was blurry around the edges. I'll stop for a walk. I stopped. Completely. Stone dead stopped....
I must ACTUALLY be around 20 miles in now.
There's no way I can do another 6 miles, no way. Where am I?
Alan's probably gone by me during one of my toilet stops.
Thank god I don't know anyone around here. I wonder what bus I should get?
I've no money though, can't you get a ride back from the St. John's guys?
Haven't seen them in a while. I wonder where UCD is?...

I got a friendly slap/push on the back, and I snapped out of it. A runner ran by shouting something backat me. It was probably encouraging, I couldn't hear anything, and I still couldn't see properly. I started walking, I think it was walking, my head was drooped to the side, I couldn't move it. Someone was beside me, a woman, with water. She was talking to me, I think. I took some water, a little more, another dextrose tablet. Why won't they let me give up? I broke into a slow jog, I said thank you to the apparition and moved back out to the center of the road. I was running again, I won't make it I thought. I ripped the pace guide from my watch and dropped it on the ground and rummaged in my back pocket for plan B and C. Plan B was discarded as well and I wedged plan C into my watch strap. "Baby steps!" some woman was shouting at a walker. "Baby steps, you'll get going again, take a rest with baby steps", I thought she was shouting at me, I looked at my legs, I was jogging. A walker, who looked like I felt was taking the advise and it seemed to be working. I hadn't noticed a marker in a while, I don't know why I was bothering with the guides at all, maybe it was a phsycological ploy to get me in gear. I wished I could stop analysing everything and trudged on. "They're looking at around 3:15" I heard somebody say at the next water stop. I wish! I thought as I finally saw a mile marker, 21.

I've still no idea where UCD is I thought to myself as the road started being nicer to me, a slight down section. I glanced at my watch, I was still going very slow, but I was moving. "I'll just walk a few strides here, there's a pedestrian bridge, I'll run there and walk for a few meters", I finally figured that this must be UCD, this must be the UCD flyover! That means I'm on the home stretch, the spectators aren't lying! The wave of excitement caused a wave of tiredness... I didn't make it to the flyover... I noticed I was already walking. I started taking baby steps, they really worked. I wasn't getting anywhere fast but I wasn't stopped. There's the RTE tower, getting closer, slowly. Another spectator got me going again, he forced me out from the edge of the path and convinced me I was nearly there. "They're looking at around 3:20" I heard someone else say. I was jogging again, I took water at a station and didn't stop despite my legs burning and the pins and needles in my fingers. There was someone in the back of an ambulance. Would Sel prefer I finish the race knowing I couldn't have given it any more, or would she prefer me alive? I rubbished the thoughts when I heard drums in the distance, I'll walk that bit I thought, they'll get me going.

I can't stop here! there's hundreds of spectators on the road, the gap to get through is tiny, I'll look like such a loser. Someone screamed in agony behind me, followed by a Dublin accent shout of "F*&K!" I'd just passed a hobbler, and his race was over. My knees appeared to be finished too, they couldn't take any more, they stopped. My legs kept me walking, but my knees were done. "Water?" someone appeared from nowhere by my side, "please", I nodded; he reached into a bag and took out a baby bottle of water, perfect. The same bottles that Sopie takes, the flavoured water ones. This was pure ice cold water though, I reached into my pocket to take out a dextrose tablet, all gone. "Jelly babies it is then". I downed the water and the jelly babies and let out a grunt.... I started jogging again. "Remind me not to do this next year".

My knees were joined by my hip now, my left hip. They were in mutiny against the rest of me. The rest of my body, while neutral, were silent supporters of the mutiny started by my knees. I noticed I'd been staring at the ground, and lifted my head to take in the crowds. Bad idea, there was too much going on, I got dizzy and continued to stare into the ground. I'd seen a glimpse of a poster though and wanted to see what it said. I looked up and made eye contact with a stoney faced middle aged woman. Her sign read "DCM, No Cry Babies", my jogging broke into a mountain climb up the grand canal bridge and a smile broke out on my face. I couldn't cry if I wanted to I thought, I don't have the energy. Someone shouted at me to "toughen up" as I got over the hump of the bridge. I felt like punching whoever that was in the face there and then, I'm sure he was only trying to help!

All sense of time / spacial awareness was gone. My vision was gone, I kept veering towards the edge of the road and I couldn't really feel my legs any more. It appeared that my body didn't join the mutiny in the end, it simply turned off it's nerves. This was a good thing as I knew everything was sore. I couldn't run straight, I couldn't even remember which way I would be going when I hit the city. I convinced myself that there was a sharp left into merrion Square at the Davenport for the finish. When I figured out this was a blatant lie, I stuttered to another walk. I couldn't believe it, I wanted to be strong here, why was I walking again. There were loads of friends and family coming up and I wanted to be coming in strong to them. Water station, lovely, I thought I might be thirsty, and a jelly baby. Now finish!

I started plodding again, "Come on Macker!" I turned to see Alan's dad roaring me on, "looking strong", I didn't believe him, but it got me going. The finish line was only meters away but I had to go the long way round, I heard the announcer shouting at people to get them over the finish in 3:15, I wasn't doing as bad as I thought. Just over 1 mile to go? I dug in and found another bit of energy. I wasn't running, I was barely jogging, I probably looked like those guys in their eighties who you walk faster than on the beach. Selena should be here I thought, I strayed over to the left hand side of the road. I passed by Niall, neither of us noticed, I'd an excuse though! I couldn't hear anything specific, it was a wall of noise. I saw Declan, Steve, Liam and Sel! Smile! raise an arm! If I could I'd cry! I got around the corner and couldn't stop smiling, "I'm nearly home" I thought. I wondered if I could transfer energy from my smile into my legs ala star-trek re-routing power. I passed a walker, slowly, he looked deflated. I tried to convey my current high spirits to him through the use of spoken word; "Come'n" I blurted. I immediately regretted talking First off, I didn't have the energy for it, secondly, the guy probably thought I was bragging, and thirdly, I tried to say "come on, you're nearly there", I didn't even get the first two words out right.

I turned around the front of Trinity and cursed gravity. I had never noticed that the road went up hill around to Nassau street. I struggled around the corner and tried to get a picture in my mind of how far was left. My eyes rolled a few times to the back of my head and I thought it was too far. Frantic calculations went on in my head and I figured I could walk home in a respectable 3:30, take in the crowds and even get energy for a smile and a wave. I slowed to a walk, my head slouched to the side, my route zig zagging from side to side through the small space the crowd had left. I could see people shouting at me from less than a meter away, I couldn't hear them. "Allez, Allez, Allez" someone was pushing me, he was very enthusiastic, and very French. I let him push me into a jog and tried to focus on the finish line- no sign of it yet though. There's a familiar sign, I thought- I've seen that at the other race series events, it's either 400 meters or 800 meters to go. I still don't know what it said, I ran into the ground, runners were streaming past me, I didn't care, I just wanted to finish. "Come on Macker!", Karl and Helen were on the Merrion square side. I raised an arm, and dug in. I looked up at the clock, couldn't make it out, raised two arms, smiled from ear to ear and stepped over the line. I'd made it. I stopped my watch and didn't even look, I couldn't care less. I was exhausted and chuffed and finished.

I was guided through the finishing gates and someone ripped my tag away. I know I nearly fell there before I felt my head dropping and my eyes rolling. I was falling asleep while trying to walk! Someone wrapped a medal around my neck at the worst possible time. My head drooped and I had to force my eyes open. I was hungry. I had the sense to get a large t-shirt and grabbed a spar lunch box. Walked two feet away and fell to the ground in an "uncontrolled but I know what I'm doing" kind of way. I ate a sandwich. I took off my runners. I wondered about the blood. I wondered about getting out of the finishing area. I wondered when I'd be able to see again properly. I got up after three attempts, took another lunch box and collected my bag. It took an hour and a half to hobble over to find Sel and Soapie for a hug, still too exhausted for emotions. I went for a pint with Paul, Liam, Steve, my wife and daughter. I saw that I'd done a 3:24, I didn't care, I'd finished though, and learned that Alan did too. Didn't get to see him until that night! He had it even worse than I did over the finishing miles. I apologised for bringing us out too fast, but that's always been our way.

The Aftermath
Proud, happy and sore, but never again. Thanks to everyone who came along and to everyone who sent best wishes. My wife and daughter deserve a big thank you for all the work they put in, and all the work I got away with, as well as putting up with the training and the smelly socks and underpants! Thanks also to Dee and Anna for letting Alan do the same, as the training runs were hard to get motivated for, and without Alan this probably would not have happened. The Foley family record stands, that's for another day, who knows, we might break the new McDonnell one too.

The marathon is a long tough race. When you're thinking how hard it might be, add a few more miles, and try doing it with no legs. Now, I wonder if the Wicklow 200 is tough?

aero2k wrote: »

I hope I didn't overstate the hard times in the past; compared to 99% of the world's population I've had a charmed life - nonetheless it can be tough when things don't work out as we want.
Get back into it gently, and remember that which doesn't kill us will make us stronger.

Not at all, I knew you meant tough races you had that you learned from. Cheers mate

I'll throw mine up later Woddle. Pity the first race report on this thread is so crap (mine). I only wrote one paragraph on the actual race! At least it didn't set the toan.....lots of good ones here.

DCM 2010

12 weeks leading to race.
I wasn't happy with things on the lead up to the race. 7 weeks ago, throwing my toys out of the pram, I had serious intentions of packing it in to try to enjoy my running again and relieve the headache that is 'sub 3'. So I was bullied into doing it by fellow boardsies on this log Then onto the Dublin half marathon and things were starting to click...I got an ok time of 1:24:45. I did struggle home for the last couple of miles but for the most of that race I felt stronger than I had in training since the Spring. Sub 3 was back on the agenda.

........and then it was off the agenda when on the final week of taper I got a flu/cold and a stomach bug. To avoid stress, I accepted 3:05 would still be worth going for and I'd be happy with that. For reasurance I asked Tunguska at the expo if I'd blow up trying to stick to the sub 3 pacers. He comfirmed what I thought and said no. Sub 3 back on the agenda. I got a pace band from Krusty and got good advice about pacing. Being sick that week meant I wasn't worried or stressed as I had nothing to loose. I was ready for the bad news of not making it. The bummer of that last week was not getting the confidence you get from those final few runs when you really have to work to slow down. Still, I had decent training in the bag and I trusted it.

The race
The plan was simple: stick to the sub 3 pacer unless the wheels came off. I was positioned about 5meters from one (Jason) when the race started but by the time he crossed the line and I did, he was already running away from me. Down to O'Connell street, he was maybe 100m ahead. My first mile was 6:57 and I was happy to do my own thing and run my own race. I was glad I had that pace band as I would use it a lot over the next while.

The miles ticked off and I checked my time against the split time on the pace band. The ~6:50 pace felt alright. My legs felt fine and my sinuses were feeling good...finally.
I did this stupid thing a lot throughout training and even in the race yesterday, I kept comparing how I felt during training and during Rotterdam and feeling a little pissed that things were way easier back in April. Today, I'd carry on regardless and what will be will be. Job to do.

Every so often I'd look up and see the pacer baloon about 40-80m ahead. It was nice to see he wasn't pulling away from me. I was doing my own thing but its a great reasurance. Then his baloon burst when it hit trees in the park. Sh1t!! Up popped a '3.00' sign, lovely.

The amount of support I had was fantastic, not to mention the crowds out there.....unreal. Met a mate to give me gels, my gf, some of her family, my family and some of my friends all out to cheer me on. It was great. Going by the club and got another lift from everyone. I met Kaymin in the Park and it was good to see him.

The crumlin road was a bit of a drag for me. It was starting to hurt at this point. I was checking all of the split times against my watch and I knew I was going to be under for the first half. I didn't see any of the auto lap mile splits, but I used the average pace window. I was around 6:46 or 6:47 and I knew it would have to be this to allow for the longer distance the garmin records. Crossing the half way point and I was under by about 20-30 seconds.....I can't remember exactly. EDIT: turns out I was 1:30:03. At 14miles I hit a low point. I started thinking about how sore I felt and how far I had to go, how better I felt in Rotterdam. My body wanted to ease off the pace and it was only at 14m! I snapped out of it and started saying to myself 'relax, relax'. I also did that thing of rubbing my index fingers with my thumbs, supposed to help with tension in the shoulders ? but it was a distraction and I tried to think positive thoughts. Next thing I know and I'm flying along, feeling good again .

There was a big group formed up ahead around Jason and every time they got near crowds (supporting), he would raise the 3'00 sign and the crowd would go mental. I wanted a bit of that so I decided to slowly try to catch up. I finally caught up at around 18m and I would stick to that guy like glue. As soon as I caught him, I really felt like I could do it. I ignored the pace band and watch and switched off. I might have switched off too much as I stepped on a bottle that was still full and nearly done in my ankle. It was sore for a minute but I got lucky. Being in this group was just excellent. To be able to switch off is such an advantage and the crowds cheering was brilliant.

20-22 mile, tired but still going well, a nice rhythem, fueling was going well, no niggles and best of all no negative thoughts. By mile 23 and I was dying for the miles to chip away. At this point i felt a bit ill but my legs were not letting me down and seemed to be doing what I wanted them to do. Nice feeling that. Jason said to us a few times that we were at '2:59 low' pace so I started thinking about how much I could fade and still get away with sub 3......best to stop thinking and stick to him. Man, it was tough. I mean seriously, it was like my legs were working but I wasn't in control of them. It was weird, like a motor turning over, I was just moving forward, still at the same pace but kind of out of it. At mile 25, I thanked the pacer for doing the pacing job. He assured me I'd get it and said its supposed to hurt. Anyway, we were about to get to the front of trinity and he kind of took the foot off to gather people "are we still on?" ..."yep your well on mate, your gonna do it" he said. I turned the corner by Trinity and my family/friends spotted me. I let out such a load roar at them with closed fist "YEEEEAAAAHHHHH". I don't know what came over me, I just knew I had it and I was so happy. Coming down to the finish and I saw the clock with 2:58?? on it, I didn't give a **** about sprint finishes or anything and just shouted my head off for the last 50m, waving my arms and trying to get the crowd going. Not that they needed it. Amazing feeling, I don't give a sh!t I shed one or two tears right after finishing. I did it.

2:58:59

been reading these and found them a great help to me soooo........

brief history;
46 year old male, running since 2007, 4 marathons now run...
paris 2008- 4.50.xx.....knee went after 3 miles,basically hobbled around
chicago 2009- 3.44.32....
berlin 2010- 3.30.52....scrapped bq here.
boston 2011- read on........

followed my trusty hal higdon plan, advanced 18 week . tempos and fartlecks tend to injure me so i do them sparingly, i just shovel extra miles on......got a virus week before race and went to doc to get antibiotic...
didnt run at all the last week....
arrived boston sat 4pm, did expo sunday morn, collected bib, got suckered into buying some gear, as you do, .....went to finish area to take pics and soak up atmosphere...great buzz around the place......getting nervous now......
set alarm for 4.45 am sun morn.....woken up by mobile at 4.20am.....friend wishing me well.....grumbled thanks...... back to sleep......
up 4.45 am, breakfast of bagel,yogurt,banana,coffee.......got the t to boston common to get the shuttle buses to start area at hopkington....stepped out of the t staion into the biggest que i have seen since standing in a field with a couple hundred other ejits waiting to use the one usable portaloo left at the "trip to tipp" gig back in the day.....took me an hour to get on a bus and then another hour journey to hopkington....huge athletes village.....drinks,energy bars,massages available.....found a quiet area to chill out and try and stay warm....munched a bagel and sipped water.....nervous now......time to go to start pen...check gear, gels, laces, garmin.....garmin?...wtf?....my 405 was dead,maribh,deceased,not friggin working.....tried everything, reset, hard reset, violence,cursing, to no avail....the bloody thing decided to stop working.....you couldnt make it up....ok, ok, dont panic, think......i have no pace bands, no watch.....there are no pacers at boston....how to pace myself....ok, i'll calculate from time on clock as i pass start line and at each time station from then on....a pain in the ass but it would have to do....hoping to do 3.20 ish.....wave 2, corral 4, and we're off!...
the first bit is uphill and then a good bit downhill.....no need to dodge or weave here.....runners are really motoring.....decided to get into a nice easy stride and not push it early on....****e, forgot to look at time at start!!.....ah the hell with it......run as you feel......weather was sunny and pleasant if a little muggy.....got to 13 m iles feeling good...no idea what time or pace i was doing.....felt like shouting out, anybody going for a 3.20 ish time....can i tag along please....at wesley college the noise was deafening.....hoards of girls screaming, signs with kiss me.....saw one particularly tempting sign...." free bj"......hmmmmm.....sorry luv..aint got the time...gulp down a gel.....mile 15.....starting to hurt....sweating profusely....mile 16.....feeling sick, dizzy.....the hills are getting relentless now....stay focused....ignore the pain.....i know heartbreak hill is coming......mile 17....another godamn hill...mile 18.....people are passing me in droves.....jesus that guy looks bout 70 and he just flew by....mile19....mile20...hurtin bad....dont stop....keep going..force down another gel....mile 21.....turn a corner and there sits EVEREST!........heartbreak hill finally shows her face....it aint pretty......jesus, this thing looks like a down hill ski run at kitzbull.....how the feck am i to scale this....grit teeth and begin the ascent.....dont stop, dont stop,...maybe a little rest would be good....yeessss my precioussss.....a rest would be niceeee....yessss...it hurtssssss...jus a little resteeesss...out, damn you!..begone!..........i struggle on and even try to pick up the pace....mile 22....marshall shouts 3 miles to go buddy!.???.....if i had the energy i would have ran back to the guy and told him to move down the friggin road!......mile 23.......mile 24.....dog
tired.....mile 25....mile 26.... where is the finish line ?......turn a corner and praise the lord.....try and up the pace...probably looked like a drunk kangaroo......remember to smile for cameras......and.........yesssss!!!!!!....
never ,ever, felt as bad after a run......can hardly talk....keep moving through finish area...collect medal....collect bagel and water....so distracted nearly ate medal and wore bagel around my neck.....remember eying a marshall with an empty wheelchair......found a quite corner and slowly changed into dry gear......felt a little better after about 30 mins....still no idea what time i did......got on t to accomadation where i looked up finish time on pc............................................3.47.43.. first half at 8min mile pace...last 10 miles my times collapsed....
..left boston airport that evening, 8.50pm flight home ......feelin good..just dissapointed about time but hey......i ran the boston marathon.!!!!!

as i write this i am already looking forward and intend to do the dcm...funny how quickly you forget the pain, eh ?.......looking back the virus took it out of me more than i thought it would......but theres not much you can do at that stage is there ?.......i thought a 3.20 ish time was on based on a 22miler at 8min pace i did 2 weeks before race....i felt good and strong after it.....i had done 10 milers and halfs at 7.10 pace feeling good after each.......looking at my training log i noticed i missed 9 days through various injuries and 10 days through illness.....maybe that told in the end ...i dont know....but im good to go again!.....bring it on!:D
hope you enjoyed this rambling account of my experience.......
cork boie:)

thanks marthastew ...........wasnt sure i should post my race, as the race times in other posts are fantastic but hey, for all my fellow grinders out there, never give up !!;)