Ladies Marathon, 2003

Walls

Ladies Marathon, 2003

It was hot, much hotter than she’d expected. Ireland was always temperate, but with her luck, today, of course, it was beaming. She stood with the others, all 40,000, behind the start line, laughing, joking, passing the time. Some were just standing there, waiting for the starting klaxon, thinking about the race ahead. There was a jovial atmosphere going on around them, which they ignored, their minds’ eyes travelling the course again, again…

The klaxon sounded and she was off, in the runner’s section to avoid the hold up of walkers (last year had been a disaster!): down Fitzwilliam Square, past all the spectators, the concrete thumping away under her feet. She already had a smooth rhythm built up, one she could keep going for an hour or so. Swinging into Merrion Road, past the Schoolhouse and down into Lansdowne Road.

The heat was strong and the sun was making a point on her back. Around her were other runners, walkers and despite it being ‘ladies’, men happily pounding the ground along with her. One passed her, dressed in a blue paisley spring dress and black wig. How can they do that in this heat? she marvelled. The sprinting crowd swung down Lansdowne Road and, trying to gain advantage past a lamp post, she slipped, tripped and sprawled on the pavement. She was winded but not by much. She picked herself up and kept running.

Running down Merrion Road, pub-goers stood outside the pub. She caught a sneer from one and another blew smoke out in a spurt of derision. She coughed loudly, trying not to loose pace. Down Merrion road, folks still clapping and cheering. A miracle! In front of her were the water stations, two tables on either side of the road, with plastic cups full of water already laid out. Discarded cups lay thrown on the ground and on the tables. She made a bee-line for the first one, grabbing a cup and throwing the water over her face. Then at the second table she slowed to grab two cups, and ran drinking them. She took a look around her. Lots of runners here as well as walkers, and kids clapping and cheering them on. It was a well off neighbourhood she had come to know quite a bit, as she had trained regularly each Sunday on the route. The first time she had taken the Ladies Marathon she had come in at one hour eighteen minutes. This time she really hoped to make an hour. Just eighteen minutes to cut, she reminded herself. She finished the water and ran on again.

At the end of Merrion Road is Nutley Lane, which to its residents rises slowly and majestically until it joins Stillorgan dual carriageway. To the runners who see it each year, it is a bitch hoe giving spit to any hope of an easy run. It goes on for five more minutes than you want it to, and then some. She didn’t expect it to be easy, and sure enough at one third of the way up the usual bite in her calves kicked in. She felt it bite but kept running, knowing from her training that the pain would pass if she kept going. And when she looked around, that was when she noticed others stopping, walking, taking a breather, while she kept going, on and up, past Vincent’s Hospital, and past RTE to the motorway proper.

A cruel twist of the route is that the runners turn left onto the motorway, over the UCD flyover and down again the other side. You see an immediate shortcut available to you just after the affects of the hill, and many take it. She stirred herself and kept her route as clean and quick as possible. Coming down, a man dressed as a chicken swept past her and she yelled out, “Hey!! Why’d you cross the road?” It gave her a lift and a few people laughed, but she was facing into the longest stretch and she was unsure as to how she would do.

The Stillorgan dual carriageway is a long straight stretch which makes any heart sink. It pulls itself tortuously down through Donnybrook and into Ballsbridge. She found herself trying to let her mind go as she made her way down. It was hampered by the fact that walkers kept blocking her path and she had to keep running around them. She didn’t think there could be a way to organise a clear path throughout the race for runners, but she did wish people could have more manners.

The end of the motorway approached and another miracle in the form of a water station. She shakily made her way to them and again, wet her face and drank her full, discarding the cups to the side. She was growing exhausted; the burning glow in her stomach that signalled her limit was starting to spread. She kept running on, down past Marian Gayle (if you’re a girl you don’t need to ask) and past the junction of Apian Way. She was approaching the Lesson Street bridge, legs not really moving, when a voice yelled out.

“There’s that girl fading – keep moving!!”

She didn’t even have the energy to wave thanks, but it was exactly what she needed. She pulled her spine up straight, breathed deeply and ran on more firmly, down Lesson Street and towards Stephens Green. I should be dead, she heard her brain remark.

Stephens Green lay before her. Folks were clapping and cheering. A timer was positioned above the finish line and she could make out the second figures: 57, 58, 59… and flip over into 52 minutes! She didn’t believe it! She ran in a dream into St Stephen’s green, her legs dying, her heart about to stop, and sailed over the finish line, and to the end of the race.

BEAT

Walls, I am sorry more people are not posting...perhaps they are not interested in the topic and so dont finish reading.
At the beginning I felt as if I were reading a lay out for a Nike shoe commercial...but all in all I liked it.

Its good practice to write with so much detail if you are planning to write a book someday

Walls

*Mutter mutter mutter*

Note to self - next time more T&A.

BEAT

you do understand I liked it right?

Walls

Now I do. Thanks.

BEAT

I believe you have the makings of a good writer
Your descriptive writing is excellent, it definitley paints a picture for the reader.

I would like to see you apply this to a different subject matter to see what you come up with out of curiosity.

thanks

Hardy

Walls - its an interesting read/piece of literature. Just an aside - A lot of friends of mine find running boring to do as well to read about.

I've done this Mini Marathon several times and you describe it well. I think that you have a great skill in building up momentum. But is it nasty of me to say that I was waiting for a big bang - or a fall or something to happen? 52 minutes is a great time and no doubt you were pushing it.

I don't mean to criticise because I haven't the ability to build up a momentum in such a way that you've described. I think that I'm coming from this conclusion based on my previous experience of running this course.

But all in all, as Beat says, apply this style to a different topic and you'll be A1.