Making every mile count

ThebitterLemon wrote: »

All the best DR, you've done all the hard work with some super sessions in the bank. Hope you smash it!

TbL

Ps if you can handle munching a clove of garlic I find that great for colds/sore throats

Thanks C.

Well done on the PB. Plenty more to come. You are going to knock out some more great times.

Garlic? Sounds good (does that include a garlic and cheese chips from the chipper? :pac:). I will definitely give that a go. The cold is no worse today so I should be ok come Monday.

Thanks lads. I will need every bit of good luck on my side come Monday! Already looking forward to the post-race drinks. Have a great one Eoin. Sounds like you are in good shape.

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Friday 24/10

4 Miles Very Easy (treadmill)


The head cold ain't no better but ain't no worse. I will take that. Although annoying it is proving quite the welcome distraction. I have yet to worry about the possible impact it may have on Monday's performance. I am confident it will have mainly cleared by then and in a strange twist it actually has me feeling quite relaxed. The cold probably stops the usual pre-race focus on the legs. Speaking of the legs, they both feel unusually good.

I'll write up something on Sunday.

Best of luck to everyone running over the long weekend. Please remember one thing though. It's not the taking part that counts, it's the drinking after :pac:. Mine's a hot whiskey, sambucca and a pint of Guinness. All in a bucket.

Oh boy.

What a tough day for 2.52. Felt sick at mile 8 and came close to dropping out. I finished the race because of the great on course support, the people who supported me and the great friends I have.

I'm not disappointed. I'm proud I stuck at it and saw it through.

The hard days will make the good days even sweeter.

Dublin City Marathon 2014


Time: 2.52:48

Position: 139


The marathon is the race that really excites me. In my opinion it's the perfect distance to challenge both your physical and psychological capabilities and limits. The Dublin City Marathon holds a very special place in my heart. In 2012 it was the goal race that got me into running. I now find it a hard race not to enter. I am emotionally attached, so to speak. Other marathons might be flatter and faster but nothing will ever replicate the feeling of running through the streets of your home city.

The three-week taper went very much according to plan. My homemade ad hoc schedule meant me peaking four weeks out with a 100+ mile week. From there the mileage dropped gradually (80-60-30), while the intensity largely remained. The taper left the legs in great condition come race day but annoyingly a bad cold caused me some problems the week before the race. While I hadn't taken a rest day in well over 100 days, I was confident that the taper phase of my training had been a big improvement on the mismanaged taper heading into the Rotterdam Marathon in April.

The absence of any pre-race nerves was a welcome surprise. Race morning at this stage has become a very well rehearsed routine. While I haven't raced much recently I made the very deliberate decision to use some races as preparatory sessions for target races. Whether it was a training race or a pacing engagement, the preparation remained the same. This routine helped me settle before the gun went off. Get into good habits, I thought.

Arriving at the start at 8.35am left me enough time for a small warm-up before squeezing myself into the pen, just infront of the 3 hour pacers and roughly 8 rows of people behind the elites. The plan was to run solo and run my own race. If I latched onto someone I knew, all the better but I wasn't going to run someone else's race. I was all set to go and excited to be starting out fit and healthy. In many regards, the hard work was already done. The most important thing with the marathon is getting to the startline injury free. I knew I was in good shape and a sub 2.45 was a very realistic target setting out. If everything went well I even thought 2.40 might be achievable. Failing that a PB was virtually guaranteed once I finished. How wrong was I.

Rather than give a stat-by-stat account of the race, I will attempt to detail what was to be an emotional roller-coaster of a morning. The start was it's usual chaotic self, with people going off way too hard. I am experienced enough to know better than to zig-zag too much and risk a fall so I played it safe. I felt fresh and it was good to get see jebuz close by. We shared the opening few miles together, both feeling comfortable and in control. I took it deliberately easy on first testing climb up Parkgate Street, allowing jebuz and his running companion a small gap. It doesn't need to be mentioned but the section of running up Chesterfield Avenue was very tough going. The crosswinds played havoc with the splits and all one could do was brave it out and keep the effort honest. Passing the Mile 6 mark meant Chesterfield Avenue was finally behind us. A big hurdle negotiated.

Reaching the 10km mark in 39:35 meant I was a bit behind my target but with a few fast miles to come I thought I could pick up the pace. No need to panic. The atmosphere lining Castleknock Village was simply brilliant. I told myself to blank it out and not let myself get caught up in the euphoria. The road to to Knockmaroon Gate is very fast. I knew this would be a good gauge on how my legs and body were feeling. Unfortunately, small alarm bells started sounding. Instead to deliberately upping the pace I allowed the downhill section naturally bring the pace down. Whilst negotiating the downhill hill section, it was a big shock to get my first ever running stitch. It was pretty bad and I had to back off. This wasn't usual, it wasn't part of any plan. Turning into the park and my head was gone. I seriously contemplated dropping out. I looked to my left and wondered could I use a spectators phone to call someone and get a lift. A DNF looked inevitable. I became lightheaded a small bit unsteady of my feet. Just when it all looked over I bumped into tunguska. Seeing a friendly face made me continue. I was already on the edge.

It was now time to dig in and set mini-goals. The next immediate target was to get to halfway and reevaluate. Once again the support leaving the park was immense and the spirits briefly lifted. I was in a world of pain and inner turmoil running 6.10-6.20 miles. How was this happening? This pace was easy in training. The following miles to halfway were bleak. It hurt me that I could not in any way enjoy the experience. Halfway was reached in 1.23:27. A disappointing return for the effort put in but I still felt I could rescue something.

The Crumlin Road. The Heartbreak Road.

This particular section of road has to be the most soul destroying bit of cement anywhere in Ireland. It shouldn't be that hard but it is. It's a battle to hold any sort of pace into the strong headwind and uphill gradient. The conditions blew most groups apart and the choice of running solo was the only one. I was looking forward to the 18 mile mark and the prospect of seeing some very friendly faces. The next mini-goal was set. The following 3 miles to Rathgar became a blur; survival mode well and truly entered. I was running on empty and the sole focus was simply keeping every mile below 6.30. I managed to somehow achieve this, despite my paralytic state.

Reaching Rathgar was as much a blessing at it was a curse. I recently moved into the neighborhood and now know the area like the back of my hand. I was running on home soil but I had no home advantage. I knew every pothole, every twist and turn between here and the finish. Taking the right hand turn through Rathgar meant running by my house. All I wanted to do was give in. Having gone this far and feeling as bad as I did I reckoned I could bow out, having given the race every chance. Just keep running I told myself, keep the battle alive. Once the excitement of the village dissipated the torture continued. I now felt every newly tarmaced speed ramp on the Orwell Road, passing the 30km mark in 1.59:54. Here we took a right towards Milltown. All I wanted to do was to take the easier option and take the left. Here I could sneak off the course, away from the crowds and simply jog the .45 of a mile to the comfort and bliss of home. It's not in my nature to give in. Fight the demons. My right leg felt tight here and I knew cramp was likely so I backed off. In my confused state I failed to realise how dehydrated I had become. I took on very little water and did not appreciate nor notice the temperature increase.

With so much on-course support it became harder and harder to stop running but a mere mile later I had another big wobble. The battle was getting tougher with each passing mile. Just as I was contemplating my departure, I got a shout from a knowledgeable bystander on the Milltown Road. He informed me that I was the ''3rd Clonliffe man'' and to ''Keep it going''. From here on in I had no choice but to finish the race, no matter how ugly it became. Letting myself down was something I could have lived with. Letting down my family, friends and club was not. Again I backed off the pace, content to see 6.3x. I continued to take in very little liquid, just the gels and a tiny mouthful of water/energy drink now and then. The right leg was becoming tighter and tighter.

I struggle to remember miles 20-22. The tank was empty and I was running on fumes. I eased off again up Roebuck Hill and was delighted to finally see Fosters Avenue. With just under 4 miles to go I could sense the finish line. The legs were screaming at me. I begged and pleaded with them to get me to the finish. Just before the right turn onto Nutely Lane the right leg almost seized. I continued for a minute before stopping to stretch it out. It was an instinctive move. The leg felt better but once again t went outside the Merrion Shopping Centre. Torture. I repeated the stretch and got moving. Agony. I stopped once more just after. The only choice now was to brave it out.

I had to dig pretty deep to finish but finish I did. Unable to soak up any of the immense support, I kept myself going and the cramp finally gave in.

To be continued......