Race day dawned at 6am, much earlier than I would normally get up for a 9 o'clock start. My usual routine would be to wake up closer to 730 or 745, change into my race gear, grab my bag and a Clif bar, and head out the door to the start. Not this time. This time, I was following the instructions and race day plan put together by Mary, my friend and coach, and I do nothing if not follow directions well when I decide to, and when I'm paying for them. So I got up at 6 and went to have some breakfast – three pieces of toast and two glasses of cranberry juice – just like I was told. There were quite a few people in the hotel's dining room, all runners trying to fuel up before the race. As a guy who has a hard time eating first thing in the morning, I sat in amazement watching some of the others wolf down a full Irish breakfast of eggs, ham, sausage, tomato, and toast.
I was back in the room by 645, where I cracked open my bottle of PowerAde (my favorite flavor – blue - brought over to Doha for me by my boss in Houston a few days before I left for Dublin) and a Clif bar. The next hour was spent sipping the PowerAde, dithering over what to wear during the race, and driving Holly nuts with text messages as she was trying to get ready. In the end, after all the back and forth in my mind between various outfits and jackets and whatnot, I ended up wearing what I originally picked out the night before. Go figure.
At 8am, I piled on all my layers (wind pants and a jacket to get me to bag check, lovely grey Qatar Airways PJs to wear to the start) and went to meet Holly and Eva in the lobby. No rain, but it sure was a cool (43 degrees), damp, foggy, and overcast morning. I was thankful for my hat and gloves. We walked to the bag check area in ten minutes or so, and Eva and I promptly got in line for the porta potties. We figured if we were going to stand around waiting to find Kevin, we might as well do it in line since they were already quite long. A lady from the race kept trying to be helpful by announcing over the loudspeaker that there were more porta-potties near the corrals, but since we were already in line, we opted to stay put. Good thing, too, because it turned out there were only four of them at our corral with a line twice as long as the one we stood in. When I got to the front of the line, I said my good-byes and good luck to Eva, and then Kevin, Holly, and I dropped off our bags and left for the start.
The starting area was one of the more poorly laid out ones that I've been to. The street you walk down to get there dumps you right at the front of the corral. With all the fencing and gating in the way, there's no place for you to go to easily get into the corral. They ought to take a page from Disney or Marine Corps and have you approach from the back of the corrals so you don't end up with a bunch of people, including us, climbing over the barriers near the front in order to squeeze in. Our timing worked out pretty well. We arrived just as they were playing the national anthem and sending off the wheelchair racers, giving me time to eat my pre-race gel, ditch my extra clothes (but keep my hat), tie my shoes, and get ready to go. Ten minutes later, we were off.
And then we stopped. The poor design of the start extended itself to the first turn. Less than 1/4 mile into the race, the course made a hairpin right turn of 120-130 degrees, and needless to say, there was mass congestion and a huge slowdown. We didn't actually stop, but we sure ended up shuffling pretty slowly around the turn before we could start running again.
A few miles into the race, as Kevin and I were yakking about our pace (I was determined to stick to my instructions from Mary which were to stay at 8:50 for 18 miles and then see how it feels from there), a guy running next to us mentioned that he wanted to break four hours too and asked if he could run with us. We told him we'd be happy for the company. We ended up with a really nice tour guide. His name was Steven, he'd run the race twice before, and knew all of the twists and turns and ups and downs of the course. He pointed out all kinds of interesting things along the way, gave us fun facts like Phoenix Park being the largest walled-in park in Europe, and made sure we knew when the inclines and hills were approaching and how long they'd last. As it turned out, his name might be Steven but he really goes by Steve or Sneggers judging by the signs his family and friends were holding up as we ran by them.
Anyway, back to the race. I did my part to keep us on pace, and Kevin did his part to keep pushing the pace so I paid attention. He was also great at reminding me when it was time to take my gels, which Mary had me doing every 30 minutes. That's a shitload of gels to be downing during a race, and I had some difficulty getting the ones down at 90 and 120 minutes. There's nothing like gagging on a chocolate Clif Shot and trying not to throw up as you're passing the photographers at the halfway point in the race. That might explain why there were only six pictures of me when I checked the MarathonFoto web site. I really don't remember too much of the course up to this point. Normally I'm just running marathons for fun and take time to look around at the scenery and the spectators, but not this time. I was in race mode the whole way and totally focused on running my pace, though we did have some good conversation too. I like to talk when I'm running, and fortunately Kevin and Steve do too.
18 miles came and went and I still felt pretty good. Running at pace was definitely getting harder, but I wasn't struggling any. Neither was Kevin. He was still trying to push us faster. I did notice that my gels weren't lasting a full 30 minutes anymore. I could feel my energy fading after 20 or 25 minutes, and Kevin noticed it too as he started prompting me earlier. I felt like I was in a Snickers commercial because once I got the gel down, I instantly felt better.
Just after mile 22, after we went up the last hill and highway overpass and started our way back into the center of the city, Kevin started pulling ahead and I gave up trying to keep up with him. He looked back a few times to make sure I wasn't falling apart and then took off like a rocket. The dude is just naturally fast. I ate my last gel, chatted with a woman who had been running with us for a few minutes about who was going to buy the beer after the finish, and tried to figure out a plan for the last few miles. I knew I'd be under four hours even if I slowed down a lot, so I thought about just cruising in, taking it easy, and having a look at the scenery on my way to the finish. Then I came to my senses and just went for it. I wanted to see how well I could do based on all the hard work I'd put in.
The last two miles were extremely tough because I was out of gel (who knew that bringing 7 gels to a race wouldn't be enough), and I could feel my energy reserves declining rapidly. I didn't hurt any, there was no feeling of the dreaded Wall, and the wheels weren't coming off. I simply had to turn my brain off and let my competitiveness come out. I kept telling myself to RACE, not run, and just go as hard as I could until it was all over. I vaguely remember the huge crowds lining the streets around Trinity College, and never saw Kevin's wife Keri at mile 25 though I'm sure she was there. I was 100% in a zone where I kept my cadence high, my pace quick, and my eyes focused on finding the most efficient way past and around all the people in front of me.
Once I made the last left-hand turn around the College, I knew the finish was straight ahead and kicked into whatever high gear I had left. Crossing the line and seeing this on my watch was when it hit me that I'd done it. I'd busted my ass all summer long in the heat and humidity, I'd set a goal and trusted Mary's coaching and training to get me there, and I'd done it. I wasn't quite as choked up as I was after finishing my first marathon in Richmond seven years ago, but I did take a few minutes to pull myself together before finding Kevin for celebratory congratulations. He put three minutes on me in the last 3.5 miles. Like I said, the dude is fast.
While we were hanging out in the finishing area, the woman we'd been chatting with earlier came up and wanted to know how we did. She knew she'd finished after Kevin but before me, and joking said I'd been beaten by a girl. I asked her what her time was, and when she said 3:55, I showed her my watch and said "not beaten by a girl, first beer is on you." Sneggers also found us and was ecstatic that he'd finished under four hours. He was really grateful to have been able to run with us, and we really enjoyed having him along too.
After we received our medals and finisher shirts, we made our way over to the bag check area to get our warm clothes. The day hadn't really warmed up any, and the sweat evaporating made me colder and colder. Thankfully, I can overpack with the best of them and had some wind pants, a fleece top, and a windbreaker stuffed into my bag. A few minutes later, Holly arrived and was as thrilled with her new PR as Kevin and I were with ours. Off to the bar we went to celebrate and rehydrate. Nothing like a fresh pint of Guinness to toast a great race with good friends.
My official time of 3:53:46 is an 8-minute improvement over my previous best. It came with no bathroom stops, no cramps, and no Wall. And no rain either, which considering the race was in Dublin in late October I'm quite thankful for. All told, I couldn't have asked for anything more. I ran a great race, had a great time running with Kevin, and can finally put that 3 in front of my PR.
Speaking of PRs, everyone in our group of runners got a PR that day. Kevin - 3:50, Holly - 4:02, and Eva - 5:17. Can't beat that.