So race weekend finally arrived and began with a huge bowl of Havregryn which translates roughly into english as "I can't believe it's not porridge". Got a final rub down from the work physio, spent a reasonably productive day at work and hit the road for home. Made good time and was in my own bed for 10.30pm. Slept OK and threw on the running shoes one last time. After feeling desperate during a 10 minute warm up I did 3 longish strides, the purpose of which was to get the muscles ready to receive glycogen, and by crikey did they receive some amount of glycogen! Pretty much spent the day stuffing myself with porridge, bread, pasta, rice cakes etc. I worked it out that I took in about 450g of carbs which according to the 8g per kg bodyweight recommendation was about right but to be honest I think I may have slightly overdone it. Hit the hay around 9.45pm and slept for a while but it was a fitful sleep & I only dozed from around 1.30am onwards. Had planned on getting up at 5 but decided to make it a little earlier, had another super sized bowl of porridge followed by 2 weetabix and some bread before going back to bed and miraculously getting about 45minutes sleep.
At 6.15 I was just getting out of bed for the second time when my mother came to check on me thinking I had slept it out, fair play!! Headed down to my brothers place as he was looking after giving me my bottles & gels. Topped up the carbs in the car on the way down.
When I got to his place a pretty foggy head greeted me from the upstairs window. Hmm, is he up to the task? was my first reaction!! Once we (or I rather) had the bike loaded up and he assured me he had “just the few” the night before, we set off. I was feeling pretty good, seems all my nerves had been vented on Saturday and now I was relatively calm. I was also enjoying the buzz from my first cup of coffee in a week since I found abstinence had worked quite well at the Copenhagen half.
I had taken a few minutes to write down my objectives while he was scoffing breakfast:
- Feel really comfortable until at least 10 miles
- Don’t look at my watch too much
- At 16 miles, there’s only 10 miles to go
- Don’t count down miles, just focus on the now.
Thankfully he knows Limerick city pretty well so we parked up close to the baggage area and went over the course map and where I wanted bottles, and where I wanted gels.
We were in plenty of time as I wasn’t planning on doing much of a warm up, the weather was grand so I disrobed and just threw on an old long sleeved T-shirt over my singlet. I left Paul on his way to the first drink station at 4 miles and made my way to the start area. Thankfully it was pretty quiet near the front and there were even toilets easily accessible virtually on the start line.
So on to the plan: I had in my head 3 times. Sub 2.45 - acceptable, Sub 2.40 - my goal time. Sub 2.38 - an absolute dream. One way or another I wanted to pass half way no quicker than 80 minutes (6.06minute miling).
Just as we were about to line up I spotted irish Olympian Pauline Curley, I seized the opportunity to ask her what time she was planning on and she said she hadn’t a clue. Damn, as I knew if she was doing 2.40 she’d be like a metronome. She asked me what I was going for, eh 2.40 to 2.45 I said and she said belt away (incidentally she ran 2.44 for first lady). I hoped she wouldn’t be passing by at mile 20 with me in a heap!!
At this point I noticed Gary O’Hanlon, Phillip Harty and an Athenry AC athlete who appeared to be of East African extraction. Hmm, 2.44 was good for 3rd place last year but I knew this wouldn’t be the case with these guys in town! In one sense I decided it was a good thing as it meant I could concentrate solely on the clock.
After the strangest countdown ever (10,9,8,7 - go!) we were on our way & I found myself settling into around 10th place following a relay runner. I felt nice and relaxed (he was breathing heavily, which was oddly reassuring) and my pace settled around 6 minute milling . So far so good. As we made our way through the city centre, there were one or two drags which I took very handily and my pace dropped to around 6.10 or so. Grand job, for now. I passed the relay guy and another runner on a downhill so was inside the top 10.
Early days (courtesy Doonen AC)
We headed out towards the university on a combination of roads, footpaths and cycle paths. I was feeling OK, not incredible but was just doing my best to relax. Before we entered the campus I managed to pick off another guy. I passed marathon legend Jerry Kiernan (spectating) at one stage which gave me a lift. Through the University was a little tricky as the route wasn’t 100% clear and I was wasting some energy asking for directions. I passed the 10k point in 38:14 which was just behind schedule. My HR was remaining around 150 though so there was no reason to panic. At one point I thought I was gone off course as it wasn’t very clear where I should be going. I was pretty relieved when I finally saw a marshall!
Thankfully I was back onto roads now and on an out and back section of the course. Got another drink from my trusty brother at this stage, who was doing his job to a T so far. At about 8 miles the trio who I had seen at the start came hurtling towards me in tight formation. Another few guys came past and I could see I was in 8th place. As I reached the turn around point and went from being hunter to hunted I could see I had maybe 3 or 4 (including Pauline) spread out within a minute or so behind me. Behind them there were a few groups and it crossed my mind how easily it would be to lose 20 places if they were to pass.
I got back to work, still feeling OK, my pace was 6.08 but I managed to bring it to 6.07 on the way back towards the the city centre. I was still a little behind schedule at 10 miles, I had picked up the effort ever so slightly but was still holding back just a little bit. My plan had been to take a gel at 11 miles but as my stomach was a tiny bit dodgy I decided I just wanted a drink which Paul got to me seamlessly.
Around 12 miles in there was a number of French people (or French speaking at least) and with a few Allez Frank (my name was on my number which is a nice touch). I managed a merci! but stopped short of adding a beaucoup. There was some nice downhill sections before we got to halfway (as we had done a lot more climbing that I had anticipated) and my pace was now bang on 6.06. Passed half way in 79.58. Good man!
The course began to climb again though putting me straight into positive split territory but thankfully once over it there was a nice decent so I made back the ground. We were heading into the countryside and I could see Mike Curley Cunningham up ahead. As we were gradually climbing I was able to use his purple singlet and ponytail as a beacon. I spent about a mile giving chase before finally catching and passing him around the 15 or 16 mile mark. I was soon alone again and after a toughish mile or two I was on my way back into town with the wind at my back. Was feeling relatively comfortable now but resisted the urge to push too hard. I concentrated on my form and sure enough, more due to the course than anything else my pace dropped to 6.05, brilliant stuff I thought. My brother was still handling his task very well, I can’t remember exactly what I took on where but it was doing the job!
At around mile 19 or thereabouts the road began to pull up for a while and I struggled a bit for the first time. I had a short crisis of confidence but thankfully it didn’t last too long. We were back into the city now and my pace was down to 6.03. I had strung together my fastest miles of the race now with a few 5.48’s so hoped I’d banked some time for later on as I knew there was a few hills on the other side of the Shannon. At this stage I was so sick of the lack of direction from the marshals I asked Paul to go ahead and recce the course which was very helpful. Once we got across the bridge the course did indeed get tough, although on one particular climb I could see in Thomond Park which was both a welcome distraction and inspiration not to give up.
After negotiating some tricky housing estates we rounded the Gaelic grounds. I was tiring now but was pretty much sticking to the task. I wasn’t suffering like I was in the Copenhagen half, but didn’t feel I had the wherewithal to push on faster. I could have risked it, but I really didn’t want it to come back and bite me. As we headed in the Ennis road, a road I know quite well from going to GAA matches I knew I had one last loop to do before the final trek back to the city centre. We turned sharp right down a short avenue and I was never so happy to feel the full force of the breeze in my face. I knew this meant that once I got past the next corner it would be blowing across for the rest of the race. I took one last gel at around 23.5 miles and just focused, focused, focused.
My pace had gone back to 6.04 & then 6.05 and I was now doing my slowest miles of the race but I think I was still pretty confident of breaking 2.40. My brain was active enough to note my garmin read 25.05 as I passed the 25 mile marker so I checked my time once I got to 25.30 and it read 2.33.30. OK so I needed to run at least a 6.30 last mile. As I had had a few 6.17’s I knew I couldn’t afford to drop off the pace at all.
And then as if from nowhere, an angel appeared in the form of a yellow singlet up ahead. Straight away I zoned in on it like a heat seeking missile. To be honest I didn’t really care if I caught him or not I just had a target. I could see he was struggling as I focused on his back and nothing else. He kept coming closer to me and the city was coming closer to us both. I could hear the cackle from the announcer but I was in a tunnel, with a yellow light at the end of it, drawing me ever closer. Now I was getting greedy, I knew he was within range. News had filtered through to me a few miles back that one of the guys up ahead had dropped out so I knew 5th place was within reach. Finishing time became immaterial. As we reached the bank of Shannon I finally passed my friend and he didn’t react. I was on the bridge now and could see a gantry and for a second thought it was the finish line. It wasn’t however so I just drove on as hard as I could. I just decided to give it everything and when I finally rounded the last corner and searched desperately for the clock, afraid to look at my wrist in case it lied. 2.39.13 with a few meters to go. I made one final push and crossed the line in 2.39.26. YESSSSSS!!!!!
What followed is a bit of a blur, the emotion caught up with me and it was as if every mile I did since the first of January flooded through me. A steward could see this and she sort of said,you’re happy, aren’t you? I smiled and starting talking what was most likely gibberish.
To cut a long story a little shorter, after a quick rub down, I met Paul and hugged him for probably the first time in my life - sober anyway!! We went for a nice lunch and a few beers and then some of the nice tea and sandwiches I ever had.
The course was definitely harder than I expected so was more than happy to break 2.40. Still pinching myself really!
And now? Well at the risk of being self indulgent, to borrow some lines from Denis Allen (well I was on a 6am flight)
"While waking in the arms of distant watersa new day finds me far away from home
and Limerick You're My Lady
the one true love that I have ever known"
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