Buckets of Rain

https://www.strava.com/activities/9910603088

Wweeellll, we are back everybody. We’re back at Buckets of Rain. And today we have a special… SPECIAL guest… It’s me. I am the guest. Alive and well after the Berlin Marathon two weekends ago which, as you will read, is quite the achievement.There were many moments of doubt that I would make it to Berlin, that I would be able to start, let alone finish, the marathon. The long road to becoming PB fit for the marathon took an outrageously bad turn a few weeks ago when all of a sudden (at least it felt suddenly) I was really starting to struggle on long runs and sessions. There was no such issues on easy runs and certainly no issues of motivation. However, any type of steady running or faster was causing major issues with my breathing.

During a long run with Barry and Paddy O’Reilly, I felt under a little bit of pressure after the first 30 mins. The plan was to slightly ramp up the pace every 30 mins (total long run to be 2 hours 15 mins) and with the last 45 mins moving pretty good. After about 30 mins, it was feeling much more difficult than it should have. I kept going for most of the run but the last few kilometres were extremely tough. At part during the last 5k, I was seeing stars, such was the poor state I was in. I sat out the last 4k and only ran 28k. This was the first tangible sign that things weren’t 100% but right but as it was the first, I paid it not much mind. I largely put it down to a hard-ish effort going bad due to not being fuelled correctly and dusted myself off. The next few weeks went largely according to plan and I didn’t think too much about that long run until the DNF at Larne Half Marathon. Again, as the block had been going so well and there had been very few hiccups up until that point, I felt safe enough to chalk it down to just another bad day and move on. At this point, it didn’t achieve anything to dwell on a bad day with Berlin only 4 weeks away.

People think training for a marathon is all encompassing; try not training when you’re supposed to be. Under Seán’s orders, the week after Larne was to be mostly easy so as to not put the body under too much pressure. I ran the Corkagh Park Parkrun on the Saturday in 18:49 and wasn’t as comfortable as I would like. 5k splits for sub 2:40 are just over 19mins so this was a bit of an alarm bell. Still, the next day, I ran 31.76km and felt great but knew that something wasn’t 100%. My breathing was starting to feel like it did in Spring 2021 after I had COVID but I hadn’t been sick at all in the last few weeks. The key session of the block was coming up on the Thursday (4 x 5K off 400m jog) and I knew I had to nail this. And not just nail the session; I needed to also be in a good place after the last rep and knowing that I could continue on at this pace for another 22km. Barry had been recruited to join on the bike for support. During the warmup, my heart rate was a little higher than I would like it to have been but I was putting that down to nerves. I started the session and felt normal enough for the first 2k of the first rep. After that, it felt like I was hanging on. My legs were turning over as I would like them to, my stride felt good and I was up on my toes as I like to be, but it felt like I had just smoked a pack of Johnny Blues such was the awful state of my breathing. I finished the first rep and felt like I was going to pass out. My heart was thumping out of my chest and actually causing me pain. I couldn’t speak. Barry was offering words of encouragement and cajoling me to give another of the 5k reps a shot, which I did, but could barely manage a kilometre before having to pull up. When I did stop, there was some degree of comfort in knowing that a PB wasn’t going to happen in Berlin (at this stage, I didn’t think I’d even make it to the city) and I could focus on what the issue was and getting it sorted. It was a beautiful summer evening, no breeze and the exact kind of warmth that an Irish person can’t say is too hot. Myself and Barry sat out on the grass for ages talking through what we think could be the problem. The only thing we could agree on was that I needed to go see a doctor, which duly followed on the Monday. And to be fair, Emma had been saying something similar to me for a few weeks but I was a late convert to going to a doctor. The 4 x 5km session crystallised the need to do it.

The doctors main concern was my heart and lungs so I was booked in for some cardiac screening in the Beacon Hospital the following week. He also took some bloods and was to call me in a couple days with the results. When he did, we had found (at least part of) the problem. My iron and haemoglobin count in my blood was very, very low and meant that I was anemic (Side bar: A friend and colleague in work always takes the piss out of me by saying I look anemic so I immediately thought of him. Barry also casually said “Could be something like low iron”. Emma probably said something similar, I know Seán had before). The result of the anemia meant blood was not travelling to my muscles and heart quickly enough during exercise and this was resulting in the breathing issues. It is only a problem when the body is under stress so that tied in with my feeling fine on the easy runs. He prescribed me with some supplements to bring the iron levels up and suggested some alterations to the diet to ensure the levels stay elevated. I will have to go back for some more testing in the next few months to confirm the cause of the anemia and if any future treatment is required. The next week, the cardiac screening went well and did not show up any obvious issues there. They also did their own blood tests and confirmed the anemia diagnosis, too. The cardiologist said I was at risk for passing out during strenuous exercise but there is no issue with me running once I am not under too much strain.

And so to Berlin. With (somewhat!) backing from my cardiologist, and with a large push from Emma, I decided I’d give Berlin a crack. The last time I ran a race without a time goal in mind was Clonakilty Marathon in 2019. I thought I would struggle a bit more with going to a race and running within myself but thankfully that did not happen at all. My only plan was to have zero ego and run purely to feel and effort. However, I did write 2:49:30 on my arm with the appropriate splits as I guessed that would be my effort. I was not to put myself under any duress and I was to be sensible enough to ease back significantly if that was what was required. And that is basically what happened.

The whole event was amazing. There is always a sense of anticipation on the way to a marathon and around the start line. People are buzzing, nervous. But Berlin is different. It has all that, it has it on a massive scale. And it also has majesty. You feel like you are part of something much larger than your own race. Carefully prepared video packages that I would usually find very corny are suddenly pulling at the heartstrings. And then as the clock counts down towards the start time of 9:15 and the atmosphere starts to reach fever pitch, Eliud Kipchoge is introduced. The place goes absolutely bonkers. You can barely hear his name or his past accolades being announced by virtue of the crowd screaming. It reminds me of the moment at the end of Amhrán na bhFiann on an All Ireland Final Sunday, just before the final lyric and the there is that momentary pause and the song hits the crescendo, where the sense of occasion has taken over and there is a massive release of energy and screams and everything all of a sudden becomes real. When Kipchoge acknowledged the crowd, the noise became deafening. Runners abound just screaming at the top of their lungs. 30 seconds later and the klaxon goes off; the race begins. Massive flames erupt from the starting gantry, not too dissimilar to some over choreographed opening ceremony of a major football tournament.

We’re off. It takes a couple of minutes before I get across the start line and begin running, such is the number of people and the slim starting blocks (my only complaint of the day). The road soon opens up nice and wide and there is plenty of space then. I do my best to not look at my watch in between splits and to gage pace purely on effort. I find myself in numerous different groups throughout the first half of the race, generally moving up and away from them as they are sticking rigidly to a pace. I also find myself having some lovely chats; one to a guy from Lisburn, another with a woman from Spain. I was having tremendous fun. Emma was dotted around the course and providing drinks with military precision. There was a large contingent of Mexican runners and even more Mexican supporters – every time you passed a group of them it was deafening. In fact, the whole way through the race was so noisy. The route is on main thoroughfares the whole way through Berlin, with tram, bus and train stops everywhere, meaning that spectating is easy and enjoyable.

The race was easy and uncomplicated for 90% of the way through. When I got to 32km, I started paying a little closer attention to the watch as I realised that sub 2:50 was very much on. Considering this time was in reach and was at an effort that was comfortable, I was pretty stoked. The last 10km of any marathon will always provide some challenges and mine came in the form of a decision. At 38km, I could feel I was now working harder than I would like to so I made the decision to ease back a bit so as to not take any risks. As soon as I did this and slowed down a touch, both calves started to cramp. I now had to decide if I was going to push on at the same pace and above the effort I had planned or try and slow down and risk cramping up proper. The body made the decision before I could; there was a risk of having issues with the breathing but it was certain that I would cramp if I changed my gait and slowed down. So I kept going. The last 2km are a little more challenging as the course starts to take a lot of turns as you arrive in downtown Berlin. The final lefthand turn takes you onto a large street on the road to the old East Berlin and facing the Brandenburg Gate. There is a momentous feeling when you see the Brandenburg Gate for the first time. It gives you a bolt of energy as you push towards the end. I knew that the finish line was about 400m past the Brandenburg Gate but I completely forgot this on the approach and for some reason thought it was under the Brandenburg Gate. I found myself in somewhat of a sprint going towards my imaginary finish line, only for my hopes and dreams to be dashed completely when I emerged from the other side and could just about see the finishing gantry in the distance. Oh, the despair. I struggled on for the last 400m and crossed the finish line in 2:49:32, a remarkable 2 seconds off my randomly predicted time of 2:49:30 that I wrote on my arm. I’m not sure if I willed that time into existence, or if I knew on a subconscious level that that pace is the effort I could sustain on the day, but so be it.

There is some buzz after you cross the finish. Everyone is talking about Kipchoge winning again. Everybody is talking about Tigst Assefa obliterating the world record. Everybody is wondering why it takes about 30 minutes of walking to get out the finishing area. I stuck around at the finish line for a few minutes to see people crossing the line and take in some of the emotions on peoples faces. It’s always interesting to see the juxtaposition of people who are ecstatic and people who are devastated with their times crossing the line at the same time. It’s a sight that reinforces how personal and beyond compare the marathon is to each individual person. And with that, I smiled and made my way home.