https://www.strava.com/activities/11028294089
This is the second PB of the year after the 10 mile in Trim but it definitely feels like I left a lot out there. As usual, I was manifesting phantom niggles and thinking I had no fitness on the day before the race. On the morning of, I woke up super early and had my porridge and a coffee 3.5 hours before the start of the race. All the entrants received a text on the evening before the race alerting us to road closures that would have a big impact on travelling to the start line so, with that in mind, I was planning to leave super early with Conor to make sure we get a good parking spot and wouldn’t be under any pressure. With having more time at the race prior to it starting, I put myself in a pickle before I left the house thinking I hadn’t ate enough. I agonised for (literally) 20 minutes on whether or not to have a bagel or not and settled on having one half. I decided against having another coffee and off I went.
Predictably, we arrived in lots of time, so much so that I think Conor thought the race started an hour earlier than it did, such was the sheer amount of time we had until the gun went. We pottered around for a while and then went for a warm up. I was feeling a little bloated on the warmup and was regretting the half bagel I ate before I set off. I also needed to expel a deuce but was having no luck in that regard. It’s crazy how much the pre race poo matters in my psyche and with being unable to do it, I was really nervous, fearing I would have to pull up once I started moving in the race. Even during the pre race strides, I was just waiting for the familiar feel of the bubbles in the stomach that come before the inevitable pitstop. I’m not sure why I felt constipated, or bloated, but I really don’t think it was to do with the bagel or the lack of coffee. I’ll think more on that later.
Also, spoiler alert; I didn’t shit myself.
First 5K – 16:46
The start of the race was a bit chaotic due to some strange stewarding. I had positioned myself in the second row but by the time the gun went, there were about 100 people in front of me. Not sure how it happened but it didn’t have any impact. The first kilometre is downhill into the town and I ran without paying too much attention to the watch and split 3:18. It was at this point, when the watch beeped, that I looked up and realised that I was sitting on the shoulder of the 2023 3,000m national champion, and DTC member who I ran one Sunday long run with back in October 2022, Cheryl Nolan. Did Cheryl remember me? Most likely not. Is she a quality athlete? She certainly is. I decided at that moment to stick on Cheryl’s shoulder for as long as I could with hope of being dragged around this race and her doing all the work. That lasted for all of 2K, for after I split my 3rd kilometre of 3:23, Cheryl was steadily pulling away from me and I found myself in that age old dilemma that I constantly find myself in of not making a move, of not taking a chance, and sticking on a group. I let Cheryl and a couple other lads go and found myself all alone in the lanes of Dunboyne. A quick look behind me had a group of about 10 lads 30 metres away, far too much to consider slowing down. At this point, we had already crested the only climb on the course (from 1K to 2K) so I made the decision to lock into the effort and not focus on the watch until 5K and at that point take stock. The next few kilometres passed without any fanfare. I was running at what I would consider to be my max effort for a 10K. I knew I had to be splitting under 17 minutes to come in for 33:55 (the goal I had set myself) so I was happy (for a moment) when at 5K the watch split for 16:46.
Second 5K – 17:32
I was pretty thrilled to see the watch tell me I had ran the first 5K in 16:46 because it was well under my target time, the hardest part of the course was behind me and I now had a cushion of a few seconds should I slow over the last 5K. I am never one for banking time deliberately, I think it’s far too risky and for me it’s stupid, but now that I had done it I was telling myself I was great. The 6th kilometre was 3:25 and the slowest of the race so far. The group who were 30m behind me were now sitting on my shoulder and it was only a matter of time before they would go past me. My legs never felt under pressure during the second half but I started to feel heavy. My breathing was laboured and from just after the 6th K, I knew the death march home was incoming. The brain did its usual thing and I contemplated stepping off to the side, such was the distress my body was now under. Again, my legs still felt ok, but from my waist up I was in all sorts of distress. The 7th kilometre was a 3:29 and the 8th was a 3:33. The engine lights were now coming on and I was deep in the hurt locker. Being so close to home, any thoughts of dropping out were put aside as I knew I would at least make it to the finish line alive. But such was my discomfort, and even though I was checking the watch every minute between the 7th and 8th kilometres, I completely fucked up my calculations and thought I was going to finish mid 35 minutes. It’s rare I would make that sort of mistake (just ask Barry) but mistake I did make. My 9th kilometre was 3:31, somewhat of an improvement, and at this point the group who had passed me were now coming back to me. The maths was now also not complicated – run at least under 3:30 and I will be there or thereabouts for a PB. The new lease of life set in and I just focused on form and getting home. Conor and I warmed up on the last kilometre of the race so the surroundings were familiar, which definitely helped. A friend of a friend who I run with at races was in the group ahead and when I caught up to Bernard, he urged me on and told me to kick. This was about 500m to go and now the crowds were building on the road ahead of the left turn into the track. Once you get onto the track, it’s 300m clockwise around to the finish. The infield was crammed with supports and some familiar faces were urging me on. Feidhlim Kelly was on the microphone as MC and no sooner had I entered the track, he gave me, the “man from Lucan Harriers”, a big shoutout on the mic and that put some juice in the legs to close hard. I had caught a Raheny athlete on the penultimate turn and to his credit, he stepped into the outer lane and let me take the inner line. I turned around the final bend and could see the clock on the gantry and knew I was home in a PB of 34:18.
There were mixed emotions at the finish line. I felt good the last few weeks, I had a disturbed week of training, I was in good fettle for the first half of the race and then faded badly (46 second slower second half) throughout. Once I got my breath back, my legs and body felt great. On the warm down with Seán, I didn’t feel heavy anymore, which makes me think it is more in my head than what I am eating. It’s good to see the fitness is coming on but I was hoping to go quicker and for it not to feel as hard as it did. However, I won’t be too upset with a PB, even if it is marginal. It bodes well for the year as I have had 3 pretty good races now since Christmas. Ultimately, Dublin Marathon is the goal for the year and this is another rung on the ladder towards that race. It was also great to finally come up against Seán in a good honest race; him finishing 1st and me finishing 83rd. I guess there are levels.
Buckets of Rain 