Buckets of Rain

72nd – 16:28
https://www.strava.com/activities/16663965104

Lots of people race well in the shorter distances off a marathon block, using the strength and fitness that has been developed through the months of high volume and allowing them to perform over a 5K or 10K. Unfortunately, I am so shit at running that I need to be very specific in my training to run in any way decently. Hey, even when I do train specifically, I still run shit. Go figure.

The Jingle Bells 5K is a fixture in the calendar and is always good craic if nothing else. Thankfully, the weather Gods were much kinder this year and even though the wind was tough in some places, it was much improved from the storm of last year. Making it even better was the lovely group we had with us this year, with friends and family all running well.

This was the first race since we have moved to our house in Palmerstown, a cool 2.5KM jog from the Phoenix Park, making travel to races there a logistical joy. For this race, however, I drove myself, Emma and Niamh down as it was pissing rain. I parked up on a side street in Chapelizod and got settled. I went to send Barry a pin to show where we parked and just before I hit send, a Longford registered Renault Clio parked up right beside me. Luxuriating in our decision to park in the exact same place, Barry and I warmed up together along the main road in Chapelizod. We went back to the car to change and then I headed towards the start line solo. I did some strides at about 9:20 and felt a little nervous as I anticipated the pain to come. I got to the start line at 9:25 and found a spot about 10 rows from the front. I was a little concerned at the majority of folk in front of me as I surmised that they would likely need to be overtaken. The Brass Band located to my left started playing, the gun went and we were off.

1st KM – 3:15

The start was chaotic. I was running into the back of people and trying my best to weave but to no avail. After about 300m, I had a little bit of a gap and made a big surge to move up. I looked at my watch and the pace said 2:55 and I realised I was in the midst of making a huge mistake. I slowly backed off that and found a bit of rhythm as we went passed the entrance to the Popes Cross. The road widens here and it is much easier to overtake. I was settling a small bit and started looking around to see if I recognised anyone that I could run with and unfortunately didn’t. Already the breathing felt laboured and the pace was a bit of a shock to the system. I hadn’t done any real speed work recently so I was expecting shock and awe at some stage but was hoping it wouldn’t be within the first kilometre. As I contemplated my impending doom, the watched beeped for a 3:15 first kilometre.

2nd KM – 3:22

We turned left onto Chesterfield Avenue and the head wind was fierce. Definitely not as bad as last year, something I tried to remind myself of mid race, but enough that I was now anxiously searching for a group. There was one guy from MSB and another from Raheny about 10 metres ahead of me and I made a surge to catch up to them. The Raheny lad, I assume not wanting some arsehole to use him as a wind shield, moved out to the side and we were now running side by side. I was shocked and appalled that he wouldn’t aid me in my quest to run fast. The three of us were now in a little pack with Sorcha Nic Dhomhnaill a little bit ahead of us. The wind was really shit and I felt like I was redlining already. I was checking the watch and at some points the pace was showing 3:35, giving me brief cause for concern that I would even finish this race if I’m not even through 2 kilometres, I can’t breathe and I’m running 3:35s. By the grace of God, the watched beeped for a very surprising 3:22 second kilometre.

3rd KM – 3:19

3:22 isn’t great but it’s much better than what I was expecting 40 seconds ago. We took the left at the Ashtown round about and the really bad wind was no longer in our faces, but gusting to the side. Our little pack of 3 had caught up to another couple people and I immediately recognised Ger Clerkin who I ran with in Ratoath in September. He was moving well and no sooner had we caught him did he begin the process of unceremoniously dropping us. The Raheny man was able to stick with him but myself and Mr MSB didn’t go with the move. I felt like I was starting to rally a small bit at this point. And by rally, I mean the signs of death were not getting worse, meaning I was able to hold this effort for a little while longer, but I was fully unsure that I would be able to pick it up at all. As the junction for the Furze Road was coming into sight, the watch beeped for a 3:19 kilometre.

4th KM – 3:19

If you’re feeling good, this is where the fun begins. You are at the top of the hill that will carry you the whole way down to 200 metres before the finish line. It is the place where moves start to happen and if you have in any way paced this race well, you’ll be able to start moving. Unfortunately for me, nothing started to happen and I was hanging on for dear life. The pounding was starting to feel hard on my legs and I was really struggling to breathe. I hadn’t felt this much pure physical discomfort in a long time and just wanted to get home. Usually this part of the course flies but it was dragging for an unmercifully long time. I could feel some people coming up on my shoulder and likely getting ready to pass me and the ego kicked in a small bit and I started to fight a little bit against the pain. At the entrance to the Furry Glen, the watched beeped for a 3:19 kilometre.

5th KM – 3:09

The decline REALLY begins now. You can see right down to the bottom of the road and it’s basically all downward running from here. I didn’t look at the watch at all and I thought I was going faster than the eventual split was, such was the feeling of pain and how I felt my legs were turning over. A couple of people went past me at this stage as they had clearly raced this cleverly. My MSB partner was one of these people and he slowly began to move away and I had to let him go. With about 400 metres to go, the road levels out a small bit before the final turn left and onto the 200 metre finishing chute. Once I took the left and caught sight of the finishing gantry, I got a little spurt of energy and start pumping the arms and lifting the knees. To my surprise, I started making up ground and was reeling in runners ahead of me, including Mr MSB. With about 50 metres to go, all energy evaporated from my body and I began to almost slow to a walk. I didn’t catch any of the group ahead of me and only barely held of the group I dropped 200 metres ago. It was a poorly timed sprint and I crawled over the line in 16:28.

I did the classic runners stance post hard effort and arched my back 90 degrees, put my hands on my knees and prayed to God that my breath would come back. It didn’t quite happen there because the stream of runners crossing the finish line were going to pile into me so I got up and started walking away from the finish line. Not dejected. Not satisfied. Just accepting and moving forward.

I was first of the group to cross the line, with Barry close behind in 17:02. We picked up our cups and headed back to watch the rest of the group cross the line and have the customary debrief about how hard 5Ks are with me concluding that I never want to run one ever again.