Dublin Marathon

About 7 months ago, Gearoid and I decided to sign up for the Dublin Marathon. We’ve both wanted to run a marathon for different reasons. Gearoid wanted to get in shape and I wanted to add it to my list of things I’ve accomplished in life.  Around mile 17 I was seriously questioning my motives but more on that later.

We look so hopeful and happy unaware of what we're about to put ourselves through.

Gearoid in his bin liner. We had to check our warm clothes in and still had some time before the race. The liner was supposed to keep him warm. I saved mine for later when the heavens opened up and unloaded the sky. Of course, the days before and after the race were clear and sunny.

Timeline of a Marathon- 10/31/2011

·         The marathon for the slow runners began at 10AM. Everyone else got to go before us. After checking in my bag and making one last trip to the porta-potty I found my way to the very back of the crowd and nervously stretched.

·         Mile 1- We inched forward until there was finally space for us to properly run. We ran through the crowded streets of downtown Dublin being cheered on enthusiastically by well-wishers. Yay! Only 25.2 miles to go!

·         Mile 2- My excitement and the feeling of being a rock star (thanks to the cheering crowds) had me reach the second mile quicker than I planned. I slowed down (yes, it was possible for me to run slower without walking) and began my intervals. During my 6 month training program, I did my long runs in 3 minute run/1 minute walk intervals and planned to do the marathon in this same fashion.

·         Miles 3-5- We ran through nice neighborhoods, had our first water break, and entered Phoenix Park. I saw a man who had passed me earlier, taking a smoke break after mile 3 as well as a man dressed like Bender the robot from Futurama. There was typical Irish misty rain but it felt good, almost like a mister on a hot day at Disneyworld. At the five mile mark they had our current time. I was at the one hour mark which is really good for me- a little too good.

·         Mile 6-7- Wow, Phoenix Park is beautiful and I’m strong and fast and I’ve become one of those freaks who smiles while running. Let me stretch a little to get perspective.

·         Mile 8- still smiling and singing some Queen songs under my breath- by the looks I got- maybe not so much under my breath. Yay! Only 18.2 miles to go. I’m still doing good.

·         Mile 9- Holy F**k, we’re out of the park and this is a big hill. Just walk up, you can run the downhill.

·         Mile 10- Wow, still walking up a hill. My time is still good only 2 minutes over 2 hours. (Tiny negative voice in my head whispers- you can quit. Larger more positive voice says- you can do this!).

·         Mile 11- This downhill is not worth the effort I expended going up the hill. Oh, 15.2 miles to go. Yay?

·         Mile 12.8- The bottom of my shoe starts falling off.  It fell off 3 days before but Gearoid had carefully super-glued it back for me. The super-glue decided it was done with the marathon.

·         Mile 13.1- ripped off the bottom of my shoe and stuck it in a random pocket on my running shirt. Tiny voice gets louder- broken shoe means you can legitimately quit. Louder voice says heck no- I trained too long for this. Although my reaction at the halfway point is not- yay! I’m half way through. More like- shit I’m only half way through.

·         Miles 14-16- Lots of positive self-talk: It’s ok if you take a long time. It’s ok that the 70 year old man, the smokers, the man dressed like a robot beat you. This is your race. You just want to finish.  Lots of negative self-talk: 10.2 more miles left! Why did I agree to do this? I hurt. This is stupid. F**k you, smiling people. Attempts at Positive self-talk: Don’t cry Natasha. Get a hold of yourself. Smile for the camera.

·         It starts really raining- not fine Irish mist but down and out pouring during miles 15-21. I put on a trash bag and mainly stay dry.

·         Miles 17-20- Mostly walking/hobbling with occasional attempts to jog. Walking speed is now faster than running speed. I just keep putting one foot forward and urge myself not to spontaneously burst into sobbing fits at the distance I still have left. Thoughts running through my head are now more like: This is the worst moment of my life! This is a stupid thing to have on a bucket list! I will never recommend this to anyone! It’s not worth it! I hate everyone! Oh my god, I still have 6.2 miles to go (choke back sob). However, when the sobbing is close to overtaking me, I see a random Irish person standing in the road in the rain smiling at me and cheering me on. It does give me some extra strength. Especially when I have to go up a hill with a big sign that says Heartbreak Hill.

·         Mile 21- Rain slows down, someone asks me again if I’m ok when I stop to stretch, and I give my first genuine smile when a volunteer giving me a water bottles cheers- “only 5 (.2) more miles!” Yay! Only 5 more miles.

·         Miles 22-24- Pain, hurt, don’t cry, keep moving, there’s a 90 year old man passing you, don’t stress, just finish, one foot in front of the other, oh- It stopped raining a long time ago. I can take off my trash bag now.

·         Mile 24-25- People who finished the race and are walking back to their homes/hotels are wearing their metals and have their goody bags slung over their shoulders. Some are walking and some are limping. Back in downtown Dublin, the crowds are bigger again. Some guys offer me a pint. I smile/grimace at them. People are cheering, “You’re almost there. It’s so close.” But it’s not. They act like when I turn the corner the balloon finish line will be there. But it’s not. It’s the longest corner I’ve ever turned. F**k you people! It’s not there! I can’t see the balloons! When will this be over?! Don’t cry Natasha.

·         Mile 26- Only 0.2 miles to go. I run again. People cheer.

·         Mile 26.2 miles- I manage to smile and run/stumble into Gearoid’s waiting arms. “Why did I agree to do this?” I sob. His smile evaporates into worry. He says,” Don’t cry, you’re finished.” We then head to the first aide tent so I can sit and stretch (after I collect my metal and goody bag which contains a size XS shirt because the people who finish last are the ones who need the extra small shirts (not)). I apparently look like a disaster and am making my whimpering don’t-sob-noises because I’m approached by a paramedic who asks me what’s wrong. “I hurt all over,” I whine. He needs something specific to help me so I say something specific hurts and after giving a medical history I get an Advil from him.

·         10 minutes later we walk out of the tent and the marathon is being packed up. I was so slow I practically ended the race. Ok, other people are still running but it’s dark, tents were being taken down, etc. I tell Gearoid I need to go tell the participants still running that the crowds are lying. They are not almost done. The finish line and balloons are farther than the crowd promises they will be. Obviously my mental state is compromised at this point. So instead we get a snack to eat while we wait for the bus home.

·         The rest of the night and the next day we can hardly move. Hobbling and shuffling are more accurate descriptions of how we get from point A to B. Everything hurts but I can eat chocolate and French fries without guilt for once in my life. I mean I just did a marathon!

The only picture we have of the finish line. Gearoid was too tired after his race to think of taking any pictures of the crowds and the finish line. When I finished there weren't anymore crowds or a finish line.We also wanted to take "after" pictures to go with the "before" pictures but we were too tired to remember. Just imagine me with a red face, half crying, sprawled out on a coach with my Old Navy reindeer pajama bottoms on. That is the most accurate "after" picture I can provide.