October 29th 2017
Niall Doyle
BIB : 437
After a good night's sleep (aided by the hour going back) I rose at 7am. Body weight was 80.1kg before breakfast. Everything was prepared the day before so after a small bowl of pasta I left the house at 7.30. Roads were clear and I got into town and parked on Fitzwilliam Lane before 8.00. I had been sipping away at my water bottle since waking but was anxious not to over hydrate. It felt good to mingle amongst the other runners and after I did my bag drop I wandered up to the junction of Fitzwilliam Street and Merrion Square. I felt good. Very focused. I spotted familiar faces from other races earlier in the year. The weather was overcast with occasional spots of rain with temperatures of about 12. No appreciable wind. I stretched a little without overdoing it. My right calf which had been concerning me since the day before seemed to be more settled. It was about 8.15 by now and after a trip to the toilet I strolled up to the Start. There was a palpable air of nervous energy as the throngs of runners amassed. The emcee was in full flow with his announcements. I decided to go beyond the barrier at Fitzwilliam Square and find some time to spend on my own, do a little more light stretching and relieve myself.
With about 15 minutes to go I moved my way back into the coral of runners and made my way determinedly towards the sub 3 pacers who assured me they would be running even splits 'as much as possible'. I discarded the old garments and flung them to the side. I felt good. Ready. The siren blared to start the race and we were off. It was the usual side stepping and frenetic pace to begin with. I was focusing on keeping close to the pacers but the three of them were spaced apart from each other and proved difficult to get to. They seemed to be going at faster than marathon pace but I was comfortably managing to keep them in my sights. I went through Mile 1 in 6:44 (HR 151), just a little ahead of marathon pace.
The early miles were without incident, a minor climb from St Patrick's Cathedral to Christchurch before a descent down to quays and on over James Joyce Bridge. The biggest problem was congestion. I managed to stick with one of the Sub 3 pacers and was running strongly. Miles 2 (6.41, HR 163) and 3 (6.48, HR 167).
It was still very congested by the time we entered the Phoenix Park (I was twice clipped from behind) and so for the first time I found myself moving ahead of the pacers just to ‘get some road'. The pacers were still finding their feet too as the pace fluctuated a little. Sometimes they'd be ahead of me, other times I was ahead of them. Mile 4 (6.40, HR 167) felt a little pacy but not excessive. I took some water from fellow runners but didn't gravitate towards the stations seeking it (nor will I in the early stages of future marathons as it's too messy and congested.) Running up Chesterfield Avenue I felt strong. I know this Park backwards and so there was few surprises it could have thrown at me. Halfway up the Avenue at mile 5 (6:47, HR 167) there was the first of the Cheering Zones. I can remember the DJ calling out to the Sub 3 group as we passed as well as the sustained cheering of the crowds on either side of the Avenue. I can recall feeling very composed and perhaps encouraged by my general sense of well being stepped to the left of the road to get some free road but immediately ducked back in again as I was met by a strong enough head wind. I was happy to take the cover offered by the peloton. I was all about running as efficiently as possible and any sort of impediment was to be shunned. At mile 6 (6:44, HR 168) I made a slight adjustment to my plans and took the first of my gels instead of waiting to Mile 7. My logic here was that I had set off faster than I had intended and felt that my body would appreciate the boost at 40min 20sec rather than waiting to find out if I had made a mistake at approximately 47min. It instantly felt like I had made the right decision - not because I had a sudden power surge - but because I had been decisive.
I had put about twenty meters between myself and the pacers by the time we had exited the park and entered Castleknock. I got some water at Mile 7 (6.45, HR 170), no more than a mouthful and pressed on. The next couple of mile were quick with some descents, Mile 8 was clocked at 6.34 (HR 167) with Mile 9 turning out to be my fastest mile of the race at 6.29 (HR 167). By now I was back in the Park and had just started running in the company of a guy called Richie. We seemed to have a similar pace, and after introducing ourselves and establishing that we were both targeting sub 3, slotted in next to each other and got into a rhythm.
Out the Chapelizod Gate, over the Bridge and through Mile 10 (6.36. HR 166), another fast one, we cautioned each other to 'take a step' i.e. slow the pace slightly. I still felt strong but was anxious that these fast miles would take their toll later in the race. Despite a couple of climbs on the St Lawrence Road and on into Sarsfield Road I felt strong - we were managing to hold snatches of conversation which indicated, to me at least, that we were in good shape. At Mile 11 (6.46, HR 171) I reached down into my right sock and retrieved a gel. It meant stopping for the briefest of moments and while it didn't phase me unduly I think it's revealing that I left the other gel in my left sock for the rest of the race preferring to take on-course gels rather than break my rhythm again. I took some more water on board, I may have thrown some over my head at this stage. I wasn't heating up but it was warmer that I had expected and so I think I may have felt a cooling off splash would be a good call. Not something I would normally do, but again here I was trusting my instincts. It was as much about being precautionary as it was about being restorative in any way. Mile 12 was breached in 6.40 (HR 170). On through Inchicore we surged. It felt great, the crowds were amazing and I was really getting a charge out of them. Hanging a narrow right at Dolphin's Barn they were right in on top of you and I pumped my arm at them and let out a roar which drew a cheer out of the crowd. I was flying. I felt utterly in control. I was banking time and still feeling strong! Mile 13 and more symbolically the halfway point was clocked at 6.33 (HR 171). We were going too fast and perhaps it was the long drag of the Crumlin Road, or a little bit of over exuberance snapping us back to reality, but Mile 14 was a far more stately 6.51 (second slowest mile of the race) (HR 173). I wasn't alarmed in the drop off in pace. I welcomed the break. And besides even my slow miles were within my targeted marathon pace.
It was round about mile 15 (6.43, HR 172)) when I became alarmed by a pain in the sole of my right foot. It only lasted for about a minute or so but it was acute (similar I suppose to cramp) and it particularly concerned me as I had never experienced it before. I decided the best course of action was just to ignore it and thankfully it passed. Onto mile 16 (6.42, HR 171) at Kimmage Road West and I grabbed two gels as I passed the on-course stations and took one of them on board. It’s hard to recall accurately at what points I took water on board, but I took them regularly without ever over doing it. Despite consuming five gels I didn't suffer any stomach cramps or stitches throughout the race.
Down to the KCR, my brother Eoin and his son Hugo along with his father-in-law were there to cheer me on, a quick smile and wave and I was off up the Fortfield Road (Mile 17, 6.43, HR 172) looking forward to seeing my girls and my coach but due to the crowds and the noise, along with the low, dazzling sun I didn't spot them. Again I didn't let this phase me. I had my game face on. I was here on business and I was now entering my favourite stretch of the race, the downhill mile into Terenure on the carpet that is the Templeogue Road. My enjoyment of this section was slightly disturbed by the fact that I had become detached from Richi. I turned around and beckoned for him to catch up but there was a growing 10 metres developing and I made the decision to press on again. It was a bit of a wrench. I knew he wanted to break 3 hours, and that he had suffered some traumatic emotional trials over the past 10 months, but I'm nothing if not ruthless in my pursuit of a goal and as I came into Terenure I had resolved to run the rest of the race alone. A couple of colleagues cheered me on at Cripps, and it was great to see my folks out on the pavement to cheer me on as I passed by their house. Mile 18 half way down Terenure Road East came in at 6.40 (HR 172) and I felt strong rounding the corner at Rathgar onto Orwell Road.
I knew I was about to enter the crucible; the last 8 miles. I knew I was ahead of schedule and was encouraged by how strong I felt. I also couldn't help noticing that I was passing far more fellow competitors at this stage, some of whom had clearly gone out to hard and were now paying the price. I was still enjoying the run! Sure my quads were being worked like they'd never been worked before, but thanks to all the training I'd done they felt up to the challenge.
I picked up a couple of gels at mile 19 (6.41, HR 173) on Orwell Park. I figured I'd need them to get me to the end of the race. It was a welcome downhill into Milltown before the short sharp incline of about 150 meters - I decided not to shirk it, preferring to maintain rhythm and confidence over any negligible returns for easing off. Anyway, the real test would be coming up so if I couldn't manage a short climb I would be in trouble. As the Miltown Road plateaued off I passed the 20 mile mark (6.38, HR 173) - a psychologically significant point - down to the last few miles and if I could hold it all together I knew Sub 3 was manageable. All along the Clonskeagh Road I continued to pass runners, some of whom I recognized from earlier in the race. This felt really good. It reinforced my belief that my training was solid. It’s a long 1.5 mile slog up the Clonskeagh Road onto Roebuck Road (Mile 21, 6.42, HR 174) & Mile 22, 6.43, HR 177) and so when I got to the corner of Foster's Avenue I rewarded myself with a gel whilst appreciating the downhill stretch. The crowds were amazing here creating a deafening noise which both lifted me and distracted me (briefly) from all the effort I was putting myself through. As I passed Mile 23 (6.38, HR 176) on the Stillorgan Road I began to break it down even more. Just three miles to go and I was clocking miles 10 seconds inside marathon pace! I began to ponder a late surge. How quick could I go? Another welcome downhill on Nutley Lane as I passed the 24 mile mark in 6.39 (HR 177). I was flying.
Out on to the Merrion Road and the final two miles - surely I could put the foot down? But whilst I was still passing runners, I too was beginning to be passed by strong finishers, and for the first time in the race I began to feel spent. I just didn't have it in me to fight back and maintain the pace that I had comfortably managed up until now. Mile 25 (6.50.8, HR 177) was my third slowest mile of the race. I hesitate to say I was hanging on, but I definitely wouldn't have liked to have been in the condition I now found myself in at mile 20. Up Northumberland Road, my quads burning, the crowds roaring, the marker signs increasing in frequency; 800 meters to finish, Mile 26, my slowest mile of the race (6.52.4, HR 179), 400 meters to finish. I was definitely going to break 3 hours but by how much? Some guys flashing by me somehow managing to summon a sprint finish prompted me to try and emulate them. I ‘went for it’ and thought I heard a cheer go up in response to my 'sprint finish' but I couldn't, simply couldn't, sustain it. I managed about 30 meters before retreating to something approaching marathon pace, I rallied again in the last 200 meters for another few yards sprint before emptying. I could see the finish line drawing ever closer. I was looking for a clear path to give it one last blast. Inside, along the rail I found such a stretch and barrelled my way over the finish line. I stopped my watch. I had achieved what I had set out to do and felt a deep sense of satisfaction, and gratitude to my coach, Dave Bradshaw, for having done so. Mission accomplished. For now.
Postscript
When I got home I weighed myself and after a post race beer I weighed 77.4kg
Calories burnt: 3558
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