A Personal Dublin Marathon Race Report by Peter Delmer

Peter in Dublin 2005

To say I was well tapered for this race was an understatement – although the training had gone well all summer, the last four or five weeks saw a major drop off in mileage. Each year it’s the same thing – I set out to do eighteen weeks of hard training for Dublin but with a month or so to go my enthusiasm drops. I get it hard to keep getting out there every morning especially as the darkness persists later into my morning runs during late September and October. Each year I swear that I’ll only train for twelve weeks next year, but come early June I can’t resist – I just have to start training for Dublin. Next year I’ll probably repeat the pattern.

Standing on the line in Dublin, I was pretty relaxed. Some years I’m wound up like a spring coil – other years I’m too relaxed. In the warmth of the crowd on Monday I was a happy medium. I was looking forward to the race, but was not too obsessed with achieving a target time. I chatted easily with Mick Rice, Tom Hunt and Tommy Joe Whyte as we waited twenty minutes for the gun.

In early summer I set a 2hr50min target for myself. Sometimes a goal becomes all-consuming and you think of little else, but this time the 2:50 target never really took hold of me. I found that as the weeks went by I was consistently re-setting and re-evaluating it. Having run 2:51:32 in Edinburgh in June 2005 a sub 2:50 was definitely possible, but the fact was I had not run a marathon in anger since Edinburgh. A long bout of knee trouble last year meant that I had not attacked 26.2 in almost eighteen months – I ran Dublin last year but not at full throttle.

During my five week ‘taper’ my goal drifted out to 2:55, especially after a short bout of illness ten days before the race. A pep talk with Mick was all I needed to knock that idea on the head though and I settled on a 2hr 51 goal. That would be a personal best for the distance but didn’t scare me as much as sub 2:50.

In pretty ideal conditions – warm and bright with a bit of a breeze – we shuffled forward and hit the start line 15 seconds after the gun. The first half-mile was the usual mass of bodies, but this year thankfully I didn’t get seriously obstructed and was quickly into my running. I was very impressed with the drummers on the corner of Nassau Street beating out a noisy rhythm to stir the blood and get us going. Pity there weren’t more drummers during the hard miles later in the race.

The plan was simple – try to hit a 6:32 pace for every mile up to 20 miles. After that a 6:30 pace would take me home in 2hrs51. Usually Mick and I share the same pace and run together but this year I felt that I would not be up to his standard so we planned to go it alone. However, having run so many races together we found ourselves side-by-side during the first mile. Tom Hunt came with us but wished us well and dropped back a bit after a mile or so. We passed our elite team-mate, Ray, along Pearse street and we tried to find a rhythm.

Slow at first, I clocked 6:44 and 6:39 before getting it right by hitting 6:29 for the third mile. We were now running along the North Circular Road towards Phoenix Park and steadily climbing. When we entered the park it was apparent that the fine weather had brought out a lot of support. We were clapped and cheered along our way and the occasional “C’mon Athenry” always lifts the spirit.

Mick and I passed the 5-mile mark in 32:38 – two seconds inside my target time. Just after the 10k mark we joined a group of runners including Fergal Geraghty of Galway City Harriers. The banter was good at that stage and everybody’s spirits were high; they commented on the fact that Athenry AC were well positioned for a team prize with Paul Mc running with the lead runners up front. We shot down any suggestion that we had medal chances but if the truth were known, we had an eye on a bronze team position. However with less than seven miles completed I put all thoughts of that out of my head and just enjoyed the run.

We swept easily through the park and I was really enjoying the run. Mick is always a slow starter and it often takes him ten miles to get into his running. I was a bit worried that we were still together as I felt that he should have been a minute or so ahead of me, but he assured me that this was all he had at this stage and he seemed happy to keep going at our 6:30 pace. As we left the park and turned for Chapelizod I noticed that I was about 20 seconds ahead of my target.

The first test on the Dublin Marathon route is a steep climb after crossing the Liffey and running under the Dublin-Galway road. The hill is steep but not too long. My watch registered a 6:38 mile at the nine-mile mark and now I began to have the first signs of tiredness. We passed a woman ringing a bell along Sarsfield Road, on the way into Inchicore. I have seen the same lady, ringing her bell, every year and cheering on all comers. A few miles back a middle aged man with a large beer-belly had cheered us on, by squeezing a squeaky toy, sitting on his steps on the North Circular Road – drums, squeaks and bell chimes – we’ll take all plaudits.

We hit the ten-mile mark in 1:04:48 and I was 30 seconds ahead of schedule. I now began to worry a little that while Mick had ran at my pace for quite some time, perhaps I was moving too quickly now and we were beginning to run at his pace. The tenth mile was covered in 6:20 so I told Mick that I was pulling back a bit and I consciously eased off a bit. As we passed Kilmainham Gaol Clodagh, Paul’s fiancée, was there to take a snap and shout for Athenry. She was racing around on her bicycle to cheer us on at various points along the route. She had been there at the Park exit and now again at Kilmainham.

Now we were running towards Dolphin’s Barn and I was happier with the 6:25 split at eleven miles. I found myself at the back of a small group of five or six runners led by Mick. We turned right onto Crumlin Road and into a stiff head-wind. Everybody instinctively lined up in single file in order to get some shelter from the runner just ahead. I decided to abandon my ‘slow down’ strategy, as it was much better to run in a group than to take the full force of the wind a few yards behind the group. This section lasted for about two miles and I actually gained a position or two as a few runners began to fade. Soon I had moved close enough to notice that Mick was doing the lion’s share of the work up-front and nobody was willing to take up the running into the wind. I moved up ahead of Mick and allowed him to rest in a bit as we approached Walkinstown Roundabout. I recorded 6:41 and 6:48 splits up to mile-thirteen so that I was six seconds ahead of schedule as we passed the half-way point in 1:25:30.

My Dad and his friend Tom were there at the half-way mark. You have mixed feelings when you pass people you’re close to – although it’s a real boost to recognise a face in the crowd, you almost feel like you should stop for a chat after they had made all that effort to be there to support you. I didn’t stop.

Having run two splits above my target pace I decided to push on a bit as we turned sharp left onto Cromwellsfort Road and out of the head-wind. I was overtaken by a Northern Irish runner and decided to sit in with him and pick up the pace. Most runners click their watch at the half-way point to get an accurate measure for posterity. The problem with this is that at the fourteen-mile marker I was unsure of my pace as I was seeing a 0.9 mile split. Mick let a roar at me though and told me I’d just done a 6:10 mile! I found that very hard to believe but the guy behind Mick said it was 6:15 so I braked hard. I decided that I had got a bit carried away and that I really needed to get back on a sensible pace. As it turned out, both Mick and his running companion were wrong – the split was 6:23 – a little too fast but not insane. In any case I let the Northern guy off and I continued on my merry way in good shape and in good spirits.

At the fifteen-mile mark I was just over 30 seconds ahead of target. Mick had passed me and was a few yards ahead. I consciously decided not to close the gap – if I’m well ahead of schedule with a lot of miles still to run why would I push on to stay with Mick? The plan was to keep this truck rolling until the twenty mile mark and then push for home. Experience told me that 15 to 20 can be tough miles.

Along Templeogue Road I tried to assess my situation. I was beginning to notice the balls of my feet were getting hot due to the reduced cushioning in my racing shoes. I was still moving comfortably however and had taken on water at every aid station. I’m a big fan of carbohydrate gels and had taken one at six and twelve miles, but despite this I was noticing the first effects of carb depletion – a slight sensation of light headedness. I recorded a 6:28 split at mile-sixteen. Mick was now seven seconds ahead and the gap was slowly increasing.

Somewhere before the seventeen-mile mark Fergal Geraghty, who I hadn’t seen since the Phoenix Park, joined me. We ran side-by-side for a while and he suggested that we work together. I explained that all I could do was to try to keep the pace going for as long as possible and Fergal was more than happy with that as a strategy. It certainly helped to have company and we ran three miles at 6:23 pace as we approached Clonskeagh and the long climb. I knew that I was running faster than planned but decided that that was what my body was comfortable with and so the brain took second place. More gel and onwards towards the hill.

At this point I realised that this was Fergal’s first marathon, so I began to talk him through what lay ahead. I told him of the long climb to the twenty-mile mark but assured him that while it was long, it wasn’t steep. It sounded good but still I worried about it myself. As we began the climb I felt that Fergal was running better than I. We ran side-by-side but I felt that he was pulling me along. I worked hard and the split at twenty miles was 6:47. I was now almost a minute ahead of plan having hit twenty miles at 2:10:40 and was beginning to think about a sub-2:50 run. We still had the rest of the hill to negotiate however and Fergal noticeably balked a bit when we rounded a bend and saw the steepest part of the hill. One final push and we were up it. Now the bodies were beginning to pile up – we had passed somebody walking on the hill and a few more runners looked in poor shape. A sharp left and we ran downhill towards the Stillorgan Dual Carraigeway.

We passed the twenty-one mark and my brain switched into an altogether more serious mode. I now believed that I could break 2hrs50 and I began to push for home. Five miles to go and I was still in reasonably good shape. Fergal matched me stride for stride.

The increased effort did not actually make me run faster – but it was required to keep me on pace. On flat ground 6:26, 6:26, 6:29, 6:28 – now I was running in automatic and the miles passed at a remarkably even speed. In Ballsbridge I passed the twenty-four mile mark and realised that Fergal had dropped back a little. By now Mick was 30 seconds ahead of me. I could see him but there was no chance that I could catch him. Brian O’Connor appeared on the road and began to encourage me as I struggled over the canal bridge. As I moved past him, Philip Magnier was there to shout me on. All words of encouragement were gratefully accepted and then a Dublin man on the side of the road noticed my Athenry singlet and said we were in silver position for the team event! I didn’t need much more encouragement and pushed on for home. Johnny O’Connor was there to give me a boost as I approached 25 miles. I didn’t look at the watch but despite the support my pace had dropped a little to 6:34. I was knackered and slowing a little but felt that I was speeding up!

As I turned the corner to begin the loop around Trinity College I spotted my Dad and Tom in the crowd. I high-fived my Father and heard him roar me on and then the strangest thing happened. The last mile had been a rising crescendo of emotion as I passed friendly face-after-face, all willing me to do well. The noise levels were at an all time high as a big crowd cheered the runners through the twenty-five mile mark at the turn onto Westland Row. Spotting my Dad seemed to really give me a boost and suddenly I couldn’t catch my breath. For the full length of Westland Row I wheezed and whistled in order to get oxygen into my lungs. This was a first for me and all I knew was that I had to calm down in order to be able to breath again. Eventually as I turned onto Pearse Street my breathing returned to normal and on I went.

After the emotional high, running Pearse Street was just sheer hard work. The support drops off to nothing and you realise there’s still a mile to go. I rounded College Green and felt very tired entering Nassau Street. All I wanted to do was stop but that wasn’t going to happen. I had been passing a few runners and just kept my mind on getting ahead of the guys infront of me. Another 6:34 brought me to the twenty-six mark and the push for home. I raced infront of another runner and as I turned right to see the finish line all I could see was the clock… 2:49:55 … sprint! I pushed and pushed but watched in agony as the clock ticked past 2:50:00. I realised as I crossed the line though, that my chip time would be under 2:50 as it had taken us fifteen seconds to get to the start after the gun sounded.

2:49:49 a new personal best.

Mick was there and Paul was there and they tried to get me to say something but I couldn’t speak for an eternity. When I eventually caught my breath I found out that Paul was 2nd Irishman home, in 13th position overall, in 2:25:42– not bad for a debut marathon! As I write this almost thirty six hours later I still don’t know if we have won a team prize, but here’s hoping.

Mick had continued to slowly pull away from me and finished in 2:49:07 and Fergal arrived in shortly after me to record a debut time of 2:50:53.

Everybody should run a marathon!

Splits

Splits Plot