I thought I would try to balance out the excellent reports from

Ray and James, with one that gives my perspective of something

not going according to plan. You also have to remember here that

I am one of the slowest runners out there, not helped by still

being a few stone heavier than my optimum 'fighting weight' and

also all of my running in 2007 is being used to raise funds for

the Special Care Baby Unit at UCHG and, as such, my target for

Cork was a finish, but 5 hours was my realistic goal.

For the past few weeks my preparation has been fairly good, I had

run in all of the Galway 5K series races with steady times in

each race, nothing spectacular but definitely consistent. I had

completed my last long session two weeks before the marathon,

although I only managed to complete 16 miles of running and

run/walking as my longest run. My legs were feeling good and a

few good massages had my legs buzzing. All was looking rosy and

I went to bed on the Friday before the race really looking

forward to getting on the road Saturday morning and heading to

Cork, doing a quick few miles and then relax until Monday.

However, everything was about to change.

I woke in the early hours of Saturday morning with bad gut ache

and knew something was not quite right. I then spent the next 12

hours contemplating life from the comfort of the white porcelain

throne and Cork was seriously in doubt. I started to feel better

during the afternoon and evening and even managed some food

without adverse effects. At this point I decided that the

chances of running were now greater than 50%. Sunday morning

came and my guts were still churning and percentages were again

looking low, however I decided to head to Cork, pick up my number

and give myself the option of running, which proved to be a good

decision as by Sunday evening I was feeling much better.

Six AM Monday morning and the sun is already splitting the rocks

in Cork and I feel fighting fit. I have my breakfast and get

ready. My guts seem settled and my hydration looks complete as I

can't stop going to the toilet. At 8AM I head out the door and

head for the line, as I approach Patrick Street the sight that

greets me is two Athenry shirts in which are James Corbett and

Mark Flannery. They are feeling confident and sub-4 is on the

cards for them. That would be nice to do, but for me on a day

like today coming off the back of being ill then just getting to

the end is going to be an achievement. James and Mark head off

for a warm-up; they invited me along but I am of the opinion that

I am sure that the first few miles are going to be a sufficient

warm-up for me today.

I walk around Patrick Street for a few minutes, check out the

start, and the toilets, and look around to see if I can see a few

other faces that I know. I look up to see another fellow Athenry

runner, Frank Burke just getting to the start area. Frank has

hurt his back again and is hoping that everything will hold up

(it did, and fair play to Frank on his time). After chatting for

a while I decide that my hydration strategy was indeed very

efficient and that I need the toilet again. Frank heads off to

his start position and I head to the loos. The queue for the

loos heads half way to Mallow so I decide not to bother and if I

really need to go I will wait until the first set of toilets out

on the course. As the hooter sounds to start the race my bladder

finally lets me know it can't wait and I have to run for the loos

which fortunately by the start of the race are now empty. With a

timing chip it doesn't matter so much about not starting directly

on the hooter as my personal clock won't start until I cross the

line.

So we are off and running and my loo break has put me in the pack

of walkers which means I have to do a fair bit of dodging and

weaving to get some free road and hit a rhythm, but hit it I do

and the first mile goes past in 9'55 which is just perfect time

for me. Mile 2 is passed at Blackpool and the split is 9'46.

This is looking good, I have really struggled in training to run

at a steady pace but just when it matters it is coming right. My

intention was to spend a few very easy miles getting into a

stride and then slowly drop the miles splits down to around the

9'00 pace for as long as possible and then cope with what happens

later on. We head back out of Blackpool and back towards the

city, the 3 mile marker goes past and the split is 9'57.

By this point the heat is starting to hit me and water is needed.

Fortunately I see the first water table and grab a bottle.

Unfortunately, I can't manage to drink and run and I desperately

need the water so I am forced to walk until I finish my drink,

this is reflected at the 4 mile marker with a split of 10'46. We

are now heading out along the docks and out of the city towards

Silver Springs. It is also here that I start to slow, but keep

moving with a very slow jog. Mile 5 goes by in 11'13 which is

now outside my target time and I don't really want to let things

slip, however my GPS watch is still telling me I am well ahead of

a 4hr30 finish. As I pass under the Silver Springs overpass I

see family waving down and this spurs me on. I also get talking

to one of the relay runners who is coming into the first

changeover point and we hit a groove together. Six mile split is

10'34 and we are back on track. At the end of 6 miles my watch

reads just 62 minutes, which is my fastest 10K time I have run.

Things however were about to change.

After 6 miles you head up towards the Jack Lynch tunnel and here

the small inclines start to become bigger inclines and the heat

was getting hotter. I have to start a strategy of run/walk from

here and the next few splits are starting to get slow - 13'54 (7

miles), 12'55 (8 miles), 13'33 (9 miles) and 13'05 (10 miles). I

am now approaching Blackrock and the heat is REALLY getting to me

and I am fast losing any energy and my run/walk is now a definite

walk/run with the runs getting shorter and shorter. At this rate

I am going to be lucky to finish and can see myself dropping out

at the half way mark. I have to abandon any hopes of being able

to run the remainder of the marathon and now it just becomes a

battle of the mind to be able to stay in and not give into the

little voices telling me to give in.

I switch on the MP3 player and try and go for some distraction

therapy to help eat up the miles. The next few splits are

getting even slower as I am only walking now - 13'41 (11 miles),

14'24, (12 miles) and 13'25 (13 miles). At the half way point I

meet up with a fellow run/walk turned walker Neil O'Toole who is

currently working in a bar in Galway and he is also struggling

the same as I am but is determined to get through the race as he

is also doing this for charity. For the next 12 miles we just

decide to walk the route with a view to simply just getting

through it. The splits for the next few miles are fairly

consistent - 15'24 (14), 15'46 (15), 16'23 (16), 16'21 (17),

16'20 (18). As we reach the Bishopstown Credit Union we hit a

nice downhill and decide to see how the legs are feeling and have

a bit of a jog. For me this feels quite good and I manage a nice

steady pace until I hit the flat and then my legs start to

complain, we do decrease our split time though - 14'46 (19).

What follows is the most spirit-crushing, mind-numbing,

leg-killing stretch of the entire course: Model Farm Road, from

18.7 to 21.3 miles. Because the field is so spread out there are

few people around, and there is certainly no crowds roaring you

on, even myself and Neil have retracted back into our inner

selves and have stopped talking to each other and I can see that

both of us are starting to struggle. A lone busker breaks the

monotony, tucked away in the shadows comes the voice of an angel,

a clean and pure voice that cuts through the loneliness (I also

saw her busking in Cork the next day, instantly familiar with her

voice). This makes me smile until I hear the lyrics of the song

she is singing, exact words escape me but she sings about

climbing up hills and forever going up. This is not the sort of

thing my mind wants to hear now and as beautiful a voice as she

has, I have to press on - 16'16 (20), 16'49 (21), 17'23 (22).

Then at last, the moment I have been waiting for, the final turn

for home - the Carrigrohane Road, and in the distance I can see

the County Hall, although it does appear to be getting further

away, rather than nearer with every step. It is at this point we

get joined by another couple of runners turned walkers, and like

the rest of us, now degenerated into the walking wounded.

However one of our new party is suffering from a bad knee injury

and we decide to walk at his pace which slows us all down, but to

be quite honest walking is getting very painful now and I notice

that I have a very squashy pad of my right foot and I know that a

significant blister has formed there - 17'09 (23) and 17'15 (24).

It is this point I make a very selfish decision, I know I can

walk faster than the merry band I have joined up with and I

really want to get this finished now so I have no choice but to

walk away from the group and pick up the pace. On Western Road I

head off and think about the remaining miles, I really would like

to run some of the last mile, because at last I am getting mind

over matter in the pain (probably due to the end being in sight),

the next split is 15'50 which takes me up to the 25 miles marker

and the Mardyke. I take a quick drink, a deep breath, switch the

MP3 player back on to the _Faithless Live at Birmingham_ album

and put the foot down and start a jog, and it feels good. I do

have to walk for a couple of hundred metres, not because I feel

bad, but the path by the river is very busy and there are

overhanging trees, as soon as I am on the quay then I am off

again, and suddenly there is the 26 mile marker.

I cross the river from Popes Quay to Merchants Quay and there are

all the family standing on the other side of the road. I cover

the last mile in 14'11 and press on for the finish line, managing

to pass one or two stragglers on the way and put in a good show

for the cameras. I cross the line, click off the watch and look

down - 6hrs 10min 54s. I don't really care what the time is at

this point; I got to the finish line. Neil came home 10 minutes

later and I go and shake his hand and promise to come and visit

him in his bar in Galway.

I head for the physios' tent but it is busy so head for home

instead and jump into a very cold bath indeed. I have sore legs,

a blister the size of a small country on my right foot, and one

on the little toe of my left foot. I have also developed a

stupid cough and every time I eat something I get hiccups. By

evening time I settle down with a pint of cider and soon drift

off to sleep. The next morning I am amazed I can walk although

the blister is very sore and the back of my right knee is very

tight and sore.

I am glad I didn't drop out; I think I would have deeply

regretted it. I do think that I could have got it in under the 6

hours if I had kept up the good walking pace I started when I

first started out walking, but it is possible that at that pace I

wouldn't have made it, particularly in the heat of the day as it

was and my post stomach upset state. So now I have 20 weeks

until Dublin, which will be an entirely different beast

altogether.

Iain Shaw.