My Secret to Running a Marathon (My Dublin Marathon Race Report)
It was October 27, 2008. The day had come, the day of the 2008 Dublin Marathon.
It was 6am when my iPhone sang Little Less Conversation to me, a song my roomie and I had chosen the night before to get us out of bed and get the blood pumping. I had mentally tricked myself into thinking that I had slept in. (After all, it was only 2am in Michigan, and I hadn't quite adjusted to the time change.) I came off a rather solid night of sleep, despite the drunken songs by local Irishman that were flooding through my window from the pub just outside my hotel window.
Slowly, methodically, Katie and I started our pre-race rituals. For me, my highest priority was turning on the tunes. Nothing can lead me away from a case of the nerves better than music. There were a lot of things I needed to bring with me on this day. I went through my checklist to make sure I wasn't forgetting anything. 7 strawberry-sanana PowerBar gels. Check. 1 peanut butter Clif bar. Check. 1 hydration running belt. Check. 2 full water bottles (attached to belt). Check. 1 application of Body Glide to various areas of the body (applied before leaving). Check. 1 iPod (stacked with 94 preset songs for the run). Check. 1 windbreaker jacket. Check. All set. OH, and 1 camera. Check.
We met the rest of our team in the lobby, and headed outside and made our 1 mile walk to the starting line.
The luck of the Irish was in the air, because this was the best day as far as weather goes since our team arrived in Dublin. It had been extremely windy, overcast, and often rainy up until today. This morning was different though, starting out at a brisk 35 degrees with the forecast that the temperature would creep up to the mid 50s by mid-day. The clouds had cleared and the sun was shining. Perfect running weather.
Kate and I dropped off our race bags (which housed our warm clothes that we would use after the race). We chuckled to ourselves as we passed the make-shift bathrooms that were set up for the men -- trailers with doors that none of the men really bothered to close. (Male confidence at its best?)
We soon found ourselves at the starting line, along with over 10,000 of our closest friends. Huddling up with that amount of people made the temperature much more bearable.
Whenever I'm in a setting surrounded by people, I fall into one of my favorite pastimes, peoplewatching. There were all sorts of people here today, and amazingly, there were people I actually recognized from an International Breakfast Run event that I had participated in the day before. There was a gent with spray-painted orange and red hair, who was the group cheerleader for his fundraising group. There was JoAnne, a wonderful lady who who was from the Long Island Team in Training group. JoAnne and I had met the day before as well, and had in fact traded shirts (a ritual that is enjoyed by participants of the International Breakfast Run).
Not surprisingly, there were new characters to observe as well. There was a man in an afro wig, dressed up in red- and black-striped garb. He was "walking" his stuffed animal poodle. (I'm not sure what his cause was, if he was running for a cause at all.) And then there was Arthur the Toucan. Arthur is well known in Ireland -- he is the old mascot for Guinness Beer. Not far away was his sidekick, Grant the Guinness Pint. Seeing these two gave me my focus. It was at that moment that I decided that my mission was to simply keep up with the beer and the bird.
Before I knew it, the crowd was moving like a school of herring gliding through the water. We were off; there was no turning back now. I did what I have learned to do so well -- start off slow and find my pace early. I knew that there was no race more important than this one to stay disciplined.
With only a mile in, I realized that I may never again be in Dublin. Why was I here? I knew that my main reason was to support the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. I knew that I was here to partake in this crazy notion of running a marathon. But as I was running, it hit me. I wasn't interested in my finishing time. I was interested in Carpe Diem. Seize the day.
My focus suddenly shifted from the race to the scenery. I looked up from the street to what lay ahead, and I saw a beautiful landmark (the Spire). I pulled out my pocket camera and took a picture. This was the first of numerous photos that I would take along the way.
It was 6am when my iPhone sang Little Less Conversation to me, a song my roomie and I had chosen the night before to get us out of bed and get the blood pumping. I had mentally tricked myself into thinking that I had slept in. (After all, it was only 2am in Michigan, and I hadn't quite adjusted to the time change.) I came off a rather solid night of sleep, despite the drunken songs by local Irishman that were flooding through my window from the pub just outside my hotel window.
Slowly, methodically, Katie and I started our pre-race rituals. For me, my highest priority was turning on the tunes. Nothing can lead me away from a case of the nerves better than music. There were a lot of things I needed to bring with me on this day. I went through my checklist to make sure I wasn't forgetting anything. 7 strawberry-sanana PowerBar gels. Check. 1 peanut butter Clif bar. Check. 1 hydration running belt. Check. 2 full water bottles (attached to belt). Check. 1 application of Body Glide to various areas of the body (applied before leaving). Check. 1 iPod (stacked with 94 preset songs for the run). Check. 1 windbreaker jacket. Check. All set. OH, and 1 camera. Check.
We met the rest of our team in the lobby, and headed outside and made our 1 mile walk to the starting line.
The luck of the Irish was in the air, because this was the best day as far as weather goes since our team arrived in Dublin. It had been extremely windy, overcast, and often rainy up until today. This morning was different though, starting out at a brisk 35 degrees with the forecast that the temperature would creep up to the mid 50s by mid-day. The clouds had cleared and the sun was shining. Perfect running weather.
Kate and I dropped off our race bags (which housed our warm clothes that we would use after the race). We chuckled to ourselves as we passed the make-shift bathrooms that were set up for the men -- trailers with doors that none of the men really bothered to close. (Male confidence at its best?)
We soon found ourselves at the starting line, along with over 10,000 of our closest friends. Huddling up with that amount of people made the temperature much more bearable.
Whenever I'm in a setting surrounded by people, I fall into one of my favorite pastimes, peoplewatching. There were all sorts of people here today, and amazingly, there were people I actually recognized from an International Breakfast Run event that I had participated in the day before. There was a gent with spray-painted orange and red hair, who was the group cheerleader for his fundraising group. There was JoAnne, a wonderful lady who who was from the Long Island Team in Training group. JoAnne and I had met the day before as well, and had in fact traded shirts (a ritual that is enjoyed by participants of the International Breakfast Run).
Not surprisingly, there were new characters to observe as well. There was a man in an afro wig, dressed up in red- and black-striped garb. He was "walking" his stuffed animal poodle. (I'm not sure what his cause was, if he was running for a cause at all.) And then there was Arthur the Toucan. Arthur is well known in Ireland -- he is the old mascot for Guinness Beer. Not far away was his sidekick, Grant the Guinness Pint. Seeing these two gave me my focus. It was at that moment that I decided that my mission was to simply keep up with the beer and the bird.
Before I knew it, the crowd was moving like a school of herring gliding through the water. We were off; there was no turning back now. I did what I have learned to do so well -- start off slow and find my pace early. I knew that there was no race more important than this one to stay disciplined.
With only a mile in, I realized that I may never again be in Dublin. Why was I here? I knew that my main reason was to support the Leukemia and Lymphoma Society. I knew that I was here to partake in this crazy notion of running a marathon. But as I was running, it hit me. I wasn't interested in my finishing time. I was interested in Carpe Diem. Seize the day.
My focus suddenly shifted from the race to the scenery. I looked up from the street to what lay ahead, and I saw a beautiful landmark (the Spire). I pulled out my pocket camera and took a picture. This was the first of numerous photos that I would take along the way.
Mile after mile, I made a point to enjoy my surroundings. I was like a sponge, and I wanted to soak up as much of this Irish landscape as I could.
Mile 10 passed. Mile 20 passed. Hours passed. And every time I looked inward to guage how I was feeling, I was amazed to find myself doing something I had never done on a run before. I was smiling. In fact, I was almost laughing. Was this the runner's high that everyone had talked about? Or was I just losing my mind? I didn't think so.
As the miles passed, I also witnessed things that I'm certain many of the runners missed along the way. I saw beautiful deer walk just few hundred yards from me, as if I was in a nature preserve. I heard the sound of a soothing bubbling river which I found only after following a path that took me away from the course. I smelled the autumn season that was knocking on Dublin's door, emitted from the fallen leaves that scattered the pathways that guided me. I felt the love of God in my heart as I ran by the majestic, awe-inspiring churches that had been built centuries before I stepped foot on this beautiful earth.
I was also blessed to make conversation, and even friends, along the way. I met three delightful ladies from South Africa. I ran with the Long Island TNT group for a while. And I met John, a man from England who had just finished his first Ironman race. He and I ran in together. I kept pace with him as he'd run 500 yards, then walk 500 yards. I could have run past him, but the conversation was just too good as we talked about his Ironman experience, and my Ironman dreams.
By the end of the race, my legs hurt, my knees ached, my feet were swollen. Honestly, though, I had forgotten to focus on all of that because I was living through my other senses, not that of pain. As I crossed the finish line, you guessed it, I was smiling. My reasons to smile were now infinity plus 1. I had finished a feat that I once thought was impossible.
There was certainly an infinite amount of reasons to smile on this day, I was just fortunate enough to have captured 76 of them in pictures. To me, that was infinitely more enjoyable than striving to beat a time that I likely wouldn't be able to recall if you asked me about it years from now.
Will I do another marathon? My body, especially my feet, say no. But because of my experience on this day, and the incredible journey I have been on to get to this point, my answer isn't set in stone. In fact, I already visualize doing another marathon someday. I just need to make sure to bring my secret weapon -- my senses and my camera -- along for the run.
(Want to see pictures of my journey? See my post, 26.2 Miles in Photos)
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