In the end it wasn’t the “driving
the porcelain bus” au natural that did it for me. Nor was it the losing of 5
seconds a kilometre having miscalculated my run that did it for me. In fact
that probably ensured I didn’t blow up sooner than I did. In the end I just
didn’t have it in the legs.
While I had trained, I probably
hadn’t quite trained enough or with enough quality.
With about 8 kilometres to go, as
I turned onto the Model Farm Road I knew I was beginning to struggle. 21 miles
gone, 5 miles left I remember feeling the pinch and realising not only would I
not catch up with the 3 hr marker I would do well to hang in where I was. A
small respite came when I turned right for the Orchards and ran down to the Lee
with the belief that from now on in it was homeward bound. That respite was
quickly torpedoed due to two reasons:
1. The Carrigaline Road. A name most
non-Corkonians are only familiar with due to the occasional traffic-jams that
AA road watch alert us to in the morning. However to non-Corkonian Cork
marathon runners it quickly takes on much greater significance when its at
least one-mile length stretches ahead. As I straightened up and saw just how
long the next stretch would be, my will died that little bit more.
2. A Green Giant. Not literally but at 6 ft plus
and decked this was a runner decked in green who seemed to shadow me for 2
miles that felt like 20. Young, carefree and running with abandon I met him
around the 21 mile marker. He was hard to miss in a jersey that screamed grass
and with elbows and arms that looked like some medieval wagon wheel form of
attack spinning wildly alongside him. As I gained on him (as he slowed) I made to
push past only for him to decide this was a perfect opportunity to latch on to
someone and pace himself. Now don’t get me wrong, he seemed friendly and was
probably a hell of a nice guy but no I couldn’t get rid of him, either speeding
up or slowing down. All I could do was try to keep away from his arms and
elbows. Something that was more difficult than you’d expect 23 miles in and
along a main thoroughfare. In the end, with a few miles to go, and with more in
the bag than me he wished me well and set off for home.
As for me, well I suffered and
survived the Carrigaline Road and when I turned in and hit Fitzgerald Park I
knew that while I would not break 3 hours, my pace had steadied and I would at
least get a PB, even being able to kick at the very end for the last 100.
And who was the first person to
welcome me home? The Green Giant. Like I said, a hell of a nice guy.
Cork Marathon 2011 – 3.04.11
Yesterday’s training
Tempo running. 15 mins @ 7 min a mile pace.
12 mins @ 6.53. 10 mins @ 6.45.
In total with warm up and downs, 16 k.
Feeling good (within reason).
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