When
I think back to Dublin 2014 I can smile as I remember my friend offering me
three types of drink as I came down Heartbreak Hill – water, Lucozade and some
really fancy energy drink who’s packaging alone probably cost close to a fiver.
I choose the fancy energy drink, which he had to open, which fizzed up into his
face from the jogging beside me, which I then took half a mouthful before
feckin’ it onto the ground and moving off barely giving a thank you. The wall
does that to you.
I
can look back and laugh but at the time it was the furthest thing from fun I
could think of. I just wanted the end to come and to get out of there. To get
into a car. To go home. Imagine that. Training for four months for an event
that you only want to get away from! I mean, why would you bother!?
To
add salt to my wounds, by the end my watch showed 26 miles a long way before
the 26 mile marker and when I finally did see the end, as I got to it, dragging
what last bit of energy I had to look decent for the final crowd I realised
that the what I thought was the end was just a timer on a local radio station’s
car. The end was a further few hundred yards down the road. It seemed like a
mile and on seeing it I gave up all pretence of looking anything except utterly
devastated.
3
hours 04 minutes and something seconds.
It
was a terrible time to come in on. Very few people set out to break 3 hrs and 5
mins. As a result, so many of those who came over the line with me looked
equally devastated. A bag of bones approached me talking to me but talking to
no one at the same time, saying that he had hoped to break 2 hours 50 minutes
and didn’t know what happened. I didn’t care. I hadn’t any sympathy for myself
let alone someone else.
In
the analysis of the race afterwards I would hear that many, many people fell
short of the personal bests. The humid weather sapped many runner’s strength
and the blustery conditions didn’t help matters. For me that wasn’t why I
failed to break 3 hours.
Nor
was it due to not sticking to my own plan and run my own race. Going off too
fast at the beginning and gaining a minute in the first half worked
exceptionally well for Quentin but didn’t for me. I resolved myself to doing my
own thing in every race I’d ever run after that, but that wasn’t the reason I
missed out on the sub 3. In the end it was down to me and not just being good
enough on the day.
There
are days when you are good enough, and there are days when you are not. Those
days hurt. Dublin Marathon 2014 was one of those days.
Yesterday’s
training
5
miles.

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