My First marathon was great. It is difficult to find just one adjective to describe it. I write the word First with a capital F because there is only one first time. This First marathon is a special memory for all runners.
Thinking about it, nearly 20 years later, it was such an achievement. When discussing marathon running with many other marathon runners, we all agree that this distance is special and finishing the fourty two kilometers ( twenty six miles) is a mix of emotions.
Emil Zatopek
Emil Zatopek
As stated by Emil Zatopek:
If you want to run, run a mile.
If you want to experience a different life, run a marathon.
It’s at the borders of pain and suffering that the men are separated from the boys.
Running a marathon can take several hours, but the journey starts long beforehand with training and preparation lasting months or even years.
The emotions
The emotions are a succession of lows and highs. It starts during training and continues through to pre-race, the race and even into the post-race / celebrations.
The emotional roller-coster of the Marathon:
Training:
During the marathon training, it will be a succession of improvements and days when you say: “I should have stayed in bed!”.
You will not feel great in every session. Listen to your body and cut the session if you feel too tired / have not recovered from the previous run.
Long runs, in the rain, snow or under the hot sun are not only going to improve your fitness but they will also increase your mental toughness.
Pre-race:
The week before the race is tough. You need to rest, but you find it hard and you feel that you are not ready and want to run extra kilometers. This rest is vital, take this time to prepare yourself mentally. Try and avoid thinking solely about the marathon, find other activities to occupy your time. During this week you will also need to change your diet , for example; increasing your carbohydrate intake.
Your sleep the night before maybe be shorter than usual due to the build up of stress before the big event. You will also need to wake earlier so breakfast can be eaten three hours prior and you will need to allow plenty of time to get to the startline of the race.
Prepare your kit the night before the race.
The morning of the marathon, use the toilets before you leave. However if nature /nerves call, be prepared to wait in long queques in front of the toilets.
The Marathon:
Finally the starter gun goes off. Start slow to warm-up. Too many runners start far too fast during the first kilometer and end up suffering later. The first ten kilometers are “easy” , stay calm and run relaxed.
After ten kilometers, you should feel good, it is important to keep this pace, do not accelerte, the race has not started yet. At the half way, you may start to feel tired, the feeling of euphoria that you started with is vanishing at this point.
At the half way stage of the marathon there is usually plenty of supporters to help distract you and spur you on. However during the later stages where support can be scarce, you may find yourself running through suburbs where it is just you and your fellow runners, at this stage boredom may start to set in.
With fifteen kilometers to go, the legs may be starting to get heavy and doubt may be starting to creep its way in. You start to doubt that you will reach the finish line and fear you will hit the wall. You may also feel regret, “did I start too fast?”
You keep going and tell yourself it is your last marathon. You are never going to run again! But you keep going.
Finally five kilometers to go, you may start to walk, but the crowd is encouraging you and you start to run again. You are tired but you will still manage to continue. At the next aid station, you may want to stop and walk again, just a few hundred meters, you tell yourself… But the crowd is not letting you down. “Keep going” / “Looking good runner” / “do you want a jelly bean?”…
It is so hard, you may have blisters and at this stage you may be suffering from a cramp. You might think you will never reach the finish line. But you have a drink, the cramp disappears and you can forget about the blister! You just ran fourty kilometers, you can do it. The adrenaline is pushing you forward. The crowd is growing at this finishing stage and your pace is accelerating. “It’s only two kilometers”. You may feel even like you are flying on air. You have only one goal at this point: reaching the finish line as soon as possible!
You see the inflatable arch at the finish line and you heart is beating fast. You are doing it. The tears are coming, you are close to finishing your First marathon. You have been dreaming of this moment for months. You cross the line! You are a marathoner! You are feeling so proud of yourself and feel grateful for your medal!
Post-race / Celebration:
It is difficult to walk, but you get changed and are ready for the pictures and the celebration.
It is going to be a great meal afterwards (if your stomach is not too upset) with plenty of drinks. You are going to sleep with your medal… You may even see tourists who complete the marathon on a visit wearing their medals proudly for an entire week after the race …
The celebration is well deserved. You are already looking to register for the next marathon (even if after thirty kilometers, you swore that you would never run, ever again!)
Although the next marathon will never bring the same joy as this First marathon. So celebrate your First marathon well!
My First Marathon, Monaco 2002:
All marathons are tough, but this one was really tough, as I really struggled during the last ten Kilometers. I trained for three months before the race, following a training plan I found on the internet. I was not a member of any club, it was a do it yourself training approach. I went through a lot of emotions during the training, the week before and during the race. When I crossed the finish line, I was so tired I can’t remember exactly how I felt, initially it was relief, then feelings of happiness and pride of what was achieved followed. Two kilometers from the finish, I overheard a lady saying that I was “looking in nothingness”, she was right, all I was thinking about was putting one foot in front of the other.
The marathons to follow were more enjoyable, thanks to better training plans, exceptional routes, personal bests along with two victories. Perhaps this is why my First marathon was unique, it was such a learning curve. Although, I still stress the last week before any marathon and still queue for the toilets.
Other athletes First marathons:
I trained many athletes during these past few years and I asked them what emotions they felt during their First marathon. Here is their feedback:
First marathon:
I experienced many emotions; standing on the start line (Fear), pressure (I knew my family, coach and club mates were all watching closely / tracking me online).
Excitement is the overwhelming emotion for most of the first 13-15 miles and controlling this as you know is crucial - so you don't go out too fast. Hope of achieving my goal time kicks in close to 20 miles.
For me the last 5/6 miles, I always bring my thoughts back to those who have supported and encouraged me in the many months leading up to the race.
There is always fear again in the last few miles, in the knowledge that the marathon is merciless - that anything could go wrong still and you may not make it to the finish line.
Elation and disbelief were the emotions I experienced when I crossed the finish line of my first marathon in Manchester (April 2017).
I knew I would definitely be going back for more.
Next marathons:
Over the course of the next 2 years I ran 3 more marathons and I plan to run many more.
For me the most emotional marathon was in Frankfurt in Oct 2019 - I knew this time I had to run it much faster than other times - but this was quite scary (Fear / anxiety).
For the first time on a marathon start line I now felt confidence - I knew I would have a good race. I needed to trust my training and coaching. Again, I regularly reminded myself to control the sometimes overwhelming excitement throughout the race to prevent me running too fast early on.
At 32k in Frankfurt, I felt great - I was excited again, I knew this was going to be a great day. I accelerated and let the excitement through more and I ran faster in the last few miles than any other time in the race. Again, I deliberately brought my thoughts to my family, fellow athletes & coach - all of whom I knew were virtually cheering me on, as they tracked my last few miles.
The most emotional moment in my running life was entering the Festehalle finishing area in Frankfurt - the sudden increase in noise from outside to inside - to see the finish line. An unbelievable feeling. I crossed the finish line in tears and disbelief. I had run faster than I ever imagined possible.
I've attached a photo of me taken In the finishing area in Frankfurt - a very emotional time for me:
I experienced many emotions; standing on the start line (Fear), pressure (I knew my family, coach and club mates were all watching closely / tracking me online).
Excitement is the overwhelming emotion for most of the first 13-15 miles and controlling this as you know is crucial - so you don't go out too fast. Hope of achieving my goal time kicks in close to 20 miles.
For me the last 5/6 miles, I always bring my thoughts back to those who have supported and encouraged me in the many months leading up to the race.
There is always fear again in the last few miles, in the knowledge that the marathon is merciless - that anything could go wrong still and you may not make it to the finish line.
Elation and disbelief were the emotions I experienced when I crossed the finish line of my first marathon in Manchester (April 2017).
I knew I would definitely be going back for more.
Next marathons:
Over the course of the next 2 years I ran 3 more marathons and I plan to run many more.
For me the most emotional marathon was in Frankfurt in Oct 2019 - I knew this time I had to run it much faster than other times - but this was quite scary (Fear / anxiety).
For the first time on a marathon start line I now felt confidence - I knew I would have a good race. I needed to trust my training and coaching. Again, I regularly reminded myself to control the sometimes overwhelming excitement throughout the race to prevent me running too fast early on.
At 32k in Frankfurt, I felt great - I was excited again, I knew this was going to be a great day. I accelerated and let the excitement through more and I ran faster in the last few miles than any other time in the race. Again, I deliberately brought my thoughts to my family, fellow athletes & coach - all of whom I knew were virtually cheering me on, as they tracked my last few miles.
The most emotional moment in my running life was entering the Festehalle finishing area in Frankfurt - the sudden increase in noise from outside to inside - to see the finish line. An unbelievable feeling. I crossed the finish line in tears and disbelief. I had run faster than I ever imagined possible.
I've attached a photo of me taken In the finishing area in Frankfurt - a very emotional time for me:
Tony
Manchester & Francfort marathons
First marathon:
What emotions I had during my first marathon ....
Were a mixture of excitement and anticipation of the unknown but also a little anxious about the long mileage and risk of injury.When I got accepted to the New York marathon ,it was a dream come through, so as soon I had got my structured plan from Jerome. I trusted his plan and followed it (until injury).
In the week leading up to the marathon I was excited but petrified could I run 26.2 miles. I had tried and tested my gels on the long runs and planned my food .The morn of the marathon I was so excited and buzzing ,the atmosphere was electric and there were people of all ages, abilities and sizes.
As it was my first marathon, I was going to take it mile by mile, the feeling running a marathon was amazing, fellow runners and the crowd were full of encouragement.
Coming up to the finish line I spotted my family with the Irish flag, so I grabbed it and headed for home with pride and a sense of achievement in myself, my club and my coach. I think your first marathon is a huge learning curve, they say “with each marathon it gets easier
.
Trust in your coach and your marathon plan.
What emotions I had during my first marathon ....
Were a mixture of excitement and anticipation of the unknown but also a little anxious about the long mileage and risk of injury.When I got accepted to the New York marathon ,it was a dream come through, so as soon I had got my structured plan from Jerome. I trusted his plan and followed it (until injury).
In the week leading up to the marathon I was excited but petrified could I run 26.2 miles. I had tried and tested my gels on the long runs and planned my food .The morn of the marathon I was so excited and buzzing ,the atmosphere was electric and there were people of all ages, abilities and sizes.
As it was my first marathon, I was going to take it mile by mile, the feeling running a marathon was amazing, fellow runners and the crowd were full of encouragement.
Coming up to the finish line I spotted my family with the Irish flag, so I grabbed it and headed for home with pride and a sense of achievement in myself, my club and my coach. I think your first marathon is a huge learning curve, they say “with each marathon it gets easier
.Trust in your coach and your marathon plan.
Catherine
New York City marathon
First marathon:
I arrived at the starting line full of confidence. Everything was planned to the last detail. Jerome’s training plan went well and I had set PBs in the 10k and half marathon in the weeks before. I had done all the hard work.
It was a great feeling arriving at the race with my friends in such good condition. I really enjoyed running the first 35k and, even though the last 7k was a struggle, I still held a solid pace till the end.
Getting over the line sub-3 in my first marathon was unbelievable and the hard earned drinks afterwards with friend helped round of an amazing day. Worth all the effort and sacrifice!
I arrived at the starting line full of confidence. Everything was planned to the last detail. Jerome’s training plan went well and I had set PBs in the 10k and half marathon in the weeks before. I had done all the hard work.
It was a great feeling arriving at the race with my friends in such good condition. I really enjoyed running the first 35k and, even though the last 7k was a struggle, I still held a solid pace till the end.
Getting over the line sub-3 in my first marathon was unbelievable and the hard earned drinks afterwards with friend helped round of an amazing day. Worth all the effort and sacrifice!
Kieran
Amsterdam marathon
First marathon 2016 - 3:38':
This was the date I ran my first Marathon. Dublin City Marathon to be precise. It was also the day before my 37th birthday – so it was time for me to tick the box!
I was a late comer to the party, having discounted the idea of running a marathon earlier in the summer, only to realise I had serious FOMO (fear of missing out) by the end of July. Dublin City Marathon had released a waiting list for an additional 2,000 entries due to high demand, so I put my name into the draw, along with that of my running buddy, Bridget Jacobsen – who had absolutely no desire to run it.
You can imagine how disgusted I was when she won one of the lottery places and I didn’t. The disappointment didn’t last long, as our good friend Jason located a charity entry for Cancer Care West, which was confirmed on September 5th, just 7 weeks ahead of the Marathon.
Unphased by this short window, I contacted Jerome and asked for his advice on the plan, and off we went! I had a good summer of swimming and some running behind me, plus a mountain of naivety, which I think was instrumental in my prep for this first marathon, but I definitely did not have a strong winter of speed work and long runs in the bag.
Training went well and we were in taper almost as soon as we started. On race morning, I still didn’t have a finish time in mind for race day. I knew I’d like to get in under 4hrs, and that I would be delighted with a 3.45 finish time – but really, sub 4hrs was the real goal.
Jerome had indicated that I could probably run a 3.30 finish time which I laughed off and actively ignored, but on race morning, I was a bit stuck for a plan. He had said to go easy for the first couple of kilometres. I was stuck behind a huge crowd after waiting in line for what felt like days at the port-a-loos, so that made running slowly very easy. My first mile took 9 minutes! After that, I settled into running and chatting with fellow runners. Lots of advice from people when I told them this was my first rodeo. Interestingly, I had a man tell me that the biggest mistake people make is to go off too fast – a quick mental check between the pace we were running at and his PB, which he announced earlier, told me that he hadn’t learned a thing in his 13 marathons and he was once again going off too fast! I moved away soon after that. The last thing I wanted was to be was running alongside somebody who then started to fade like a sunset!
I chatted away with lots more people in the first few miles and passed my husband and daughter in Phoenix park at mile 5, feeling good and happy to see them! It was at this point that I told myself to move away from the girl with the loud awkward run, who was chatting to me as though we had known each other for years and that we were in this together until the (bitter?) end.
I have never run solo really. I certainly don’t race solo – even in my prep half marathon on the hills in Louisburgh, I met a race buddy who I chatted with the whole way around the course (til the last mile when I was non verbal and he spoke words of encouragement to me, like I was his tired little puppy making my way back home for some treats – I kid you not!) – so to realise that I was running DCM solo was quite the eye opener.
I realised I couldn’t rely on a random stranger to run sensibly – everyone I talked to had some half baked plan of a finish time, but really the pace they were running at when I spoke with them was in no way reflective of the end time! So at this point, I realised I could chat away to anyone and everyone, but I was the master of my own pacing and overall time (which I still hadn’t fully nailed down!)
One thing I can remember clearly is being absolutely blown away by the crowds out supporting us. I ingenious posters that people made. There were only a handful of minutes where I did not have a smile on my face. One of them was as I came through mile 10.
I got entirely overwhelmed at the realisation that I was running a marathon, ON MY OWN, and I welled up a little as I passed through mile 10. Then I told myself to cop on as I had a long way to go yet! One of our club members text me the night before to wish me luck, he also added the following stark words “remember that the halfway mark is mile 20” (my longest run to date had been 16.7 miles in training, with an easy 3 miles that evening on tired legs) – so this was playing on my mind a little.
I passed through the halfway point and remember feeling a little underwhelmed as it was one of the few places where support was think on the ground.
I kept plugging away, knowing that 3.45 was within reach at this point and feeling very strong. I passed through mile 17 and had a laugh with ‘Batman’ as I ran past him and the whole street was cheering him on. I kept an eye on my pace every couple of mins and at times, made a conscious effort to slow down a little.
At mile 18, I saw a guy I know from the tri club who would usually run rings around me at track. He looked quite wobbly and uncomfortable and I remember feeling a bit disconcerted at this stage, as I wondered when was I going to feel like that. I caught up to him, had a bit of a chat and tried to convince him to have a little banter and to run with me for the last 8 miles. He could hardly speak and was having NONE of my cheery outlook… so off I went.
Mindful to pull back on the pace as I was now in unchartered waters – this was officially my longest run and I had another 8 miles to go.
Another thing that people tell you about is heartbreak hill. 2 of my then work colleagues told me, quite patronisingly, that a lot of runners end up walking up that hill, and not to beat myself up as I will probably be that person. Good to know, but when I got to the top of the hill, I genuinely wondered what all the fuss was about. Threadneedle road is infinitely worse? So we are hitting into mile 22 at this stage and I remember feeling pretty tired, but the pace was going grand. I was a bit nervous about this wall that I would hit and wondering when it was coming… and I was also aware that I would pass my husband and daughter at mile 25, so I wanted to look somewhat alive as I passed them, so as not to worry anyone.
I can’t really remember a whole lot about the next couple of miles. It’s a bit lonely out by the dual carriageway so you just want to get back to civilisation. Next thing I remember is the RDS and the crowds. We had planned that I run on the left side so that I could see Dave and Ellie. I had my eyes peeled, smiling at all the amazing supporters and then I spotted them.
No pretence required, I bounced across to where they were for a big wave and a high five, delighted to be feeling so good when I saw them! As far as I was concerned I had the job done at this stage. I cruised home for the last mile or so, absolutely no desire in me to try and pick up the pace, but still maintaining the pace I had.
I came across the finish line with a massive smile on my face, truly delighted with the amazing day out! I can’t say I was emotional at the finish line. The emotion, for me, happened at mile 10, and later again when I realised my running buddy and great friend Bridget was not yet finished and was having a very tough day out.
My overwhelming feeling was that it was an amazing experience that everyone should experience. However, I have yet to experience this feeling again, despite running Dublin twice more… Maybe 2021!
This was the date I ran my first Marathon. Dublin City Marathon to be precise. It was also the day before my 37th birthday – so it was time for me to tick the box!
I was a late comer to the party, having discounted the idea of running a marathon earlier in the summer, only to realise I had serious FOMO (fear of missing out) by the end of July. Dublin City Marathon had released a waiting list for an additional 2,000 entries due to high demand, so I put my name into the draw, along with that of my running buddy, Bridget Jacobsen – who had absolutely no desire to run it.
You can imagine how disgusted I was when she won one of the lottery places and I didn’t. The disappointment didn’t last long, as our good friend Jason located a charity entry for Cancer Care West, which was confirmed on September 5th, just 7 weeks ahead of the Marathon.
Unphased by this short window, I contacted Jerome and asked for his advice on the plan, and off we went! I had a good summer of swimming and some running behind me, plus a mountain of naivety, which I think was instrumental in my prep for this first marathon, but I definitely did not have a strong winter of speed work and long runs in the bag.
Training went well and we were in taper almost as soon as we started. On race morning, I still didn’t have a finish time in mind for race day. I knew I’d like to get in under 4hrs, and that I would be delighted with a 3.45 finish time – but really, sub 4hrs was the real goal.
Jerome had indicated that I could probably run a 3.30 finish time which I laughed off and actively ignored, but on race morning, I was a bit stuck for a plan. He had said to go easy for the first couple of kilometres. I was stuck behind a huge crowd after waiting in line for what felt like days at the port-a-loos, so that made running slowly very easy. My first mile took 9 minutes! After that, I settled into running and chatting with fellow runners. Lots of advice from people when I told them this was my first rodeo. Interestingly, I had a man tell me that the biggest mistake people make is to go off too fast – a quick mental check between the pace we were running at and his PB, which he announced earlier, told me that he hadn’t learned a thing in his 13 marathons and he was once again going off too fast! I moved away soon after that. The last thing I wanted was to be was running alongside somebody who then started to fade like a sunset!
I chatted away with lots more people in the first few miles and passed my husband and daughter in Phoenix park at mile 5, feeling good and happy to see them! It was at this point that I told myself to move away from the girl with the loud awkward run, who was chatting to me as though we had known each other for years and that we were in this together until the (bitter?) end.
I have never run solo really. I certainly don’t race solo – even in my prep half marathon on the hills in Louisburgh, I met a race buddy who I chatted with the whole way around the course (til the last mile when I was non verbal and he spoke words of encouragement to me, like I was his tired little puppy making my way back home for some treats – I kid you not!) – so to realise that I was running DCM solo was quite the eye opener.
I realised I couldn’t rely on a random stranger to run sensibly – everyone I talked to had some half baked plan of a finish time, but really the pace they were running at when I spoke with them was in no way reflective of the end time! So at this point, I realised I could chat away to anyone and everyone, but I was the master of my own pacing and overall time (which I still hadn’t fully nailed down!)
One thing I can remember clearly is being absolutely blown away by the crowds out supporting us. I ingenious posters that people made. There were only a handful of minutes where I did not have a smile on my face. One of them was as I came through mile 10.
I got entirely overwhelmed at the realisation that I was running a marathon, ON MY OWN, and I welled up a little as I passed through mile 10. Then I told myself to cop on as I had a long way to go yet! One of our club members text me the night before to wish me luck, he also added the following stark words “remember that the halfway mark is mile 20” (my longest run to date had been 16.7 miles in training, with an easy 3 miles that evening on tired legs) – so this was playing on my mind a little.
I passed through the halfway point and remember feeling a little underwhelmed as it was one of the few places where support was think on the ground.
I kept plugging away, knowing that 3.45 was within reach at this point and feeling very strong. I passed through mile 17 and had a laugh with ‘Batman’ as I ran past him and the whole street was cheering him on. I kept an eye on my pace every couple of mins and at times, made a conscious effort to slow down a little.
At mile 18, I saw a guy I know from the tri club who would usually run rings around me at track. He looked quite wobbly and uncomfortable and I remember feeling a bit disconcerted at this stage, as I wondered when was I going to feel like that. I caught up to him, had a bit of a chat and tried to convince him to have a little banter and to run with me for the last 8 miles. He could hardly speak and was having NONE of my cheery outlook… so off I went.
Mindful to pull back on the pace as I was now in unchartered waters – this was officially my longest run and I had another 8 miles to go.
Another thing that people tell you about is heartbreak hill. 2 of my then work colleagues told me, quite patronisingly, that a lot of runners end up walking up that hill, and not to beat myself up as I will probably be that person. Good to know, but when I got to the top of the hill, I genuinely wondered what all the fuss was about. Threadneedle road is infinitely worse? So we are hitting into mile 22 at this stage and I remember feeling pretty tired, but the pace was going grand. I was a bit nervous about this wall that I would hit and wondering when it was coming… and I was also aware that I would pass my husband and daughter at mile 25, so I wanted to look somewhat alive as I passed them, so as not to worry anyone.
I can’t really remember a whole lot about the next couple of miles. It’s a bit lonely out by the dual carriageway so you just want to get back to civilisation. Next thing I remember is the RDS and the crowds. We had planned that I run on the left side so that I could see Dave and Ellie. I had my eyes peeled, smiling at all the amazing supporters and then I spotted them.
No pretence required, I bounced across to where they were for a big wave and a high five, delighted to be feeling so good when I saw them! As far as I was concerned I had the job done at this stage. I cruised home for the last mile or so, absolutely no desire in me to try and pick up the pace, but still maintaining the pace I had.
I came across the finish line with a massive smile on my face, truly delighted with the amazing day out! I can’t say I was emotional at the finish line. The emotion, for me, happened at mile 10, and later again when I realised my running buddy and great friend Bridget was not yet finished and was having a very tough day out.
My overwhelming feeling was that it was an amazing experience that everyone should experience. However, I have yet to experience this feeling again, despite running Dublin twice more… Maybe 2021!
Marie
Dublin marathon - 2016
Next marathon nr1 - 2017 - 3:31' :
Well, what can I say! I was hooked after my first marathon and came back to try and recreate the experience – it was never going to happen. There is something a little bit special about your first marathon, and I don’t know that I will ever get that feeling again. Still, can’t blame a girl for trying.
So 2017 was a different kettle of fish. This time I had entered in plenty of time (I entered the day they opened for entries) – I diligently attended all of my track sessions, long runs, recovery runs. I even skipped the Great Fjord swim as it was too close to race day and I was taking this one quite seriously. All was going fine until about a month out. I was to run Charleville half marathon but picked up a chest infection. Rather than rest, I ran the half – it went according to plan. I hit my targeted time, picking up a PB and headed back home, never quite shaking the chesty cough fully.
Taper is a funny thing… you look forward to resting but then you get quite antsy when you’re not following a hardcore plan. This was me for the last couple of weeks… feeling tired, not entirely well, but also afraid to rest completely. I had a bit of a fever the week before, and this resurfaced the day we went to Dublin also. Nothing horrendous, just a feeling of being ‘not quite right’.
Race day arrived and off we went. This time I was in wave 1, so no getting caught up behind masses of people. Almost as soon as I started to run, I felt exhausted. I told my mind to shut up and figured it would unwind itself as I clocked up a few miles – it didn’t. By the time I saw Dave and the kids in Phoenix park (mile 5) I felt so tired, I half hoped he would see it on my face and tell me to stop. I had my sunglasses on so he couldn’t see, but I had a little cry because I had a bad feeling I wouldn’t see them again at mile 25. The kids jumped up and down when they saw me. I just waved and kept going.
This was already so different to the year before. I felt no buzz from the crowds. They were there, with their amazing signs, smiling faces and bags of jellies – but my head was low and I had to get into my head to keep lifting my legs. I was nowhere near the pace I needed to be at and I knew this from early on. I adjusted the plan and aimed for 3.30, which was 8 minute miles. That became my sole focus for the entire day. I checked my watch, and I reminded myself that I was strong and I had the training done.
The difference between 2016 and 2017 was stark. In 2016, I bounced around the streets of Dublin, enjoying every minute of the experience. Now, I was talking myself about how tiny children in Syria were forced to walk for miles with a fever, and no food, and that I chose this. I told myself to get over myself and keep putting one foot in front of the other. It is a long day when you’re not having fun. I remember when staying with the 3.30 pacers just became too much. I didn’t care at this point. I wasn’t slowing down much at all, but I knew that to stay with them would cost me finishing the race.
When I hit mile 25, I spotted Dave and the girls. Same plan as last year, run on the left, meet them just up past the RDS. This time, I barely lifted my arm to wave over to them. He said later that he didn’t know I was feeling awful, but he did wonder why I wasn’t chasing down the 3.30 pacers who were just up ahead! Yes, they were just up ahead. 90 seconds ahead of me to be precise, but they may as well have been 100 miles away. My tank was empty and I couldn’t move any faster.
Brian Bruton, Joanne O’Boyle and her husband Diarmuid were on the last 800m stretch. I’ll never forget feeling so disappointed for not being able to respond to their screams to pick it up at the finish. I plodded my way over the finish line, and bumped into my running buddy Tom, almost as soon as I crossed. I wanted to cry, I felt so awful. He knew it. He’s not the hugging kind. Without me saying a word he told me I had a great PB, get over myself and let’s get a pint! He was right.
I spent the next 7 weeks recovering from that damn chest infection!! Fun times.
Well, what can I say! I was hooked after my first marathon and came back to try and recreate the experience – it was never going to happen. There is something a little bit special about your first marathon, and I don’t know that I will ever get that feeling again. Still, can’t blame a girl for trying.
So 2017 was a different kettle of fish. This time I had entered in plenty of time (I entered the day they opened for entries) – I diligently attended all of my track sessions, long runs, recovery runs. I even skipped the Great Fjord swim as it was too close to race day and I was taking this one quite seriously. All was going fine until about a month out. I was to run Charleville half marathon but picked up a chest infection. Rather than rest, I ran the half – it went according to plan. I hit my targeted time, picking up a PB and headed back home, never quite shaking the chesty cough fully.
Taper is a funny thing… you look forward to resting but then you get quite antsy when you’re not following a hardcore plan. This was me for the last couple of weeks… feeling tired, not entirely well, but also afraid to rest completely. I had a bit of a fever the week before, and this resurfaced the day we went to Dublin also. Nothing horrendous, just a feeling of being ‘not quite right’.
Race day arrived and off we went. This time I was in wave 1, so no getting caught up behind masses of people. Almost as soon as I started to run, I felt exhausted. I told my mind to shut up and figured it would unwind itself as I clocked up a few miles – it didn’t. By the time I saw Dave and the kids in Phoenix park (mile 5) I felt so tired, I half hoped he would see it on my face and tell me to stop. I had my sunglasses on so he couldn’t see, but I had a little cry because I had a bad feeling I wouldn’t see them again at mile 25. The kids jumped up and down when they saw me. I just waved and kept going.
This was already so different to the year before. I felt no buzz from the crowds. They were there, with their amazing signs, smiling faces and bags of jellies – but my head was low and I had to get into my head to keep lifting my legs. I was nowhere near the pace I needed to be at and I knew this from early on. I adjusted the plan and aimed for 3.30, which was 8 minute miles. That became my sole focus for the entire day. I checked my watch, and I reminded myself that I was strong and I had the training done.
The difference between 2016 and 2017 was stark. In 2016, I bounced around the streets of Dublin, enjoying every minute of the experience. Now, I was talking myself about how tiny children in Syria were forced to walk for miles with a fever, and no food, and that I chose this. I told myself to get over myself and keep putting one foot in front of the other. It is a long day when you’re not having fun. I remember when staying with the 3.30 pacers just became too much. I didn’t care at this point. I wasn’t slowing down much at all, but I knew that to stay with them would cost me finishing the race.
When I hit mile 25, I spotted Dave and the girls. Same plan as last year, run on the left, meet them just up past the RDS. This time, I barely lifted my arm to wave over to them. He said later that he didn’t know I was feeling awful, but he did wonder why I wasn’t chasing down the 3.30 pacers who were just up ahead! Yes, they were just up ahead. 90 seconds ahead of me to be precise, but they may as well have been 100 miles away. My tank was empty and I couldn’t move any faster.
Brian Bruton, Joanne O’Boyle and her husband Diarmuid were on the last 800m stretch. I’ll never forget feeling so disappointed for not being able to respond to their screams to pick it up at the finish. I plodded my way over the finish line, and bumped into my running buddy Tom, almost as soon as I crossed. I wanted to cry, I felt so awful. He knew it. He’s not the hugging kind. Without me saying a word he told me I had a great PB, get over myself and let’s get a pint! He was right.
I spent the next 7 weeks recovering from that damn chest infection!! Fun times.
Marie
Dublin marathon - 2017
Next marathon nr2 - 2019 - 3:30' :
Like I said on my earlier report, after 2016, there was a deep seated desire to recreate that first marathon feeling. I didn’t run Dublin in 2018 as I lost my father to cancer during the training, but I was keen to run in 2019. Dublin City Marathon was celebrating its 40th Anniversary and I was turning 40 a few days later myself.
Training went well. I have a thing called hammertoe, which hasn’t been a problem during any of my previous marathons, but for some reason or other, it became a problem during the Charleville half marathon. About half way through, I wanted to stop with the searing pain across the toes on my right foot… but I filtered it out and finished out the half, hitting my targeted time and picking up a new PB. Job done.
Unfortunately, the toes didn’t get better though, in fact, they got worse. On each long run, I had to take my shoe off to massage my feet out and (gross – you have been warned!) uncurl my toes, to allow me to run another few miles. At this point, I was getting irritated, as I was in good shape for the marathon. I was running good paces, and I felt I had a bit of experience under my belt now to achieve a decent sub 3.25 marathon, as per the plan.
I went to my GP who prescribed some anti-inflammatories and referred me to a foot specialist and I also played around with different shoes to see if that helped. Whilst out and about in town after a 20 mile run in early October, I noticed that my left foot was very sore. I had the kids with me, so rather than sit down and rest, I ignored it and walked around for another couple of hours. Who knows if rest would have worked or not, I’ll never know…. But now I had 2 foot injuries… one on each foot.
The second injury pretty much grounded all running activity to a halt. I couldn’t walk on it without limping. I could only wear heels comfortably, but this didn’t work with my toe injury. So multiple physio and podiatrist appointments later, I went to Dublin with two non-functioning feet, entirely unsure of what the plan was going to be, but knowing that I didn’t want to miss the marathon as it had been central to my fortieth celebrations! I had even dragged Tom and Bridget into the marathon, even though neither of them wanted to run it.
Race day arrives and I genuinely couldn’t walk a mile on this new injury. One of our clubmates, Grainne, text me the night before saying that if this was plantar, it will loosen out as I get a couple of miles in, so this was going to be the focus of my mind over matter trick for the day…
We had to walk to the start of the race, which seemed to be more complicated than previous years. I was hobbling along, in quite a bit of discomfort, but suppressing the voices of reason in my head. Tom and Bridget weren’t asking me if I was mad, my physio told me to let her know how I got on – nobody seemed to think this was crazy, so I told my head and feet to shut up and off we went to the start line. I pretty much hadn’t ran at all for 3 weeks before the marathon so I wasn’t sure what to do with pace.
I had suggested maybe aiming for 4 hours that morning, but Tom quickly cut in asking me would I not be better off running faster to be off my feet quicker? He had a point I suppose. So off we took. No plan. Just absolute agony running for that first mile. I was afraid to even verbalise to Tom, who was beside me, how sore I was, in case I was out before I had even started. Mile 2, it was less intense, mile 3 and 4, I was thinking I can get used to this maybe. So I did. I passed Dave and the kids in Phoenix park, but this time we all knew I probably wouldn’t see them again at mile 25 – and if by some miracle I did, who knows that kind of state I’d be in. So unlike 2017 where I was absolutely drained, 2019 was the year I counted trees for a while. Then I sang songs, then I said things like ‘ouch/f***’ as I landed on each foot, both of them complained in very different ways when I landed. It was at mile 10 that I told myself there was only one way home and that was via the finish line. I didn’t think I’d get 10 miles in on those feet but I was here so I wasn’t going to go home without finishing my 40th birthday marathon. Tom hid behind a tree or something around mile 13 – so I was now solo on top of feeling pretty rough. I popped difene at some point, and I also popped paracetamol to try and dull the pain.
In the end, I thought about the day that I had each of my three children and just focused on how this would all be over soon. It wasn’t the most pleasant experience ever, but I had a job to do and I was intent on doing it.
I stopped quickly at mile 16 (I had planned to treat my toes to an uncurling from mile 13) so this helped me to keep a good pace to try and ‘bank’ a minute or so for the planned stop. The uncurling did nothing to relieve the pain. Both feet were in bits, as was my left leg, and my soul. So off I went again, with 10 miles to go, knowing that I would feel great after.
Mile 22 it all went to pot. Remember heartbreak hill in 2016? Well it was like mount Everest in 2019. I got up ok… but something changed after that and I was running out of batteries. When we were headed out onto the dual carriageway, Adrian McKiernan came running alongside me with a bottle… it honestly took me a couple of minutes to even recognise that he was calling my name and talking to me. I was cooked at this stage and still had another 4 miles to go.
As I approached mile 25, I felt like I was going backwards and I was absolutely terrified that my legs would stop as I knew they wouldn’t start again. I stuck to the left, scanning the crowds, looking for Dave and the kids. No sign. This last bit felt like it took 4 days. I passed a friend of mine. She was screaming my name and clapping. I’m not sure if I even looked at her properly. I passed Judith. She got emotional when she saw the state of me. Again, I don’t think I spoke.
Eventually, close to mile 26 I saw them. Dave looked a bit horrified and the kids didn’t look to high five me, so I figured they could tell I was a bit broken at this stage. That last half a mile was like a whole new marathon. I looked at my watch, and with absolute horror I realised I was somehow managing to make a small gain on my previous PB.
How could this happen with 2 broken feet and a day from hell? Still, I figured it would be a shame to lose in the last few hundred metres and to keep the legs moving. It felt like it would never end. Not only could I not pick up pace, I could barely pick up my legs to keep going. I used to wonder about people who walked over the line. Now I knew that if walked, I wouldn’t even make it as far as the line!!
When I got over, the first thing I did was take off those damn runners. One of the medics tried to take to a tent but I assured him I was grand now and just needed to be left for a minute.
No tears of emotion but I felt absolutely delighted with myself for being tough enough to do what I said I would do. I also wondered if maybe I am slightly unhinged for running it, as really, it wasn’t a good idea (hindsight is 20/20) but my overriding feeling was one of pride for somehow pulling it out of the bag.
I have to follow up by saying this feeling of pride quickly passed when I ended up at the doctors the following day with a horrendous through infection. Blood tests later showed that I had glandular fever, something that teenagers usually contract. Something that I had already when I was 18, and didn’t even expect to have again.
So I made a conscious decision not to run a marathon in 2020. Turns out, it’s not a bad year to skip!! 2021, I think I might be ready for the next one.
Like I said on my earlier report, after 2016, there was a deep seated desire to recreate that first marathon feeling. I didn’t run Dublin in 2018 as I lost my father to cancer during the training, but I was keen to run in 2019. Dublin City Marathon was celebrating its 40th Anniversary and I was turning 40 a few days later myself.
Training went well. I have a thing called hammertoe, which hasn’t been a problem during any of my previous marathons, but for some reason or other, it became a problem during the Charleville half marathon. About half way through, I wanted to stop with the searing pain across the toes on my right foot… but I filtered it out and finished out the half, hitting my targeted time and picking up a new PB. Job done.
Unfortunately, the toes didn’t get better though, in fact, they got worse. On each long run, I had to take my shoe off to massage my feet out and (gross – you have been warned!) uncurl my toes, to allow me to run another few miles. At this point, I was getting irritated, as I was in good shape for the marathon. I was running good paces, and I felt I had a bit of experience under my belt now to achieve a decent sub 3.25 marathon, as per the plan.
I went to my GP who prescribed some anti-inflammatories and referred me to a foot specialist and I also played around with different shoes to see if that helped. Whilst out and about in town after a 20 mile run in early October, I noticed that my left foot was very sore. I had the kids with me, so rather than sit down and rest, I ignored it and walked around for another couple of hours. Who knows if rest would have worked or not, I’ll never know…. But now I had 2 foot injuries… one on each foot.
The second injury pretty much grounded all running activity to a halt. I couldn’t walk on it without limping. I could only wear heels comfortably, but this didn’t work with my toe injury. So multiple physio and podiatrist appointments later, I went to Dublin with two non-functioning feet, entirely unsure of what the plan was going to be, but knowing that I didn’t want to miss the marathon as it had been central to my fortieth celebrations! I had even dragged Tom and Bridget into the marathon, even though neither of them wanted to run it.
Race day arrives and I genuinely couldn’t walk a mile on this new injury. One of our clubmates, Grainne, text me the night before saying that if this was plantar, it will loosen out as I get a couple of miles in, so this was going to be the focus of my mind over matter trick for the day…
We had to walk to the start of the race, which seemed to be more complicated than previous years. I was hobbling along, in quite a bit of discomfort, but suppressing the voices of reason in my head. Tom and Bridget weren’t asking me if I was mad, my physio told me to let her know how I got on – nobody seemed to think this was crazy, so I told my head and feet to shut up and off we went to the start line. I pretty much hadn’t ran at all for 3 weeks before the marathon so I wasn’t sure what to do with pace.
I had suggested maybe aiming for 4 hours that morning, but Tom quickly cut in asking me would I not be better off running faster to be off my feet quicker? He had a point I suppose. So off we took. No plan. Just absolute agony running for that first mile. I was afraid to even verbalise to Tom, who was beside me, how sore I was, in case I was out before I had even started. Mile 2, it was less intense, mile 3 and 4, I was thinking I can get used to this maybe. So I did. I passed Dave and the kids in Phoenix park, but this time we all knew I probably wouldn’t see them again at mile 25 – and if by some miracle I did, who knows that kind of state I’d be in. So unlike 2017 where I was absolutely drained, 2019 was the year I counted trees for a while. Then I sang songs, then I said things like ‘ouch/f***’ as I landed on each foot, both of them complained in very different ways when I landed. It was at mile 10 that I told myself there was only one way home and that was via the finish line. I didn’t think I’d get 10 miles in on those feet but I was here so I wasn’t going to go home without finishing my 40th birthday marathon. Tom hid behind a tree or something around mile 13 – so I was now solo on top of feeling pretty rough. I popped difene at some point, and I also popped paracetamol to try and dull the pain.
In the end, I thought about the day that I had each of my three children and just focused on how this would all be over soon. It wasn’t the most pleasant experience ever, but I had a job to do and I was intent on doing it.
I stopped quickly at mile 16 (I had planned to treat my toes to an uncurling from mile 13) so this helped me to keep a good pace to try and ‘bank’ a minute or so for the planned stop. The uncurling did nothing to relieve the pain. Both feet were in bits, as was my left leg, and my soul. So off I went again, with 10 miles to go, knowing that I would feel great after.
Mile 22 it all went to pot. Remember heartbreak hill in 2016? Well it was like mount Everest in 2019. I got up ok… but something changed after that and I was running out of batteries. When we were headed out onto the dual carriageway, Adrian McKiernan came running alongside me with a bottle… it honestly took me a couple of minutes to even recognise that he was calling my name and talking to me. I was cooked at this stage and still had another 4 miles to go.
As I approached mile 25, I felt like I was going backwards and I was absolutely terrified that my legs would stop as I knew they wouldn’t start again. I stuck to the left, scanning the crowds, looking for Dave and the kids. No sign. This last bit felt like it took 4 days. I passed a friend of mine. She was screaming my name and clapping. I’m not sure if I even looked at her properly. I passed Judith. She got emotional when she saw the state of me. Again, I don’t think I spoke.
Eventually, close to mile 26 I saw them. Dave looked a bit horrified and the kids didn’t look to high five me, so I figured they could tell I was a bit broken at this stage. That last half a mile was like a whole new marathon. I looked at my watch, and with absolute horror I realised I was somehow managing to make a small gain on my previous PB.
How could this happen with 2 broken feet and a day from hell? Still, I figured it would be a shame to lose in the last few hundred metres and to keep the legs moving. It felt like it would never end. Not only could I not pick up pace, I could barely pick up my legs to keep going. I used to wonder about people who walked over the line. Now I knew that if walked, I wouldn’t even make it as far as the line!!
When I got over, the first thing I did was take off those damn runners. One of the medics tried to take to a tent but I assured him I was grand now and just needed to be left for a minute.
No tears of emotion but I felt absolutely delighted with myself for being tough enough to do what I said I would do. I also wondered if maybe I am slightly unhinged for running it, as really, it wasn’t a good idea (hindsight is 20/20) but my overriding feeling was one of pride for somehow pulling it out of the bag.
I have to follow up by saying this feeling of pride quickly passed when I ended up at the doctors the following day with a horrendous through infection. Blood tests later showed that I had glandular fever, something that teenagers usually contract. Something that I had already when I was 18, and didn’t even expect to have again.
So I made a conscious decision not to run a marathon in 2020. Turns out, it’s not a bad year to skip!! 2021, I think I might be ready for the next one.
Marie
Dublin Marathon - 2019
First marathon:
I’ve always had a healthy respect (mixed with fear) for the marathon distance. I’m a fairly experienced runner but the marathon is different, making me an inexperienced marathon runner.
The goal for marathon no. 1 was to get to the start line uninjured and the finish line in one piece, in a half decent time and also to experience the distance for the first time, so the emotions involved were mainly ones of excitement and apprehension mixed with curiosity, and the resolve to finish.
A conservative approach was the plan for this marathon, resist the urge to push on even if I felt good enough to do so. It worked, I kept a steady 7.30 p/m pace for every single mile to the end. Delighted and elated to finish and have completed the distance for the first time, but with the feeling that though I was tired I could have pushed a bit harder, especially in the 2nd half.
Marathon no. 2, Francfort:
Marathon no. 2 was different in that the goal this time was to try to break 3 hours – and this time I had a coach, so everything was different, there was a plan and a goal which gave me confidence. Training for a sub 3 marathon is different to training for a marathon though and the emotional states throughout therefore are also different. A different determination and steely resolve was required this time.
As we stood in the sub 3 corral on the Frankfurt marathon startline, the anticipation was building and the nerves were palpable all around. My clubmate Neasa and I had planned to run together to the halfway mark and go through in 1.28. The start was tight, and the streets of Frankfurt were narrow and the buildings tall, so the Garmin was thrown off completely, it became impossible to guage moving speed at all with the result that two of the kilometer splits were too fast for the plan.
This made me nervous from the start, I knew I may have ended up paying for anything too fast in the first half. As the race progressed, I relaxed a bit more, we hit the target at halfway no problem but at 25k I wasn’t feeling at all as good as I knew I needed to break 3 hours. Doubt set in then followed by some denial, and I tried to push it away, reminding myself of the hard training put in for races usually restores my confidence when this happens, long hard track sessions and long runs.
Coming up on 35k, and feeling lonely at this stage, the support just isn’t the same at an away marathon, I felt my goal time ebbing away, the bargaining started, I’ll settle for 3.01, 3.02 and so on.
Acceptance set in shortly after that, It would be 3.05. Finished elated and feeling that I’d learned an awful lot over the 42k distance.
It didn’t take very long for the resolve to set in that I’d be back to collect that 5 minutes somewhere, sometime in the future.
I’ve always had a healthy respect (mixed with fear) for the marathon distance. I’m a fairly experienced runner but the marathon is different, making me an inexperienced marathon runner.
The goal for marathon no. 1 was to get to the start line uninjured and the finish line in one piece, in a half decent time and also to experience the distance for the first time, so the emotions involved were mainly ones of excitement and apprehension mixed with curiosity, and the resolve to finish.
A conservative approach was the plan for this marathon, resist the urge to push on even if I felt good enough to do so. It worked, I kept a steady 7.30 p/m pace for every single mile to the end. Delighted and elated to finish and have completed the distance for the first time, but with the feeling that though I was tired I could have pushed a bit harder, especially in the 2nd half.
Marathon no. 2, Francfort:
Marathon no. 2 was different in that the goal this time was to try to break 3 hours – and this time I had a coach, so everything was different, there was a plan and a goal which gave me confidence. Training for a sub 3 marathon is different to training for a marathon though and the emotional states throughout therefore are also different. A different determination and steely resolve was required this time.
As we stood in the sub 3 corral on the Frankfurt marathon startline, the anticipation was building and the nerves were palpable all around. My clubmate Neasa and I had planned to run together to the halfway mark and go through in 1.28. The start was tight, and the streets of Frankfurt were narrow and the buildings tall, so the Garmin was thrown off completely, it became impossible to guage moving speed at all with the result that two of the kilometer splits were too fast for the plan.
This made me nervous from the start, I knew I may have ended up paying for anything too fast in the first half. As the race progressed, I relaxed a bit more, we hit the target at halfway no problem but at 25k I wasn’t feeling at all as good as I knew I needed to break 3 hours. Doubt set in then followed by some denial, and I tried to push it away, reminding myself of the hard training put in for races usually restores my confidence when this happens, long hard track sessions and long runs.
Coming up on 35k, and feeling lonely at this stage, the support just isn’t the same at an away marathon, I felt my goal time ebbing away, the bargaining started, I’ll settle for 3.01, 3.02 and so on.
Acceptance set in shortly after that, It would be 3.05. Finished elated and feeling that I’d learned an awful lot over the 42k distance.
It didn’t take very long for the resolve to set in that I’d be back to collect that 5 minutes somewhere, sometime in the future.
Sinead
Dublin & Francfort marathons
First marathon:
My 1st marathon was Dublin 2015. I was 40 that year and I wanted to tick the box!I enjoyed all the training and I remember being so excited the morning of the race when I saw the huge number of athletes. I loved it all up to mile 21!
I remember the crowd in the last mile pushing me on and I got my sub 4 hour. I was so so happy. Finishing a marathon is so different to any other feeling.
Marathon no.2, New York City:
I've only done 1 marathon since, NYC in 2016. I loved every minute of it from getting the subway and then boat to Staten island at 6am..to the last few kilometres in beautiful Central Park.
It's a huge city, there were almost 43,000 runners.. but what I remember most were the streets lined with people in Brooklyn, Queens, the Bronx and Manhatten - the best support I've ever experienced. They were insane! I'd do it again in a heartbeat.
My 1st marathon was Dublin 2015. I was 40 that year and I wanted to tick the box!I enjoyed all the training and I remember being so excited the morning of the race when I saw the huge number of athletes. I loved it all up to mile 21!
I remember the crowd in the last mile pushing me on and I got my sub 4 hour. I was so so happy. Finishing a marathon is so different to any other feeling.
Marathon no.2, New York City:
I've only done 1 marathon since, NYC in 2016. I loved every minute of it from getting the subway and then boat to Staten island at 6am..to the last few kilometres in beautiful Central Park.
It's a huge city, there were almost 43,000 runners.. but what I remember most were the streets lined with people in Brooklyn, Queens, the Bronx and Manhatten - the best support I've ever experienced. They were insane! I'd do it again in a heartbeat.
Judith
Dublin & New York City marathons