I knew that it was
never going to be my fastest race – in fact I was fully prepared for it to be
my slowest after that bloody injury and generally letting go of the reins, leading to this being the probably the least training I’d done for any race in
the three years now that I’ve been running. But that didn’t matter, it was a weekend
away and a chance to take part in a race series I’ve been eyeing up for a
while.
For anyone who doesn’t know, the Rock And Roll series is a
global running brand with races in all sorts of exciting places including the Las
Vegas strip. They’re famed for their ‘live bands at every mile’ and the big
celebration concert they throw at the end of the race. Being someone who’s been
brought up to love music, it’s no wonder it appeared on the running bucket
list.
As well as the excitement of the main event, arriving in
Dublin at the crack of dawn on Saturday morning gave us the added bonus of fitting
in some Parkrun tourism... well a Saturday morning just isn’t the same without
it! A quick dash from the airport to Father Collins park where we were greeted
by fellow runners from Nottingham and before we knew it, it was time for the
off.
Without going into too much detail, I had a shocker the week
before at a more local Parkrun, so the flat course and lower temperatures were
extremely welcomed as I worked my way around one of ‘those’ runs where
everything just feels right! As I made my way round the bends and finally up to
the finishing funnel I was feeling confident and strong ready for the half
marathon ahead of me the very next day.
The Saturday afternoon was spent soaking up some traditional
Irish culture (of course I’m talking about a visit to the Guinness Storehouse!)
then we were sensible and got a nice early night ready for the Sunday morning
6am alarm call when we made our way bleary eyed to the start line. And after a
bit of a rush in the toilet queues and baggage drop off, all of a sudden the
starting claxon was going and the thousands of pairs of feet began to pound the
Dublin pavements settling in to their 13.1 miles journey around the city.
As per usual, the first couple of miles were fairly
uneventful. I was feeling fairly jovial and pushing any thoughts of the lack of
training to the back of my mind and taking in the sights and sounds of the
event. Things started to get a bit more tough at around the 4 mile mark but I
kept going, telling myself I could do it and reminding myself to take it
steadily mile by mile.
Getting toward the five mile marker, the road was split and
those of us still in the first third of our journey plodding along could now
see those reaching their final few miles dashing down the other side. Some
runners hate this but for some reason I’ve always enjoyed it – I don’t really
know why but something about seeing those completely in the zone who’ll be
finishing in perhaps half the time it will take me really motivates me!
And bloody hell did I need some motivation as the first of
the hills I’d been anxiously anticipating started to come into view. Having
looked at the elevation map earlier in the week, I knew there were going to be
some killer hills but I’d nowhere near mentally prepared myself for what lay
over the next five miles! Massive evalation followed by massive elevation up
into some beautiful little villages, it genuinely seemed never ending.
Accepting that there was no way I’d be running up these and living to tell the
tale, I just had to crack on doing what I could. To be honest, somewhat
surprisingly, I was still enjoying the race despite this as I chatted a bit to
some of the other suffering runners around me. All of us cursing the hills,
wondering quite why we thought it would be a good idea!
The miles extremely slowly ticked by, passing the half way
mark where I could begin counting down instead of up (I always count up the
miles to the first half then down to the end). The hills didn’t stop – there
were some sharp downhills too which were almost more tricky to run that the
declines, but definitely more fun! But I was making my way through the race
eagerly looking forward to getting to the end.
By about mile 10 I was shattered, running when I could down
a long sloping hill nervously checking the time every now and again to make
sure I had plenty of time before they needed to open the roads. So I was bloody
gutted when way ahead of time, I was asked to move onto the pavement because
they needed to get the traffic moving, my head started going a bit and those
all too familiar thoughts of being a ‘rubbish runner’ crept in. This all
escalated when some of the bloody volunteers (I want to make it clear here,
people who volunteer for races are generally magnificent and should be praised
as such) who were obviously keen to get home started absent mindedly chucking
rope off of cones and into the path of those of us still giving absolutely
everything to get this race done. After nearly tripping twice and shouting at
them the bloody be careful, that was it – the waterworks tap was on.
I cried for about the next half a mile – definitely not
uncommon… but massively not helped by passing one of these “bands at every
mile” who was packing up before those of us at the back of the pack had chance
to enjoy it. Feeling thoroughly demotivated, if I hadn’t have been aware that I
didn’t have too much left to go I couldn’t easily have thrown the towel in
here.
But doing what I always do I kept on going and it did get a
little better. I suppose I have the rope throwing volunteers to thank a bit
because I kept running to make sure I was far enough ahead to not encounter
them again! I soon started to hear some live music just in the distance and as
I made my way around a bend a young lady was on stage still singing – back to
crying but because I was happy this time “bless her she’s still playing for us”
tears!
Getting excitingly close to the end it was up another bloody
hill – nothing compared to those earlier in the race but much more than
necessary at 12.5 miles in – and past another band (yes I cried again!) and
finally the end was in sight.
Excited and relieved in equal measure to see the finish line
with Des’s big smiling face next to it waiting for me, I ran as fast as I could
(probably the world’s slowest sprint finish) and at long last it was all over!
One of the perks of being one of the last to finish is that
it takes no time to get through the finishing area (collecting the
all-important medal and freebies) and retrieve my bag from baggage collection.
Reunited with Des and both of us hobbling around in loads of pain we somehow
managed to clamber to the floor to enjoy the last of the live music on stage. I
have to say at this point that I was slightly (read very) gutted there was only
non-alcoholic drinks on offer!
So that was it! Half marathon number five done and dusted.
It was definitely a story of ups and downs and that counts for more than just
the bloody hills! To be honest the atmosphere and other main selling points of
the Rock and Roll series were a little disappointing. It was generally a great
race which I did enjoy, but I was expecting much more from the bands on course
and there were some other gaps in the organisation which tarnished the
experience a little.
However, I must say I enjoyed my first taste of
international running – and Temple Bar in the evening was an extremely welcome
wind down to the weekend!
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| The all important medal! |
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| Not the view you want more than 10 miles in! |
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| #justdoingwhatwelove |
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| This almost shows how evil it was! |
