Dublin Marathon ... Priceless

This was my second trip to Ireland, and my second trip to meet my brother Neal in Ireland for an athletic adventure. The last trip to Ireland back in 2001 was to scoot around the Ring of Kerry on my tandem bicycle. That trip continued an ad hoc series of shared athletic adventures begun in 2000 when I ran my first and presumably last marathon in Washington, DC. Obviously, I was wrong with that presumption. We had a ball on the tandem, though I’m not so sure Neal was having fun as we careened down a mountain road along the coast in a cold rain on the longest day of the year to complete the 107 mile Ring. We survived that and have run and biked in many places. It is a good thing for brothers to share passions even when they live half way around the world from each other.

This was one of those rare trips where everything went as planned. The flights were all on-time, smooth and landed early. US Airways’ infamy for losing baggage was forgotten. The hotel reservations were perfect and its location ideal adjacent to the venerable Trinity College, a quarter of a mile from the race start and the hubbub of the Temple Bar. Even the fickle Irish weather chose to cooperate with the minor annoyance of some blustery winds during the marathon.

I met my brother at the airport, he arriving a couple of hours after me. We engaged a taxi with a very friendly driver who cheered us on for the race ahead. The drive to the hotel was slowed by the news of a bomb scare on a bus in downtown Dublin. It was just a minor blip on a great weekend and one that gave my brother fuel for stories about such events that are regular in Israel (with much sadder results).

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Our first plan was to do some running and, after coordinating our Garmins in the new environment we headed out, map in hand for a good afternoon run. We ran along the river and through some of the neighborhoods competing and not competing at the same time. Over the next two days we explored the city with cameras in hand. I took my usual selection of doors and windows and we found the U2 wall where Neal wrote his daughter’s name, Yonit, on the wall with others from around the world.

Sunday afternoon, my friend Tom O’Donnell who I run with in Valley Forge and share stories and post workout pig-parts, arrived with his son, Tom, Jr. The senior Tom has run a few marathons and I think I may have had a little credit for getting him through the Philadelphia Marathon last year in a time good enough for him to enjoy his first Boston Marathon this year. His Boston marathon was much more rewarding than my obvious disaster (see below). Most significant was how his son, Tom Jr. reacted. He decided to train for his first marathon. I mentioned to Tom that I would be meeting Neal and he talked with his son and they agreed to run Dublin as the younger Tom’s first marathon. It would also give them a chance to visit some of their ancestral homelands.

I found what turned out to be a great place for pasta the night before the race where we enjoyed a great pre-race dinner. The highlight was a table of about twelve very attractive Irish lasses out for a night on the town who arrived shortly after we did. The hotel had a good early morning breakfast for the runners and we awoke to a warmish and dry, though windy marathon morning. Around Trinity College we walked to the marathon start, no need to drop bags at the finish. I jettisoned my Icicle 10-Miler t-shirt to keep me warm before the race start and off we went, right on time and in perfect conditions.

The race course started out through the city and headed away uphill away from the river. I felt fantastic and after a few miles felt myself in great shape for a good day. As I discussed in a previous post, it doesn’t take too long to know whether the day will be good or not. This one felt special, so I settled into a pace that was equal to my PR pace. The course ran through lovely Irish towns, through glorious Phoenix Park with football and rugby fields and back down to the river. At mile 11 we made a turn both into the strong wind and up a long climb towards the high points of the race. This grueling section took its toll of many runners and though I felt strong it probably took more out of me than I wanted.

We wandered through more Irish towns up and down the highlands around Dublin. From miles 15 to 18 the course was generally downhill and I was still right on my PR pace and then at mile 19 we experienced the Dublin equivalent of Heartbreak Hill from miles 19 to 21 including a short, steep climb in the 21^st mile. At that point the PR (3:39) pace was history and with a little calculation with the few still working brain cells and the readings on the Garmin I saw that it was easy for me to throttle back and still finish the marathon with a time well under four hours and the coveted Boston 2008 qualifier.

I finished the race happily (3:54:11), picked up my medal, goodie bag and t-shirt, wandered back to the hotel. While waiting for my brother and the O’Donnells to finish I stayed along the race route in front of the hotel to cheer on slower runners as they labored through the last half-mile of the race. Many seemed very appreciative of my strong vocal support of their efforts. Others were in the inglorious mile 26 haze.

Finally, we met in front of the hotel, celebrated each of our accomplishments, especially the completion of young Tom’s first marathon. After a good nap we headed out to wander through town to find a good post race dinner. We settled for a decent place in the Temple Bar area and spent hours sharing experiences.

On Tuesday, after the race (it was Monday like Boston, a national Bank Holiday), I set out with my camera to do my now standard recovery walk through town to capture my personal view of the city. Shortly a selection of the snapshots will appear here and more serious work will show up in the months ahead. Neal and the O’Donnells chose (intelligently, I might add) to hop on the on-off touring bus that circles the city for a standard tourist attraction. When we met afterwards, we headed off to Yamamora Noodles where Neal and I ate for our last meal in Ireland a few years ago.

Wednesday morning we each headed our own ways after a great experience of running and sharing: a pair of brothers, a father and son. As it said on their T-shirts, “It was priceless.”