A tough day out but proud to be from Mayo

OMG, I am so cold. I don’t think I’ve ever been so cold! Walking, moving, jogging; nothing is helping. We were warned. Carlow Weather told us to bring the layers; we did, but hanging around Dublin in a wide-open space with a wind chill that would slice through any opening gap, nothing can protect us.

The pants are off, the gloves stay on and we move swiftly to the start. It’s not often I wear gloves running but they remain on today, a warm woolly cap to throw away, all collected up and given to charity. There’s heat in numbers and so we huddle together. It’s hard to run fast when you are that cold. The whistle goes, a slow form of movement to get such a large crowd out, safety always at this stage.

Straight into the head wind, even sheltering in behind people doesn’t seem to help. Running into the Phoenix park, wide open, gradual inclines, I’m begging to feel some heat moving through the body, I’ve forgotten about my freezing toes. The gradual warmth feeling so good, it makes one run faster.

Seven miles done, feeling good and bang on the pace. I just don’t know what my body is capable of today, running on feel as this will be my seventh major competition in four months; with cross-country, 5km’s and other fun events thrown in.

A lovely downhill out of the park. I love this part where you can see the massive crowd ahead, a sea of colour guiding you along the way, where you can let the arms flow free, now time for the cap and gloves to go. And so, the good feeling continues; the crowds alive shouting hon Mayo today instead of Mayo for Sam! I smile from ear to ear. How much has changed in a year. As Andy said, “they won’t laugh at us anymore!” I love the music, the entertainment, the support, the miles fly by until halfway. A pain appears, the stomach starting to complain. I can’t even take in water; I slow a little and find a way to manage it for now. My Mam often spoke about getting a cold in one’s stomach and I think that’s the start of things today. The heat leaves your core to protect your extremities. I get into a new slower rhythm where I can move with the least amount of discomfort.

Focusing on the crowd, the support, to take my mind off things. Miles 13-15 are difficult at the best of times but faced with a strong cold headwind, just bend in and push against it. It’s easier running uphill than downhill right now. My miles are slowing, my body is suffering and now I’m having doubts; I find a chewing gum in my belt, it helps, but I can’t take in any fuel. I try some Lucozade it nearly comes back up. It’s amazing when all the obstacles are up against us how we focus completely on what’s manageable, and everything else is forgotten about.

When doing a marathon, it’s recommended to have plan A, B and C. Today I didn’t have a plan; just go and run. Therefore I am mentally able to deal with what might lie ahead. I have a talk to myself; finishing is key, time is gone out the window now and I am ok with that. I have had a fast first half so even If I lose time from now on, it’s OK. The wind is helping; it forces me to slow down. Finally, toilets on the horizon, a cue outside, the clock is ticking, water again and a mint. At this stage I need fuel but haven’t the courage to chance it.

I pick up the pace it feels good. 19 miles, I can do this. Friends pass me out; I encourage them so, so much. I always try to look at the positives in life; in a big, lonely place one has to, the stomach hurting is saving my legs, no aches or pains there yet! In a marathon you often hear of people hitting the wall at 20 miles I focus towards 22. No point fearing heart break hill, just get up and over as it’s less than four miles home.

The pain returns, the crowd are amazing, relishing their support gets me into a rhythm, the legs now tiring but I have no pressure, only managing my tummy and that’s what I do; slow when I need to, push a little when I can, keep the head down and just think of everything but the miles ahead. I think of the county finals; all my family in MacHale Park, great friends involved with the teams competing, of how so many of my friends aren’t here today, of people who have passed, who are injured, of how lucky I am to be here, healthy and happy, so no complaining now, no feeling sorry for myself, counting one to four, it helps.

I do love music. When I get the chance to hit the dance floor, I ain’t coming off it. The music is electrifying, lifting me up so high from where I am right now. Two miles left, my time has slowed right down, but I’m moving. The pain is not so bad. I think of Jack Coyne’s inspiring words “Never stop dreaming, stick your chest out and be proud to be from Mayo". I straighten up, pull my shoulders back, the crowd shouts ‘hon Mayo!’, and I scream back.

We turn for home, the wind hits so hard, it’s pushing back any zap we’ve left. I keep my focus on the crowd, the music, high fiving the kids, my name being cheered, using it to bring me further down that long stretch. One mile to go, I can’t believe it. I steady; a mile is a long way when you’re suffering, people lined all along the way home; the energy, the emotion, I scream back for more. Now feeling alive, I’m minutes slower than normal but to finish this one will be the ultimate reward.

I just want to make it home; I just want to feel OK. I can see the end. Lifting the legs, I know I will do this. Waving so hard back at the crowd brings me over that line; double checking I’m done, walking a few steps, hugs from the stewards, huge cheers from everyone around, ambulance crew ensuring we’re OK, I don’t know how I am.

I become completely overwhelmed with emotion; to run a marathon when everything is working well is a wonderful feeling but to finish a marathon when parts of the body don’t want to, when the weather decides to punish us, when there’s no one to carry you home, is pure and absolute euphoria; crying with happiness on achievement, crying with hurt from tough times, then you begin to think of people who are going through real pain. I am a complete emotional wreck, until I begin to meet familiar faces, people collapsed on the ground, medics all along the sides. I straighten, gather myself together and smile, I’ve so much to be thankful for. Finally, the bag drop, a space along the footpath to change, that perishing feeling begins again. A coffee shop, heat, surrounded by athletes. We laugh, embrace and chat about one of the most difficult Dublin days out!

I head for the long walk to CityLink. I don’t mind though because I am able. In life, we face many challenges, it’s how we embrace them, conquer them and deal with the here and now, with no regrets is the key. Time will always pass by.

Marathon number nine was tough, but manageable, it could have been a lot worse. Number 10 will be abroad in a warmer climate! As I slowly climb the steps of the bus, the journey home to Mayo begins.

I smile. what a proud day to be a Mayo woman in Dublin.