The Garden County hosted their annual Half Marathon and 10K race in Wicklow Town, where I was fortunate enough (or unfortunate, whichever way you look at it) to race with over 3,000 runners. Let’s see how I got on!
Looking back at the Saturday before the race, we (Ciara and I) should have really been better prepared for the day ahead. Ireland saw one of its sunniest days of the year, so we took full advantage of it by getting some ice cream and standing at the side of a soccer pitch in the blistering sun. This sounded like a fantastic idea at the time, but being out of the house for almost three hours without any liquids or proper food isn’t (surprisingly) the best way to prepare for a big run.
The Sunday morning looked less bright, with clouds covering the gorgeous blue skies, but the preparation had begun nonetheless. Weetabix was the fuel of choice for these two athletes, and some packed snacks of jellies and muffins were brought along to reward ourselves after the eventual finish line. Hokas and Asics were thrown into the little Opel Corsa, and off we went down to Wicklow Town, listening to some 2010 tunes from Olly Murs and Adele (perfect hype music).
As always in Ireland, parking was the issue upon arrival. We left the car about a 25-minute walk away from the starting line, a great idea before the run, not so great after. Crowds of people piled into the warm-up area overlooking the Irish Sea, with visibility as far as Bray in one direction and Arklow the other. I looked around to see people wearing illuminous glasses, running shoes with an extra four inches of height, and energy gels being drunk like water, and it was at that moment I realised I had not done enough training for the race ahead. I decided to drop back to the 10K, which was my longest run in training, and Ciara stuck with the half marathon, making it her third to date.
The half-marathon runners set up in their waves, as they prepared for a gruelling, hilly 21 kilometres ahead. They took off from the starting line on the pier and weren’t seen for at least 90 minutes. Then, it was our turn to get going. I started in wave 2, which was for people aiming to finish between 45 and 55 minutes (a bit optimistic considering my previous times, but oh well). The route ahead wasn’t any easier for the shorter race, still battling those steep climbs and slow descents.
The first three kilometres felt like a breeze, running in groups, with racers still finding their preferred pace, and feeling the support of the families and friends who gathered on the paths alongside the track. At this point, I felt like I could run the half-marathon. But I was wrong, very wrong. We took our first turn up a hill towards Rathnew GAA Club, and the quads started to burn. The incline lasted almost a full kilometre, with no rest in the gradient. We finally reached the summit of the first hill, and I could relax my legs again.
The next two kilometres felt fine. I was still recovering from the first hill and getting my heart rate back down to a reasonable level. At the six-kilometre mark, we were treated to the sight of families and friends again, who had water, oranges and jellies for the runners to take on board for their last push. That gave me a big boost, seeing people come and support runners they didn’t know, because that’s what they wanted to do.
Sadly, after this, the line of supporters stopped, and the next big climb began. We were just over seven kilometres in, and the biggest challenge was upon us. Almost 2,000 metres of uphill running! It may sound like I’m dramatising this race, considering people were running twice this distance at the same time, but believe me, this incline was never-ending. My steps got smaller, my breathing got shallower, and my will to finish the race got a lot lower. Finally reaching the peak of that hill was a feeling I can’t even describe; it was as if I had completed a full marathon. All that was left was a kilometre of downhill running.
I could hear the crowds again. I could feel my strides lengthening, and my smile begin to show. This was it. The finish line was no more than a minute away. Banners were held beside the track, egging runners on to get over the line. And so that was it. I crossed the line in 56 minutes and 56 seconds. To my joy, there was fruit, energy drinks, protein snacks, and a whole lot of water to be consumed at the medal station. What an absolute thrill!
I stood patiently at the finish line for the next 40 minutes, checking Ciara’s WhatsApp live location every once in a while. In an exceptional time of 2 hours and 7 minutes, Ciara crossed the line, looking like she could run a second one there and then. We were over the moon with our races and so decided that we earned a sit-down in the local pub. There were hundreds of runners crowded into the High Court, boasting their well-deserved medals and relaxing after a hard run.
Would I do it again? A half-marathon, maybe. A 10K, absolutely. You feel an incredible array of emotions throughout the race, from longing for the hill to finish to almost floating down the eventual downhill. From the ecstasy of hearing people cheering you on, to the quiet landscape and the sound of heavy feet. From knowing you’ve only run a quarter of the distance, to falling over the finish line in delight. It is an indescribable feeling that everyone should feel at least once.
