13.1 Thoughts From The Dublin Rock ‘n Roll Half Marathon
The Dublin Rock ‘n Roll Half Marathon was scheduled to start in 8 minutes and I was in line for the bathroom. A pre-race coffee had scorched my tongue and as the seconds ticked by, thoughts of how this might affect brunch distracted me from the race ahead.
I don’t usually daydream about eggs before a race (most of the time). Those precious moments are for freaking out over pace and mental pep talks and picking the perfect pump-up jams.
But this was an atypical race during an atypical year. My goal was not to set a PR; it was to finish without walking/crawling/crying.
About 3 months earlier, I sat outside a café in La Paz, Bolivia with a group of remote runners who wanted to run a European race. Dublin’s Rock ‘n Roll Half checked all our boxes: cheap registration, decently priced flights, a city we wanted to explore.
The August 7 date would also give us enough time to train — I seriously needed to up my mileage after an avalanche of unhealthy choices since March. Visions of training plans and early bedtimes danced in my head.
Unfortunately, that’s where they stayed for the next 2 months.
La Paz is a runner’s nightmare. Crowded and polluted at 12,000 feet, it was tough to go more than a few miles without getting winded or running into traffic. On top of my short Frogger-esque runs, I took strength classes at my favorite gym, which also had a live DJ and a dog.
It wasn’t perfect, but it could have been worse. No problem, I thought, you can train in Cusco.
Still have no idea why I thought this. The streets of Cusco are narrower and steeper than those in La Paz, and packed with tourists and locals and llamas and baby goats posing as llamas. Needless to say, training took a nosedive.
Fast-forward to 4 weeks before race day and I’m sitting in my London apartment, sipping rosé and Googling “how to train for a half marathon in one month.” I ran every single day most days of July, rain or shine, crossing my fingers it would be enough.
Soon we were saying farewell to London and flying to new homes in Prague. We had one week in the City of Stories before race weekend. I spent most of it going on light daily runs, wandering the streets, and sampling Czech beer. Carbs are important.
Fun fact: the most important time to get quality sleep is not the night before a race, but two nights prior. This was the Friday we landed in Dublin so we did not heed this advice. Instead we watched and sang/danced to live music for hours and went to sleep at 3:30 AM.
Because Sunday was race day, Saturday was more relaxed. We brunched, we wandered, we learned to pour perfect pints at the Guinness factory. We ate the standard pre-race pasta dinner and went to bed before sunset.
RACE DAY!
To celebrate a finish time of 2:07 (not my best but thrilled with it), first trip to Dublin, and tendency to put lists in my blog posts, here are 13.1 thoughts from the half marathon:
1. Are they really going to wait a minute to start each corral? Yep, yep they did. My lateness didn’t matter because it was nearly 20 minutes before we started anyway.
2. AWE YEAH WE’RE GETTING STARTED! The starting line, not the finish, is my favorite part of a race. I love the energy and potential and excitement, especially in a big group.
3. Look, the first band! The Rock ‘n Roll races put a live band at every mile. None of them played Irish music, but I guess that’s not super rock ‘n roll anyway. One mile down, 12.1 to go.
4. But we’re in Ireland and I want to listen to Irish music. Good thing I have the Riverdance and Lord of the Dance soundtracks on my phone for moments like this.
5. This is the coolest way to see Dublin. Upon my arrival in a new city, I always go for a distance run to get to know its streets. Exploring Dublin as part of a race took my usual habit to a new level of fun.
6. Guinness factory, hey we were here! Our Saturday factory tour was a blast. I would have been happy with a pint, but there were also live Irish dancers and musicians so I was pretty much on a cloud. It felt weird to be in the audience and not on stage!
7. OOOOOOH WE’RE HALFWAY THERE! This isn’t so bad. My feet don’t hurt tooo much. That isn’t real knee pain.
8. WATER. I’m reminded there is no graceful way to drink water during a race. Most of it splashes across my face and soaks my shirt.
9. The sun needs to go away now. I have pangs of nostalgia for the light rain at the starting line as a rare Irish sunshine makes me sweat more than I’m already sweating.
10. This little girl with the gummies is my hero. Shout-out to the kid who stood alongside the race course and gave gummies to the runners. You’re going places.
11. I should learn to convert miles to kilometers. A European race has mostly metric signs. I realize “21 kilometers” sounds better than “13.1 miles” and decide this is how I will refer to all future running distances.
12. A park! Well, this is a scenic background for my misery. The last 2–3 miles of the race were rough. My legs hurt and it was windy and I wanted a walk break that I refused to take. But the bands got better towards the end, so that was cool.
13. FINISH LINE HERE WE GOOOOOOO! We cross the finish line, don giant sparkly medals, and grab armfuls of snacks. Success!
0.1 Cry of disappointment upon discovering post-race beer is, in fact, non-alcoholic. Well, at least there’s brunch!
