On the weekend October 13/14 the 2nd Annual Phedippidations Worldwide Half Marathon took place, all over the world. Here is a report of my Worldwide Half:
Since there was no official HM race in my area at this weekend, I figured out my HM race course on buckeyeoutdoors.com (click here to view the route). In fact, this HM course is to a large extent identical with my usual 30 k long jog course.
Currently I’m training for the Dublin City Marathon on Oct 29th. I wanted to do a last long run this weekend. But a HM and a long run (30 k) seemed too much for one weekend. So I decided to run a real hard HM on Saturday (My World Wide Half), and a comfortable 15 k on Sunday.
So this morning after breakfast I put on my running shoes and headed out, without a real race tactic.
There are traffic lights 800 meters from my home where I always check my pace. Normally it takes me 4:15 to 4:30 to reach that place. Today I was there after 3:45. Too fast, I thought. But the funny thing with races is that you run always faster than in training. I always thought that is because of the other runners in a race, but today I was alone. It must have something to do with “race feeling”.
I kept this pace anyway. It’s worth trying, I thought. Perhaps I would regret it in the second half of my race, but after all, no one was watching me. If I slowed down at the end, nobody could see it.
12 k into the run, there is a relatively steep hill of 3 k length. I tried to keep my pace, but of course I slowed down a little. But I still felt good.
On the last 6 k I began to feel a little bit weak, I had resumed the fast pace I ran before the hill, and now it was really hard. But I was heading home, and that is another miracle in running: heading home is always easier than running away from home.
I deliberately didn’t look on my watch. I had a feeling that I was fast, that was enough. Besides, even if my watch had told me I wasn’t as fast as I thought, I couldn’t have run faster. I was at my limit.
I reached my town, then reached my street, then my home. Stopped my watch. 1:43:45. Two minutes faster than 2 weeks ago at an official half marathon. Great race, great run!
I wouldn’t have thought before I could run alone and consider that run as a race. Yesterday evening I listened to the “Cheers”-episode of Phedippidations, and it became clear to me: this IS a real race! Thanks Mal, Terry, Ben, John, Steve and all others who helped setting up this race!
Saturday, October 20, 2007
Sunday, July 8, 2007
Road to Dublin
Why have I titled this blog "The Rocky Road to Dublin"? At least for three reasons.
In the merry month of May, From my home I started,
Left the girls of Tuam, Nearly broken hearted,
Saluted father dear, Kissed my darlin' mother,
Drank a pint of beer, My grief and tears to smother,
Then off to reap the corn, And leave where I was born,
I cut a stout blackthorn, To banish ghost and goblin,
In a brand new pair of brogues, I rattled o'er the bogs,
And frightened all the dogs,On the rocky road to Dublin.
One, two, three, four five,
Hunt the hare and turn her
Down the rocky road
And all the ways to Dublin,
Whack-fol-lol-de-ra.
In Mullingar that night, I rested limbs so weary,
Started by daylight, Next mornin' light and airy,
Took a drop of the pure, To keep my heart from sinkin',
That's an Irishman's cure, Whene'er he's on for drinking.
To see the lasses smile, Laughing all the while,
At my curious style, 'Twould set your heart a-bubblin'.
They ax'd if I was hired, The wages I required,
Till I was almost tired, Of the rocky road to Dublin.
In Dublin next arrived, I thought it such a pity,
To be so soon deprived, A view of that fine city.
Then I took a stroll, All among the quality,
My bundle it was stole, In a neat locality;
Something crossed my mind, Then I looked behind;
No bundle could I find, Upon my stick a wobblin'.
Enquirin' for the rogue, They said my Connacht brogue,
Wasn't much in vogue, On the rocky road to Dublin.
From there I got away, My spirits never failin'
Landed on the quay As the ship was sailin';
Captain at me roared, Said that no room had he,
When I jumped aboard, A cabin found for Paddy,
Down among the pigs I played some funny rigs,
Danced some hearty jigs, The water round me bubblin',
When off Holyhead, I wished myself was dead,
Or better far instead, On the rocky road to Dublin.
The boys of Liverpool, When we safely landed,
Called myself a fool; I could no longer stand it;
Blood began to boil, Temper I was losin',
Poor ould Erin's isle They began abusin',
"Hurrah my soul," sez I, My shillelagh I let fly;
Some Galway boys were by, Saw I was a hobble in,
Then with a loud hurray, They joined in the affray.
We quickly cleared the way, For the rocky road to Dublin.
First, you can take it almost literally. I have registered for the Dublin City Marathon, which takes place on October 29th this year, 2007. And with this blog I want to document my preparation for this event. Since I expect the marathon training during summer (in case the summer arrives eventually, by now it looks like spring is fading to fall, omitting summer) to be hard, the blog title refers directly to my marathon preparation.
Second, in a more long-term sense and more metaphorically, the title refers to a life goal of mine, to become more Irish and to spend more time in Ireland, perhaps even living there. Becoming more Irish means to me: living my life more relaxed, being open and friendly towards other people, not allowing myself to be discouraged by disappointment and failure.
Third, of course, "The Rocky Road to Dublin" is a famous Irish folk song, one of my favorites. It serves me as kind of a hymn.
In the merry month of May, From my home I started,
Left the girls of Tuam, Nearly broken hearted,
Saluted father dear, Kissed my darlin' mother,
Drank a pint of beer, My grief and tears to smother,
Then off to reap the corn, And leave where I was born,
I cut a stout blackthorn, To banish ghost and goblin,
In a brand new pair of brogues, I rattled o'er the bogs,
And frightened all the dogs,On the rocky road to Dublin.
One, two, three, four five,
Hunt the hare and turn her
Down the rocky road
And all the ways to Dublin,
Whack-fol-lol-de-ra.
In Mullingar that night, I rested limbs so weary,
Started by daylight, Next mornin' light and airy,
Took a drop of the pure, To keep my heart from sinkin',
That's an Irishman's cure, Whene'er he's on for drinking.
To see the lasses smile, Laughing all the while,
At my curious style, 'Twould set your heart a-bubblin'.
They ax'd if I was hired, The wages I required,
Till I was almost tired, Of the rocky road to Dublin.
In Dublin next arrived, I thought it such a pity,
To be so soon deprived, A view of that fine city.
Then I took a stroll, All among the quality,
My bundle it was stole, In a neat locality;
Something crossed my mind, Then I looked behind;
No bundle could I find, Upon my stick a wobblin'.
Enquirin' for the rogue, They said my Connacht brogue,
Wasn't much in vogue, On the rocky road to Dublin.
From there I got away, My spirits never failin'
Landed on the quay As the ship was sailin';
Captain at me roared, Said that no room had he,
When I jumped aboard, A cabin found for Paddy,
Down among the pigs I played some funny rigs,
Danced some hearty jigs, The water round me bubblin',
When off Holyhead, I wished myself was dead,
Or better far instead, On the rocky road to Dublin.
The boys of Liverpool, When we safely landed,
Called myself a fool; I could no longer stand it;
Blood began to boil, Temper I was losin',
Poor ould Erin's isle They began abusin',
"Hurrah my soul," sez I, My shillelagh I let fly;
Some Galway boys were by, Saw I was a hobble in,
Then with a loud hurray, They joined in the affray.
We quickly cleared the way, For the rocky road to Dublin.
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