Tomas Mangan's - Dublin Half-Marathon Report
As I waited at the start, my mind turned to time. Two minutes to go. Where is the 1:50 pace balloon gone? Did I have to get up at 5.15am this morning - I made Dublin in less than two hours. Why had my wife not reset the Garmin (my Garmin) from her run yesterday? The first I knew that the race had started was when people started to shuffle forward. I heard no gun or horn. People just began to bump against me and I was carried forward in the tide. Amidst smells of “Deep Heat” and alluring perfumes, the sounds of iPods and Garmin’s chiming and colleagues wishing each other luck, I was off up Chesterfield Avenue for my first Dublin Half Marathon.
The field was very compact. The organisers estimate that over 8,000 participated and finding a constant stride or rhythm was difficult for me. I kept watch for the 1:50 pace maker’s balloon, which frighteningly seemed to be getting further ahead of me. A little after the two-mile mark I was comfortably close enough to the balloon to relax but not switch off as people were so tightly confined on the course that colliding was inevitable. Some runners actually took to the grass to avoid the constant jostling on the roads that were narrow in places. The first water stop at 3½ miles was chaos. The field was funnelled in between two parallel tables lined with cups of water. I steered to the centre but could not avoid stopping to circumvent people caught in the bottleneck. I had to physically push the person in front of me to get through. Luckily, I had a water belt, as I have not mastered the art of drinking from cups while running. At least the next two water stops were uneventful affairs.
At mile six, I caught up with the 1:50 pace makers. The field had begun to thin out and they had lost their entourage that had surrounded them from the start. I talked to them for a while. They provided some comic relief for the next few miles...“So youse from Athenry! Is that far from Raheny?” Around mile eight there was a climb up Khyber Road. I made good ground here, as some people struggled. It was then that I was really glad for Ryehill. Outside of some sharp turns and narrow footpaths on the course, it was possible to keep a constant pace. At mile ten, I decided to press on and left the comfort and companionship of the pace makers. The next three miles felt great. I steadily ran and felt I had a momentum that allowed me to make some headway in the field. However, I was beginning to tire by the time I reached the 13-mile marker. Turning the corner into Furze Road somebody in the crowd shouted “Come on Athenry!” which made me give it one last push. Made it - crossed the line - stopped the watch - down the chute - handed in the timing chip - got my goody bag and made my way back to the side of the road to watch and cheer other runners finishing.
Ten minutes later I went back to the car to change and have a recovery drink. The traffic was at a standstill in the park and so I had time to reflect.
I checked my watch.
Fastest lap -> Last mile.
Slowest lap-> Mile 8 (hill).
Finishing time -> 1.48.17.
I wonder how long it will take me to get home?
Saturday 9am - church car park.
Time. The time that pleased me the most?
The time people at the club freely gave to me about running well.
Without their time I would not have this time.

Thanks.