Pain heals, chicks dig scars, glory lasts forever...pain however lasts a fair while before healing

Snipers overhead, helicopters circling and thousands of people ready to charge across a bridge. Just a regular day in the city.

At 5.30am on Sunday, local time, myself and David got out of bed to get ready for a very long day. Our bus left for Staten Island an hour later and en route I sent a quote from Keanu Reeves in The Replacements to some friends, it's the title above minus the little bit I put at the end.

We had to hang about for 3 hours on Staten, fighting off the cold and nerves with coffee, bagels and Gatorade. We gathered into our coral, at the back of the third and final wave of runners as the snipers above looked down. This isn't Dublin anymore. We wished each other well and I gave some final words of encouragement to the rookies around me.

"Pain is just weakness leaving the body," I quipped. If this is the case then I had plenty of pain to expunge. It would later turn out that these words actually helped one of the runners, so that was a pleasant surprise.

David, who I was sharing a room with, took off running with two of the other lads from our group. I stuck to my plan of walking the first mile. As a result, with less than 800 yards of the race underway, there was widespread panic in Paddy Power's headquarters.

Okay I have nothing to back that up but at this stage I was just fifth from the back of the field. If I finished last then the odds of 200/1 on my picking up the wooden spoon would have proven quite generous. Ne'er the less I stuck to the plan. Walk the first, run the second. Walk the odds, run the evens.

The bridge from Staten was over a mile and a half long. With no crowds allowed and with my fear of heights this wasn't a pleasant experience.

As it ended and I approached the 2 mile mark I realised that sure enough, there was no marker at the 1 mile point and all I had done was walk so far. New tactic, walk the evens, run the odds.

I was off and running, blowing kisses at construction workers as I entered Brooklyn. The crowd had a huge impact as I tore through the next mile. On and off, run and walk, I kept it up. The people roared me on and I responded vocally and with my feet. The race was truly on.

It was after all a race, pride was at stake. Craddock had set a time to beat and I already felt behind. The people of New York proved a huge difference maker. There were even a few Obama supporters out and I yelled "Yes we can" at them every time, which you can imagine garnered a positive response.

Run and walk, on and off, it continued and as I saw the clocks I adjusted for my wave's start and knew the pendulum had swung. Around 7 miles my left foot felt a little sore in the shoe but the pain eased quickly.

Bands and well wishers lined the way, including one group that held up a sign offering free High Fives. Well I couldn't turn that down. Booya.

By halfway I knew I was near by personal best for the half marathon and well ahead of John's time. I had to dial it down it gear now. Running was proving tough and I needed a break, over the next three miles through Queens I knew I had lost some of my advantage.

It was time for a miracle mile. I knew that to make up the lost ground I'd need one more running mile and it was only going to come sooner not later. On the 17th I charged, down the bridge, around the corner and into Manhattan.

"Lets hear some love for the Irish" I yelled at the mob with tricolours that awaited, the responded well. As I rounded onto First Avenue I saw Martin, our organiser, fiddling with his hair. I shouted at him to sort it out though he would later claim it was time to keep warm.

I knew what to expect from the avenues in Manhattan. The previous day was the 2.5 mile long International Friendship Run. Despite sounding like an event the Care Bears would run in, it did serve the useful purpose of showing me how undulating the avenues on the island.

That was playtime, this was business time, I kept powering through until the mile marker when I slowed to a walk again. A new plan, walk the uphills and flats, run the downhills. On one of the downhills there was a guy around Craddock's size with a different banner.

'Free Hugs' it read.

Oh what a foolish boy. One patented Emmet Ryan Bearhug later and he weakly uttered "Thanks".

As I tired on First Ave I opted to hold off on any more running until the Bronx. Once there I continued the plan of running the downhills. There was less than a mile on this borough, the only part of the course in the mainland US, before returning to Manhattan.

Harlem greeted my arrival with tremendous cheers, I pressed on towards Midtown. No longer able to run the downhills it was merely a matter of protecting the lead I had.

Approaching 23 miles I was nearly crying tears of joy. I welled up thinking of the people I do this for. I have two very dear friends with Cystic Fibrosis that are my inspiration when races get tough and questions are asked. This race had been relatively easy so far but I had to hold myself together.

It wasn't over yet, there was business to be done. I began the long way round central park singing along to my iPod. Abide With Me was swiftly followed by Flower of Scotland. I really don't care what the locals thought of my singing but I know it caught some runners off guard. Scotland the Brave was next as I rounded the corner into the Park.

My vocal performance ended just after 24 miles, to the mercy of all no doubt. As I exited the park there was just over one mile to go, but there were still two very important persons to greet. Greg and John both received high fives from me as I marched towards the final turn before the return into the park.

As I re-entered Central Park I punched the air, there was fire in my belly and the crowd loved it. Hell they loved all 40,000 of us. They were like one giant embodiment of the Battle Hymn of the Republic (which oddly isn't on my iPod) all day long.

The finish approached and it was time to truly milk it. Once again I started blowing kisses to all and sundry in the crowd before raising my hands to the heavens, like some South American footballer, as I crossed the finish line.

The poor woman that bestowed me with my finishers medal probably wasn't expecting that hug either. Ah well. And so it was over. The wall never hit and no harm done save for the usual stiffness.

You already know the rest, I hammered my PB and beat Craddock by 12 minutes...

Oh like it was going to end that easy!

Every year the race report entry brings the pain and we aren't going to disappoint you now. Remember that pain in my foot I mentioned early? Yes that was a tease to a later part in the tale.

It turns out pulling off a Compeed is a bad idea. So much so that when I pulled one off the dark red blister the day after the race (it was very beefy, nearly black) that it took a lot of skin with it and gave me the heebie jeebies.

The wound is (it's still there) 2 inches long and 1 inch wide and is right on the arch of the foot. By Monday evening the pain was so bad that standing was agonising and walking was the opposite of pleasant. With infection looking likely and no improvement whatsoever, I went to the hospital on Tuesday morning.

"Oh that looks bad. You're going to be in agony," said the first doctor. Well thank you ma'am, I know I've been stored in the cardiac ward for some reason but that doesn't mean you have to induce a coronary through fear just to make me feel at home.

On the upside there was no infection. The dude in the bed beside me meanwhile had what sounded an awful lot like an actual heart attack while queuing up to vote. He was a determined chap and refused to go to hospital for 90 minutes until he got to cast his vote for Obama.

"That's huge, and very beefy. You will be in agony sir," how about that for a second opinion that I never even asked for. At least the third doctor had a look of total disinterest in her face and didn't say a word.

She probably wasn't a doctor though. Her tells were that she wasn't faking an interested look, which coupled with her looking fairly young meant the best bet is that she still had a couple of years to go in Med School. By graduation she'll learn to fake attentiveness.

So I was patched up and sent on my merry way without anything to ease the pain. They told me to take some Tylenol for that, and I knew I'd need it as my foot was killing me. I needed to move hotels first however so I hailed a cab and head for the Chelsea Star on 30th St.

I open the door, a heavy bag in either hand and a throbbing pain in my foot, and all the colour leaves my face. There was a flight of stairs to climb.

The End.

New York playlist

Some of you will remember this post from last year where I asked you to suggest songs for my iPod during the marathon.

Well we're doing it again. Suggest a song and I guarantee I'll put it on if I can find it. You can have any reason for selecting a tune or indeed no reason, but if you're struggling for a reason to pick a song why not just use one of these tried and tested reasons:

1. You want to torture my ears (Barbie Girl, Hey Mickey, Macarena)
2. You want to inspire me (Rocky, Here I go again, Harder Better Faster Stronger}
3. You want to be cheesily thematic (New York New York, King of New York, Englishman in New York)
4. You love Jim Steinman (Anything for Love, Total Eclipse of the Heart, Holding out for a Hero)
5. To hell with Jim Steinman, you love AC/DC (Back in Black, For those about to Rock, Let there be Rock)

So you can choose the easy/lazy option and pick one of those or you can come up with anything you like. Leave it in the comments section below and we'll include it in the playlist.

The Sunday Column - The last big runs

I am breathing heavily as I write this. I'm set to 'taper' in a week (more on that further on) so I needed to get in a couple of decent length runs before then. Thus this morning and yesterday I hit the mean streets of Ranelagh.


'The Distance', by Cake

I had contemplated doing the Simon Community's 5 miler in the Phoenix Park on Saturday morning but getting out there in time for the 10.30 start was just plain unfeasible.

Instead I opted to do a similar distance around my own area in Ranelagh. I've a lap of the area set out that's just under 2 miles long so three of these would be ample replacement. At 11am with my iPod on my arm I set out from Anna Villa. Around the corner on Ranelagh Road I encountered what would be a recurring obstacle that morning.

Babies, lots of babies. Ranelagh's full of them in their buggies, being rolled around and generally proving an obstacle to cumbersome runners like myself. If slalom running ever becomes an Olympic sport I'm a shoo-in for gold in the over 100kg category.

In my haste to get around them I realised that I had done an awfully fast first mile, I kept this up for the rest of the lap and was duly feeling it with two thirds of my run still to go. I ran a much slower second lap, as more toddlers swarmed the streets of my adopted village.

Up by Belgrave Square I took a mild breather before getting going again. Word to the wise, when you're feeling wrecked and need to keep running 'Stronger' by Kanye West (yes I know it's just a Daft Punk cover, but it's a great cover) is quite a good choice. In more refreshed form I took off on the final lap of the morning, slowing as I came to Birchall's at the corner of my road.

Later that day, having realised I wouldn't be drinking that night, I figured "Fuck it, I'll do another five tomorrow". So at 9.30am this morning I took off once again on another three lap stint.

Sundays are great. Parents are too tired or hungover to bring their kids anywhere, especially that early, so the roads were empty. Ranelagh was a virtually buggy free zone. The one family I did come across that could have impeded me even managed to spot me at a distance and the father moved the rest out them out of the way to clear a path (yeah, that dude's a ledge).

This morning's five was actually faster than yesterday, and both sets were done at a pretty hard pace. Thus I am sitting on my couch three hours later, still somewhat out of breath. Of course the flatmate isn't even out of bed yet, lazy sod.

The reason I decided to put in these two sets when I did was very much a matter of timing. From next Sunday I'll be tapering, which is the fancy way of saying taking it easy until race day. The typical advice is that runners don't do any hard runs in the two weeks before a marathon and instead just focus on staying loose.

So with my training nearly complete for this phase it was time to get in some good miles before race day. I'll likely do another five next Saturday morning before the tapering period begins.

Farewell to the DoddPod

I know the last entry was supposed to be end of this year's campaign blog but the news overnight that Chris Dodd has pulled out of the race to win the Democratic nomination for US President merits a special exemption.

Last year I was writing an article on how US election candidates were using the internet to promote their campaigns when I was drawn to the Doddpod, a concept Dodd had where visitors to his site could recommend songs for him to listen to on his iPod when on the campaign trail.

While I honestly can't say I know much about the man's policies, it is no secret that the DoddPod was the direct inspiration for our efforts to get you guys to recommend songs for me to listen to on my iPod whilst I was doing the marathon. So in tribute to that I've posted the video for one of the songs that was recommended for the DoddPod above.

The final total: €1,506.93

Competitive to the end, no matter the situation.

Well it's finally over. The journey that began with a 10 miler back in August, leading onto a half marathon in September, before the Dublin City Marathon itself in October, has ended with €1,506.93 raised for the Cystic Fibrosis Association of Ireland.

Thanks to your generosity we've beaten last year's total and we have now raised €2,797.93 in the first two years of STIG for CF Ireland. But what have we learned?

1. That slow people racing can make for a hilarious and potentially highly offensive spectator sport.

2. That a belts with big buckles can cause serious foot injuries.

3. That there is nothing as inspirational as the Rocky theme.

4. That energy drinks are basically a big pile of sugar.

5. And that Mr T made the right prediction http://stigforcfi.stigonline.com/2007/10/6-days-to-go.html

There's a few people that have to be thanked. First off a big cheers to our web guru John Healy for helping put all of this together. Secondly, thanks to Ciaran Ruane, Rachel Curran, and Carmel Ryan for providing support on the course on the day, which was much appreciated.

Last but not least we'd like to thank everyone that helped in any way with the campaign, be it through a donation, selecting a song for the iPod or just wishing us luck. It was a great boost and hopefully we can build on it for 2008. Needless to say we already have a few plans up our sleeve and they'll be revealed in good time.

Finally, I left a cheque in with CF Ireland today and they were delighted to receive the donation for all of you so give yourselves a big pat on the back. See you next year.

The good hurt

Emmet and John change their allegiances

“Just one minute to go,” roared Tommy Tiernan. Well I could hardly go and let down a man that made a career out of telling dick jokes now, could I?

The gun went and we were off walking. At Merrion Square we ran into Rachel, Gareth’s girlfriend, who attempted to take some photos but the camera wouldn’t work. We met her again a few minutes later where Westland Row meets Pearse St as she tried again in vain to get a picture of our merry band.

The Phoenix Park must be the dullest four miles on any marathon course in the World. John and I got there at the four mile mark where Gareth came steaming up beside us, panting like a dog. He had fallen a little behind as he slowed to chat with a cousin he met. The park was so boring that the three of us did not fancy the next 18 miles at all. In order to alleviate his boredom John decided to start running at the eight mile mark.

It was here that disaster nearly struck...someone else. As we came barrelling out of the park with the main peleton I nearly knocked over some narky short lady, though her narkiness may have been directly caused by my nearly knocking her over. It was an accident I swear.

“Oh fuck,” I thought to myself. “I’m done.” We hadn’t even reach nine miles yet but the hill at Chapelizod had me beat. Then it was as though Jim Steinmann himself came down and carried me those last few steps because once I was over the hill I was grand again, recharged and ready for action.

On to Dolphin’s Barn with a barman acting as an impromptu steward. “Straight down on the right,” he yelled as he waved wildly. As we approached the 13 mile marker I jogged slightly ahead of Gareth, almost ceremonially, so he could run up and tag me before going ahead. He decided to risk his ankle and run the remainder. For me it was iPod time.

“YEAH!” I roared as I crossed the halfway marker which was a little further up the road. It was on these same streets last year that the wheels came off as both calves and my right quad decided to call it quits, not today, not this time.

15 miles in and something is wrong, my left leg is beginning to seize up fast. I thought of Dilios in 300 “It’s just a leg; the Gods saw fit to grace me with a spare.” Luckily all I actually needed was to stretch it quickly and I was grand. Ciaran was shocked to see me at the 18 mile mark, just 20 minutes behind John. It turned out that he’d taken a brief break and in the meantime Gareth overtook him.

Indeed Gareth was going so fast that Rachel had missed him when I ran into her in Milltown, and she would miss him again at Nutley and the finish. I have to say though she was an awesome help as she provided drinks and encouragement at many points throughout the race.

PowerGel or whatever it’s called tastes manky. Ma gave me some on Foster’s Avenue along with some Powerade and it tasted awful. Still I was making good time but had to stop briefly for some running repairs as a toenail was cutting into another toe. Ouch!

Back on the road and Jim Steinmann returned to get me through from 22 miles to the 24 mile mark. A cheesefest of the highest order began on my iPod with Bonnie Tyler’s ‘Holding out for a Hero’, followed by Meatloaf’s ‘I’d do anything for love’ and ‘I’d lie for you’ with a short break before the Meatloaf version of ‘It’s all coming back to me’. Somewhere in North Dublin Greg Bowler is smiling.

Nearly there and with one mile to go it’s time to unleash the heavy hitters, it’s Rocky time. ‘Eye of the Tiger’ by Survivor, followed by ‘Gonna Fly Now’ and ‘Rocky’s Reward’, this couldn’t get more butch. I’m hurting something bad but damn if that’s going to stop me.

As I reach the 26 mile mark I begin to jog and there I see Tommy Tiernan roaring me on, it seemed that he had hung around to cheer on a few punters so fair play to him. Around the final bend onto Merrion Square and I’m running as hard as my heavy legs will let me. I see the clock, you bet it’s a pleasant sight, and raise my arms aloft in triumph as I cross the line.

My official time was 7 hours 16 minutes, nearly half an hour faster than 2006 and far closer to John than last year. He crossed the line in 6 hours 29 minutes, but where on Earth was Gareth?

The man with injured ankle truly had outpaced us all. His time of 5 hours 45 minutes was so fast that Rachel, despite giving herself what all of us thought was more than ample time to get to the finish, couldn’t find him and still hadn’t by the time John finished. He did turn up eventually and was duly turfed out of Ireland the next day and sent back to France.

PS: There'll be photos up on this blog in a few days...stay tuned.

Music to watch roads by

Both myself and John are likely to be on the road quite a long while. John will likely take somewhere between 5 and 6 hours to do it while I'll be out there for about 7 hours, possibly more.

To keep my mind off the pain I'll be bringing an iPod along and want you guys to recommend some tracks for me to listen to that might be in some way good for passing the time.

They might be intense, bombastic, cheesy as hell or they might just have a damned good beat. Whatever the reason I'm open to all suggestions. So please post a comment and recommend a tune, or two, or even ten.

Here's a small sample of tunes that I've already stuck on because I reckon they're good alternatives to thinking about veins bulging from my calves.

Rocky Theme - Bill Conti
Anything for Love - Meatloaf
All over the world - ELO
Rappers Delight - Sugarhill Gang
James Bond Theme - Moby

Now it's your turn to post your recommendations.

The Police have nothing to do with STIG for CF Ireland...

...but they still rocked last night.

There actually is a tangentially practical reason for me sticking this up. Later today I'll be posting an entry looking for people to recommend songs to put on a playlist on my iPod for the marathon.