It is hard to believe at this moment in time that I ran my fourth marathon in Dublin, Ireland, but I did. When I touched down back in LA after the San Francisco Marathon, my top priority was to find a race that was on the Boston qualifying “hot List”, AKA, flat and/or downhill. I wanted to allow myself some time, but I did not have a whole lot of time on my hands since I had dropped the gauntlet to qualify by the time I turned twenty-five, I had about thirteen months, so when I read about the Tucson marathon being fast, I signed up right away. Plus, it was slated for the first weekend in December, which meant I had plenty of time to prepare for the race.
As the months ticked by I was living the SoCal dream of living in a beach house with a wonderful roommate and I had the coolest job on the planet, but as with all my jobs as a freelance Production Coordinator, once the project ended, so did my job security. However, since I was a hip newly twenty-four year old single female with some change in my pocket and no real responsibilities, I used my newfound employment freedom to grab my board and surf the information super-highway to find out if there was amarathon in Ireland anytime soon. Much to my delight, there was one only three weeks away! So, I bought a cheap ticket, called in some favors from friends and family for contacts for me to stay with, and registered for the Dublin marathon which would take place on October 27th, 2003. I looked at it as a “long run” for my ramp up to the Tucson marathon, which was truly my “A” race, but I could not turn down this opportunity to race in my homeland. On my last day of work, I went down to my Dad’s house to visit with Peter, and his new girlfriend, Alexa. I had heard about Alexa for years, and I knew that she was the one for my dear, sweet, creative brother Peter. Naturally, she and I hit it off right away, she was awesome then, and is awesome now, and undoubtedly a perfect match for Peter. Both she and Peter thought my impromptu trip to Ireland was exciting, maybe a little nuts since I was going on my own, but they made me feel like I was a real badass, which gave me the confidence that I was making the right decision.
The day of my departure was a little off from the start. I received a message from the airline that the flight was delayed, which I did not care too much about because it was a direct flight from LA to Dublin, and it was Wednesday, and my race was on Monday, and all I cared about was being there on the starting line. My Dad dropped me off at LAX, and was proud that I was off on this crazy adventure, but even he thought it was a little weird that my flight was delayed. When I found my way to my special spot in the check in line, I stayed put in that spot for many, many, minutes. The line never moved. Finally there was some hustling and bustling up front and then the word got back to me that the flight was cancelled, because the airline was on strike. “Excuse me?” I thought to myself, I never in my wildest dreams thought that the airline would strike? Come on my Irish brothers and sisters, you’re better than this?? Pretty quickly after that announcement we were told that Air France would try to accommodate us, “Vive la France!” I was weary of the plan the attendant laid out for me, but basically they could get me to Paris, and a flight from my defunct airline should get me to Dublin, I was nervous, but I took my chances and hopped on the plane to France.
When we arrived at Charles De Gaulle airport in Paris I befriended a family who was looking for the Irish airline as well, but when we went to the ticket counter, it was a ghost town. Suddenly, my iron-clad shield of adventure cracked and I felt panic wash over me, how was I going to get to Dublin? I left my new found friends who had a plan of their own to risk, while I headed back to the main terminal to plead with my friends at Air France. Now, I did take two years of French in high school, but I am no polyglot, so when I finally made it to the front of the line to talk with the agent I felt like there an Atlantic ocean sized language gap between us. She said that there was one flight I could take, but I would have to pay for the only seat left which was in Business class. I almost burst out laughing because that ticket would put a crater in my stalled bank account, so I stepped away from the counter, and walked outside to the main terminal to call my Dad. He told me that I needed to “figure it out”, so with a renewed strength in my belly I decided to go to another Air France station and pleaded with my heart and soul, but no tears, my plight and this amazing French angel listened intently to my every word, then called numerous people on her spiffy non-numbered phone, but her herculean efforts were not looking good, so I was heading back to pay my life savings for the business flight when she ran me down, pulled my right arm back in a very Truffaut fashion and said that she got me on a flight! I hugged her inappropriatelywith all of my 5’10.5 frame as she laughed out loud in victory, but there was no time to celebrate, I had to run to the gate right at that instant in order to make the flight! It will come to no surprise that my bags did not make the flight, but I still slept as hard and soundly as ever that night in my hostel, kudos to my step mom slipping me some Tylenal PM:)
The next few days were wonderful as I discovered Dublin by foot, and shared in some amazing family time with my sister in law’s good friend Wendy and her family in the nearby quaint town of Greysones. Next, I was back in Dublin where I was treated to a play, and a trip to Sugarloaf Mountain in the town of Glendalough in the Irish countryside with my step mother’s good friend’s sister in law, an Irish judge, named Mary Ellen. It was an extremely action-packed day, but luckily we made it back to Dublin in the nick of time for me to register at the Expo, then she dropped me off at my hostel, and I was left with only one noisy night left in a hostel before I finally toed the line on Monday morning for the marathon. I woke up excited, but serene, I think it was because this was a “bonus” race for me, so I did not put too many expectations on myself; I was just there in my homeland of Ireland to explore the city the best way possible, in running shoes along with thousands of new friends.
The air was cool, so I was happy I chose to run in a white and green long-sleeved dry fit shirt, wise decision, but the sun was out and smiling, so I felt comfortable from the start. I did not find my place in the crowd until after I made a pit stop, and rounded a few turns but then I settled into a nice groove. When I cruised through mile ten I met my hero, her name was Greta, she was 60 years old, and this was her 35th marathon! I was so inspired, I gasped “I want to be you when I grow up!” Then I was in hyper speed and zoomed past many other runners and found a gear I never felt before. I knew that I was pushing myself further than I had before, which was great, but painful. The miles ticked by, the crowd got louder and louder, I was nearing my red line, but the numbers on my watch were like gummy bear juice, I was well under my PR pace, so I had to keep pushing. The last few miles were a blur, but our path narrowed as the crowds creeped in as we weaved through the final shoot toward the finish line and as I glanced once, twice, and may be once more to realize I had done it, I ran 4 minutes faster than San Francisco, finishing in 3:51!! I leaped across the finish line like a scene out of Riverdance, and screamed with glee, and smiled from ear to ear in satisfaction and disbelief, I really surprised myself, it was an amazing moment in time. I now knew Boston qualifying would be in reach in Tucson, but in the mean time I was going to soak in as much of Ireland as I could, I was not ready to go home yet.
After I showered and called my family from the hostel to report the amazing news, I set off on my last walk-a-bout around the city, and enjoyed my well-deserved post-race Guinness at the bar Temple Bar, in Temple Bar, which is a super hip part of Dublin. Later, Mary Ellen picked me up and took me to dinner and to see a movie called Intermission, it was really fun, and exactly what I needed to cap off my day, and my whole Irish experience. I really felt at home in Ireland, even though I could not have been more alone when set foot in the country, but between meeting Wendy, Mary Ellen, and all of the strangers I met on the streets, I felt a part of it all, and promised to bring that Irish spirit back home with me.
I still get chills thinking about that trip to Ireland, nearly ten years later, it was by far the biggest risk and reward I had ever experienced in my life. I knew that I would be a life-long marathoner after meeting Greta, and that it was okay, there were others in the world just like me. I hope to go back to Ireland someday soon, but in the mean time my Irish eyes will always be smiling while running a marathon.
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