Thank you, Abingdon. And thank you Gary, for all the driving and great company. And thank you, JC, for all the hospitality over the weekend. And thanks, finally, to Vince, for the support at the end. Our journey to England began early on Friday morning… very early! We took the 4am ferry from Dublin Docks and Gary had wisely booked the comfy seats in the lounge so we were able to get some kip. The trip down to Oxford was uneventful, and soon we were in JC’s apartment, having tea and settling in.

I took a stroll with JC down to see the MG museum. Abingdon was home to a major car manufacturing factory turning out thousands of MGs. The plant opened in 1930, and closed fifty years later. The museum was a quaint little red brick house with the ground floor given over to MG memorabilia. We had a lovely tour of Abingdon later in the day, which ended up in a local brewery bar. An early night beckoned as the two lads had decided to do the local Abingdon parkrun in the morning.

Fair play to the lads for getting a 5k under their belts the day before the marathon. I was an interested spectator, as were the gaggle of Greylag Geese by the river bank. The lads wisely took it easy (the geese, not so much), and once we had returned to base and the boys had showered and changed, we decided to head into Oxford town.

We probably shouldn’t have spent so much time on our feet, really, but Oxford town is wonderful, and always worth a visit. Our trip in (via the bus) was really far too short to do it justice, but we had a great tour guide in JC and squeezed in a 13th century Anglo-Saxon tower, the Natural History Museum, and the Pitt Rivers Museum, plus a fab greasy spoon café. I would have happily spent the rest of the day in the markets, but we needed to get back, carb-load, put our kits together, and get an early night.

I don’t think anyone needed their alarm call in the morning. We were all up and about, getting breakfast and fiddling about with gel belts, creams and potions. It was a decent walk to the start line and we arrived in plenty of time.

I don’t have any images of the marathon itself. I had decided a while back not to try and film the journey; one can either do a decent race and make a half-baked film, or vice-versa. The race began at 9am on the Tilsley AC track and then sent us out towards the town centre of Abingdon. But I was still on the track when I realised I had made a rookie error. The night before, I had changed my watch units to show miles, to reflect the mile markers on the course. No kilometres here in the UK!

The idea was sound enough. I had studied the route map and worked out that I would take six gels in total. One each at 3, 6, 9, 13, 16 and 19 miles, as per the aid stations. The third and sixth of these would be a caffeine gel. So far, so normal. When the gun went off and 1,200 runners snaked off around the track under the watchful eye of several drones, I took a quick glance at my watch which shows me three things: time traveled, distance traveled, and pace.

The pace figure was bouncing around the ten mark, which made no sense. Until the penny dropped.

When you change your units to miles, your watch will show you… miles! I have been running for years in metric, and so understand the pacing of runs in the same set of figures. Top line is easy: 6 minutes per kilometre? That’s long, slow run pace. 5 minutes? That’s too fast for most training runs, but firmly in the realms of tempo running, and will net you a 25 minute parkrun. 4 minutes? You are running as fast as you can, whilst hoping to get your magical 20 minute 5k. It’s not quite sprinting, but it’s close to the maximum.

I know other figures too, such as 5.42 for a four hour marathon. What I couldn’t recall, as I followed the hoard of athletes out of the stadium, was how fast I was hoping to run in mile pace. I knew 9.09 was the same as 5.42 but that was my only reference point. Maths at home in a darkened room is tricky enough. On the fly, running… that was going to be next to impossible.

And I had only drank one mug of tea earlier that morning, and had visited the portaloos twice before the off, so why did I need to pee?

As the miles ticked away, I knew some distances would fall in sync close enough to give me a good idea of pace, and the first of these was at 5 miles, or 8 kms. Passing the mark at 42.43 settled my nerves, so I decided to try and keep it under 8.35. Knowing that 9.09 was four hour marathon pace, I kept mooching on, taking my gels and keeping the pace honest. The weather was fine; nice and cool with a little breeze. The course headed south and then did an 8.5 mile loop which we would repeat. For the record, I had to stop four times before the halfway mark to pee into a hedge…

I passed the halfway at about 1.52, which was possibly a little rich, but I felt okay, and I had my fancy runners on 😉

Out on this stretch, which was a mix of open roads, paths, fields and an industrial estate, I spotted a road into a small estate on the left called Red Kite Close. I smiled, looked up to my right over the hedges, and there were about three or four kites doing their thing. Magnificent birds.

The second time around, I was feeling the miles, but was still managing a half-decent pace. Around the 21 mile mark, the pace finally tipped over the 9 minute per mile pace. I hadn’t seen either Gary or JC, and runners at this point in a marathon have fairly stretched out and found their own pace. I started to recognise landmarks again from the edge of Abingdon town, and soon we were passing the Thames once more.

I passed a young lady who had stopped and was having some breathing difficulties so I flagged a marshall and headed on once I knew she was in good hands. And then I spotted JC up ahead, walking. I gave him a hoosh as I passed but as any marathoner knows at this point in the race, it’s nigh on impossible to restart the engines once they’ve stalled around the 24 mile mark. Tough place to be.

I was feeling the pinch myself, and those last couple of miles seemed to take an age. Again, quite standard for the end of a marathon, when all you want to do more than anything is stop running.

I could hear the stadium PA, so I knew we were close. Then we were in the grounds, and then onto the running track for once last hurrah. I had missed the chance to get a three-forty-something, but I knew I would be well under my fastest Dublin time, and so it proved; 3.52:49 and bang on 5.30 pace in kilometres. My second-fastest marathon. Given the at-times sketchy training and the injury to the hamstring, it was a great return for the investment. Nothing had gone ‘boing’ and we had another sub-four under our belt. JC also managed a sub-four, despite his last few miles of hardship. Gary had a 4.11, which he was very pleased with.

Medals were collected, energy drinks were consumed, and we slumped on the artificial grass for a few minutes before making our way to the bag collection point. It was here that Vince appeared in the stands. Regular readers would recognise the OMIL blog, if perhaps not the name. Read more about his exploits here. Once Vince had heard we were coming over to do the marathon in Oxford, he had said he would pop over to say hello, as he lives not far from Abingdon. And true to his word, he had watched us finish from the stands, and once we had our bags, insisted on buying us a drink to celebrate.

It was a bit of a forced march back into the town centre, but we found a decent pub and had a couple of drinks. Cheers, Vince, for getting over. It was great to finally make your acquaintance and share some stories. And I have a sneaking feeling your image appears more times on my blog than it does on yours!

On the way back to JCs, we stopped for pizza; a couple more Guinness were consumed, and we watched an old movie to wrap up the night. It would be yet another early start for myself and Gary, and Gary was doing all the driving. Our route home was via Fishguard and Rosslare, but once again, we had the use of the upgrade to the Stena Plus Lounge, so it was comfortable and the time passed easily. I have been reading a friend’s book too, so that helped.

And so another marathon has come and gone. But more importantly, it was a chance to see another part of the world and spend time with friends, and meet some new ones.

I have another two events coming up shortly; a 10k run in the Wicklow Mountains, and the following week, a 26k fundraiser for Dublin Mountain Rescue, which will be a decent stretch. I know most of the route, and the first climb takes us up to Fairy Castle, so it’s familiar territory.

And then… well, who knows. I have a few ideas 🙂

And I suspect Gary and JC have a few too!

(The Peninsula is by Seamus Heaney)