CROWLEY DANCES WITH SELF-DOUBT—#S10RR

This is a Stable News x Stablemaster 10 Race Report.

Standing at the imaginary start line towards the western end of the Carrigrohane Road for the Stablemaster 10-mile Time Trial, the doubt that had been building over the preceding few days had reached its peak. At the same moment, the rain began to fall—as if to underline the negative inner monologue that was taking place. Time to go; if I stand here thinking about it …

I’d begun the week after a successful 10K TT, determined to give a go at breaking the hour for 10 miles. Now, this was an ambitious idea concocted after a couple of celebratory glasses of red wine; but what was there to lose? Give it a shot, and if I blow up, I’ll walk home. No harm done, right? But as the week progressed and the weather reports gradually got worse, the doubt started creeping in, and I began to re-evaluate my ambitions.

The westerly wind eased me towards the end of the Carrigrohane Road at the 4km mark, and I cruised across the city centre at 5:55/mile pace. I cursed myself for being so negative. I should have taken it out stronger, put some time in the bank. This is easy …

Driving through the wind at Parnell Bridge and Victoria Road, I rounded onto Monahan Road, beginning to feel the pain. What I wouldn’t do for some random strangers to shout encouragement, I thought, just to give me that short boost. A runner’s nitrous oxide—the cheers of a random stranger!

Thankfully, there were some runners ahead, and despite my struggles, I was closing fast. They’d give me a “drive on,” a “savage pace,” a “great running”—anything! And they did, even if it was mostly murmurs of surprise that someone was passing them at pace. It was enough to shoot me up towards the Marina and past Páirc Uí Chaoimh.

10 kilometres had ticked by as I made the awkward turn onto the old Blackrock railway line and was met with a reminder of the weather reports I’d been reading all week. The next two kilometres were tough, very tough. Why did I go out so fast; what was I thinking? I should have conserved my energy … 

The wind seemed relentless, and swerving between walkers and their dogs was not helping the situation. I decided an energy gel would be a welcome distraction. I really wanted to drive through the pain and wind, but I couldn’t maintain the pace, and it slipped down to 6:20/mile. Now I wasn’t considering getting close to the hour mark, but ensuring the pace didn’t drop off completely. 

My second wind arrived just as I finished the gel, and I focused again on upping the speed. Time to finish strong and bring it in under 62 minutes. The pace increased, and I felt myself smile as I surveyed the situation—wind and rain blowing into my face and walkers scowling at my heavy breathing and pounding of the pavement. I’d got it back to 6:10/mile pace and was feeling good. Then I saw the ramp …

There’s only one way to tackle the ramp, and that’s by imagining you’re a contestant taking on the travelator on the ’90s Saturday night TV show Gladiators! Sprint as hard as you can, and before you can begin to picture yourself wearing the ludicrous Lycra outfit, you’re coming down the other side.

The final three kilometres were pretty enjoyable. I’d got to that point where I knew it was all going to be OK. The wind rounded in behind me, and the rain turned to a soft, refreshing drizzle. Even the weaving between walkers and joggers became fun! I wondered if there was anything left for a sprint finish, but the final turn exposed me to the strongest winds yet, and everything was put into keeping a consistent pace …

The lack of a physical finish line is the hardest part of a time trial. There is something wonderful about hearing the first murmurs or catching that first glimpse of a finish line. The gathering of people, the giant clock, the flurry of activity, and the sounds of congratulatory clapping and back-slapping! I tried not to look at my watch but just push through until it started beeping and I’d made it!

61:29 on the clock, a 4min 27sec PB and an excellent morning’s work! Looking around for someone to share the moment with, I caught the gaze of an unfortunate woman walking by. She seemed pretty freaked by the sweaty, red-faced runner smiling broadly at her, and glaring back she hurried away …

As I jogged back across to the Marina, I began thinking about the self-doubt I’d experienced in the lead-up to the run. Does every runner suffer from this crisis of confidence as they prepare to toe the line? Is it a necessary part of the race-day mindset? Maybe it is one of the ingredients that allows a runner to deliver a measured performance? 

Anyway, it’s pretty clear what the next goal is. Time to start training …