It's 6.30 am and the noise of pouring rain outside the window wakes me up.
The first thought goes immediately to my first Half Marathon, hoping that the weather clears up soon and the race will still go ahead. I can't imagine of not running it after I have been training for 6 months and after I have recovered from a small injury due to overtraining.
The girls are a little bit anxious as if they are going to an exam session (this is their comment!), while I am - for whatever reason - confident, I sense that I will finish the race.
During our healthy breakfast we meet another runner like us. Yes! Now I can say it loud: I AM A RUNNER.
It's always nice to chat with someone who shares the same interest and/or passion with you, at least they don't judge you or put you down for what you do without even haven't tried themselves. Sometimes I think it's just envy, because they don't have the courage to get up from the sofa, switch off the telly and do something that makes them feel alive.
Just before we leave the B&B the rain stops even though the wind is still with us blowing and the breeze from the ocean touches on lightly our skins, thefore the panic starts on how many layers should we wear for the race. You don't want to get cold while waiting to start running, neither you want to be too warm with too many layers while you're running.
Once we get closer to the car park, we start seeing other runners stretching, warming up and you feel part of this "circus". It's no more watching people doing some sport on TV or standing on the side of the road to cheer, it's now you who's part of it.
As I try to find a room in the crowd while I pass the head of if where the elite atheletes are, a thought crosses my mind: "One day I will be there."
The spectators start to cheer us up louder while we get closer to the start line, then the horn lets us know that it is time to have some fun.
Few seconds later the rain is on us again I think we all had the same thought: "I hope it won't last for 13 miles". Luckely it didn't, so the race began...
My concern was right ahead of me: hilly road for the first 5 miles and so I learn that Achill Island is the hilliest island in Ireland. I can still hear now that I am writing down my thoughts, the sound of my breath when I was running up the hill while my heartrate was going crazy.
I started doing my usual scanning, my feet had no problems hitting the ground, my legs were moving smoothlie, my mind was telling me that I could make it to the top, but my stomach simply didn't want to listen to me. No matter how hard I tried to convince it that everything was going to be fine as soon as I would have reached the top and started the discent, it kept going its own way. I was running with a stone in my stomach as I was in the middle of the digestion and also I didn't have any water with me. The result was that almost at the top of the hill I had to walk fast rather than run. At least I didn't stop, so I was still in the loop.
Finally the first water station was at "the end of the tunnel" and everything started to dissapear slowly. Ready to hit the road, sure that there were no more hills, but yet I was wrong again.
I have to admit that for the first half an hour I thought that all this was insane, perhaps I was in a panic that I would never have finished the run.
I remember that at the 4th mile marker I saw the number 6 instead of 5, which motivated me to keep going as I was almost half way, but then I saw the marker for the mile 5 and then 6, I guess I had a hallucination.
I must say that the scenary was beautiful, especially running by Doogort beach one of the five blue flags of the island. From there 'till about the 10mile it was all down hill and I felt like a feather going down.
Yet another hill, just when I thought there were none left, but this time I was ready to face it. I wanted to run uphill and get to the top. I almost crawled but I got there.
Then finally, the last 3 miles and from far I could see the yellow circus tend at the beach near the finish line. It was right there and I was determined to run to the end. At this point my gluteus went tighter and started hurting, I had the impression that I wasn't moving at all. I could see my feet running but I felt like I was digging a hole.
Yards after yards I got to the last turn and all I could think of was converting the yards in metres to give me that last push to finish the race.
Here it is, I crossed it trying to restrain from crying. The feeling is indescribable: happiness and adrenaline combined together. Suddenly, I can only hear the screaming of joy of one of the girls who runs towards me and gives me a big hug and all I can think is I want to run again soon.
