Rocky Road to Dublin…

So a few months ago a friend of mine ran the Melbourne marathon and thought it would be a great idea if a group of friends found a destination marathon to run together. Ideas were thrown out: Jamaica (rum, sun in the winter, ocean – all good), Chicago (hometown pride, Goose Island beer – also good), New York (impossible for all of us to get in – very bad).

Then came the suggestion that I swear made me hear angels singing: Dublin.


Dublin means Ireland. Ireland means Guinness. I’m in.

This was last September. It’s now February. Am I ready? Not. Even. Close. Am I still going? Absolutely. I think.

Considering I agreed to this while being rum-soaked in the Keys, I could just blame it on the alcohol and bail. But that would be wrong. And the truth is I want to run this. Seriously.

But I’m still freaking out. I just started taking my running seriously again a little over a year ago and there is still a real love/hate relationship between me and running. And yes, a marathon was in my plans. Eventually. Down the road. So yes, I have doubts about this all the time. A 5-6 mile run now is something I consider a "long run" and I’m going to run 26.2? Oh boy…

And the best line came from my dad of all people: "You’re planning on running a marathon in Dublin?…It’s just not like you to run PAST a bar. I’m not sure you’ll make it baby girl." – Thanks Dad.

True. I always thought my first trip to Dublin would involve a raucous group of friends and lots of Guinness. But as for the rest I thought about things like: catching a rugby game or 2, maybe some (cold) surfing, good food, lots of sweaters, great pubs and just taking it easy. A marathon was never in my list of "Things To Do In Dublin".

And I recognize that there is more to it than just the running. I’ve been cross-training like a fiend (Power 90, pilates, yoga, gym cardio, etc.). My nutrition has take a huge turn for the better, trying to focus on whole, unprocessed foods. My average weekly alcohol intake has been cut by approximately 75% and that involved giving up my beloved Saturday night dart league. Which means there are now more Saturday nights spent on my couch than ever before because I WANT to be fresh for early morning yoga on Sundays. I’m getting up at 5am daily to get my first workout in. I’ve come to appreciate the real value of a regular pedicure (even if it only last a few days), and then I spend almost my whole pedicure appointment apologizing for the condition of my feet. And there will be more changes coming.

But still the question remains: Am I really ready for this? I’m still not sure.

But I’m doing it anyway.

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