The (overweight) swan song

This was it. My last half marathon.
I know I said this last year but this is truly it.

First, the vitals:

- 96 kilograms painfully dragged over 21.09 kilometers*
in 2 hours and a bit (between 10 minutes and 15 minutes)**
- The average heart rate was: pretty shaggin fast (somewhere between stressed squirrel and shrew on the verge of an orgasm)
- The sweat: I left 1.7 liters of it in my t-shirt, shorts, underpants, socks and all over Phoenix Park
- Elevation: it was far too elevated on the way up. And far too little on the way down
- Wind: the bastard thing must have turned with us around the park, it felt like we had head winds for the whole shaggin ordeal (forgive my swearing, exhaustion, fear and pain bring out the Tourette in me. Seems like I experienced all three today).

Second, the people watching:

As usual it was brilliant.
On the way to the starting line, there was a lot of exaltation in the eyes and apprehension in the calves. Shorts of all shapes and colours. Singlets to die for. Compression socks were big this year.
The stretching moves ranged as usual from the impressive, to the painful looking, to the downright obscene.
There was the guy with the super high vis runners. And the wrap around rainbow mirror shades. He actually needed them. To be able to look at his runners to tie the laces.
There was the guy running in the mankiny (I heard later that he had to give up at the 11th kilometer due to severe chaffing of the crack. The guys from the Order of Malteser - they give you little chocolate balls when your sugar levels are low - refused to attend to him. They told him to shag off and he was last scene limping around Chapelizod. In his green mankini. I doubt that he made it through Ballyfermot alive.)
There was the two rangers running with their bulging camouflage backpacks. But I don't know what was in the backpacks. They could have been pumped up with helium for all I know. I opted not to be impressed, to be on the safe side.
Then after that the exhaustion and the sweat in my eyes go to me and I can't really remember the last third of the race. I must have been day dreaming of my younger svelter days when I could run the shaggin thing just under 1h40.

Link: The motivation video that got me through the training.


Anyway, over and out. I'm shagged.

Thanks to Mrs Raheny for taking this photo rather than pass me the cup of sweet tea I was so desperately trying to reach. Or massage my poor tired legs in a hot soapy bath.

* the last 9 meters were so painful there is no shaggin way I'm leaving them out
** just got the chip time: 02:08:34 It was well worth elbowing the two lycra clad grannies out of the way in the last stretch... I stayed below the psychological barrier of the 02:10