I regard myself as a fairly experienced runner. So when I booked my first overseas race in March 2018 I wasn’t phased in the slightest. To me it was just another race albeit in a different country. I was wrong. Very wrong. After years of running, I am very much a creature of habit, especially on race days.

Running terrain. The Roma Ostia Half Marathon sounded perfect except the first few miles were on cobblestones. Not ideal but I could make an exception for the ancient streets of Rome. Unbeknownst to me I researched one Rome Half Marathon but booked another, nowhere near the ancient streets of Rome. It started on the modern outskirts of Rome, then went on a straight dual carriage way for 12 miles to the coast. To add insult to injury it was rampant with hills.

Running gels. At the Race Expo my husband Jack casually asked did I pack our running gels. I stopped in my tracks. I hadn’t. So unlike me. I have used the same PowerBar Powergel shots since my first marathon. I discovered them at the Dublin Marathon 2005 Expo. Unlike most energy gels, they aren’t slimy in consistency but are like cola bottles. I found a jellyish based gel stick at the Rome Expo. Expo done.

Running clothes. I am extremely particular about my running gear. I always wear a running vest top during races, a built in back pocket a must for my gels. I always get my race gear ready the night before so before going to dinner I went to get it ready. No running top. I don’t know who was more shocked, me or Jack, who over the years has watched in wonder as I go through my race rituals. I Googled a nearby Nike store. It was open until 8pm. It was 7.20pm. They only had vest tops without pockets. Beggars can’t be choosers. I bought it.

Pre-race dinner. I always eat the same pre-race dinner. A large bowl of pasta with steak, boiled vegetables and pesto. The menu had steak with potatoes and spinach. The pasta section had no steak options so I ordered the steak dish with pasta instead of potatoes. A confused looking waiter went off. He returned with a huge plate of steak, spinach, a pile of potatoes and a pile of pasta. New definition of carb loading.

Running with music. Since starting to run in 2004, I run listening to music. I have used so many different music devices. I normally only change them when the one I’m using breaks or dies.  I hate running without music with a passion. At dinner something dawned on me. I felt a rush of cold blood to the head. Panic. My iNano of 7 years recently died. I loved it. It was tiny, light and clipped on to my running shorts. It was simple. Once you download your music and keep it charged it won’t fail you. Until it dies. I reluctantly tried a Mighty music device. It kept randomly stopping or just didn’t start. I routed out my old iPod. Too big for my liking but it squeezed into my running vest pocket. A short term solution. So now here I was in Rome with an iPod but no pocket to house it. Plan B. After dinner we walked into random shops to buy an arm strap. 10pm on a Saturday night. No joy. Clutching at straws plan C. I could put the iPod in between the back of my sports bra secured with safety pins. Sorted.

Pre-Race Breakfast. I was dreading this. Don’t get me wrong. I really enjoy my pre-run Weetabix with muesli and an espresso. But not in a hotel. I love hotel breakfasts with their endless juices, coffee, fruits, breads, hot breakfast, pastries, pancakes etc. Not today. I brought my Weetabix and muesli from home. It felt wrong on so many levels. As inconspicuously as possible, I put it in a bowl in the restaurant. It is hard to be inconspicuous at 7am on a Sunday morning in a hotel in Rome.

Last minute Race prep. After stretching I turn on my music. Nothing. There was no wifi. This is why I loved my old iNano. It wasn’t dependant on wifi or Bluetooth or any other annoying, unreliable, inconsistent new-fangled wireless technology. So here I was in Rome about to start a half marathon with no music. I am never concerned about hitting a wall, pulling a muscle or getting injured during races. My only concern is that my music will die and I will be running with no music. It has never happened. Until today. One of my biggest running fears became a reality before the race even started. How on earth was I going to be able to run a Half Marathon with no music? I could have lost it now. I didn’t. I think it was because it was all so ridiculous how everything was going so wrong.

The Race. The starting siren went off. I normally feel like a hare bolting out of a trap with the adrenaline in my body and the music in my ears. I felt no adrenaline. I heard no music. I think I was in shock. I started to run. I felt every foot step. I was far too aware of my body and breathing, normally masked by my music.

I saw a 1 hour 30 minute balloon. I don’t like running balloons. They distract me. Once during a race one overtook me. It felt deflating (excuse the pun) seeing it disappear in to the distance. Now I start races at a balloon that I have no intention of staying with. I always have a target time in mind, one second faster than my previous PB. I don’t run with a running watch. They distract me. Today I needed a distraction. So I ran with this balloon. 3 miles later I came to my senses. Not only was this pace too fast for me, I was running in 18”c humidity, having just come from the snow in Ireland. Having messed up my race day preparations there wasn’t a chance in hell that I was going to mess up the race too, consciously at least. I am experienced enough to know better.

I reduced my pace. The balloon gradually disappeared. I got in to my rhythm but didn’t zone out like normal. I was worried the IPod that Jack had kindly offered to carry in his shorts pocket was wrecking his head. Thankfully it wasn’t. He was worried about me running without music on the most boring race route imaginable. I tried a gel. After peeling what could only be described as slime out of my pocket, I did everything in my power to eat it without dropping it or stopping. Not easy. It tasted disgusting and broke in to millions of pieces of tiny bits of slime. Now my hands were all sticky.  A few miles later I saw a wet sponge station. It cooled me down and cleaned my sticky hands! Good times.

After what seemed like an eternity, the sea was imminent. This race was finally going to end! Then there was a turn and a u turn. Torture. Then I saw it. The Finish Line. I normally love seeing my finish time. Not today.  There was no way that I could have done a new PB. I was wrong. Again. I did!

The Race Result. My official time was 1.33.09 (previous PB 1.35.33). I was exhilarated. And shocked. And then I rationalised it. I am an experienced runner. A good runner. Not because of the terrain I run on, the clothes I wear, the food I eat pre and during a run or the music I listen to. It is because I train hard and I train well. In Rome I also kind of felt that I was representing Ireland as I wore an Irish flag on my running top for the first time. Subconsciously I also think I wanted the race to be over as soon as possible.

So would I do a race overseas again? Most definitely. Did I enjoy the experience? Absolutely. Did I learn something from it? More than I could have imagined. Did I experience a runners high at the end of it? One of the best ones. And to top it off we were given a Cornetto at the Finish Line!

Just one Cornetto, give it to me, delicious ice-cream from Italy