Frequency illusion – also known as the Baader Meinhof Phenomenon – is real and is something I can attest to.
It’s the behaviour of thinking something happens more regularly than previously, but only because it has recently become relevant to you. After signing up to run my first marathon at the ripe age of 48, I am now seeing joggers / runners everywhere I go.
Needless to say, they’ve always been there – not least at this time of the year – when the hugely popular Dublin city marathon looms large on the horizon, but when you’ve got a precious entry ticket in your possession they register in a different way.
There’s almost a kindred spirit sentiment to the spotting process.
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The fluorescent attire might be the first element to register before a sneaking glance at the ever-growing sponge sole footwear. Then there’s the mental speculation about what type of training or run they are on as you hopelessly attempt to gauge their speed, wondering how they long they’ve been pounding the pavements and how far they’ve journeyed.
On Sunday Dublin city centre and outlying areas will close to vehicular traffic as roughly 20,000 committed souls run, jog and, in some cases, plod their way around the 26-mile 385-yard route passing some of the city’s most recognisable landmarks.
It’s a special club, an assertion that rings through in people’s reaction when you confide in them your plans to attempt to join it.
However, putting one’s hand up for involvement encompasses so much more than the day itself.
After the passing of time retired me from the rigours of Gaelic football, the vacuum had to be filled with something other than coaching and sports administration. And that something became running, an interest sharpened by the additional time that the Covid pandemic granted us.
And so, it starts with 5km and 10km runs before the miles in the legs increase, and the possibility of completing a half-marathon doesn’t seem as far-fetched as it once might have.
You soon discover some of your friends and acquaintances are closet runners, and the addictive and competitive nature of it all kicks in.
When your alarm buzzes at 6.45 on a Sunday as you start squeezing in longer runs whenever possible, you start to see your native city in a different light and at a time of the morning that you sometimes saw as a reveller in younger years.
Of course, there is an inherent beauty to Dublin city on a bright summer Sunday morning with tourists outnumbering locals and even they are in short supply.
Clondalkin village, Inchicore, Kilmainham, Pimlico, The Liberties, O’Connell Bridge, the Quays, Phoenix Park, the Papal Cross, Chapelizod – the clock ticks on and with it grows the number of others stealing a march on the day, banking the kilometres or, in old money, miles.
Naturally, the lexicon has changed over the course of the last four months. Split times, Fartlek, accordion sessions, boomerang runs, floats, strides, electrolytes and any amount of confusing training plans have been deciphered and digested to such a point they now resemble a new norm.
Similarly, an array of apps and gadgets are now commonplace in the running bag, not to mention a collection of blindingly bright footwear only permissible when running.
A tight hamstring led to numerous physio visits and the identification of previously unknown back muscles – not to mention Google searches for solutions to “chest chafing”. There was also a return journey home by Luas when the aforementioned hamstring did not share my enthusiasm for the early Sunday start.
So after running all over the capital city, on the north Antrim coast, International Drive, Orlando, New York and along Lake Michigan in recent weeks and months, the nods and greetings of the runners’ etiquette handbook have been practised and perfected.
The stomach lining has built up a resistance for the consumption of energy gels; the minutes per kilometre needed to record a given target time has been rehearsed.
The giddy nerves have started to kick in and will only increase as you ponder running a distance longer than even your recent “long run” – not to mention the justifiable jitters around “Heartbreak Hill” and, of course, hitting “the wall”.
Of all the things learned on the journey, the bond and respect in meeting fellow runners – friends and strangers alike – has been a major takeaway.
Striking up a conversation with a stranger while running at the same pace on a glorious August morning in Central Park reminded me of the power of sport, swapping stories, discussing footwear and wishing each other well for upcoming runs in Berlin and Dublin.
All told, it has been a big commitment but an enjoyable experience, providing interesting insights into the mindsets of so many who do it year-in year-out. More power to them.
As for the burning question of what follows and are you “one and done?”, that remains to be seen, but if I make it around then there will be satisfaction in being able to say as much.
See you on the other side. Hopefully.
