Marathon running: a dead cert question in job interviews?

“So, 2:59 in the marathon, eh? You’re just the brain surgeon we’ve been looking for! Welcome aboard!”

Across Ireland today, secondary school students are beginning their final exams, the Leaving Certificate. First up is English.

When I sat my Leaving Cert, the burning issue was to second-guess which questions would come up. For the English paper, it was taken as fact that the Irish poetry question alternated between W.B. Yeats in year X and one of our textbook’s three other Irish poets in year X+1. If you did your Leaving Cert in year X then you felt certain that you’d be asked about Yeats.

(The three non-Yeatses were Patrick Kavanagh, Austin Clarke and Thomas Kinsella; the textbook was the magnificent Soundings, of which I own two editions. My Leaving Cert was a non-Yeats year starring Austin Clarke. Now read on.)

Let the years flutter by like calendar pages in the wind. With school and college behind me, I began to seek gainful employment. This involves job interviews, a process similar to final school exams in the preparation required and dread inspired.

And just like our Yeats banker question in the English exam, I could usually depend on one topic coming up in a job interview; an interviewer would remark that in my CV I mention marathon running, either the activity itself or my online activities around it. For me, marathon running was the W.B. Yeats question of job interviews.

Marathon running does indeed allow you to demonstrate many qualities of value in the workplace. You set an objective, plan carefully, work diligently, monitor your progress, and at the end you have tangible results: the finisher’s medal; the personal best; the free banana. (Of course, like in many jobs, running a marathon involves a phase of “Why am I doing this?” and “Never again!”)

The running question is fraught with risks too. What if your personal best is a good country mile quicker than that of your interviewers, now seething in envy or inadequacy? Or maybe your prospective boss has just dashed off a particularly mountainous ultramarathon and laughs at your 26 miles of underachievement.

Mostly, though, marathon running shows you to be an active and energetic person. What’s more, you clearly have a boundless tolerance for tedium and suffering, and what employer could resist that?

I mention this because I had a job interview recently. It passed off peacefully. But afterwards I realised that I hadn’t been asked about marathon running, for perhaps the first time ever in an interview since I started running. The non-Yeats questions had come up instead.

This intrigued me. For many people I know, I am defined by running; I am the person they know who runs marathons. If you read this blog regularly, then it’s probably because that’s how I present myself too. (By contrast, if you’re reading this post because you’re a panicky Leaving Cert student searching online for Yeats notes, all you need to know is that he was in favour of swans, lake isles and Maud Gonne, and against shopkeepers.) But there you are; apparently there’s more to me than running.

Anyway, it has all worked out well in the end. I’ve got the job!

A shot of Jack Daniels’ Running Formula

My Dublin Marathon training will begin in July – a 16-week summer of long runs, fartleks and recovery shuffles, winding down to a taper seasoned lightly with maranoia.

But that doesn’t mean I’m not running already. Since March I’ve been following a plan from Daniels’ Running Formula to get me in shape for my marathon training.

First published in 1988, Daniels’ Running Formula is one of the most popular and trusted athletics training manuals out there. Its author, an Olympic medallist in the modern pentathlon, has been called the world’s best running coach by Runner’s World magazine. In the foreword, the mighty Joan Benoit credits him for her recovery from injury ahead of the 1984 U.S. Olympic marathon trials – and you know how that story ended. And yes, his name is Jack Daniels.

(The American whiskey was created by Jack Daniel, so that’s Jack Daniel’s whiskey you’re drinking. The American athletics coach is called Jack Daniels, and that’s Jack Daniels’ Running Formula you’re following. Mind those apostrophes.)

Combining scientific and athletic cred, Daniels’ method is best known for its VDOT scale, whereby runners can calculate their most appropriate speed for training paces varying from easy to threshold to interval. VDOT isn’t strictly an acronym, but derives from VO₂max (or “V-dot-O-two”, as in the scientific notation there’s a dot inside the V), the value for how efficiently an individual uses oxygen. So there’s the science of it.

Daniels’ book has competition training plans for all distances from 800 metres to the marathons – and it also has intermediate plans for runners who want to work on their fitness ahead of launching into a targeted race plan. This latter is what interested me.

And so, in March this year I got my copy of Daniels’ Running Formula, worked out my VDOT based on my 2012 Paris Marathon result, and prepared to follow Daniels’ Red Intermediate Plan.

The Red Intermediate Plan consists of four four-week phases of four or five days’ running per week, at around 40 or 50 minutes of running time per day. Each week has two sessions with a comfortably hard ‘threshold’ element, and two other days at an easy pace (with some strides – short, light 30-second sprints – thrown into one of them). There’s no long run in the normal sense of something well over an hour.

I love this running plan. Although I’m always watching the clock on all my runs, with no long run where I can space out and shuffle along blissfully, the structure and rigour of this schedule makes every session satisfying. At the start, I was zipping around on my threshold runs a few seconds ahead of my VDOT-determined target pace. Now, though, the accumulation of three months’ training has helped me find my proper rhythm – every threshold session is constructively challenging without affecting my recovery.

Though I won’t be as scientific as Daniels, the benefits for me of this training plan were clear: structure, challenges, objectives and a tangible sense of progress. Other training plans exist, of course, and perhaps other runners haven’t found Daniels’ plans as beneficial or enjoyable. Also, it mightn’t be the best plan for you if you do all your running on the street - running at a slightly faster pace while keeping one eye on your watch, you might be a greater hazard to other road users or to yourself.

I have one four-week phase left in the Red Intermediate Plan, which will take me right up to the start of July, 16 weeks out from the Dublin Marathon. By then, I’ll have decided if I’ll stick with Daniels and use one of his marathon plans too. So far, though, I’m a satisfied customer and I may be returning for more.

Dublin Marathon 2013 – I’m in!

I’ve sat out the 2013 spring marathon season. I watched this year’s Paris Marathon from the streetside and the London Marathon on TV. Everyone else has had their 26 miles of fun, but I’ve had none.

Enough of that. I’ve just entered the 2013 Dublin Marathon, which takes place on the Bank Holiday Monday, 28 October.

This year’s race will be my fourth time running the Dublin Marathon. The first, in 2004, was my first marathon and I got around in 3:54:27. Since then I’ve run it in each of the last two years, posting 3:44:29 in 2011 and 3:53:02 last year.

My objective for this year’s race will be the same as for all my marathons – to get around safely and finish in a personal best, which for me will be beating the 3:27:58 I clocked in Paris in 2007. It’s still the only one of my six marathons to date where I’ve gone under 3 hours and 30 minutes.

Serious training will start in July, 16 weeks ahead of the race. Until then I’ll continue my current short, speed-based workouts. That said, I can already start thinking and planning and scheming and visualising and getting excited about my next marathon.

Back in the game, baby!

Run and Hyde in London

No need for a fancy sports watch if you’re running in London (Photo via standard.co.uk)

Even though I’m an Irishman currently living in Paris, lately I’ve had London on my mind.

This year’s London Marathon a couple of weeks ago, from the couch-and-TV perspective, was highly enjoyable and enthralling to watch – the post-Boston sense of purpose, the startling water-station collision between Olympic marathon champion Tiki Gelana and wheelchair athlete Josh Cassidy, Mo Farah’s controversial ‘half-marathon’, and the dramatic finale of the men’s elite race.

Added to all that, the glorious sunshine made London and its marathon look attractive indeed.

So, last Monday morning I entered the overseas ballot for entry to the 2014 London Marathon. Fortunately, I got in just before the ballot filled up after only a couple of hours online.

Of course, I could have avoided the ballot altogether if I had only shaved 27 minutes off my finishing time at last year’s Paris Marathon. It was a bit galling to see that I’m not considered ‘good for my age’ – a standard that guarantees a London Marathon place to the better runners of all generations. Perhaps I can use that as motivation.

Now I just have to see in October if I’m one of the lucky entrants to be offered a place in the race.

Well, I must admit that I couldn’t wait. A couple of days after entering the online ballot I was in London – and just like Mo Farah I went for a run in anticipation of the 2014 marathon.

I was staying only a few minutes from Hyde Park, which was too tempting to resist. So, I got up at 6:30 a.m. on Wednesday morning and headed straight for a run.

It was a perfect morning for running – mild and with light sunshine that hadn’t yet worked itself up to overheat or dazzle. I entered Hyde Park from near the Albert Hall and set off towards Hyde Park Corner, with the aim of doing a lap.

At that early hour I saw only one or two other runners but the most prominent figures in the park were mounted cadets of the Household Cavalry - like me, out for an early morning trot. On my left, the interior of the park was a serene expanse of grassland and trees – you would hardly think it was at the heart of a great metropolis.

On Park Lane the red double-decker buses were more plentiful, as the morning commute began – and so also was Hyde Park seeing more runners, fitting in their training run before heading to work. Cyclists began to pop up too, combining training with commuting. Thankfully, Hyde Park has clearly-signalled ‘no cycling’ paths which saves runners and cyclists the sort of collision that did for Gelana and Cassidy in the marathon.

Along the Bayswater side of Hyde Park, happy and carefree in an uninterrupted rhythm, I was going at a strong clip. By now, almost 7:00 a.m., there were a lot more runners – and the occasional pedestrian commuter. Walking to work through Hyde Park might seem like a pleasure, except for the fact that you’re still walking to work – I’m sure plenty of tourists in Paris have come home with holiday photos of the Opera or the Louvre, only to find me in the background trudging to the office.

Around I came by Kensington Palace to finish my lap of Hyde Park in around 30 minutes. Still hungry for more running, I decided to continue with a lap of the Serpentine lake in the centre of the park. This is normally a training stronghold for London’s triathlon community, but on my morning run I saw no one near the water – only the ducks.

Some other running tourists had arrived in the park – a couple carrying cameras while they jogged. Encountering another troop of cavalry cadets beside the Serpentine, the pair of them jogged backwards right in front of the trotting horses to take pictures, with no thought of being run over should someone have shouted ‘Charge!’. (I admit, the thought crossed my mind.)

Anyway, unlike the London Marathon there were no collisions during my Hyde Park run. I enjoyed it greatly and I hope to be running in London again, preferably for the 2014 marathon to take on Mo Farah!

Mo money, Mo problems

Mo upsets the fancy dress competitors in this year’s London Marathon.

This weekend’s London Marathon has been overshadowed by events in Boston. It will now be something of a memorial service for those who were killed or injured last Monday – a 30-second silence will be observed before the start, and all runners have been given a black ribbon to wear during the race.  Some will also see it as an act of solidarity, defiance and perhaps closure to their upset.

Boston has also knocked from the headlines what had looked to be a high-profile and somewhat controversial aspect of this year’s London Marathon – Mo Farah’s decision to run only half of the race.

Farah’s deal with the organisers and sponsors is that he will run half of the 2013 London Marathon ahead of competing fully in the 2014 event – all for an undisclosed combined fee that is believed to be around £450,000.

Elite athletes regularly receive appearance fees for competing in city marathons. However, Farah’s deal seems to have hit a nerve with some people. Because Farah will simply stop at halfway in this year’s race, there’s a feeling that he’s being unsporting or not in keeping with the spirit of the event.

One newspaper, the Daily Mail, has led the criticism of Farah’s plans. As well as compiling the sceptical opinions of British athletics stars like Paula Radcliffe, Steve Cram and David Bedford, it posted a scathing online article that implied his wife (“VERY ambitious”) was responsible for pushing him towards money-making deals that would “tarnish” his reputation. (This would probably come as news to Farah’s agent, Ricky Simms, the Irishman who also looks after Usain Bolt.)

Farah has been forced to defend himself, emphasising that his 2013 London half-marathon is part of a long-term training plan.

So, is Farah making a public relations mistake by running only half of the race?

The deal is perfectly clear and there’s no duplicity involved – it’s not as if Farah has been hatching a secret plan to stop at halfway, take the money and run. Spectators aren’t being short-changed, because they are watching the event for free. And Farah has committed to a full, competitive London Marathon attempt in 2014.

By contrast, consider the hypothetical scenario where a star athlete appears at a track meet, draws a full house of paying punters expecting a world record attempt, but then only jogs a few uncompetitive laps. This doesn’t describe Farah’s London Marathon deal.

That said, a high-profile short race like the Great Northern Run or an actual half-marathon could have served Farah the same purpose. Judging by the online reaction of the running community to events in Boston, a marathon is sacrosant to many. And it will be interesting to see and hear the crowd’s reaction when Farah stops.

Still, anyone upset by Farah’s London half-marathon plan would do well to see the deal for what it is: a public appearance by one of the sport’s best-loved figures. Let’s hope Mo is still feeling the love at 13.1 miles on Sunday and his popularity doesn’t hit The Wall.

Boston and London

The opening ceremony of last summer’s Olympics featured a tribute to those who died in the London bombings of 2005, which took place on the day after the city had been awarded the 2012 Games. The tribute juxtaposed the contemplative calmness of the English hymn ‘Abide With Me’ and the frenetic movement of dancers dressed in blood-red.

A similar frenzy of raw feelings was visible online after the bomb attack at the Boston Marathon finish line on Monday. The bomber and motive have yet to be discovered, though that will hardly make the event any more understandable.

Some of the runners writing online these past few days have suggested that a marathon course is somehow a sacred place, off limits to the malevolence and tragedy we see on the news every night. In truth, a marathon course is no more or less sacred than a commuter train, an office tower, a school or any other space where people come together in common enterprise and trust. Contrary to our instinct, in groups we are sometimes just as vulnerable as when we are alone.

The setting of the Boston attacks may have been unusual, but the act is sadly familiar. Just a few months ago, Americans saw the same sort of incomprehensible violence being visited on a classroom of children in Connecticut. And in September 2001 Boston was the departure point of two planes which were hijacked and crashed into the World Trade Center towers in New York.

James Joyce ends the third chapter of Ulysses with the scene of Stephen Dedalus alone on Sandymount Strand, watching a ship sail in Dublin Bay – a lonely individual looking at a vessel that represents collective endeavour and co-operation. Ulysses, a book whose characters fizz with the grief of loss and the trauma of betrayal, suggests that life only has meaning when it is lived with others, and that the drama in our lives comes when this sense of community is distorted or broken – only by restoring it can we cope with the hard blows of life.

Today in London, people lined the streets to watch a funeral cortege for someone who once said “there is no such thing as society”. To disprove this statement, the very same streets will hold far greater crowds on Sunday, all watching a London Marathon in which competitors will wear a black ribbon to show solidarity with the residents and runners of Boston.

May everyone enjoy their day and get home safely.

Paris Marathon 2013: the spectator’s view

No Paris Marathon medals for supporters, though. (Photo via @MarathonParis)

If you ran the marathon in Paris, Milan or Connemara today, well done. For those of you who were running Seine-side, you can see your Paris Marathon results, photos and videos already on the race website.

As you’ll know if you’ve read here earlier, I’ve run the Paris Marathon three times but I decided to sit out this year’s event. I also decided that, after watching the elite competitors on TV at home, I would pop into the city and watch the rest of the race live.

I was surprised to realise that, for all my years of following athletics and running the 26-miler, this was the first time I had gone to watch a city marathon. And I was even more surprised to find that I enjoyed it greatly – a colourful athletic parade starring all sorts of people.

My viewing point was a quiet street along the route, just after the 20-mile sign. Having left my home just after the women’s winner, Boru Feyse Tadese of Ethiopia, ran in for a new course record of 2:21:06, I got to the course just as the 3 hours 30 minute wave of runners was passing. I had a great view of the race, and I got so caught up in the event that I stayed until the 5 hours 30 minute competitors went by.

The 20-mile mark is the part of the marathon most closely associated with ‘The Wall’, that semi-mythical, quasi-mystical moment when the physical and psychological strain begins to hurt all competitors. In Paris today, many runners seemed to have found The Door and were still running strongly and in good spirits. Others were having the dreaded suffer-fest, and we’ve all had one of those – you can see it in their faces blank with bad vibes. Some people stopped briefly to stretch their cramped legs before setting off again, travelling in hope rather than expectation. As the morning turned to afternoon, so more of the competitors were walking instead of running.

I was struck by the amount of Paris Marathon competitors wearing inappropriate clothing. Granted, the weather was particularly cold despite the bright sunshine – but their cotton T-shirts and tracksuit tops were already soaked in sweat long before mile 20, weighing down the runner and promising great affliction by the dreaded chafing. Also, camel-pack water backpacks might be essential kit on an isolated mountain trail, but they are surely unnecessary in a city marathon with water stations every 5 kilometres – I saw a few runners at mile 20 wheezing under the weight of their camel-pack, while others cruised by carrying a small bottle.

And then there was a runner wearing a model of the Eiffel Tower! But that was the familiar sight of Michel Bach, a regular at marathons around the world. I’ve seen him every time I’ve run the Paris Marathon, and I was happy to see him from the sidelines this year.

Perhaps because they weren’t wearing large models of famous landmarks, I didn’t see the two friends of mine who were running in this year’s race. However, I was glad to see plenty of Irish runners, identifiable by the nationality printed on all the race numbers. So, I made sure to give plenty of encouragement in English and let them know that a compatriot was cheering them on. Some were surprised to hear a random Irish accent shouting at them, but most were happy and managed a smile and a word of thanks. One Irish girl was having a bad day – tears bubbled down her face as she walked by, but she was still smiling through it all.

It being Paris, there were some stereotypically Parisian moments of short-tempered unfriendliness. One male French runner seemed to be narked by my cheering and clapping; he turned to me and said “Hey, could you clap any louder?” Another pair of runners behaved like Paris drivers – one cut blithely in front of another, who hollered at him in great indignation.

And some of the Parisians not running were even colder. From the times I ran the race, I can tell you that there isn’t a great atmosphere along most of the Paris Marathon route. Many of the spectators near me didn’t make any sound at all; they just stood and watched in silence. A French lady heard me shouting to an Irish runner and said to her companion: “I should have known that the only person cheering the runners would be an English speaker!”

Parisian tempers became even more frayed when it came to crossing the route. One family, pushing bikes, were led across and through the field by an impatient father who kept declaring angrily “We’re crossing! We’re crossing!” while having his back turned to the oncoming runners as a gesture of non-discussion. An elderly man was particularly angry at the disruption – arriving at the other side after great difficulty, he vented his spleen at me: “If I had a machine-gun they wouldn’t be running any more!”

But none of this narkiness spoiled my day. I enjoyed my first experience of a marathon from the sidelines. That said, I won’t be making a habit of not taking part.

Missing the Paris Marathon

Wasn’t there, didn’t do it, but still got the T-shirt. Didn’t iron it either.

Like Albert Camus’ The Outsider, I’m feeling left out of things this weekend. Here I am in Paris, and I’m not running in the 2013 Paris Marathon on Sunday.

I made the decision a good while ago to sit out this year’s race. After three marathons in the space of 18 months – the 2012 Paris Marathon sandwiched between the 2011 and 2012 Dublin Marathon – I felt I needed to spend the springtime getting refreshed and recovering fully. This was a rare flash of common sense on my part, and it was the right decision.

That said, this week I’ve been feeling little pangs of Biblical envy and the more modern Fear Of Missing Out (FOMO). I know two people running in this year’s Paris Marathon, and my Twitter feed is full of excited competitors talking of their taper and the marathon expo and their Seine-side plans. (For those who seriously think they can climb the Eiffel Tower steps or walk around the Louvre on the day after the marathon, I’ve kept quiet.)

I’ve also had feelings of temptation. A work colleague of mine, an experienced runner, entered this year’s Paris Marathon but for various reasons she hasn’t been able to train properly. So, like me, she won’t be taking part in the race this Sunday.

“Would you like to buy my race number?” she asked me. And I was tempted. For one giddy split-second my eyes spun around in my head and bubbles of excitement rushed through the blood to my head.

Fortunately, common sense put up steadfast resistance and quickly regained control of my brain. Remembering just in time my untrained and recovering body, I didn’t take up the offer of a race number. There’ll be no dramatic late entry for me in this year’s Paris Marathon.

I miss not being involved in the Paris Marathon this year, but at least it’s by choice. Back in 2009 I got injured during my training and couldn’t take part. On a Sunday morning about two months before the race I woke up, put my right foot on the floor, and when I stood up on it I felt a cheesewire pain across my right shin. Naturally, I then went for a two-hour run.

At the time, medical science was divided on what exactly the matter was with my right leg. My nearest physio, who happened to be blind and used the first screen-reader computer I’d ever heard, applied his hands to my calf and told me I had shin splints. However the doctor who scanned my troublesome limb a week later told me that I had a slight tear in my calf muscle. (This was the same French doctor who advised me to give up running and try a proper sport, like cycling.) Either way, the upshot was that I had to rest up for the four weeks when I had hoped to be speed-training and long-running.

For me, the 2009 Paris Marathon was finished. Dreading the prospect of being in the city and watching helplessly while everyone else had their 26 miles of fun, I made plans to hop on a high-speed train that weekend to visit a friend in Lyon.

But first of all – and God knows why – I went to the race expo to collect my goodie bag. This was when races still gave out their t-shirts before the race instead of at the finish line, and perhaps I was hoping for a free chocolate energy bar too. Anyway, I still had my medical certificate from before my injury, so on the Thursday evening along I went to the Porte de Versailles convention centre. 

It was mightily depressing. Glumly I collected my goodies; the expo staff must have thought I was stricken with pre-race nerves. And there wasn’t even any bloody chocolate in the bag.

I had a good time in Lyon that weekend. (If you’re a foodie then it’s the city for you; I recommend the boudin noir with apple.) And yet at nine o’clock that Sunday morning I woke up with a start. Right at that moment, 300 miles to the north west, the 2009 Paris marathon was starting without me.

This Sunday morning will be different; I’ll head into the centre of Paris and cheer on the marathon runners. Of course, part of me will still wish I were out there, showing them how it’s done. But that can wait until the autumn…

If you were running Seine-side this weekend, you can see your Paris Marathon 2013 results, photos and videos on the race website.

Beware of the dog (and its owner)

“Oh no! Timmy has fallen down the well on his long slow run! And he’s got chafing too!”

Walking home from work a few weeks ago, I saw a male runner heading down my street towards the supermarket at the corner. So far, so normal.

Suddenly a large white labrador bounded out of nowhere and, springing up on its hind legs, tried to hug the runner.

Standing up, the dog was almost as tall as the man, and made for an impressive sight. There was no doubt that the dog’s motives were friendly – its tongue was lolling out and its tail wagging with robust enthusiasm.

My running comrade was a lot less pleased to see the dog. The young girl attached to the dog was most apologetic, the runner was unharmed, and everyone went off in their own direction afterwards.

Even before I started running, I was never much of a doggie person. It’s more out of disinterest than any solid dislike – for instance, until I was 10 we had a red setter at home that we just called The Dog. When we moved from the country into town, we parted company and it probably wasn’t a traumatic break-up for either party.

However, when I was around 11 or 12 I was bitten by a dog (but not The Dog) on two occasions – once while playing football and the other while hurrying along a residential street. Since then, I’ve given dogs a wide berth. 

I’ve never been attacked or chased by a dog while I’m running. A few times, some small yapper has yapped in my general direction, but always while on its leash. That mountainous white labrador has never appeared on my runs either.

In fact, the only problems I’ve had are not with dogs but with their owners. A typical one is the person who blithely lets their small terrier run off on a long leash, tripping up anyone in their path. A few months ago, while barrelling down my local hill, I almost got tangled up in such a trap. “Hey, the streets aren’t for runners!” said the dog-owner, clearly not understanding the natural order of things.

That said, people will walk their dogs in the parks and streets where you run. You just have to be aware and civic-minded, and not get stressed or huffy about it. All we runners need now is for owners to make sure they don’t let their dogs go to the toilet on our running routes.

What should you do if a dog threatens you on your run? Run to Win has a few good tips that I’ve heard in a non-running context too: move slowly out of its territory, maintain eye contact, keep your arms and legs close to your body, and don’t just run away.

Common sense should also prevail. If there’s an aggressive canine or its aggressive owner stationed permanently along your route, then you might be better off saving yourself the hassle by running somewhere else. If you’re bitten by a dog, go immediately to a doctor or hospital for a tetanus shot. Wild or dangerous dogs should be reported to the local authorities.

Of course, dogs don’t always mean harm if they engage with you. Many times the dog just wants to play – and the eye-catching motion of bright running clothes is a kindlier version of the proverbial red rag to a bull. Other times the dog is protecting its patch. (You can urinate ostentatiously on its territory in a blatant land-grab, but this is only going to end in military action or, worse, interminable diplomatic discussions at the United Nations.)

So, even us runners can learn to be a bit more tolerant of our canine friends. Next time you’re on your run and you encounter a dog, just stay calm, sing this legendary theme tune to yourself, and remember that one day you may fall down a well and need help:

Susan Smith, Ireland’s third 1990s athletics heroine

The Irishwoman called Smith at the 1996 Olympics that it’s okay to like.

With Fionnuala Britton and her team mates European cross country champions, Derval O’Rourke still pulling out great championship performances, and Ciara Everard making her breakthrough by reaching a European Indoors final this spring, it’s a good time for Irish women’s athletics. 

The first golden age of Irish women’s athletics was during the 1990s, when Sonia O’Sullivan and Catherina McKiernan enjoyed glittering, medal-laden international success.

At the same time, Susan Smith in the 400 metres hurdles was also competing prominently at the highest level. At the 1997 World Championships in Athens, Smith became the first Irishwoman to reach a major championship sprint final. She also made it to the 1998 European Championship final, but barely missed out on an Olympic final in Atlanta in 1996 despite breaking the Irish record.

Smith also ran with distinction at the 100 metres hurdles, both as a junior international and as 8-times Irish national senior champion. In the last of those wins, in 1998, she saw off an early challenge from a certain up-and-coming Leevale athlete called Derval O’Rourke.

You can watch Susan Smith’s 1997 World Championship performances in this television interview (part 1 and part 2) just after she returned from the events in Athens. RTE’s iconic sports presenter Bill O’Herlihy is asking the questions, aided by panellists John Treacy and Eamonn Coghlan. Bill is clearly and completely smitten by his guest!