‘I’ll probably cry a lot’: Six people tell us why they’re running the Dublin Marathon

It is one of the toughest challenges in sport, a 42km test of the human body’s capacity for endurance, yet its difficulty is what makes the marathon distance attractive to so many people.

A record 47,000 people entered the ballot for this year’s Dublin Marathon, more than double the race’s capacity. Alongside those running, thousands more will line the streets to cheer on friends and strangers. Recognised as one of the most emotional and joyful days in the city’s calendar, it is also a mass fundraising event with €9 million projected to be raised for hundreds of charities.

At the front, there will be a few elite runners competing for prize money and prestige, but just behind them are thousands of first-timers, veterans and marathon addicts, people who love running, and some who loathe it.

We spoke to six people taking on the challenge this year to find out what led them to sign up for the race, and what has kept them going through the hundreds of kilometres they have run in preparation.

‘The marathon is a celebration of my life, to say that I am here now. I am safe’

This is a big year for me. I am turning 40. It’s a milestone. I didn’t know where I would be when I was 40. I didn’t think I’d be in Ireland. I didn’t think I’d be alive. The marathon is a celebration of my life, to say that I am here now. I am safe. There’s a lot to live for. Each mile is going to be dedicated to something, and I’ll probably cry a lot.

When I came to Ireland in 2023, I didn’t know anyone. I was staying in Direct Provision, and I saw a poster on the notice board that said: “Come for a run, a jog, come for a cup of tea.” Where I was coming from, you couldn’t just go outside for a walk as a woman on your own. You could never go for a run. It was like a sign of disrespect. I contacted Sanctuary Runners, and a lady called Deirdre came and picked me up on a Saturday morning, and we went to the parkrun at Poolbeg. It was so nice to be able to get out of my room and go outside. The Irish people I had been speaking to were all connected to the asylum process. It was so nice just to have a coffee with someone and talk about things, to be an individual, to be Patience.

I looked forward to every weekend from then on. Then one of the ladies from Sanctuary said: “You don’t need to wait for Saturday; you can go outside anytime for a run, for a walk.”

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I fell in love with it. I started running and running. I didn’t have gear, so the Sanctuary Runners gave me runners and a watch I could connect to my phone. I started tracking my runs. For me, it was an escape to be able to get out of the room. I was sharing with other people, and it sometimes became too much. So I would just run and run and run, and then I would look for a bus that said city centre, and I knew how to get home from there.

I did the Dublin Marathon in 2024, my first one. I had no idea what I was doing. This time I have an idea, and I know what is expected. I have a feel for it. I know the stages.

I think about my son a lot when I’m running. We aren’t together, and I miss him a lot. He’s 10, and I left him when he was eight. He gets me through. He tells me funny things when we talk, and I think about that when I run. I’m hoping he will be proud of his ma.

• Patience Dube is a member of Sanctuary Runners: sanctuaryrunners.ie

‘This will be my 14th Dublin Marathon, my 30th marathon ever’

The discovery of running is that there is always someone who has run further and always someone who has run faster than you. This will be my 14th Dublin Marathon, my 30th marathon ever, and I am celebrating 20 years of running. It’s a big year.

I always liked the idea of running in my childhood, but I never got the opportunity to. In Italy, there wasn’t a culture of amateur running, so when I got to Ireland, it was a bit weird for me. I started with triathlon, but I realised I prefer the freedom of running. You just put your shoes on, and you go. At the beginning, it was unbelievable to me that I could build up the distances. When I started telling people I was running the marathon, they were shocked, thinking I was crazy. After my first one, I immediately wanted to run again. I started to run Dublin and Cork every year.

I love the sensation of freedom, of being with myself. I feel my breath, my heartbeat; I check with myself how I am. People ask whether it’s boring to run without music. In a sense, maybe, but I never get bored. I always find something to think about.

When you get older, you challenge the distance, not the time. In 2017, I chased my second dream of running 100km. I was 48, I had recently lost 10kg, and it felt like I was moving on air. The race started at 3pm in Florence under the hot sun; it goes up to the mountains and then finishes in Faenza. I remember I was feeling lightheaded on the descent, and I met this guy who was running in flip-flops, and he gave me a big sugary date. I know that the date fixed me.

That same year I ran the marathon in Milan. My dad was in a nursing home at the 30km point of the marathon. I knew exactly what time I would get there. So he got the nurse to get him out. I was very fit, and I was running well, and I knew I was going to lose time, but I stopped to give my dad a hug. I remember another runner said: “That hug will last forever.” It is true. You’re so focused on the nitty-gritty, but if I got a personal best in Milan, what would have changed? Nothing. What remains is the hug I gave to my dad.

• Gian Piero Allerta is a member of Crusaders Running Club: www.crusadersac.ie

‘I think about my kids when I run. I get emotional’

For me, it all started back in April. I woke up early, and I just wanted to go back to sleep. So I got dressed and went on a 5km run, hoping I’d get tired and could go back to bed. But then I was awake for the day. Two days later, I went on another 5km run. At that point, I was stringing each kilometre together. My relationship had just ended, and my friends were encouraging me to do something new, to get a new hobby, just to move my body. They started joking with me, saying: “Get your ass marathon ready.”

I started looking through the charities connected with the Dublin Marathon. I saw LA519 on RealBuzz, and that is when I applied. I went through a mental health dark spot last year, and I saw similarities in what they’re doing, trying to connect people who are looking for services and not knowing where to go. I was shocked when I found out in May that I was running it. I thought, if I’m going to do this, I might as well do a 10km and then a half marathon. It just snowballed from there.

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I used this app called Rally for my half marathon. Every kilometre you can hear a voice note from family and friends. You don’t hear the recordings people have left until the day. I ran the half on the August bank holiday. I had a knee injury, and after the first mile I wanted to give up, but then I heard my nieces and nephews talking to me. I just had to keep going. I ran six miles in pain before I got ibuprofen from my family. I was catching up to people after that, and the last stretch was just pure emotion.

I think about my kids when I run. I live in Leitrim, and they live with their mum near The Halfway House in Dublin, which is about 23km into the Dublin route. Whenever I get to 21km on my runs, I think, “Oh, they’re going to be here soon.” I get emotional around those distances.

I’m proud of myself for how dedicated I am now. A few Saturdays ago, I got up at 6.30am to drive to Dublin and bring my kids to the zoo for the day. I dropped them off at 7pm, and then I went on a 34km run. I was at 30km when my legs started to go. I just went at a slower pace, and for the last kilometre I ran and walked. It wasn’t until the next day, at sunset, that I really thought: “That was it.”

All these runs I’m doing are the actual marathon; October 25th will be a victory lap.

• Peter Ennis is running for LA519: https://la519.com/
• Fundraising page: https://eventmaster.ie/fundraising/pages/PE08179560

‘I don’t enjoy long-distance running. That’s the appeal’

I would never describe myself as a runner. I’m a jogger. I’m a plodder. My natural inclination is sitting on the couch reading a book. By doing the marathon, I’m basically tricking myself into aerobic exercise.

This will be the third year in a row I’ve run the Dublin Marathon. I decided I wanted to do it in 2018 when some friends were running. I’d never been a spectator before, and I hadn’t appreciated how big the event was, how incredible the support on the streets was. The minute I was there watching the runners go by, it was inspirational. We were in Milltown, which is around 30km in, and is generally accepted as the point where the sheer misery begins. The crowds were massive, and people were really pushing the runners on. It was people like me, not elite athletes. They were so impressive. The thing about a marathon is that almost no one can spoof it. There are lots of people who could probably run a 10k if they had to, but for a marathon, you have to do lots and lots of training.

I am not suited to long-distance running. I don’t enjoy it, and that’s the appeal, knowing it is a big mental and physical challenge. Part of what keeps me going is that I publicly committed to doing it for Special Olympics Ireland. So you’re letting people down if you don’t do it. It’s a way of making sure you push through. Last year my sister wished me luck, saying: “You’ll do it because you’re so unbelievably stubborn.”

Going into it, I always said I’m not living a Spartan life; I could live like a monk, and it wouldn’t make much of a difference, but the one thing I try to do is get a long run in on a Sunday and do as much as I can during the week. I listen to podcasts in training and music during the race. Classic rock, 1980s – that’s my vintage. To me, it’s less about the songs and more about the rhythm. A cheesy 1980s rock anthem can be just what you want to hear. You can’t think about how far you have to go. You have to think about everything other than the pain in your legs. It can become a spiral, and you don’t want to go down that path.

It’s always brilliant to hear your name shouted out on the course by friends and family. Every year the support gets bigger. Certain villages are just amazing. Castleknock is exceptional, and so are Chapelizod, Terenure, Walkinstown, Drimnagh and Crumlin; all the locals come out, and it definitely helps.

Once you’re over the finish line, there is definite relief that you have done it. And if this year is like either of the other years, I will instantly want to do it again.

• Daniel Moroney is running for Special Olympics Ireland: specialolympics.ie
• Fundraising page: https://eventmaster.ie/fundraising/pages/DM50644640

‘We have a plaque at Dollymount for my dad. I run and touch the plaque and keep going’

Ciara Fitzpatrick

I was at the Dublin Marathon finish line two years ago waiting for my boyfriend and sister, and it was lashing rain, and I thought: “Why not me? Why can’t I do that? I want to be like them.” We went for pizza afterwards, and we were all sitting round chatting, and I just said, “I’m going to apply.” When I got the entry in the ballot, I decided I wanted to run for the Irish Road Victims Association. They helped us after my dad passed away seven years ago. He was crossing the Malahide Road as a pedestrian. It was so sudden and so quick. I don’t think I fully felt the impact of the grief for two years.

I found being outside and just walking really helped during that time. Sometimes people were running by me, and I’d think I’d love to be able to run like them. I started with 5km, then 10km, and I’ve done a few half-marathons now. Each new distance was so rewarding. I never thought training for a marathon would be this hard. Sometimes when you’re passing other runners, they say hi or give you a thumbs up, and that really keeps you going. I train three days a week: Monday is an easy run, Wednesday is intervals and the weekend is a long run. I like to run down the coast road. We have a plaque on the Wooden Bridge at Dollymount for my dad. He used to love going for swims down there with his friends. So I run and touch the plaque and keep going. He had all those memories there, and I’m creating new memories there now.

A few times on my long runs I’ve been in the pits, and I’ve called my boyfriend Johnny. He’s so gentle and supportive, saying, “You can do this. It’s you versus you.” Everyone keeps asking, “Are you going for a time?” but I’m just going for fun and want to roll with the emotions. The longest run I’ve done is 32km, so the last 10km will be a mental challenge. I’ve been there cheering people on at the last stretch, and I know everyone is really rooting for everyone. I know it will be full of love. When I picture myself crossing the finish line, I hope I see my mum, and I’ll probably cry. I can’t wait to get there, but I also love the build-up.

• Ciara Fitzpatrick is running for the Irish Road Victims Association: irva.ie
• Fundraising page: https://eventmaster.ie/fundraising/pages/CF75116291

‘The thought of doing this for the deaf community keeps me strong’

Before this marathon, life was pretty simple. I was playing lots of padel with my mates, keeping active and enjoying family life. Then we got the heartbreaking news that our good friend Tim had died at just 42. It changed everything. Our friend James suggested that, instead of just sitting with our grief, we should try to turn it into something positive. Our group of schoolfriends, nine deaf men and one CODA (child of deaf adults), came together under the name Help Each Other in Tim’s memory and in memory of other deaf people whose lives have ended too soon. We wanted to raise awareness of the unique barriers deaf people face when trying to access mental health support and help push for deaf-led mental health services in Irish Sign Language. This fight isn’t just about a marathon; it’s about saving lives.

Having run the Dublin Marathon two years ago, I knew it wouldn’t be easy running another one. Even though I’m fit and athletic, it’s a massive challenge trying to fit marathon training around a full-time job, two young kids and everything else. I’ve stuck to a routine that suits me best, running three to four times a week in a compressed 12-week block before race day.

For some of the boys who haven’t exercised much, it must be so difficult, yet they are all showing up. I’ve never once thought of giving up.

The long runs give you time to think. It is scary to think that there are no mental health services to address the specific needs of our deaf community. There are only two psychologists in the country who are fluent in Irish Sign Language. People are left relying on interpreters, family and friends for deeply personal conversations. The last three weeks dealing with my friend Tim were some of the most difficult I have ever experienced. After what I witnessed, the issue became impossible to ignore.

Tim and I first met at Beechpark Deaf School when we were just four years old, and we grew up in the same class right through post-primary school. Knowing him well for 38 years, sharing holidays, weddings, parties and so much of life, it’s still so hard to accept that he’s not around any more. It feels strange not being able to text him.

Running for a long time can be brutal, and sometimes my body just tells me to stop. But the thought of doing this for the deaf community keeps me strong. I am actually looking forward to race day, and crossing that finish line means I finally won’t have to train hard any more.

• Joey Watson is running for The Irish Deaf Society: irishdeafsociety.ie
• Fundraising page: https://eventmaster.ie/fundraising/irish-life-dublin-marathon-2026-fundraising-campaign/team/help-each-other-deaf-mental-health