IAN O'RIORDAN ATHLETICS Pauline Curley came agonisingly close to fulfilling a lifetime ambition when missing out on qualification for the Olympic marathon by 385 yards

THERE'S A temporary barring order in here against further comment on any Olympic boycott. Just as well. For a while there the political interest in Beijing was destroying all the sporting interest, as if to somehow shame any athlete even attempting to qualify.

So lower those fists in the air for a few minutes. This is the chance to revert to the sporting interest.

It was amusing, though, to listen to all the political opportunists talk about the apparently shattered Olympic ideals - when quite obviously they wouldn't understand the meaning of Olympic participation even if they spent seven years in Tibet thinking about it.

That's not assuming I understand it either, except to say I know plenty of people who do, including my father. This time 40 years ago, when the Olympics were set for Mexico City, he was struggling with a back injury, yet remained determined to chase the qualifying time in the 5,000 metres.

Such was the pain that some evenings after training he would lie prostrate on our sitting room floor while my mother repeatedly walked over his back, a clearly primitive form of sports massage, in order to offer some relief. I can still hear his screams, even though I wasn't actually born at the time.

To cut a long and sensitive story short, he never made it to Mexico. Luckily for him, he had competed in Tokyo four years previously, and although, as we say in family, he "finished down the field", his Olympic participation remains a source of considerable pride. Likewise, for anyone who shares this ultimate sporting honour.

In reality, of course, for every Irish athlete who makes the Olympics, there are dozens who don't. Their efforts are often just as extraordinary, and yet all they're left with are crushed hopes and shattered dreams. And don't let anyone tell you the Olympics aren't worth dreaming about any more.

Last Sunday, Pauline Curley lined up for the Rotterdam marathon with that dream - even though she wouldn't dare dream it out loud. Curley has been among Ireland's most consistent distance runners for more than a decade, one of her obvious highlights being part of the Irish team that won bronze medals at the 1997 World Cross Country in Turin.

Around that time, she was asked what her dream was, and she answered to run in the Olympics - as in it being her "wildest dream".

Curley always had too much humility to consider herself Olympic material. Wasn't that something you're born with? She'd started running at Tullamore Vocational School, but didn't pursue it further until several years later, when she met her husband, Adrian, at the gym in Tullamore Harriers clubhouse.

He was into running, and revived her interest, and, after years of slow but steady progress, sharing the medal podium in Turin with Sonia O'Sullivan and Catherina McKiernan was enough of a dream come true.

After that, work and family duties gradually took priority. Their son, Emmet, turns seven next month, and for years Curley has been a chef at the popular Balcony restaurant in Tullamore, recently renamed Café 4 U. Naturally, she wasn't getting any younger, and last month she celebrated her 39th birthday. This hardly fulfils the criteria for a potential Olympian.

Yet something inside her kept that wildest dream alive, the dream of achieving the Olympic marathon standard of two hours and 37 minutes. Three years ago, Curley ran her debut marathon in Dublin, and ended up winning the national title in 2:42.16. A year later, she was literally beaten in the last stride by Belfast's Jill Shannon. Then, last October, she comfortably won back her title, running 2:42.30.

So, without really admitting it, she sat down with her coach, Mick Hayden, in Tullamore, and they planned a spring marathon. It seemed like a foolish idea, and Curley was quickly reminded of that when she effectively missed the entire month of January through illness, and then last month, during the critical training period, she was laid up for over a week with a serious stomach bug.

Still, Curley pressed on. There would be no special training camp. At 39, She has never received a grant in her life. Her high-performance plan consists of Emmet riding his bicycle alongside her during the long, lonely training runs around Tullamore. "Lift those arms," he shouts. "Give it the holly-polly."

The original idea was to run London, but she couldn't get in. Rotterdam at least gave her a race number. So she headed off last weekend without the slightest fanfare and only that wildest dream to inspire her.

At halfway, Curley wasn't far off the leading bunch, her split of 1:19 very close to 2:37 schedule. Could it be on? She picked off runners all the way to the finish, maintaining a brilliantly steady pace. When the finish clock came into view it had just clicked onto 2:37. She crossed the line in 2:39.01, the ninth women's finisher overall.

Two minutes and one second short - that's a little more than the 385 yards that combines with the 26 miles to make the marathon distance. 2:39.01 - that's still well inside the Olympic B-standard of 2:42.00, although we won't start that debate again.

When Curley recounted her story to me this week, there was child-like giddiness and innocence in her voice at having come so close, and not the slightest hint of bitterness or regret.

"Ah, sure it would have meant the world to me. Definitely a dream come true. I would have been over, over the moon. I'm on cloud five anyway, but that really would have been cloud nine. I mean there's a lot of talk about the Olympics right now, but to me it is still the greatest sporting event. Maybe the dream is over. I'm not getting any younger. But who knows? Who knows?"

It's neither practical nor possible for Curley to attempt another marathon in time to qualify for Beijing. I just get the feeling she hasn't given up on the dream. That must be the way it is for those who truly understand the meaning of Olympic participation.