To Lady's View

Either the rain dampened down the pollen or the nasal spray is doing its job, but I am an allergy-free zone for the last few days and am much relieved. As I say, mostly it's not a problem, but occasionally (like last Thursday/Friday) one can begin to feel unwell enough to think about doing something.

Anyway, I headed into the hills again for my eleven-mile run this Saturday. As I left the house in Kenmare, both of us were momentarily conscious of the commitment.  There were no words, just a complicit sense of 'Here I/you go again' and 'Remind me/us why I/you want to do this'.  I gave No.1 an extra wave and as I turned back to my watch and apps, I saw him head towards the mysteries of his beloved sheds. 

In an unintended poetic gesture, I started the run at eleven am, leaving the house in Kenmare to head again in the direction of Moll's Gap. It was, as the last time, a tough steady climb from sea level to 860ft over 6 to 7 miles. I was conscious of having run this route before, checking to see if I feel fitter or faster. Alarmingly, I didn't. It is still the same hard tug and, if anything, I feel more tired. I indulge in two intervals of walking steps, counting to 60 each time so that I am consciously taking a break, not just 'slacking'.  That said, I notice a significant difference in my attitude. I am much less afraid of the discomfort now. Even as I feel my legs grow tired towards the later section of the climb, I dig in deeper, I know that there is more in there than 'seems'. I can feel strength beneath the tiredness. 

On this occasion, when I reach Moll's Gap, I turn right towards Killarney.  I found the road to Sneem, on the previous run, a bit narrow and the locals do not anticipate a jogger as they speed around corners. At least on the Killarney road, we all anticipate the hired-car tourists, the road is wider and there is a better long-distance view.  They should be able to see me coming in all my sweaty glory.  It's bliss. There are still the occasional tugs on this section, but it doesn't descend too quickly so that I am running, so it seems, parallel to the Reeks.  Spring has barely brushed her gentle hand against these slopes. The burned brown of Winter remains. Only the lambs indicate the change of season, and the warmth in the sun and the song of the birds.  I am also graced with a breeze at my back. By the third and fourth mile of this descent, modern technology had abandoned me to the joy of natural motion. I knew I was in the final two miles, but not really certain. I was just running, enjoying the movement, not floating or flying, just moving along, striking the ground, pushing off again and again in a rhythm that was easy and pleasant. Eventually, No.1 passes me in the car, unable to stop because the roads have narrowed by now. I barely wave, keep moving, knowing that we will find a suitable meeting point in a short while. The lakes on my right make pleasant lapping sounds, stirred by the breeze and there are some friendly waves from passers by in their hired cars.

And sure enough, I rounded a corner to find No.1, once again, patiently awaiting my arrival, all proud smiles.  The wry looks we had exchanged at the gate earlier were forgotten.  The effort and commitment made sense again.  I checked the distance with him, pleased to note that I had run fairly close to the 6minute kilometre. Despite my perceptions otherwise, I have increased my speed slightly. 

I was happy to stop here, at the 100 metre sign for Lady's View where the road grows narrow and windy again.  We turned the car round, headed back for pancakes and a leisurely Saturday.