As I write, Etty, your President is flying over my head towards Dublin city from a visit to a small town in one of my neighbouring counties where, reputedly, he has some ancestors. I could hear the helicopter earlier as it headed South from the Phoenix Park but, alas, I could not see it. That's news of national and international import.
As I write, I am preparing for my own drama of sorts, aware that this day two weeks the marathon, the weeks of training, will all be over. We will be celebrating or crying, as appropriate, in the Flying Enterprise in Cork. By the way, anyone who is in Cork on the day of the marathon is welcome to join us! We will be there from 2.30, maybe 3pm, hopefully. It's at the South Gate Bridge, right on the Bridge. I use the word 'drama', but deep down I wish to keep it calm, low-key, matter-of-fact. My biggest challenge will be to avoid losing energy to nerves and excitement. Every ounce of strength, emotional and physical, will have to be harnassed that day. Jittery heartbeats need to be kept to a minimum. Heartbeats are oxygen, I need as much oxygen as possible flowing smoothly through my limbs. I need strong, steady and slow heartbeats.
Training continues. Last Thursday, I used a version of my local Slí na Sláinte to do just 4 miles. On Friday, I was in Kerry and so ran around Ashgrove and Sheen Falls to give me just over 5 miles. I rested Saturday and on Sunday, a day of mixed showers and sun, I did just over 10 miles, heading out to Roughty Bridge, back through the town, out the Killarney road to turn left towards Reen and down to Letter and back the Sneem Road. It was supposed to be 12, but I was stuck for time and had read that one shouldn't run more than an hour and 45 minutes this close to the marathon. I have no idea where I read that, but judging by the tiredness that seems to be fairly stuck in my limbs these days, I am happy to just keep things ticking over between now and then. It's a difficult balance. I can hardly improve in the next two weeks, but neither do I want to disimprove. There is also the reality that my body has become used to running such distances and may find less running quite peculiar. This week I will be running 2 x 4 mile runs, 1 x 3 miles and my long run is but 8 miles. I have also brought my long runs to Sunday, to dovetail with the Bank Holiday Monday of the marathon.
Over the last sixteen weeks, my body has changed, or rather my legs have changed. There are muscles and definition where there were none. Earlier in the Spring, I remember reading Cheever who, after several months of training, noticed a bridge of cartilage "running downward from the point of my kneecap". I looked down to examine my own legs but, almost disappointed, couldn't see what he was talking about. Inadvertently,over the weekend in the throes of a yoga pose, I spotted the ridge on my own knees. As I keep saying, I haven't lost much weight, but my lower body has stronger muscles than I did in January. Hopefully, those muscles are strong enough to keep me going through 26.2 miles!
As I write Obama has arrived on stage in Dublin city centre where there is a concert to welcome him. It's a lively energetic visit, by all accounts. He seems a very joyful person? Who knows? Still, unexpectedly, it was last week's visit that touched me more. I will never forget the Queen's bow in the Garden of Remembrance. I was filled with memories of the terrible atrocities on the news that were such an intense backdrop to our childhood. One of my earliest memories of watching telly is, I realised lately, Bloody Sunday of 1972. There was some disagreement between the adults (parents/grandparents) and I knew it had something to do with the images on telly. That's all I can remember. In the last twelve months it occurred to me to ask for clarification on this memory. It seems my Grandfather had a somewhat intemperate response to the events of the day with which all in the house did not agree. I thought of my other Grandmother's stories about the Black and Tans, her husband's fight for freedom (I never knew him) and her attitude to our neighbours across the Irish Sea and I wondered at the change that has come, and I was filled with hope. That was the greatest impact of last week's events for me, there is always the possibility of change. Cheever noticing the changes in his body from training was told by a friend, "You're a different person now. You can't ever go back." Last week too, I thought of one of my nieces who, from where I'm standing, seems like she could be anything she wants to be. The world is, as we say, her oyster. I am happy that that world includes a more friendly view of our nearest neighbour. My Granny on one side, my niece on another and in between the change, for better, that has come about. Who could have thought it? Here's to "not going back".
As I conclude, Obama is concluding his oration which is, as expected, a message of hope and promise. For the pessimists, those who don't believe in change, he offers the phrase, as Gaeilge, "Is feidir linn!" Yes, we can. Maybe, that will be my mantra on the day of the marathon. Is feidir linn!
As I conclude, Obama is concluding his oration which is, as expected, a message of hope and promise. For the pessimists, those who don't believe in change, he offers the phrase, as Gaeilge, "Is feidir linn!" Yes, we can. Maybe, that will be my mantra on the day of the marathon. Is feidir linn!
Sorry. I realised that there was a contradiction of sorts in the conclusions of my earlier post and felt the need to edit it, somewhat.
ReplyDeleteI cannot recall any disagreement about Bloody Sunday but it is very possible. My Dad could have over reacted somewhat - he was a bit of an armchair republican. But we were all angry and shocked.
ReplyDeleteKeep up the good work.