As I stepped out in Dublin City

There wasn't a finishing line, a crowd, a medal, not even a water station, but I completed my fourth half marathon today; and all in a day's training.  What's really funny is that I was only supposed to do twelve miles, but I wasn't fully convinced that my planned terminus was the full twelve miles and so decided to run three minutes further and three minutes back, just to be sure. When I checked on Google maps later, I realised that my original terminus was slightly more than the twelve miles (19.6km) and the additional stretch was .7km each way, bringing me to the grand total of 21km or 13.1 miles of a half marathon.
I had a great run. One of the reasons I didn't believe it was far enough was my time of 1hour 48minutes and 16 seconds, giving me a 5m32sec kilometre. Not bad, not bad at all.
My route today took over the whole day, but was worth it. With number-one supporter busy for the morning at a conference, I decided to take the time to run somewhere nice. I headed down the M50, across to Howth Head and set off from the Dart Station there (commuter train in Dublin city), to run along the coastline of Dublin city. My goal was Booterstown Dart Station.  It was my original intention to run out and get the Dart back to the car. As it happened, I got a phone call about an hour into my run with an offer to meet me at Booterstown, get lunch and bring me back to my car. I was delighted; it has been a busy week for both of us.
And so, I trotted out from Howth, through the village of Sutton, until I was running parallel to the sea. It was a grey morning, lacking in visibility, but quite mild. I cantered along the cycle/run path for the next 9 or 10 kilometres, enjoying the comings and goings of people around me, in all shapes and sizes.  There were kids on scooters, couples, singles, pet lovers and lycra-wearing sportivos everywhere! The elderly couple moving along ever so slowly as she manoevured a walking frame, he protective at her side, left an impression. Her goal is no less significant than my own, I am sure. The sea on my left, I passed St. Anne's Gardens, the entry to Bull Island, the Bull Wall.  I looked up at the Ringsend Chimneys today, not down on them as I usually do from Deer Park.  As I ran, memories came and went, and I realised that I have been living in  Dublin for the best part of 12 years now. I have spent many a Sunday afternoon on Howth Head, even introducing my language students to its charms and the delicious Beshoff Fish and Chips afterwards. Memories of strained talking and walking along Bull Island as love tried to find its way came back. I pass the turn for Raheny Hospice and I am reminded of a late night, fragile drive with someone who needed to say their last farewells to a relative. Most keenly, though long before I ever lived in Dublin, I remember the week spent sailing around Dublin Bay on the Asgard II (now sitting on the floor of the sea in the Bay of Biscay), the salt burns on my face, and I wonder at how familiar Dublin has become since. I know, for exmaple, that my beloved cousin, and much loved friend, is but a stone's throw from here and I know where to find two of the training pitches frequented by her very sporty sons.
I leave the Clontarf Road, swing left with the Bay (Dublin Bay is kidney shaped), cross through a more industrial, warehouse zone, over the Royal Canal and down to the Liffey. I am surprised to see the O2 depot and wheel (Dublin's equivalent to London's Eye). At this point, I catch a glimpse of the Aviva Stadium, again looking up at, not down from a height, on its lovely curves. The Gardaí are busy checking tax and insurance, I skip past them, almost gleeful. I cross the Liffey, looking up river at the Celtic Tiger buildings, some quite beautiful in all their glassy glamour. I pass under the toll, along the dock, looking over at a P&O freight ship, just docking, I think.  I swing right, manoevure a few junctions, and then I am passing the Ringsend chimneys and cantering along Sandymount, once again parallel to the coast. The tide is out and, for some reason, it is much colder along here. I know, however, that I have but a few kilometres to go and there is no point in pausing to put on clothes. Sure enough, who do I spot coming towards me, only my chauffeur. I pause briefly, check out how much further, and canter off towards the Dart station and the car, although I have to pause with the traffic to let a Dart train pass. And the rest is history.  To complete the memories, we have a bite of lunch in Café Java Blackrock, the favourite Sunday-brunch site of the brother (next in age, and between Etty and I) when he lived in Dublin and with whom I lived when I first came here. It is late afternoon before we finally get home. A great day.

Circles, Part 2

"Is someone you love dying?" I heard her ask and I looked up, startled by her voice, startled by her words and saw her eyes, beautiful dark eyes, filled with compassion. She looked quickly away, uncomfortable at meeting my gaze. Her native face, also dark, was deeply etched, shaped no doubt by her own story. She laid a small frail hand on my back. "No" I mumbled, confused "I mean...not that I'm aware of anyway." "Well then, has someone passed on recently?" she persisted in her quiet halting, upward-inflecting native voice. I shook my head, "No". I was sitting in the pew of the little mission church having come there to be quiet and to soak in the peaceful, healing atmosphere. The evening light was pouring through the stained glass windows, everything was bathed in deep gold. To be honest, I had come seeking solitude and escape too. MaeMae was a little over two years old. As a stay-at-home mom I was desperate for some alone time, away from the constant demands of a four year old and a two year old. The woman had startled me, both by the pointedness of her questions and that she was in fact talking to me at all. Although I sat in church with native people every sunday, that division between the white and the native was always palpable. "Are you struggling with a relationship, is there someone you need to let go of?" she asked again. "No" I said lamely, "I can't think of anything, anyone... I don't know." "Oh", she said simply and turned as if to walk away. "Why do you ask?" I said, not ready to let her go. "I was sitting over there" she said, pointing to the back of the tiny Church, "when I saw you struggling and I knew that I needed to pray for you." Her words came faster now, tumbling out of her mouth, I had to strain to catch them and make sense of them, I leaned in to her. "I saw you, I saw you struggling. I saw a large shadow hanging over you and then moving around you. You need to let go of something or someone, whatever it is....It is making you very sick. You are not well. I can see it. It's hurting you" And she turned and walked away.

I sat not quite believing what I had heard. It was late, I needed to get home but the woman had scared me. I saw Father by the door. "Who is she?" I asked. "He followed my gaze. "Ah" he said simply. "A very wise woman. She doesn't say much but when she speaks you need to sit up and listen. Go directly home and call me when you get in so I know you got home safely. I will be praying for you." That was the end of January 2003. The following August I received my diagnosis.

Bear with me. I'm taking this somewhere, honest, but I'm tired right now so, guess what, there'll have to be a part 3!

It was another long driving day. I think Hubby and I miscalculated our driving times and forgot to factor in potty breaks and snack times. After over twelve years of kiddos you'd think we'd have this figured out by now! We made it Charlottesville, Virginia by nightfall, had a lovely dinner with Hubby's nephew, a local TV news anchor and enjoyed grilling him on all the behind the scenes stuff at the station. Kiddos are sleeping soundly, exhausted. We're all exhausted. We promised them they could sleep in tomorrow, we only have a three hour drive planned, a big change from the eight plus hours of the last four days. "Can I seriously sleep in?" MaeMae asked. "Breakfast is over by 10am, what if I miss it?" "Don't worry, I'll get some and bring it up for when you wake." "Seriously Mom?" "Seriously MaeMae!" She lies beside me, seriously sleeping.

On a smaller scale

It is difficult to follow those magnificent posts from Etty ... both content and writing are awesome, in the best sense of that word.  I read them again and again, almost hungrily, imagining them as they go and, especially, wondering how she is doing.
All I can say is that I was working in circles myself this morning, but small and local. Yesterday morning, my routine and discipline finally imploded. It wasn't dramatic, in fact, it was barely audible. A week of struggling with camera-ready proofs, late nights at the office, public lectures to attend (not give) found their way home yesterday and, end result, there was no time for breakfast before I left home, much less a run before work.
I was tempted to skip it altogether this week (a gathering with colleagues on the North side of the city kept me out later last night) but felt that a light workout would be imporant before tomorrow's long run. So, this morning, I did my short run (5k/3miles) close to home on the local Slí na Sláinte which, as I have said before, is almost a mile short of what I need to do on the shorter runs of this programme. It was a case of circles within circles. I go left through a housing estate, quite sleepy looking by city standards for 8:00 in the morning. Cars still stand in driveways. Curtains and blinds at the front of the house are still closed. There isn't the hustle and bustle I experience on the more residential sections of South Dublin where people queue outside schools, wave and blow kisses at kids freshly dropped off at nurseries and school gates. I miss the smell of cheap deodorant as I gallop past teenage boys with carefully crafted hair styles still gleaming with gel. I don't hear the chatter of long-skirted, uniformed girls, carrying bags of books and other goods necessary for an earnest day at school. All is quiet as I swing left again, bringing myself back onto the regular route. I run along a mile or so, cross through another housing estate and do one lap of the Commons bringing me to two miles. Now I can head back through the village, shops opening, traffic only just building, but still not at the frantic school-run stage. A turn round the corner and I am back at the start, my humble circle complete.

Circles, Part 1

Today ended up being a longer drive than expected, I'm not sure why. Perhaps because we had a hard time getting going in the morning? Maybe because we encountered some headaches with the financing for our new home in MA that required some difficult phone conversations, emailing and faxing. I guess that would do it! Despite all of this we crossed the Mississippi in Memphis, Tennessee around noon and stopped by the river to contemplate the water, wonder at where it had come from and where it was going to... In the afternoon our route weaved us in and out of northern Mississippi and Alabama, through acres of beautiful farmland and past sleepy old ranches and southern mansions. The magnolia trees were in full bloom as were the dogwoods and cherry trees. Patches of daffodils peeked shyly in unexpected places. The air was warm and heavy. I labored a little to breathe it in, marvelling at what it was like to exchange the oxygen-thin yet arid mountain air I was used to for the denser, humid air of the south. We skirted briefly through northwestern Georgia before finally arriving in the southeast corner of Tennessee and another significant milestone. We had arrived in the east coast time zone! We spent a lovely evening with old friends in Chatanooga. Kevin had been best man at our wedding. It was so lovely to see he and his family again.

The kiddos were quiet today, all tired I guess. I had lots of time for musing. I was thinking about the full circle my life has taken. The first time I set foot in the US was in Boston in 1992. Since then my travels have taken me to central New York, west to northern California, then to Arizona. It seems like now, Hubby and I are just completing the circle, closing the loop neatly back in the northeast, drawing all the threads together. Hubby's job has been the impetus for our travels. Over the years he has worked with Native American tribes in Alaska, Maine, New York, California, Arizona and now returns to serve the ten tribes in the Northeast. However it is during the past ten years in Arizona where we interacted the most with tribal members and were offered little glimpses from time to time of their culture. It was inevitable in some ways. Afterall we lived within a few miles of the reservation, I received my primary health care at the reservation hospital and it was at a little mission Church on the reservation that MaeMae and Little Guy were baptized, we chose to worship every sunday and where I led music ministry. It was in that beautiful old mission church in fact where I was first told that I was sick, months before any doctor ever gave me a diagnosis, before the babies, before the swollen lymphnodes, before the night sweats, before the weight loss....

Heading East...

We're on the road, heading East to a new home, new community, new school, new job, new life, new friends, new doctors, new loves, losses, joys and sorrows.... We have driven eighteen hours over the last two days: Pinetop, Arizona to Albuquerque, New Mexico to Amarillo, Texas yesterday, Amarillo to Oklahoma City to Little Rock, Arkansas today. The weather is beautiful, roads clear, kiddos, Oversized Dog and Daisy (the hamster) all quite content.

There was major drama less than two days before our trip when Hubby's 1990 Toyota pick-up with 247,000 miles on it blew a spark plug and decided to give up the ghost. Two weeks prior to this MaeMae bet her dad $5 that his truck wouldn't make it to Massachusetts. How did I raise a daughter with such prophetic vision??? She was with him when it happened and in typical MaeMae fashion, and even before Hubby himself had admitted that the game was up, didn't hesitate to call in her bet! Also in typical MaeMae fashion I would guess that her $5 are now more than likely pocketed away for investment in a new savings account in a new bank in a new town!

Our final days in Arizona, while dramatic and fraught with unexpected worry and angst, were full and rich and beautiful. I have so much to reflect on and so much to share but know I need to sleep now. (I wish I could figure out how to blog while I drive???).

Tomorrow is another seven hour drive before we start to shorten our driving time to appreciate the sights and enjoy the company of friends.

Change of Scene

Dare I write it again ... another bright and beautiful morning, perfect weather for a run! For those of you not familiar with this island, our current spell of weather is quite remarkable. We have learned, I think, to expect damp and grey and mild, not this dry, cool, sunshine. It's great.
For a change of scene, I headed towards the sea today. The addition of extra miles in the early part of the week brings the advantage of adventure and exploration around the Suburbs.  I know, I know, it's not exactly crossing America, but it's as good as it gets for me just now! (I wonder how they are doing?)
So, at quarter past eight in the morning, I found myself on Mount Merrion Avenue which brought me down to Blackrock Road where I ran parallel to the sea. This is a little dangerous. I had the tendency to gaze out to my right, forgetting to watch for obstacles. Fortunately, I managed to dodge the one near collision just in time; I had been distracted by the sight of a large passenger Ferry heading out to sea. I came back up by Booterstown Avenue and landed at the campus gates at the 8km mark which meant a detour to the South of the campus in order get in another mile (1.6km) to reach the car, my gear and a shower. 
That reminds me. I have been giving out erroneous information about my times on this blog. I have been writing 6km/h which is considerably slower than the 6 -7mins per km I should be writting. I realised that mistake when, yesterday, I entered for the Cork City Marathon where they ask you to predict your times. I'm committed now! I put a link to the marathon at the bottom of the blog.

Another day, another run, another month ...

The 1st of March, another day, another run and another month in Campaign Cork. In February, I ran a total of 125kms. I began March by running a mere three miles just under 6mins/k. I have another two weeks before the short run goes to 4miles. It was a chilly, but bright and beautiful morning. Parts of the city, including Howth head, were still unfurling from the dawn mist and stretching towards the sun.  I was in bouncing form, although I did feel the residue of Saturday after a mile.  It was just a slight tug in the upper legs and certainly not enough to kill the bounce. I do need to commit to cross-training on the day after the long run, but on the plus side, I highly recommend the 'sans-alcool' stance.

 

My thoughts this morning are with the travellers, as they pack up their remaining belongings and head East. I can only imagine their excitement, anxiety, nostalgia, hope and ... again ... excitement. I would so love to be doing that journey across the States and look forward to hearing from Etty in due course. It is wonderful for them and for us. Hurray! Bon voyage. Keep safe! Enjoy the adventure! Remember much to tell us! Love to you all.

A bit of hill



Gradient to Moll's Gap



There's nothing like a bit of hill to build strength, and a trip to Kenmare this past weekend gave me the chance to do just that.
On Saturday, with the co-operation of my number-one supporter, I decided to set out from the house and just keep running until I hit the 11-mile mark. I had already checked out Google maps and knew that Moll's Gap was 10km from Kenmare town centre. Add another kilometre from the house to the town centre, keep running towards Sneem (R568) for another 6 or 7 kilometres (about 40minutes) and I would have my 18kms or 11 miles. And this is exactly what I did.  I left number-one supporter in the garden planting bulbs, popped a little rucksack on my back (with one of those water packs with a tube coming out of it long enough to reach my mouth) so that I was hands free and off I trotted down the lane, over the bridge and through the town, pausing to pick up a pack of sweets before heading out the road for the slow steady climb to Moll's Gap. I knew it was going to be a constant tug all the ways to the top (860ft from sea level) at a 9.4% gradient and I just took it nice and steady. It was another sunny day with the odd shower, but mild enough to try out shorts - my first time this season.  I even lathered on some sun factor on my face; the wisdom of old age comes to us all.  As always, the first mile or two were a bit sluggish, although I was distracted from my endeavours by  the local triathlon club freewheeling down the hill in bunches of twos and threes.  I proudly gave each of them a co-sportsmate smile and my best I-am-training-for-a-marathon wave.  

Not wanting to tire out too quickly and conscious of heart rates, but without a monitor, I sang a little from time to time, just testing my breath. I practised running straight, trying to avoid my usual tendency to stoop and curl in the shoulders.  About half way, I met a cyclist who had passed me earlier, climbing on the other side of the road, but now heading back to town with a burst tyre. Again, I enjoyed a fellow-sports-mate exchange, offering sympathetic noises and checking to see if he needed to use a phone. At this point, I was in fine fettle, enjoying the views, in a good rhythm and really believing that there might just be a marathon runner in this middle-aged body.  I continued another while, annoyed by young fellas feeling the need to jeer and beep as they tore me past in an old car.  That kind of behaviour irks me so much, mainly, I think, because it can be a bit threatening. Anyway, that aside, I was in good spirits until I turned a corner and was surprised to see a sprinkling of snow on the Reeks and feeling the full force of a Northerly breeze as I also, quite suddenly, found myself doused in cold rain. It was as if I had walked into a different day. The joys of the Irish Weather, eh? The sudden change in climate was not helped by my mistaken belief that that particular corner was to be the last before the Avoca café and Moll's Gap. My earlier confidence slipped away a little. I shortened my steps, slowed my breath, tucked in under the shelter of the rocky banks and hauled myself ever upwards. It was a considerable relief to get to the top, although I was conscious of cold and wondered should I pause to put on my leggings (backpack was handy for more reasons than one) and my jacket. I could feel the cold stiffening my limbs.
As luck would have it, the clouds rolled on, the sun came out and I basked in all the joy of Spring sunshine as I sailed passed the lake on my right. I relaxed into the last 5 miles, gazing out over the still wintry valley on my left, pock-marked by the local mine.  The view stretched back over the road that I had just climbed, giving me a certain sense of achievement. The Reeks were on my right, although ducking behind Boughill and her sister peaks for most of my run.  At this stage, number-one supporter had arrived to check on my safety and distance. We arranged to meet at the Strawberry Fields Pancake House (http://www.strawberryfield-ireland.com/), and I jogged on, enjoying the freewheel downhill, striding out and warming up quickly after the cold of Moll's Gap. A farmer dipping sheep (well, gathering sheep into a pen?) greeted me, a bunch of lads with a trailer were taking down the Healy Rae election posters, a pair of larks flirted skywards and I rolled on downhill. 
At the Pancake House, it was still only 15kms, so I jogged on the spot while communicating my need to run for another 3kms. On I went, a bit more on the flat now. I passed the starting point for last July's maxi-marathon, smiling as I thought of the long queues at the only three port-a-loos for a race starting in the middle of nowhere. Within a short few miles of the turn for Dereendirough, my support car passed me, turned a short distance down the road and indicated that I am over the 11 miles now. Happily, I took a lift back to the Pancake house where I had, not only a savoury (gorgonzola cheese, spinach and maple syrup) but a lovely, sweet, lemony one too. After all, I had to build up the glycogen, restore the lost carbohydrates ...  and the sooner the better! 

We marvelled a little too at how far I had come since the Winter (and Summer) of my discontent.  Then, it was back home, shower, light the fire and stretch out on the couch to keep an eye on the election count.  A blisfull day!