Everything but running ... almost

It has been a rather fraught week with one personal publication deadline overshadowed by the eruption of another more immediate, bureaucratic one. For the Irish readers, think Croke Park Agreement, accountability and transparency in the Public Sector, wonder why noone realised that certain information was needed sooner rather than later and you might get the picture. Add a puncture at 11 O'Clock one night (can't remember which now) a scheduled veterinary vist (for the cat, not me?!), a leaping cat (unhurt), a commitment to a group project with 'stuff' needing doing, the preparations for imminent escape for a week's holiday with family (his side, not mine) while 'school is out', including the need to find suitable accommodation for the aforementioned cat and you might see why I have been a bit slow to blog this week. Still, I have some very helpful colleagues who clarified, coaxed and clucked at all the right times. Some really generous and supportive comments from readers of the blog through facebook and also delivered in person, a lovely evening with friends celebrating a friend's significant birthday, a surprise visit from the brother of Café-Java fame (see last Saturday's post) to my place of work, a completely surprise gift yesterday which will see me running in some cool gear and .... holidays tomorrow! Life is not so bad really.
Running, you say, tell us about the running. Well, I just did a 3mile run this morning. I didn't even time it, but know that it was around the 30 minutes mark. The weather was sunnier than expected because it had rained for a good bit of the night. We are back into quite Wintry weather here. My approach to running this morning was almost comical in its pragmaticism ... it was on the same level as more mundane tasks such as making the bed or brushing the floor; it was a job to do.  I tell myself that's good, that an ease has come. On the other hand, one does occasionally postpone these jobs until it is too late. To be honest, that is kind of what happened to me yesterday. The 'I'll go at this time' got later and later until it couldn't be done. Routine is good. We will be back to routine soon. 
Anyway, I'm out of here (still in my office), I have to keep on eye on e-mails while away so may have the opportunity to blog too. I will be running, but am not sure that I will be running the distances required in the programme. It may be a case of running for an hour in the morning and an hour in the afternoon ... by the beach/sea, in temperatures ten degrees warmer than here, with plenty of time to stretch before and after. Ah ... shoulders beginning to come down from my ears now. 
I will also be having a drink or two ... maybe even three ... especially tomorrow.

Coming Home

We've arrived! We raced against the sun today, desperate to get to our new home at least before sunset so Scootch and MaeMae, who only know it from photos, could see it. We made it just as the sun was kissing the earth a final goodnight. We can't take possession of our home yet as it technically won't be ours until Thursday, (fingers crossed that all will fall in to place as it should of course!) A hotel room nearby will be our home for the next few days and nights.

I'm tired, really tired and not in much of a mood for musing right now. Tomorrow I'd like to be able to take a little quiet time and just walk a bit. It feels strange to be here, exciting, full of possibility but definitely strange and for the first time in this week of travelling I feel far, far away from that which I once called "home"...

What I didn't tell you about Saturday's run

I expect an achy knee, tight calf muscles, blisters on heels or even toes, I do not expect to give myself grazes on the skin over my collar bones. Yes, two grazes or burns, each the size of a broad bean are clearly visible, on either side of my collar bone. I look like, and most definitely feel like, an idiot! I noticed slight chafing early on in the run, but nothing that constituted discomfort. It wasn’t until I met no.1 supporter that I (he) realised the damage that I had done. It was simply the nylon straps, from the little rucksack with the water, continously rubbing against my skin.Yes, you may laugh! It looks ugly and sore, but it’s not in the least bit painful; we must have very few nerves there. It’s all high necks for me for awhile which normally would be fine, except that I am off to Spain on Friday.  Scarves, I think; I will have to cultivate Grace Kelly’s elegance with scarves.

It didn’t stop me from today’s run which I did along the canals. We are on a two-week break from teaching which means some  holiday time but, more and more, it means a chance to catch up on writing, research, reading and even admin jobs. In terms of running, it means my routine is not as steady as previous weeks. Today I work from home, tomorrow I have meetings on campus. Wednesday and/or Thursday I need the library in Trinity, so I have to jiggle my usual routine around a bit. With that in mind, I completed the six-mile run today instead of beginning the week with the usual three miles. I was tired still from Saturday, but the weather was warm and sunny and it was lovely to be out. I kept my pace to a 6min 20sec pace, deliberately keeping it slow but, in truth, also needing to.  Again, I failed to do any real cross-training yesterday – just some essential housework. I’m not stiff today (or even yesterday), just a little tired.

Still, the run was in me and that’s what I find amazing.  I might feel a bit ‘overused’ stepping out, but I can tell that the run is in me.  I think it’s really important to run on these days. These are the days that will get me through the last hard miles (whether they are 5, 8, 10, who knows?) on the day of the marathon. Learning the art of pushing on and through, without straining, is as important as building muscle and cardiovascular fitness; the mind must also be trained. I find myself counting,  not my steps, just plain mental counting. It seems to help me stay with it, not think too much. I just count to ten or twenty or more,with no great purpose. I'm not gritting my teeth or anything, but just needing to help my body along by mentally focusing a bit too. In fact, I don’t really have any profound explanations for it, but somehow, counting works for me on the more tired days.

Etty has some lovely photos added to her Circles post. For the first time ever, in my whole life, I can see a resemblance between us (around the eyes maybe) and it reminds me of a brief encounter I had as an undergrad in UCC. I was in the lift, heading up to the third floor of the Boole where us English and French students hung out. Etty was also in UCC at the time studying music.  At that time, I was in a religious order (Sisters of Mercy) and so had to go through the stages of postulant and novice and spend a year in First Profession before going ahead to professional training. Hence, the 4 years between Etty and me narrowed so that we, happily, found ourselves in college for the same few years. Anyway, back to my story, another student got into the lift with me. I didn’t know her. Quite spontaneously, she turned to me and asked,  ‘Do you have a sister in UCC?’, I said ‘Yes’. ‘Does she sit on the third floor of the Boole as well?’ Again, I said ‘Yes’. ‘Does she do music?’. I was beginning to wonder where this was going, but said ‘Yes’. The girl then turned to me and said, ‘I don’t know ye, but I knew ye were sisters. Ye don’t look alike or anything, but there’s something about ye.’  Then she seemed to get embarrassed; we had landed on the third floor and she was gone. I was pleased by the unknown girl’s obervation,  and have pondered it from time to time, although I’ve never really figured out ‘the something’.   Looking at the photos, I still wouldn’t say that we are alike but maybe, there is something?

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....