Lost on Sheep's Head

Sheep's Head: Durrus to Kilcrohane, over the hill to come back the West Side of the peninsula (Goat's Path) back to the West Lodge in Bantry. 23 miles/36.6 kms. A blister, a mild headache, a few tender spots on my legs, but otherwise all is well. It was hot! It was so so beautiful though. There was also some confusion, but I will wait til I have a better computer to tell that.

A day becomes a week

It's amazing how easily a day missed can become a week missed! Happily, it is only the blog that has suffered ... mostly. I did miss out on one 5 mile run last week for reasons I am struggling to remember. I didn't manage to get out on Wednesday and Thursday of last week. I know I was preoccupied with something, but can't remember now. It doesn't matter. I managed to arrive in Kenmare on Thursday evening and so on Friday morning, I was galloping up Ashgrove, down to Roughty Bridge, through the town, out the Sneem Road to turn left up Tubrid, down past Cromwell Court and home through the town giving me more than 8miles. The weather is beautiful here in Ireland at the moment. My Friday run was done at 11:00 and so I was soon quite warm and heading for the shade where I could. Let me just add, that wherever I mention Ashgrove we are talking a hill which is probably just short of a mile long, climbing about 400feet. It's a lovely run, done in the countryside mostly, with views across to low mountains.

On Saturday morning then, I hopped out of my bed at 7AM to have my coffee and porridge, then I rested a bit to allow digestion and was out on the road by 9:00. I had been looking forward to this shorter 'long' run of only 13 miles. I had also decided to do it within running distance of the house, just to save on time and to allow No.1 get on with his favourite activity - grass cutting! So, again I head up Ashgrove, down to Roughty, through the town, out the Killarney road, turning left to head towards Reen.  As I say, I had been looking forward to this run, but I was soon disappointed. It was all a bit more of an effort than I had anticipated. It was fine, don't ge me wrong, but I had expected to feel a bit livelier and to 'sail' a bit more. By mile 7, I was growling and shedding a few tears. My frustration was directed at the lack of a GPS signal allowing me to measure my distance and pace, a  useful distraction when the run is a bit of a struggle. It was one of the rare few moments in this campaign that I was wondering what I was doing? Why was I doing this? What did I hope to achieve? Who did I think that I was? I was never going to be a good runner! At this rate, my marathon would take 5 hours.  I paused to report my whereabouts to No.1 because I was heading into a quieter road and we had agreed on a check-in call at the half-way point. I gave all my troubles to him. He reassured me that I was tired, had had a busy week, have been training hard but will be more rested by the marathon and so on. I knew all that too. From the beginning of the call, despite the snivelling and frustration, I was insisting that I did not want to be collected. I turned back into it and plodded on, brought to a sudden stop by a herd of cows being driven from one field to another. Then, I rounded a corner and came into a beautiful country road of trees in their first, shy bloom of Spring. It was beautiful, and although tired, a new commitment and engagement emerged. I struck on down the road and was rewarded with my first hearing of the cuckoo, always a favourite Spring moment. Encouraged, I ran on. I paused to visit Dad and Mairéad in their Kenmare home, enjoying a bathroom stop, a drink of water and, of course, a longer chat than I should have had. My legs were stiffer as I headed down their hill, but with only 3 to 4 miles to go, and having conquered my earlier blues, I was soon warmed up and pounding my way back to town. Then, it was all food shopping and preparation and visitors and Easter was here.



I have a few thoughts on Saturday's run, one which has been confirmed for me last evening. I have worn out my runners! You may recall the Asics Kayano 16s bought in January/February. They have at least 300 miles on them now. I have been feeling the ground over the last few days, hard sensation to explain. I took out the new gifted runners last evening and felt the difference. The trouble with runners is that it is the mid-layer which provides the cushinoning  is largely out of view. Most websites suggest 300-350 miles depending on your surface. I have been running on the road. My runners are shot, I would think. Any thoughts on this, you running people?

My other thoughts on Saturday's run are more philosophical. I wasn't present to it. My mind was ahead of me, back at the house, planning shopping, anxious to get into preparations, wash unclean floors for a much-loved almost crawling baby and all the myriad of things that trouble us when visitors are due. I, correction, we have it down to a fine art and with the lovely Summer weather we have at present, a bar-b-q makes life so much easier. It's not all me, by the way. I don't want to be embarrassingly gushing or anything, but I have one mighty helper. He also does the breakfasts! I do love entertaining, but on Saturday morning last it was competing for my attention. I was fighting, not so much tiredness and distance, as anxiety and impatience to be 'sorting it'. I wanted to multi-task in the most extreme of ways - run while cook, make beds etc.

Sunday, Monday then I rested. Tuesday I should have gone out, but the last of the visitors departed at midday and I needed to get stuck into finishing the project mentioned in my earlier post. I thought I might run in the evening but with the creative juices flowing I stuck with the project.

I woke on Wednesday morning determined to get in a run. I just needed 5 miles so did my Ashgrove route, back by Sheen Falls to give me the 5 miles. I worked on through my project and was satisfied to stop at 18:30. I put on my runners again and headed out for another 5 miles. Yip, you read right. I did a second run on Wednesday. To tell you the truth, I did it quite naturally. It was only when I was out that I realised I was happily and easily in my second run of the day! Imagine! I remember Killian talking about that once, when he was heavily involved in running, and I was full of awe and admiration. Here I was, making up the miles, twice in one day. It may not be the wisest course of action, but it was possible! Amazing! This time, I headed out past Sheen Falls, over our beloved Roughty Bridge, left into town, around the square to give me that extra bit and back home to give me over 5 miles.

I rose at 4:15 on Thursday morning, left the house at 5am, parked my car in UCD at 8:50, got through presentations and other work 'stuff'. I was out running the Slí na Sláinte by 20:40, doing it twice to get the distance. Oddly, the now dreaded Slí na Sláinte was strangely comforting last evening. I had thought to go down towards Sallins and the Canal, but the local appealed more: familiar, safe, comfortable, predictable and easy. It was a lovely run, not least because I was relaxed after the challenges of the last few days. I also love running as the light changes (morning or evening). It was quite duskish as I turned in home. I had a bit of fun with this run too, doing 'sort-of' intervals using the telephone poles for the first round of the Slí. I just plodded gently through the second.

I also took the time to look back over the week and to wonder at it all. Why do we (I) fret so? It all gets done - Easter, visitors, family, running, work - in its own time. It all gets done and everyone is happy.

Now it's another Bank Holiday weekend and I have a long run to do tomorrow - 19 miles. I had planned to use the Sneem Road again, turning at Blackwater Bridge towards Dereendirough and into the Black Valley, but it's the weekend of the Killarney Rally which means noisy cars racing round corners. Too dangerous! Another sign of how serious I take this running lark - I picked up the phone and rang the organisers to know where Saturday morning's stage would be held (the programme was not online). Imagine the organiser's surprise when a woman rings her who wants to run 19 miles on Saturday around the Black Valley/Sneem area and would the cars be in her way? I didn't quite put it like that, but that was the implication!

I have another route planned now, it should be beautiful, away from Rally cars. We are going to head towards ... d'you know, I think I'll keep you in suspense. Have a good weekend folks! Keep safe!

Huffing and Puffing

Easter just passed me by this year. I barely remember it.

Last weeek was the kiddo's Spring Break which we heralded in with an exciting day at the Boston Marathon and followed it with two mad days of city exploring, albeit in the rain. By Thursday the kiddos were ready for a rest day, we had really been pounding the pavement and everyone was exhausted. They slept in, relaxed, read books, watched a movie... I took advantage of the time to catch up on all the laundry that had accumulated over the few days. There were meals to be planned and the fridge and pantry needed re-stocking, there was hair from the Oversized Dog all over the house and that needed vacuuming, there was toothpaste adorning the bathroom sink and mirror, (sometimes I wonder if they're actually finger-painting with toothpaste rather than brushing their teeth, honestly!) all in all this house needed to be whipped back in to some kind of order and passable cleanliness. By Thursday evening I collapsed into bed, exhausted.

Friday morning, when all I could muster as a good morning to Hubby was a breathy squeak, I knew I was in trouble. I had lost my voice, was completely congested, throat was extremely sore, my body ached and head felt as heavy as lead. I had a fever but the most worrisome symptom was the cough that rolled around in my chest. The secretions were thick and blood tinged, never a good sign, but I was managing to expel them and that was important. I knew that over the next few days I would have to be very vigilant in trying to get as much of those secretions up and out as I could.

Those of us with chronic inflammatory lung conditions, such as sarcoidosis, are at risk for developing something called bronchiectasis. The airways lose their elasticity from being inflamed all the time, they become lazy and not as effective in doing their job in helping to expel secretions. When secretions pool and just stay in your lung it becomes a perfect breeding ground for all kinds of viruses and bacteria, not least of all, those causing pneumonia. It was time to employ those coughing techniques that a respiratory therapist had taught me in 2007 when I was battling hard with an aspergillus infection in my lung.

I find the "Huff-Cough" (at least that's what I call it) to be the most effective. You take a deep breath and literally "huff" ten times, (it helps if you think of the Big Bad Wolf!) as if you were trying to blow out a candle but with your mouth wide open, lips apart, almost as if you are smiling and with as much force as you can muster. You have to resist the urge to cough mid-way through your ten huffs. Huffing will move secretions around and you'll feel that but don't give in to that cough just yet. After your tenth huff only then can you cough and it's best to cough with your chin dropped to your chest and your mouth and jaw in an "eee" position (almost like a smile) rather than in an "o" position. And you should be wonderfully and productively successful! Bet you didn't know there was a right and a wrong way to cough!

So, I spent the Easter weekend in bed, feeling totally miserable but grateful that it was a weekend and that Hubby could help me out, grateful for the phonecalls of concerned family members. I started antibiotics on Monday and am slowly starting to return to normal activities so all is well, or soon will be.

Meanwhile I'll huff and I'll puff and.......

Later

I hear you, Rhetorician. I have missed blogging (can't believe I'm saying that), partly because of Easter visitor busyness, partly because of poor internet facilities in the Kingdom.

And Etty has been sick. She has been in bed and put on antibiotics for an upper respiratory tract infection.

I'll be back later today to give some account of my running over the past week. For now, I have to go and be a student (!) and present an Educational Technology project I have been working on over the last few days. Wish me luck! I'd rather run a marathon!

Inspired by Etty's post

Etty, your last post is just BRILLIANT! It is so inspiring and your last paragraph in particular reminds me again what the effort is all about! I am printing it out and keeping it with me to read again, and again, and again. I am so proud that my nieces and nephews were out there, cheering on those elite and not-so-elite athletes! I love the photo of the three kiddos reaching out to 'high-five'. I may put a copy of that somewhere too, for now it's on my screensaver. You are renewing my Boston dream all over again. 

But I must have patience yet to see how my first marathon goes. 'Cos you know, to get into Boston I would most likely have do a marathon other than Cork ... I just wouldn't be fast enough this time round. Jeepers ... hmmm.

Thanks to Thomas (Vienna marathoner) for his good wishes. I shall certainly consider looking for a pacer.

Thanks to Rhetorician too for her continued enthusiasm for running. It's great. And I agree, I enjoy running and sometimes find the 'technical' side a bit overwhelming.

That said, I have yet to run today, if I will get there at all. It's ok. I'm at peace with it. It's a decision I had to make in order to do a whole load of other things. Some days you just have to let it go. I will run this evening, if I can. I have the gear in the car. If not, I will do an 8-miler tomorrow and maybe 5 on Friday.

I visited my friend in Cappagh hospital last evening. He was proud to tell me that the corridor is 140 crutch steps long and so many feet ... he is a Scientist! I smiled to myself. As I say, we are all battling our own distances!

Keep well Etty! I know you are weary! I hope the Remicade eases that chest soon. Out of interest, did your new doctor mention any advances in treatment or cure for Sarcoidosis?  

Musing on the Side Lines

It's Spring Break for the three kiddos this week. Unfortunately Hubby has to work as he didn't quite feel like he could take a week off only 5 weeks into his new job! The Kiddos have been hopping and bouncing like Easter Bunnies, full of expectation and anticipation for the week ahead, hard to blame them really, after all there's a new city to explore.

When you have a mixed gender family of a 12 year old, a 10 year old and a five year old, there is always a grumble or two or three when trying to decide on an activity that will engage and excite everyone. It's nigh impossible actually to come to a consensus so my suggestion that we go watch the Boston Marathon on Monday met with various degrees of excitement, mostly on the cool side. MaeMae was the most enthusiastic, runner-aspirer as she is. "Why would I want to see a bunch of people running down the street?" asked Scootch, living up in attitude to the pimply nose that betrays his impending teenagerhood. "What is it Mom, is it people running in a parade?" asked Little Guy. Various clucking and soothing and I'll admit it, bribing, finally got everyone in the car and off we went, anxious to get an early start, anxious about traffic and parking, anxious whether it would all work out and everyone would be happy, although, the anxiety was all mine!

When the first participants whizzed by the eyes nearly popped out of the heads of my three Kiddos. The first participants in the race are of course those competing in their variously rigged and impressively fast wheelchairs, that only faintly resemble traditional wheelchairs, arms propelling them down the course. MaeMae looked at me in complete disbelief "How do they do that Mom?" she asked, "It's impossible, I mean it's...it's... 26.2 miles....!" And from that moment on my three Kiddos were completely hooked. After the first wave of participants the women's race came by. Our viewing point was fantastic and about 11 miles in to the course, enough time to allow the group to break up a little and for the race leaders to come to the front. We were not disappointed as we saw Desiree Davila running down the course, her white skin in sharp contrast to the dark skin of Caroline Kilel, Sharon Cherop and their Kenyan companions. It was a wonderful and powerful sight. The Kiddos marvelled at the bare, tight, taut abdominal muscles working hard before our very eyes. The ladies looked relaxed and many smiled in response to the cheering crowds.

Thirty minutes or so later the first wave of the men's race came through and we were greeted by US participant Ryan Haul, in front at that point, but close on his heels, the Kenyan men's contingent. Haul ran seemingly effortlessly, passing mere feet from us, again smiling and wooing the crowd and the crowd loved him right back. As runner after runner ran down the field the Kiddos took pride in cheering each one. Soon hands were red and sore from clapping so much, they would take a break briefly and then be drawn back in to it all again. We started to notice those that wore their names on their shirts and had fun calling out to them by name "You go Dan, you're looking good!" "Ted, you're awesome!" "You can do it Mark!" Encouraged by the runner's nods and smiles and occasional words of thanks the kiddos persisted, pouring all their strength, admiration and awe into encouraging these marvellous athletes. Soon they were out at the edge of the course high-fiving runners as they ran by. They quickly spotted those runners that wanted to be high-fived and those that didn't. They loved holding their palms up to me to show how wet their hands were from the contact with bodies that were working so hard. In some way, I think they loved touching greatness.

Soon I found myself sitting back quietly, just watching. I would never find myself among these runners, never manage even a half mile of running. In recent months I find my breathing to be more labored and tight yet, my heart was full of gratitude for all sorts of things, some things I could hardly find words for, gratitude just bubbled up inside me. Occasionally I found tears in my eyes; like when I saw a shirt that read "This one's for you Dad!" or "Team Timmy", another read "I'm running for my sister" or "Cancer Survivor" or "I'm 41 today!". There were so many stories out there, thousands of them, indeed 27,000 of them, flying by me. The marathon itself was really only an outward representation of so many other marathons that have been run in and around these participant's lives, touching them, shaping them, moulding them. I was in awe of the love, willpower and dedication to the process that brought each person to this point, to this moment in time. I was grateful to each person out there, regardless of age or fitness level, whether they had two legs, one leg or no legs, that was bearing witness to my three children, illustrating the power of the human spirit, the power of determination, dedication and strength of character, the power of having a dream and chasing it, for 26.2 miles, all the way to the finish line.

A tiny clip of the first rush of ladies with Desiree Davila in the middle of the Kenyan contingent


Ryan Haul leads as he races past us

Cranky Runner, Dreaming of Boston and a Bit of History

This morning's run wasn't great. I woke still a bit cranky from a minor disagreement (all sorted now!), headachey, anxious about one or two tasks that had to be faced and generally ... cranky! Sorry folks, perhaps too much information, but it happens to me too and, in the past, I have allowed such humours to affect my whole day!  Happily, this morning I was on my own, able to growl away to myself.  I had my breakfast, did a few quick tasks, headed out for my run, although I found myself walking from time to time, in need of a little inner 'giving out' session.  To add to my crankiness, I was using the local Slí na Sláinte which, for some irrational reason, I have come to detest! That said, between the sun on my back and the gentler pace of the walk, I soon felt better. I did it twice today to make up the 5 miles or 8kms.  My watch told me that I did it in 50 minutes which I find hard to believe, given I walked from time to time. Maybe there was more steam coming out my ears and more pace in my step than I realised.  Perhaps, I should look for scorch marks on the pavement!!! By the time I returned, I had mellowed, climbed down, and found a more rational and 'boundaried' articulation of my grievance. All is well. 

I have been distracted by two marathons this past weekend - the London marathon on Sunday last and the Boston marathon as mentioned by Etty. I so wanted to sit and watch the whole of the races, but I have not had a chance to do that. I would love to do the Boston marathon and, secretly, thought I might until I started training for this. The Boston marathon has an elite status among runners simply because you have to have a qualifying time. The last time I checked (see, my interest), I would need to run a 3hour 40minute marathon. I'll be lucky to do the Cork marathon in 4 - 4.5hours.  I'm not sure now, if I would be able or willing. Correction, I would be willing or would I? I would need to be more dedicated than I am.

That's the thing. I know I have been good to go out and run every day, but in many ways I am quite sloppy about it all. There's my diet. I should be at least a half stone lighter to be really efficient. My runs have really been decided on 'how I feel', not on whether I should be doing 'tempo' or 'race speed' or 'slow'. Rhetorician, you are better at making that effort.  I should have worked up a better base before starting my programme, although I want to qualify that by saying my years of hill-walking are definitely standing to me.  On a Saturday morning, I find it is the same 'feeling' or 'approach' that I used to have on days we were facing 5 or 6 hour hikes through the Reeks. There are other things I need to do, such as study my heart rate patterns more. There would be so much more to consider, more time required to study and plan better! I have stumbled on one or two blogs, one in particular of a guy who has just completed the Vienna marathon in a sub-3hour for the first time in his life. You think my dedication is something, you should read this guy's account and he has 4 children. I have also just finished Benjamin Cheevers book Strides who offers a journalistic (if somewhat egotistical) historical and sociological overview of running. The book is a bit of a mess, to be honest, but enjoyable for all that. It's like a long chat about running and which of us runners doesn't enjoy running talk? In this book, as in the websites, blogs, and so on, the dedication and constancy of the committed runner strikes me again and again. Most admit that there is a touch of the compulsive in them. Hmmm .... I wonder does that shoe fit?

By the way, Cheevers speaks about the Boston marathon which was originally in and around 24 miles. It wasn't  the same distance as the Athens marathon. (I don't have the book to hand) The original marathon distance was based on the run of the soldier Pheidippides from the town of Marathon to Athens in 490 B.C. (24.85 miles). It was revived as part of the modern Olympic Games in 1896 and set at that distance, but it was not universally fixed. The 26.2mile distance was established at the London Olympics in 1908, and eventually became standardised in the 1924 Olympics. There are many technical reasons why the race was fixed at precisely 26miles 385 yards, including suitability of the terrain of the final miles with tram lines to consider. The angle by which the final stage could be viewed from the Royal Box dictated the 385 yards rather than the full circumference of the stadium.  Most stories involve the Royals, but I like the version (not true, I think) which recounts the race must begin at the nursery window of one of the young princesses in Windsor Castle and finish in front of the royal box in the London Stadium.  As I run that last mile and a half on June 6th, I will be thinking of that Princess!