“Run fast for your mother and fast for your father
Run for your children for your sisters and brothers
Leave all your love and your loving behind you
Can’t carry it with you if you want to survive…”
Florence Leontine Mary Welch / Isabella Janet Florentina Summers
My philosophy of not saying ‘No’ to new things has had some significant challenges since last week. Yesterday I agreed to give a talk next week to a group of pensioners in Emyvale, the day before that I was at auditions for a movie style fundraiser for the Monaghan Harps, have never acted, and don’t like the Harps, and the day before that I was at a committee meeting for a small local charity and realised that I’d become it’s secretary.
But most challenging of all , last weekend I found myself taking part in a trail marathon in the Wicklow mountains.
I know, right ? Me ? Up a mountain.
Two months ago my good friend , and sometimes arch-nemesis, Jamie, invited me to join himself and a bunch of guys that I’d met on the Good Glow trips to New York and Arosa, in a trail marathon from Johnnie Fox’s to Glendalough. The bunch were Eugene, Ronan, Teilo, Colm, David, Shane , Declan, and Jamie. They are all thoroughly decent , incredibly friendly, and great craic. I said ‘Yes’.
Then I thought about it. I’d sworn to myself, and Ray, that I wouldn’t run a marathon ever, ever, ever again after last year’s, I was quite content running 5k’s and 10k’s weekly, and was training for a half marathon. I wouldn’t manage a marathon, and I hated hills. I don’t hate hills, I love and admire hills, from the bottom , looking up. I hate running up them. And in the few races that I’d run with these guys, they’d had their shower and were on their second pint in the bar before I’d crossed the finish line.
I tried to back out of it.
Jamie wouldn’t let me.
He’d organised a couple of pit stops for the boys on the day of the race , to change socks, shirts, take on food, or water , and said if I met them at their last stop, Ballinstoe Woods, I could run the last 16k with them. I said ‘OK’. I was still very nervous about running with them , as in our previous meetings it had gradually transpired as I shared witty anecdotes and nostalgia, and they had looked blankly back, that lots of the things I referred to had happened before they were born. I think I’d already done my Leaving Cert’, joined the Holy Ghosts, left the Holy Ghosts, and started my first job before any of them had screamed their way into this glorious life of ours. But they’d all laughed politely, so I thought I’ll take my chances.
The plan was that Declan, one of the Lunatic Fringe Gavigans, and I would drive to the hotel in Glendalough where we were all due to spend the night, at lunchtime on Saturday, park , and then get a taxi to Ballinstoe Wood, and walk up to the J B Malone monument , overlooking Lough Tay, the Guinness Lake, which Jamie said was well worth the hike. Declan and I faced our first challenge of the day at the hotel. We said we knew we were early, but could one of us check in ?
“Check-in’s at 3” the little girl at reception said with a smile.
Yes, we know, but usually there’s one room ready early ?
“Yes” she smiled “But check-ins at 3”.
OK…is there a room we could use to change in for our run ?
“Yes” she smiled “At 3”.
We changed into our running gear sitting in the boot of our cars, in the rain.
Our next challenge was getting a taxi from Glendalough. At the hotel reception there was a noticeboard with the phone numbers of three local taxi companies. Declan rang them. One was on his way back from Kilkenny, one didn’t answer, and the last one was on another fare and wouldn’t be back for an hour. It wouldn’t be great if the other lads had run 26k and then had to wait for us to join them. Declan spotted a chap in a van in a hi-viz vest in the car park and told me to ask him if he knew any other taxis.
“No, that’s the three taxi boys. Where are ye goin’ ?”
The J B Malone monument.
“Where’s that ?”
Luggala ?
“Ach that’s only up the road, I’ll get one of the lads to drop you up, just throw him a few quid.”
That’s how we met Ben. I guess Ben is 19 or 20, delighted with life and in awe of everything. Ben drove his car with his seat almost fully reclined, and with one hand on the wheel, while vaping , and driving on small stone wall lined roads with a healthy sense of ownership and immortality. He marvelled at the fact that we were going to run in the mountains on a day like today, he marvelled at the fact that we were meeting friends who had already run 26k, he marvelled at the fact that we’d come the whole way from Donegal and Monaghan to do it, he marvelled at everything. He is one of those people who just put you in a good mood by being there.
He dropped us off at Ballinastoe , wished us well and gave us his number in case we got stuck later, he’d come back and get us. As we huddled in the trees in a hail storm we almost called him before he’d turned the car. We let the worst of the hail pass before we headed up to meet the boys. We waited at a spot overlooking Lough Tay, known as the Guinness lake because the water is dark , being fed from a bog, and at one end there is a sandy beach , so from where we were it looked like a pint of Guinness. The house and estate, Luggala, were owned by the Guinness family. I’d read before about Garech Brown, the last member of the Guinness family to own the house, and his brother Tara, who’s short life had inspired the Beatles song ‘A Day In The Life’, my favourite Beatles’ song.
I was halfway through telling Declan all this when we spotted Eugene and Ronan running towards us. They gave big smiles, hugs, and said it was tough going. They’d been caught out in the thunderstorm on top of the last two hills. David, Teilo, Jamie and Colm arrived, even bigger smiles and bigger hugs. Shane came next. He’d pulled a muscle on the last hill. He looked pained, but gave us a smile and a hug anyway. We looked at the lake, Jamie took a photo, and I was starting to tell everyone about the Browne’s their mother Oona Guiness and the Beatles, when they all started running again.
We ran 2k down the hill to the car park where Jamie’s father-in-law and all round top bloke, Joe, was waiting with his jeep filled with the lads’ bags of spare dry clothes, wraps made with peanut butter and Nutella, bananas, isotonic drinks, and udder cream. Yes, cow’s udder cream. This wonderful invention, Uddermint, developed for hard sore udders, but gentle enough that it didn’t effect the milk, was discovered to work on humans’ aches and pains when a farmer who had suffered with arthritis in his wrists felt it ease dramatically after he’d been busily applying it to all of his new heifers. Teilo introduced it to the group. They groaned with relief as they applied it. I think Ronan may have overdosed on it.
They kindly offered to share their wraps, pancakes, and bars with Declan and I , but we felt guilty looking at them in pain and starving, after we’d jogged 2 k down a mountain.
Shane was encouraged to take a lift with Joe and the bags to the hotel, but he was determined to finish. Joe said we were all certifiable, and we all started running again.
The sun came out, we were running on beautiful lanes, through woods, chatting away, not a care to be had between us.
It reminded me of the Kurt Vonnegut story about his uncle :
“But I had a good uncle, my late Uncle Alex. He was my father’s kid brother, a childless graduate of Harvard who was an honest life-insurance salesman in Indianapolis. He was well- read and wise. And his principal complaint about other human beings was that they so seldom noticed it when they were happy. So when we were drinking lemonade under an apple tree in the summer, say, and talking lazily about this and that, almost buzzing like honeybees, Uncle Alex would suddenly interrupt the agreeable blather to exclaim, “If this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.”
So I do the same now, and so do my kids and grandkids. And I urge you to please notice when you are happy, and exclaim or murmur or think at some point, “if this isn’t nice, I don’t know what is.”
Running with these friends in the sunshine, especially the downhill bits, I did think “If this ain’t nice I don’t know what is”.
At one point I spotted a wee blackbird on the side of the road. I found out later at dinner that the others had passed it assuming it was dead, but running at a more meaningful pace I saw it breath, and stopped and picked it up and placed it in the hedge where I thought it would be safe from traffic…and possibly eaten by a fox . But I gave it a chance.
Before I knew it my run tracker pinged to saw that we were halfway. I was absolutely thrilled with myself ! I had discovered the secret to future happiness and contentment with running…simply meet everyone one else halfway !
Our running started to concertina a little. The ones at the front would tear ahead, wait at the next junction for the rest to catch up , and then tear off again. Shane was starting to struggle. When he would catch up with the group he’d tell everyone to go on, and then he wouldn’t get a chance to rest himself. I have been that soldier. In my running adventures I have been very fortunate, blessed really, to have friends like Gareth, Chris, Dominic and especially Ray, who run much slower than they can, just to bring me along. So I decided to be Shane’s ‘Ray’…without the Venga Boys songs and Soldiers of Destiny politics.
Shane and I jogged and chatted and took it all in.
It was a glorious day.
Every so often we’d get a call from Jamie.
“All OK ?”
Yes, we’re just taking our time, all good.
“When you get to the next stye follow the posts with the little yellow man on them.”
OK.
“Great going lads. One more hill”
Thanks Jamie.
And we’d continue.
Shane was in agony towards the end. He had never run more than a half marathon before, and hadn’t even run one of those since January. He kept apologising for holding me back, I kept saying he wasn’t that this was my actual running pace. I was just in awe of his determination. If I’d been him I’d have been on my third pint with Joe in the Glendalough Hotel after taking a lift with him back in Ballinastoe Wood.
Jamie rang again.
“All OK ?”
Yes, all good.
“Where are you now ?”
In a forest.
“Could you be more specific ?”
It’s a very nice one.
“Just seeing how you’re doing ?”
We’d probably be finished if we didn’t have to stop and answer all of your calls .
“You sound fine. One more hill.”
Shane and I chatted about everything. We marvelled at the scenery around us. We stopped and took selfies. Whenever he got down on himself I told him that he was doing an incredible feat, and that he should be proud of himself.
We crossed a wobbly bridge, jogged through another wood and were making our way up what we hoped was near the end when Jamie called.
“All OK ?”
Yes , all good.
“Did you get the video I sent ?”
No, we’re focusing on finishing.
“I sent you a video showing a turn to take, you avoid a really steep bit. David made an arrow on the path using sticks, follow the red route.”
OK.
“One more hill”.
Shane and I stopped to look at the video. We hadn’t seen an arrow, but then making an arrow out of two fallen branches on a forest path, after a storm, was like well, making an arrow out of two fallen branches on a forest path, after a storm. Shane said that we’d just passed a post at the last junction with a red arrow on it. We went back down a bit and followed it. After a while Shane looked at his phone map.
“We’re going further away from Glendalough.”
Bugger !
We went on a bit more until we saw another post with a red arrow, and though we must be on the right path…until we looked back and saw that there was a red arrow on the opposite side pointing back the way we came. We turned back to the last junction.
Jamie rang.
“All OK ?”
We’re lost.
“Did you not see Dave’s arrow ?”
NO !
“Where are you now ?”
We described where we were.
“OH ! I know exactly where you are…”
**Narrator’s note – he did not.
Over the next minute or so Jamie , Shane and I described completely different routes to each other.
“ Just one more hill ,lads !”
Shane and I went back across the wobbly bridge and found an actual road with a road sign pointing to Glendalough and decided to follow that. Just before we arrived at Laragh, Shane stopped dead.
“Are you OK ?” I asked.
He was looking at his watch. “I think I’ve just run my first marathon !”
“You absolute LEGEND !”
We walked the next 2k back to Glendalough.
Jamie rang.
“All OK ?”
This is Paul Bond’s phone. Are you his next of kin ?
“What ???”
Yes, we’re OK. In fact we’re buzzing. Shane has run his first ever marathon.
“Legend ! Where are you now ?”
We’re on the road from Laragh to Glendalough, it says 1k to go.”
“Just one more hill, so.”
When we made it to the hotel, Jamie was waiting at reception to make sure that we were OK , gave us hugs, and made us feel 10 feet tall.
We met for dinner an hour later. Nine lads from different parts of the country , a wide range in ages, a wider range in life experiences, and with nothing in common except that a friend or partner once listened to a podcast by a girl called Georgie, heard her talk about a trip to run a half marathon and said “Let’s go”.
I had an amazing weekend.
A magical time.
I got to spend time with David , who is forgiven for his arrow, Eugene, who will be running with me in Rossmore soon, Declan, who I owe 10 Euros to for Ben, Ronan, who danced when no one else did, and when there was no music, Colm , who is an angel, Teilo who an angel whisperer, Jamie who makes us all better versions of ourselves, and Shane, who is my hero.
Each year approximately 492 million people take part in a 5k run, or 6% of the world’s population.
Each year approximately 50 million people take part in a 10k run, or 0.06% of the world’s population.
Each year approximately 2.4 million people take part in a half marathon, or 0.0003% of the world’s population.
Each year approximately 1.1 million people take part in a marathon, or 0.0001% of the world’s population.
And even less than that take part in a trail marathon over mountains.
Just one more hill…..
Toodles,
Paul
P.S. This is Dog Days Are Over – for the lads, but especially Shane.
P.P.S And this is for all those who’ve stopped at the JB Malone monument and looked down on Lough Tay…and maybe thought of Tara Browne, The Beatles, and a creamy pint.
