And then two come along together…

As they say (whoever ‘they’ are), you wait for a bus for ages, and then two come along together. Maybe buses are like women, and they have to go in pairs? Like going to the loo? Anyway, let’s not digress. We’re only starting this blog post and already we’re slipping dangerously off-message. In an era of alternative facts and post-truth, the last thing we here at unironedman want to be accused of is not giving you the straight news… (“Okay, enough!” Ed.)

So hot on the heels of the decision to sign up for the Dublin Marathon, one of our Pilates buddies decided not to partake in the triathlon that a few of them had signed up for. In this session, once a week, we are cruelly put through our paces by a savage, whip-cracking sadist (hi Cathy) who takes no prisoners. Okay, I’m over-egging this a wee bit. Okay. A lot. Anyway, it’s a fun session and we all get a lot out of it. We are all middle-aged blokes with (mostly) some form of running career on our CVs.

One in particular is a three-hour marathon man (or something similarly impressive) but he is coming back to training after heart complications. Well, it seems he needs another procedure to right some wrongs, but this only transpired after he had signed up for the Olympic distance, so it looks like I will step in and take the slot. It’s two weeks away. I’ve plenty of running under the belt, but precious few bike and swim hours. Anyway, not an issue; I’m there to use a slot that would probably go to waste, and also to make sure the other lad doing the distance doesn’t slip under the surface on the swim leg and vanish without trace. Never a good start for your first triathlon. I’m certainly impressed with his confidence. First triathlon: Olympic; no bother…

Well during the week, two of the lads wanted to try out their new wetsuits, so we all piled into a car and headed for Lough Owel. It’s a fair spin for a dip but certainly a good spot if you are new to open water swimming, as these lads were.

Well, I had warned the lads that the bottom can be sharp and to mind their feet, so of course I was the first to slice mine open, followed by Ciaran, who drove home with tissues stuck to his hands and feet to stop the bleeding. The lower than normal water level didn’t help. But as an exercise in getting your head down into the waves and getting a sense of the wetsuit, it was invaluable for the lads.

Yesterday I managed a decent but very sweaty run along by the River Liffey and then the Royal Canal. Took a few piccies as well, so the run was somewhat fractured. But it was a nice change from the norm.

Along the way, I met a few birds…

A Mute Swan family were plying their trade along the canal, teaching the young cygnets how to feed. Well, in fairness, there was no chance of the young ones reaching the bottom, but it was a lovely scene. Along the river, some Mallards were chilling out. Also in the picture is a Moorhen chick but you will be doing well to spot it. I know some bloggers out there like bird-spotting, so give it a go… 🙂

train

And along the canal, I passed over the famous (well, famous ’round these parts) Rye Aqueduct*. Go on. Give it a Google. It’s a great bit of Victorian engineering. As I was jogging along, I met the train, hence the pic above.

barge

I also passed a few barges, and this particular composition caught my eye. Anyway, that’s probably enough photos for now. It looks like a triathlon has landed in my lap so I will need to get all the gear together and get my game face on. Wherever that is… I don’t know if I actually have a game face…


P.S. Aqueduct is one those words that is often misspelled. You will find it as Aquaduct, and many will swear blind that there is another ‘a’ in there somewhere. There isn’t. But that’s okay. Just get over it, okay?

P.P.S. The unironedman blog frequency is still better than the Marathon des Sables blog. Just sayin’…

P.P.P.S. Congrats to S on her seven years 🙂

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