unironedman

IN WHICH WE INVENT A NEW FORM OF TRIATHLON, WITNESS SOME REALLY SERIOUS RUNNERS AT WORK, AND PONDER ON SOME WEIGHTY TOPICS…

I may accidentally have stumbled upon the best way to workout. It could indeed be the new triathlon. On Saturday, our local parkrun was celebrating its eighth birthday. Alas, celebrations were a little muted due to an ongoing dispute in relation to the ownership of, and access to, the car park. So for the last month or so, there hasn’t actually been a parkrun at Castletown. But in fairness to the race committee, they went ahead with a get-together to mark the date anyway.

So on Saturday just gone, I headed out the door and jogged up to the gates of Castletown House in Celbridge. It’s far from the dictionary-definition of ironic (it’s what you might call a ‘Morissette’), but I was heading to meet the parkrun folk at a parkrun event where there was no parkrun, and yet the distance from my front door to the gates of the park where they were to meet IS EXACTLY 5 KILOMETRES! I know. It’s astounding.

The lower path by the river was a tad flooded, so by the time I arrived (not having the wit to turn around and seek the higher path) my feet were sodden. But there was solace in a hot cup of tea and a bun, and then a slice of birthday cake. Happy Birthday, Castletown parkrun; I hope you will return soon. I am assured a resolution is not far away.

But then it was about-turn and another 5k home. And hence the new triathlon event: run 5k, eat cake, then run another 5k. It might just catch on…

Later that evening, the Rugby World Cup finally came to an end with the most-narrowest of victories for South Africa. With plenty of Ciaran’s family and friends around, plus a large table of raucous Saffers, it was the best result, of course. Perhaps not the best game of the tournament, and rather unfortunate to have a red card, and several yellows. As an Irish fan, I am duty-bound to point out that we were the only team to beat South Africa. But of course, that counts for nothing.

Despite a few Guinnesses from last night, I headed in to see the Dublin Marathon. I parked myself in Chapelizod, near the bridge, at the ten-mile mark. And indeed, for the first time as a spectator, I managed to see the leading runners go through. Always impressive. The first Irish runner was Stephen Scullion, a bit off the lead pack, but he clearly rallied as he finished third overall in 2.11:51. The winner was a twenty-year old from Ethiopia called Kemal Husen in a new course record of 2.06:52.

Set against all of this wonderful human endeavour and sometimes-silliness is the knowledge that there is carnage happening all over the world in various places, and in various horrific ways. There may be compassion fatigue in the media over Ukraine, but in a grim turn of events, the Middle East made sure that horror would soon be back in the headlines.

Where you believe the chaos in the Middle East began probably defines your own particular beliefs in relation to the rights and wrongs of this conflict. It’s quite bizarre that in this latest round of horrendous violence which began with the Hamas attack into Israel, people have been rounded on and censured for suggesting that this attack didn’t occur in a vacuum. The narrative, currently in any case, is clearly that Israel is good, Palestine is bad. It’s a very skewed view of things, and you don’t need to do any in-depth research to discover many Jewish people who are as horrified with their own government’s actions as much of the rest of the world.

Most narratives these days are driven by what you would term the binary bias concept. In a way (without wishing to point the finger at my American readers and friends), I feel this ‘you’re either with us or agin’ us’ mentality began with Bush following 9/11, and was weaponised more recently by Trump and his supporters. It does nothing, of course, to encourage debate or foster agreement. On the contrary, it’s designed to be toxic and diversive. And it seems to be working a treat.

Ireland has come in from some additional scrutiny from the Israeli government. And we are hardly a hotbed of Islamic fundamentalism. What we do have is a President (in our constitution, this office holds little power, despite being the official head of state) who is willing to condemn the violence on both sides. And as a nation, we would have voted this week in the UN for a cease-fire, and to allow aid to enter Gaza.

But in these ugly times, even moderate behaviour such as this is seen as being somehow antisemitic. But then, there were calls for António Guterres to resign for similar commentary, so it should be clear to anyone with even a basic grasp of geopolitics that we are in uncharted and dangerous territory.

What is galling, when all is said and often undone, is that whilst world leaders chew on their fingernails and ponder on their rhetoric, a small strip of land that is about a marathon-distance in length and around 10k in width is getting bombed daily, and that thousands of innocent civilians are getting killed. And more will die. And if the land invasion goes ahead, there will be huge casualties on both sides.

Here in little old Ireland, we are starting into the trial of the murder of Ashling Murphy. As is the way with these very public trials, we are getting daily reports through the news, which are no doubt very upsetting for her family and friends, and indeed, anyone listening. I wrote this back in January of 2022 when the murder happened to a young woman out running along the canal. No need to speculate on the outcome of the case, suffice to say that the man on trial confessed shortly after he was questioned by the police, but has now decided to plead not guilty. There were witnesses, and a large volume of evidence was gathered. If he is guilty, then insisting on this plea has added further misery on the family.

It reminds us, as men who like to run, that we rarely, if ever, have to stop for a second and wonder if going out for a run is a safe thing to do. Sure, we may consider the weather, the time of day, the conditions underfoot. But we are not thinking about getting mugged, raped, attacked or murdered when we slip outdoors for a jog.

Nor will jogging be on the minds of Palestinians in Gaza, or the West Bank, I am sure. It is one of those cruel oddities of the modern world that I can pop into town to watch over 20,000 hardy souls run around the capital, and then head home to prepare a meal for the in-laws, and switch on the news and watch live footage of Gaza being bombed. It all feels deeply surreal. It needs to stop.

And so, here are a few images to try and finish the blog on a slightly less grim note.

As Tamsyn noted when we stopped on the bridge to take a quick snap of the nearly full moon, this picture would be so much nicer if we had a decent camera, and someone could move the ugly pipe out of the way!

Another poor shot, but the cuteness factor of two Collared Doves having a little impromptu bath near our house was too lovely not to feature.

These are Candlesnuff Fungi (as far as I can tell). They were growing on rotting timber in the park this week.