unironedman

I am going to get ahead of the criticism by saying at the outset that I ain’t no corporate shill! But now and again, it’s okay to give in to your baser urges, and occasionally admit when a product or service was absolutely bang on. And as luck would have it, two came along together this weekend. Well; that’s not true, really, but let me explain…

First up, I was doing a little painting and decorating, as you do, and I was wearing my favourite painting and decorating runners. Each time I put them on, I marvel at the comfort and fit. Without doubt, years of wear and running have moulded them to the shape of my feet, but as any runner will tell you, if the shoe is not right to begin with, this process will never happen.

The shoes in question are a pair of Saucony Triumph Iso 2, and they don’t make ’em like that any more, I can tell ya! That range has long been superseded, but though I did buy a few more pairs of Sauconys, I never felt they really hit the mark quite like these. And so, as they gradually dropped down the rankings in terms of what to wear when training and racing, they were never thrown out. (You can read about the 2017 Dublin Marathon experience here, if you’re bored).

They really are on their last legs, and that’s a rather confusing analogy for a pair of runners – one even I am struggling with! I am sure they will eventually give up the ghost, but perhaps at that stage I won’t have the heart to fire them in a skip. I did chuck out a few pairs of old runners last year, and it was a bit of a wrench. But they had been hiding on a shelf in the shed, and were never worn. The Sauconys, on the other hand (!), were still clocking up the miles. So three cheers to them!

And so to this weekend, when I popped down to the nearest shopping centre to see if they could fix my watch. With the completion of my EMT course, I realised a watch would be a handy (not again! ed.) device to have if someone needed to check a patient’s breathing and pulse rate. Indeed, there are exams coming up early next year, so I figured I’d root out my old watch and get it going again. I took the back off to check the battery type, and ordered a couple of replacements. When they arrived, I fitted a new battery, but ran into a spot of trouble trying to get the back on again. In times past, the younger and more impatient me would have tried to horse that thing back on, with the aid of some rather dubious tools from the shed. It is quite likely I would have irreparably damaged the watch, and ended the sorry tale in foul humour. And with no watch.

But the older and (slightly) wiser me rang a nearby jeweller, and they said they would have a look for me. So I dropped down this Saturday morning and two young gents took a look at the watch. There was some reluctance, to the point where one of the guys said he had tried to refit the back on the very same model previously, and the hands had fallen off… (Not his hands, obviously… the watch hands!). A more senior lady overheard this, and asked if they had been the ones to remove the back. I said no, that was me, and she pointed out, therefore, that they would not be liable for any damage, so we could go ahead with the attempt, but it was on my head.

The young man, at that point, took me aside and quietly suggested another competitor jeweller in the same centre, and so I called in there, and a lovely lady whisked the watch away, and returned in about five minutes with the back refitted. She refused any payment. I wandered out of the store, pausing to note with a smile that she had, of course, set the watch to the right time as well. I was so pleased, I called back to the original store, shook the man’s hand, and thanked him for his advice. Then I bought some mince pies and called in to see an old friend on the way home for a yarn.

Here are some thoughts on the gym programme, now that I have done about four and a half months of it:

1. Firstly, it feels longer than that. I could have sworn I was up to six months. Not sure if this is a good or bad sign, but possibly it means my memory is not improving with all these workouts
2. I was able to verify the date I started, as I recall my trainer emailed me my programme. Pure brilliant detective work there.
3. I can see some improvements, though I did think there might be more. That said, in no particular order, the tops of my thighs are showing positive signs; I can only assume it’s the Monday leg day, and in particular, all the lunges, plus there are a few sets of box step-ups and elevated split squats last thing on a Friday. Those last exercises in particular are a killer, but here again, I have noticed a marked improvement in my ability to do them without falling over (my first aim), and then without stopping (which is where I’m at now).
4. Another small visible area of improvement is around the biceps, but again, nothing Arnie Schwarzenegger need worry about. And around the latissimus dorsi and the deltoids, if one is being picky about muscle groups, and not tossing around words like ‘pecs’ and ‘abs’, and sounding like a bit of a wanker.
5. I’ve put on at least three kilos. Not sure how much of this is down to my reduction in running mileage, or an increase in muscle density. Or perhaps a bit of both. I might get that tested again one day in the gym (albeit with the knowledge that they are not terrifically accurate machines).
6. I’ve become reasonably comfortable in the gym now. I was a little unsettled at first, but you soon realise that just about everyone in there has headphones on, or ear buds in place, and is doing their best to block out the world, including anything you might be doing. Indeed, you could probably have a heart attack in the corner and no one would notice! Personally, I prefer to go ‘au naturel’, and leave my ears exposed. There are a couple of regular characters, and one or two sure do love to stare at themselves in the mirror. Sure; ‘form’, I hear you say. Arse, I reply. These lads are checking themselves out when they’re not even lifting anything.
7. Never judge a book by its cover, etc. As in, that tiny young girl that is setting up on the weights rack next to you; she’s about to squat 120 kilos.
8. And speaking of kilos, I was deadlifting 70 kilos (four sets of ten), but damn, that was heavy on the back (yeah, check your form. I know. Thanks) so I’ve dropped back to 60 for now. Other areas of specific weight (in fairness, that’s most of the programme) have all seen some incremental improvements too. But that would be normal for a programme like this. But no surprise to anyone to learn that my leg strength is better than my arms, proportionally.
9. And finally, should anyone get this far in to my list of fascinating gym facts, I might finish by suggesting that sometimes less is more. Or, to bang that drum again, keep good form and do the exercise you are supposed to be doing. An example: I’ve watched fellas banging out press-ups, but their form is poor, and their backs are bowed halfway through the set. They’re not achieving much, other than straining their backs. Another lad on the lat pull-down machine is lifting up off the seat (you are supposed to wedge your thighs under a foam-covered bar). This is a sign that he’s set the weight too heavy. Better to ease off on the weight, keep correct form, and make your arms and shoulders do the work. It is, after all, called a lat pull-down, so using your body weight achieves very little. The same can be said of the cable pull machines; there’s a tendency to lean back instead of pulling. And who are we fooling with all this poor form tomfoolery? Why ourselves, of course! You’re welcome.
10. I am happy to bring this list to a close with the amazing fact that I have not missed a session yet since starting. Three a week. My darling daughter works there, so there is an incentive. And I get to drop her up sometimes, when the times suit, and pick her up from the late shift around 10pm.

Saoirse is away this weekend, so I have the house to myself, unless you include two large greyhounds, which of course, I do. And Bonnie sleeps on the bed, so there’s no escape.

I decided to go ‘full bachelor mode’ last night, and had a few glasses of wine with my dinner, and watch a few films, and then the footie. (Hot tip: don’t bother watching Leave The World Behind). I was a little groggy this morning, and figured the only cure would be a full Irish breakfast, and I managed to rope my two wonderful children in for the experience. Oddly enough, Dallan’s girlfriend, who is a vegan, declined my generous offer of twenty-seven different ways to cook dead pig. Wise decision. (I had earned my breakfast by chainsawing a large bough of a tree that had come down on the Avenue the previous day. I would have preferred a lie-in, but this chore needed to be done before the park entrance got busy. And it’s free firewood too!)

Afterwards, Tamsyn very kindly tested me on some of my medical knowledge in preparation for my exams next year (more like grilled me), and then I took the dogs for a walk into what has turned out to be quite a wild day (Storm Fergus is upon us, hot on the heels of Storm Elin). I drove up into the park and walked in the woods, which is my favourite spot with the dogs, but was so deep in thought, turning over medical questions in my head, that I walked past the car on the way back, and was almost home before I copped it. So we all got a little extra mileage!

And then I realised that I had not had a run this weekend. Gary was away in Austria doing a parkrun (yep, you read that right), and Mark hadn’t been in touch, and with S away, my routine was out of kilter. So, with a very narrow window left, I threw on some gear and managed about 9k through the park. I changed things up a little and went through the neighbouring town before returning home through the park again. It’s something I could never have done in my fire service days – certainly not if I was on-call, anyway.

It was fairly wild, wet and windy, and I did feel rather legendary for getting out there and getting the run under my belt. It was dark on my return. That’s me above, feeling suitable epic 🙂

Here are a few more images from the week that was…

In other news, Shane MacGowan, the frontman and singer of The Pogues, was laid to rest on Friday. If you can, try and find some of the remarkable footage from the service. Johnny Depp was one of the pallbearers and read a prayer of the faithful. Nick Cave sang a song in the church, and was joined by many other famous Irish singers and performers, including Glen Hansard, Lisa O’Neill, Imelda May, and Pogues band members. The President was there too. Gerry Adams spoke fondly. But perhaps the abiding images from the service came when the whole ensemble performed Fairytale of New York (complete with original lyrics), and there was actually some dancing in the aisles. And that particular hooley went on into the wee hours in the various pubs of Nenagh in Tipperary.

It was poignant to note that Shane was buried on the birthday of Sinéad O’Connor. And few, if any, would have given you any odds that Sinéad would have gone first. But here are.

Ar dheis Dé go raibh a h’anam dílis.