unironedman

My finagling of running data continues. Last week’s post-run description of the event as a ‘tempo run’ was excusable, but this week’s ‘progressive tempo run’ was rather shameless. To quote the great Roy Keane: fail to prepare, prepare to fail’. I did, I suppose, speed up throughout the event on Tuesday evening, managing 5k in about 28 minutes, with each kilometre mark improving on the last. A lethargic 6:24 first k, finishing with a 5:08. But was it planned? Was it f**k. Thursday was a more sedate and steady 7k-ish at 6:00 pace.

As long as I can keep getting out there at least three times a week, I will be happy enough. There is a printed plan in the workshop, keeping my kettlebells programme company, but that won’t kick in until the Summer when I feel there is enough in the legs to start the meter on the 9 week countdown to the 5k attempt. For now, I’ll take the small victories; id est: getting out at all in this gloomy, cold, wet and windy weather. 95% of life is just about showing up, really. Incidentally, this popped up on the radio earlier, and it seems to cover quite a few bases, so have a trip down memory lane, courtesy of me (and YouTube).

January. It’s been a hell of a year…

Yesterday, Tamsyn and I took a dander up to Three Rock to say hello to my Dad. Three years. Where have they gone? The weather was a little kinder than the day we scattered his ashes, but still fairly windy. The rain held off until we had had some lunch in the Blue Light pub, but thereafter it poured down for the rest of the day. No dogs were walked, I am afraid to say.

Sunday morning, and the normal early run was replaced with some domestic chores as I tried to replace the filter on the oil tank for my Mum next door. With no shut-off valve to allow me to swap out the old one, I was reduced to taking out the old filter mesh and scrubbing it clean with petrol and a toothbrush. This seems to have done the trick, though not before there was momentary panic and angst as the valve built in to the old filter seemed to malfunction and oil was leaking out everywhere, and I lost the bolt that holds the whole lot together. Crisis averted when I raided my new workshop and some kind soul had neatly stacked up boxes of brand new bolts, washers and O-rings, and with a little hacksawing and some PTFE tape, the filter is back together again, and the heating is working. After many years, I can finally answer that age-old question: what are you buying all those boxes of bits for from Aldi and Lidl? All hail the middle aisle!

A run did follow later that afternoon, once church duties had been carried out. It was a slow and steady slog through the park, up the Clonee Road, left down the canal all the way to Deey Bridge at Intel and then over the level crossing, through Kilmacredock and into Castletown Demesne. 16.5 k in 1.43. And in keeping with the theme of mislabeling my runs of late, I called it ‘16.5k easy’. It didn’t feel particularly easy. With an average and reasonably steady pace of 6:14, at no stage did I feel like cutting loose and doing some newfangled ‘progressive tempo fartlek hill repeat run’ or anything like it. My hips and groins were creaking; on a positive note, the knees remained silent. Again: we take these small victories…

In other news, the Aurora Borealis put on a show this time last week. Not as spectacular as the fireworks display above the Arctic Circle, but still very special for this little town.

I finished off a sketch for our recently-retired Reverend. Hoping to drop it over later this evening. It’s the rear view of St. Mary’s Church in Leixlip.

And now for something completely different…

By the by, if you want a little more actual running stuff in your blogs, then read this cracking post from Gary. He never misses anyway, but this one hits the mark in many, wonderful ways. The very best wishes to my American friends who are on the right side of history.

P.S. Go and see Hamnet. It’s marvelous. Buckley and Mescal, and indeed the whole cast, are amazing, and the cinematography is stunning. Indeed, and I usually hate the word in this context, the whole film feels deeply authentic. It does have its critics, and it will make you cry, but I loved spending time in its world, and wished to stay a little longer.