unironedman

Naturally, in a World Cup week where we have finally hit the knockout stages after 27 years of group games, it stands to reason some teams are going home (okay, maybe not 27 years, but a long old time when you have 48 teams to whittle down. And of course, 48 is a lousy number for a tournament, so we fully expect FIFA to move to 64 in the near future, and at this rate, the World Cup will just become one continuous, never-ending tournament. On the upside, it means Ireland may eventually qualify. We live in hope…).

Without a team of our own to cheer on, Ireland naturally adopted another, and the chosen team was Cabo Verde. Not, it turns out, the smallest team by country’s population or land size. That honour falls to Curacao. No, it was down to one Pico Lopes, who’s Mammy is from Dublin, and his Dad is from Cabo Verde. His actual first name is Roberto Carlos, so perhaps it’s no wonder he grew up to be a footballer. He’s Crumlin, born and bred, an urban residential part of south Dublin city. His story has been well-documented of late, as his team qualified from the group stages and then went toe-to-toe with Argentina and took them to extra time before losing 3-2. My brother is over for a few days, and we ended up watching the game in the local rugby club, and what a game it was. We roared them on ’til the bitter end.

Pico captains Shamrock Rovers, a top Irish side in the FAI League of Ireland. He returns to Ireland shortly, and will be back with his club side as they take on Maltese side Floriana in the Champions League qualifiers. No rest, as they say. No doubt there are young lads and lassies in Cabo Verde dreaming of such fairy tales as Pico’s, and at the end of the day, that’s what it’s all about.

Take a bow, Pico.

(Other teams have bowed out too, of course, including Brazil and Mexico. I did cast a very sleepy eye on the England game, having watched the first match in the pub. I should have an early night tonight… but not until the Iberian Peninsula Rumble has finished rumbling!).

This week’s training was modest enough. Short runs on Tuesday and Thursday, interspersed with a new fitness programme I’ve cooked up. It requires rising at 6.30am each weekday morning and doing about half an hour or more of various things designed to improve the body’s resilience to all this running lark. So, Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays are devoted to clamshells, leg raises, resistance band work and that medicine ball thing to help with the hamstrings, glutes, hips, etc. Tuesdays and Thursdays are more of a core workout with squats, barbells and dumbbells. Runners will probably do anything to avoid this kind of work; we are the worst when it comes to pre-emptive training. I don’t mean actual running, of course; we’ll actually run to avoid doing any form of strength and conditioning work, on the basis that you should probably be running if you want to be a runner.

That broad and somewhat cynical sweep is aimed at the casual runner like me, I should add. Serious athletes have very strict programmes and these all include a range of what you might broadly call gym work. You will (if you are in the lesser league of runner like me) have searched for running-specific exercises online. Here’s a good one, if you haven’t already unearthed it: https://www.runnersworld.com/uk/training/cross-training/a43155365/7-best-strength-moves/

But I will tweak and twiddle with the programme I have devised, as research continues. Ultimately, there are some very common movements we should all be doing if we hope to keep running for years to come, and the key is always consistency. There are no short-cuts. If you run a lot, your body will adapt to the exercise. But it doesn’t always change in ways that are positive or perhaps more correctly, in ways that are conducive to a long career in running. And that’s mainly because the adaptations can lead to bodies being imbalanced, so it’s vital we include exercises that recognise and correct this. Hamstrings are just one of the areas that we can overlook. Hips, abs and glutes too are all part of the picture. Poor core leads to poor posture, especially on long runs, which affects your gait and your breathing. So ignore at your peril. And yes, that horse has bolted, my friends. But I am hoping to close the stable door and go and rescue the horse anyway. Cough.

During the week, bad news filtered through about a racist attack after a parkrun in Poppintree in Ballymun in north Dublin city. Three men were assaulted by a local man, with one being punched and then kicked on the ground. The three were part of the Sanctuary Runners group, and had just taken part in their local parkrun. Whilst the group were clearly appalled by the event, they were keen to let the Gardaí do their jobs, and instead asked for solidarity in the wider running community. I had never taken part in the Poppintree parkrun, but despite the shenanigans of the football match and several pints of stout that meant it was after 2am before I got to bed, I resolved to get up at 7.30 and make my way out to the event.

There was a great vibe there, with a great turnout, and we had a few group photos before the off, with some powerful words from the organisers. I had no idea how the hamstrings would behave, so I figured I’d try and keep it lively and judge things as they progressed. It’s a windy course (as in ‘winding’, not breezy), and I wondered why it gets a mention as one of the fastest parkrun courses in Dublin. And it’s a strange two and a half lap affair as well, just to keep you on your toes. Tricky enough for that volunteer, trying to work out who to send left or right at the key last junction.

20:52; the same as the recent 5k road race back in May. I suppose it’s not bad, considering. It was a warm morning, and I was glad of the water afterwards, and a cool slice of watermelon. I sat under a tree and cooled down, then grabbed a pastry and headed back to the car. I’d parked about 2k away, in Decathlon. I didn’t know the area at all, from a parking perspective, and I wanted to pick up a few things anyway, so it worked out well.

Fair play to the parkrun community for turning out in numbers, and for the various committees and groups for putting on a great show of solidarity (not to mention some great refreshments).

Take a bow, ladies and gents.

And last but not least, Gary. Where to start? Well, I definitely missed the start, anyway. (There are two Garys featured in this blog. One is my mate from Maynooth, and we run together regularly. Gary O’Daly has a very fine blog about the Royal Canal (and others), and it’s still there at https://royalcanalrunner.com/ )

The other Gary is a gent I have never met and who I happened upon by chance, thanks to the wonders of the interwebs. Gary’s blog can be found at https://ilikemargarine.com and his most recent (last?) post is, according to the author, going to be his final word.

It’s my favourite blog, and I apologise to my other wonderful friends and colleagues out there who do great things and take the time to tell us about it. I love your stuff, and I read it all the time. But that’s just the way it is. Gary and I will never rub shoulders, of that I am sure. Which is a great shame. I’d like to think (if I won the lottery) that I could spend some time whizzing around the world and doing marvelous things, like getting in a few miles with Gary around his favourite track. And then having some ice cream. Or something else with an unusual name. Many’s a time I have had to Google the name of an American confectionary. I might even make a brief guest appearance on his blog, and that would really be something.

In is last message to the world, Gary references this particular ten-year-old post: https://ilikemargarine.com/2016/07/14/a-pirate-looks-at-60/

It’s a gem, of course. Especially if you are a runner.

Is there any point pleading with Gary to continue? Would it even be a dignified thing to do? Hard to say. But, sure, why not? But if this is indeed the end, then may I say, whilst we didn’t share a track together, we did share a few brief interactions online. It’s been an honour.

Take that bow.

(But if you change your mind, that’s cool too.)

Ladies and Gents… the Prophet Gary.