I did say I would report back with an update on the shoe situation, and here at unironedman, we do like to keep our word. And so I present to you the new (to me) Saucony Endorphins, all the way from France. They show very little wear on the soles and the uppers are in … More New. To me, anyway
Dad died on January 24th last year, and we said our goodbyes a few days later, on Saturday 28th in St. Mary’s Church in Leixlip. And on Easter Saturday just gone, we bid him a final farewell when we scattered his ashes on Three Rock, about a mile from where he grew up in Ticknock, … More The Scattering
“Across the evening skyAll the birds are leavingBut how can they knowIt’s time for them to go? Before the winter fireI will still be dreamingI have no thought of time For who knows where the time goes?Who knows where the time goes?” Who Knows Where the Time Goes?Fairport Convention Well, Dad, that was some year. … More Who knows…
So. No blog for ages. Then two show up together. Typical. In my defence, I, em… actually, scratch that. I have no defence really. I have been tippin’ away at the film as time allows over the last couple of months, and figured it would be ready when it was ready. As with all projects … More The Wicklow Way – A Journey for my Father
IN WHICH WE TAKE TO THE HILLS IN ORDER TO TEST OURSELVES ONCE MORE AGAINST THE ELEMENTS, AND DISCOVER THAT THE ELEMENTS REALLY DON’T CARE WHAT THE HELL WE GET UP TO… ELEMENTS-1, HUMANS-0… EVERY TIME… BUT COULD SALVATION COME IN THE FORM OF A MAN SPORTING A BEARD ON WHICH KEIRA KNIGHTLEY ONCE CAVORTED? … More One step closer to home: The Wicklow Way report
I have extolled the virtues of parkrun before on this blog. And I’m going to do it again. Even though I drifted away from this wonderful event over the years when I indulged my marathon and ultra habit, it was always there, waiting patiently for me to return. Well, strictly-speaking, that’s not true, of course. … More Long live parkrun
I had a less than gentle reminder of the vagaries of hill-running as regards just how long it can take. Or perhaps just how hard it can be to judge timings; either way, a useful lesson for the upcoming venture along the Wicklow Way. This was last weekend, when a number of family members met … More A scattering
My Dad died on 24th January. It’s very raw. I am writing some thoughts down, but it’s really for personal reasons, for now. It was never the purpose of this blog to get too caught up in personal ‘stuff’ anyway. The idea was to have a space for me to riff about running, and other … More Run to the hills
And you, my father, there on the sad height,Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.Do not go gentle into that good night.Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Do not go gentle into that good nightDylan Thomas I write it out in a verse –MacDonagh and MacBrideAnd Connolly and PearseNow and … More The Old Man
Now it turns out the joke’s on me, ‘coz a tapir’s top speed is 30 miles per hour, and for that, I’d have to be dropped out of a plane. I might hit it on the bike for a few seconds, going downhill. But whatever. At this stage, the poor joke is already dead (see: … More Taper? Tapir, more like…
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