blog (October, 2002)
Dublin City Marathon
Marathoning is like cutting yourself unexpectedly. You dip into the pain so gradually that the damage is done before you are aware of it. Unfortunately, when awareness comes, it is excruciating.
-- John Farrington
I think that it's almost inevitable that you go out a little faster than you planned on your first marathon. Months of anticipation and the thrill of the start are hard to combat in a race run at training pace. But I calmed down after 4 miles, and fell into the 7-minute/mile pace I had tentatively planned.
The first twenty miles of the Dublin City Marathon seemed like a breeze, but I realize now how much they wore me down for those last all-important six-point-two, when the race really begins.
I finished in 3 hours, 0 minutes, and 3 seconds, which made me the 207th runner (out of the 8000 enterred) to cross the finish line; (official results.) I'll spare the details here -- you can read my race report on Running-Log.com. I was a little disappointed with the 3 seconds, but have gotten over it, and am pleased with my performance. I should be counting my blessings that my over-anxiousness at the beginning didn't cause me to hit the wall earlier, or harder, (any harder would've surely meant hands and knees on the pavement...)
Nothing can quite compare to the way my legs felt in the last 800 meters (which were psychologically longer than any 10 miles of the rest of the race,) but each day since the marathon I've felt worse than the last. My body is destroyed and I am sensing the beginnings of what I've read about a kind of post-marathon depression. But, a kind of satisfaction lies behind everything; I'm happy for what I accomplished, and am glad to finally put the race behind me, and start looking forward to something new.
Cork Jazz Fest
I'm here at one of the biggest jazz festivals in the world, but unfortunately, my circumstances prevent me from enjoying it as much as I could:
- The big and semi-big names here all go for 25 euros.
- We couldn't find a place in Cork to stay, so we're 35km out, in Kinsale -- a nice town, but the last bus from Cork to Kinsale leaves at 9:45... just as much of the festivities are beginning.
- I've got this danged marathon on Monday, so I have to make sure to get to bed early, and happily watch everyone else have their Guinness.
But it's been fun getting to know the south of Ireland, and I've seen some quite good performers that were on the free circuit today and last night. Tomorrow morning to Dublin, and Monday the big race!
Intuition
Tuesday brought a drive into Connemara with David, Alvar, and Mira, friends from the Salmon Weir. Fishing and lunch, and some sightseeing.
We left Mira in Clifden and returned to the hostel. I had just enough time to grab a bite before heading over to the university for the 7'oclock lecture on Intuition I had seen posters for a few days back. As it turned out, the lecture wasn't to begin until 8, so I moved to the library's media center to kill the time and grabbed a movie from the rack. Unhappy with the first choice, I found another. Then again, and finally settled on Deux ou trois choses que je sais d'elle (Two or Three Things I Know About Her), a Godard film about thoughts, language, objects, Vietnam, prostitution, and Paris. Half way through, I pressed Stop and returned to my regularly scheduled programming in the lecture hall.
Summary:
Intuition and coincidence are forms of foreknowledge brought about by our memory of the future. This future memory is a latent power due to our upbringing in an environment that stresses forward time -- the reason children exhibit more intuition, (their mind hasn't been forced down one path yet.)
The man had a few good ideas, and who knows if he was right about some things, but his methods and scientific means were very flimsy, his speech superficial, and he enjoyed mentioning the originality of his work. He was apt to say he could prove something, or that he would "speak of this later," without doing either. I left after an hour and returned to the library.
My friend Jamie was stationed at another television, and I approached him to say hello. Coincidentally, he was watching a different Godard film, (tho for other reasons.)
I fell back into Two or Three Things..., and the young child of the film said,
I dreamt I was walking all alone at the edge of a cliff. The path was only wide enough for one person. Suddenly I saw two twins walking towards me. I wondered how the would get past. Suddenly one of the twins went towards the other...and they bacame one person. And I realised that these two people were North and South Vietnam being reunited. What is language Mummy?
sit in or stake out?
I've seen him quite near twenty-five or thirty times now -- always parked on the same side of the same road -- on my walk to work, and many times on my way back home. 8am, 9am, 12pm, 3pm, 8pm... He sits in an old, light blue Mazda 323LX that sports rugby bumper stickers, and he listens to the radio, reads the Good News, or works on the crossword puzzle in today's news. He is aged, wrinkled and grey, and wears ragged flannel shirts under baggy wool sweaters. I've been meaning to ask him some questions -- if only to settle my own curiosities -- but his open window and my summoned confidence (audacity?) never seem to coincide.
celt-cius
It's cold all of a sudden. Last week, or this week -- one of these weeks -- it became cold all of a sudden, and I am forced out of my sandals and into my gloves, although not on the same apendages. It's cold when I get out of bed in the morning, so last night I didn't bother to remove any clothes before retiring. It's cold at work because the door ad-jacent to the room ad-jacent to the kitchen is left ad-jar so we can take the "bin bags" (rubbish) and the "milk cartons" (milk) and the "chicken packaging" (dog) out to the dumpster. It's cold in the university library, so I shiver while I type, and listen to the air conditioner. It was cold yesterday in the same library while I watched Raging Bull, (sweet,) and while I, next, looking for sports nutrition books, coincidentally ran into a film book with a chapter on Scorsese, (director of Raging Bull & Taxi Driver,) and decided that Today I would continue the Deniro/Scorsese streak with Mean Streets or Goodfellas. But it was still cold Today when, instead, I chose to watch Dances With Wolves, which was pretty crap -- nice scenery and some dear near tear-jerking moments -- but that's typical of typical Hollywood drama, even if it's manned, panned and canned by kevin.
Last night it was warm in MacSwiggans, The Kings Head, and The Roisin Dubh, but the walks between those pubs were quite chilly; and chillier yet for me than the others I was with, for they had the warmth of Guinness, and I only that of a tall cold glass of water. The Roisin Dubh provided me with another night of satisfaction with an African conga group called Afrikiko. The first time since Creamfields that I'd felt a certain different kind of warmth; that afterglow of a people who, (their leaders putting away instruments and exiting,) quieting their dancing feet, stand and look around, not wanting to lose the energy and communion they've found for a little while.
So, it's still cold, and about time to retreat, but not before this evening's Did You Know:
We instinctively eat more when it's cold out.
Free Media
Live Music
The music scene here is fantastic; I can see good/decent live music every night of the week for free at the local pubs. Irish traditional music is nice, and easy to find, but the run-of-the-mill trad group is usually better for background bar activity than straight-up music appreciation. There are a few good standard rock cover bands, but they're getting a bit old after a few shows each. There's a reggae/ska band that gets down well enough but whose set I've all but memorized, and an African group that tosses out light, extended grooves, and is good for a lazy evening alone. Then there's the Wednesday night open mic, which I keep saying I'll participate in - next week... But there are still some periodic acts I haven't checked out yet, as well as the occasional bigger small-time artist that plays for free, usually at the Roisin Dubh.
Dead Music
We have a cd/tape player in the kitchen at the Salmon, but a meager and disappointing collection of media. Sometimes travellers passing through bring along their collections, but I haven't run across anything particularly interesting yet. The last few days Bobby Dylan has sung while I cooked, which, while comforting, is known to me -- and does not fulfill my constant need of new noise. On the other side, last weekend in Castlebar I awoke to Van Morrison's Astral Weeks album; an extremely pleasant (and new-to-me) experience.
Lit
My Galway Public Library card was one of the best 2 euro investments I've made, and after finishing James'The American, and Thoreau's Walden & Civil Disobedience from home, I borrowed and read Joe Henderson's mediocre Marathon Training book, then graduated to Einstein's Ideas and Opinions and Bertrand Russell's In Praise of Idleness, both of which I'm currently buried in.
Net
Here I am. A friend's help has granted me unlimited internet access at the local university, (I won't link to it to avoid losing this access,) so I can use the computers in the labs and the library whenever they're open. Next step = account on the unix machines here.
Film
The same university's library does not enforce its policy of displaying an ID card upon enterring; along with the computers, I can (and do) read books, magazines and reference material, though without the possibility of borrowing them. They also have an excellent video collection and viewing stations. Today off from work, and designated a lazy day by my tight schedule, I took in Taxi Driver and Blade Runner. The former was excellent and interesting - and while profound and intelligent, very accessible and relate-able for anyone. Blade Runner I didn't enjoy as much, partly due to my sitting in a chair too long, the small television screen and videocassette not allowing me to appreciate the movie's best feature: its special effects, and the presence of Harrison Ford's bad narration, which I understand is not in the more recently released director's cut edition.
Yeah
You might call me stupid to travel to a different country then spend lots of time enjoying what I could at home. I would try, uselessly, at a few poor rebuttals, then finish with a "you're stupid too."
luft of center
Why of course the people don't want war ... But after all it is the leaders of the country who determine the policy, and it is always a simple matter to drag the people along, whether it is a democracy, or a fascist dictatorship, or a parliament, or a communist dictatorship ...Voice or no voice, the people can always be brought to the bidding of the leaders. That is easy. All you have to do is to tell them they are being attacked, and denounce the pacifists for lack of patriotism and exposing the country to danger.
--Hermann Goering, Nazi leader, at the Nuremberg Trials after World War II (source: Bush Watch)
be like water
I've been concentrating a lot on the running lately, but with my peak distance pre-marathon run taken care of yesterday, and my online race entry form submitted today, I'll be easing up on the training and focus and trying to get back to other things, like books and people and Ireland. Nearing raceday is going to cut down my participation in the national pastime, however, though signs like this picture scream out from every other building, and barmen at the pub scowl when I request that my pint glass be filled with water instead o' the black stuff...
I'm learning to cook, and speak a little French, I'm improving my juggling and guitar playing, and I received a very short lesson with a didjeridu the other day, but it's not nearly enough. I want to stretch out and reach out more. I'm nearly done reading Walden, the book I've been quoting here of late -- it has intrigued me, but not captivated me, and I've had difficulty in trudging through to its finish. I now have a Galway Public Library card, though, so maybe I can find a new journey soon. Suggestions welcome (change the (at) in the address.)
On my computer back home I have a list somewhat like this self betterment agenda -- notes on certain habits I want to develop or weed out -- and another on skills I want to learn or perfect. (Unfortunately, I don't have access to a secure shell client here in Ireland to access the home machine, so I can't get to those and various other lists and projects...)
I haven't yet gone as far as Buckminster Fuller, who formulated a credo of self disciplines to live his life by, but it's nice to keep little reminders like "Don't chew on pens that people lend me," to keep me growing in the right direction.
quick trip and blog to match
Finally did a little more travelling. Yesterday I took off with Jamie (Irish/English surfer guy from the Salmon Weir) and Emeline (French skirt I've been chasing but am finally giving up on (C'est la vie)) to County Sligo. We hit a beach near Kilcummin yesterday where Jamie and his friend David surfed, out to the pub in Castlebar last night, and crashed at David's house, then surfing again for them this morning while Emeline and I climbed through the Ox Mountains, following sheep trails, and to Strandhill in the afternoon where I went for a beautifully scenic beach run and a bit of a polar swim, then Emeline and I turned around and came home. A good craic. Can't find any pictures on the web to do the trip justice...
<aside>Thanks a million to everyone I got emails from or talked to online today. It meant a lot and was great to feel back at home for a bit. A great big hug to Su, who's off to L.A. tomorrow then to Samoa Tuesday for a little vacation with the Peace Corps!</aside>