“Well, at least you finished,” was a sympathetic response I got from several runners when I told them I did the Connemarathon last Sunday in 5hours 20mins. Most of these people had done sub 4 hours.
To this sympathetic tone and sincere look of pity, I felt the need to defend my manhood.
“I was wearing these barefoot shoes, see,” said I, showing them my VFFs as proof, “I’m doing Limerick in two weeks in ‘normal’ shoes and expect I’ll do sub 4 hours.”
Continue reading “Losing With Style At The Connemara Marathon 2018” →
Writing this post feels kind of stupid because doing a marathon no longer seems like a big deal to me. But notice how I said “doing”, not running.
I had aspirations of running a marathon since my mid twenties but every single time I got into the rhythm of training my knees, back, or hamstrings, or something else got screwed up and my running came to an abrupt end. Continue reading “How To Do A Marathon Without Training” →
Standing on a bin in Shop Street waiting for the Galway Girl street performance to start, I spot local author Ken Bruen with his daughter, Grace, in the distance. Excited, I crack off a shot as they walk towards me and then veer into McDonald’s.
Spontaneously, I decide to jump down off the top of my bin perch, go into McDonald’s, say hello and tell him I’ll email him the photo and he says to just pop it up on Facebook and add him as a friend. I find this rather exciting as I have read a couple of his books, have seen him on television, and Iain Glenn (otherwise known as Game of Thrones’ Jorah Mormont) is the lead man in the films based on his books. Continue reading “Bin Standing, the Bruens, & Galway Girl Street Performance” →
Instantly captivated by the sight of this little family of swans, I resolve to observe them for a bit. They are: mommy, daddy, and four babies. Continue reading “A Claddagh Swan Tale” →
“I forgot the tickets,” he cried in a voice thick with a desperation akin to someone helplessly watching their beloved about to be ploughed into oblivion by a tractor.
“Are you f***ing kidding me?” I ask.
“No,” he says, “I’m serious.”
Seeing as how I can see that he’s very extremely upset with himself, and giving him a ton of abuse isn’t going to do any good, I laugh and satisfy myself with a simple, “I’m sorry, but you’re some f***ing pleb.”
Continue reading “Brotherly Love, Leo Varadkar, & Bruce Springsteen” →