I ventured into the Promised Land today. This is the section of the park on the other side of the dual carriageway.
Not sure why I called it that. It just appeared faintly mysterious and enticing on the few occasions that I’ve run past the small suspension bridge and glanced across at the Other Side. Today… today I made that journey.
The pain in my right knee was flickering all morning, but I risked it. In the light of my recent experience, I upped the ante in the garb stakes today. Not only my Ron Hill leggings made their seasonal debut, but a woolly hat as well. Yes, of course I felt like an idiot. It was hard to make eye-contact with anyone I met on the initial path leading past the lake and up beyond the clubhouse, and if I’d heard anyone snigger as they’d passed, I might have burst into tears. Or beaten them up. Not sure which.
Major obstacle on the first stretch of sandy path was a… a large teenage girl leading two horses towards the riding school. As I finally squeezed past, I was struck by the observation that their backsides were all about the same size. This reminded me of the anecdote related in Private Eye some years ago about the state visit of Idi Amin, then President of Uganda. The Queen and Amin were in a horse-drawn carriage on the way from Victoria to Buckingham Palace. Halfway up the Mall, one of the horses released a cataclysmically loud fart. The embarrassed queen giggled and apologised to Amin who allegedly replied "Don’t worry, Your Majesty, I thought it was the horse…"
The path along here is waterlogged and rutted, and needs to be negotiated with care. But a pleasant change from tarmacked roads, as is the absence of cars. I could happily get used to running here at luchtimes, with longer weekend runs along the canal at home.
Eventually I reached the bridge and this time, decided to cross it. The Promised Land is filled with warm sunshine and the laughter of children and plump, golden grapes hanging from the overflowing vines. Sadly, that’s a different Promised Land. This one is a collection of pot-holed football pitches and gritty paths. I saw a teenaged girl with some dogs, reading a copy of Jackie magazine in the drizzle, and later, an elderly chap pushing a pram, looking rather dazed. As well he might.
But that was it. It was a pleasant-enough adventure, and no doubt I’ll be back. The park is undulating, with a couple of modest hills. This adds a little variety to my routine, and will work on new muscles, making me stronger. That’s what it says here. On the downside is the fact that they are still bloody hills.
I ran for 40 minutes, including a couple of minutes’ walk in the middle when I got a slight stitch. For the last quarter mile or so, I upped the pace to my version of sprinting, and just about made it. I’m around 5 pounds lighter than I was 6 days ago, and beginning to feel fitter already. Still a long way to go before I’m in pre-Chicago condition (which, to be honest, wasn’t that great), but I’m definitely back on track.
I keep saying that 2003 will be marathon-free, but I have had the very faintest of twinges of curiosity about Dublin in October…
