Phoenix Park Run

Lest you think I’ve been lounging around…

Well, I’ve been running. I enjoyed a nice long slow run on Sunday. Eight and three quarters of a mile. Yes, I know, I know, should have pushed for the whole nine miles but I had a weak moment when the sight of my car coincided with 8.75 miles of running and well, that was all I had left in me.

Crosstraining on Monday consisted of mowing the half acre(push mower, mind,not one of those fancy ride on yokes!) and wrestling the brambles out of the hedge. At times like that I am really glad I run. It just gives me the physical and psychogical will to keep going. Well, at least up until the 8.75 mile stage of anything.

Tuesday and I made myself-literally, bribed myself-into running three miles. Actual running running. As opposed to jogging running. My pace has become positively funereal so I am pushing this week for more speed.

That should be “speed” since I am infinitely more tortoise than hare.

And yesterday, I took Teen Girl off to the park for a trot. Not any old park. This is the Phoenix Park in Dublin. It’s a favourite haunt for sports’ enthusiasts of all sorts. But, really, for all sorts of people following all kinds of pursuits.

Áras an Uachtaráin, President Michael D. Higgins’ home, is here. And well worth dropping into the Phoenix Park visitor centre of a Saturday morning just to get a guided tour of that house.

And Farmleigh House, where the government hosts states people from other nations, is also on the grounds of the Park. Tours available every day, except when we have our international guests.

And here too, is the American ambassador’s bolthole, just a short trot from the American Embassy in the city.

It was late evening when we arrived. A little too late, unfortunately, to pop in on Michael D., the Ambassador or any international guests.  But perfect for an evening run. The place was nicely busy with cyclists, rollerskaters, strollers so you also get a sense of being part of a big, active group.

Sight of the Day has to go to the young family we spotted out for a stroll. A five year old, his parents and two double buggies. Yes, two, with twins in one and well, I couldn’t be sure if the second one was twins or siblings and Teen Girl was already embarrassed enough by my staring. So I just had to run on. And wonder at the marathon efforts it must take to manage that merry troupe.

The run? Well, just two miles of dashing around, stopping to take a pic and dashing off again. Since these efforts were cringe-worthy in Teen Girl’s book, she contented herself by doing her own thing.

Meanwhile, I’ve made a promise to return to the Park for a longer run. It’s the scene of a ten mile run in August and if I push beyond that 8.75 mile Sunday run, I just might make it.