Galway

An artist’s depiction of me mid-run.

Let me just be clear from the outset, I despise running. I’m not averse to pegging it after a bus, or chasing a ball around a football field, but to my mind running in those cases is part of something, a means to an end. But, running from point A to point B, and turning back again? Taxi!

Be that as it may, I’ve heard tell that it’s quite beneficial in the whole health and fitness area, so yesterday I made a late New Year’s resolution to get out there and start pounding the pavement. My housemate decided he’d do the same, which led us to the events of yesterday evening…

Now, Blue Monday may not have been the best day to start a New Year’s resolution, but by the end of our exertions it was certainly apt in my case, as my face had turned blue from a combination of the cold and the lack of oxygen.

In the little research I did yesterday afternoon before we set off, I was led to understand that your warm-up is crucial. I probably should have read on, because I’m starting to feel that the running website didn’t mean stand in front of the fire for 5 minutes before you set off.

Apparently, it’s also important to have your route clearly mapped out in your head before you set off. Visualisation technique and all that. Ha! Not so for myself and my housemate. We walked out the door, shrugged our shoulders and set off towards Salthill. I for one was convinced Salthill was a mere 2km from our house near Sally Longs pub, but having checked it post-run, it turns out to be 4. Which means the nice easy distance we thought we were undertaking was actually doubled. An 8k run probably isn’t the recommended starting point for a fitness programme!

The first leg of the run was unproblematic. We flew along the river path as far as Spanish Arch. I kept thinking, “This ain’t so bad!”. We stopped for some stretches. My housemate actually did some. I shadowboxed. We set off again, and suddenly it was as if I was sliding backwards. My housemate was getting further and further away from me. He reached Knocknacarra a good minute or two before I did. He stopped to “stretch again”, but I think he was just concerned that I had fallen down a hole or had turned around and went home. Both were viable in fairness.

I sat down for a second after stretching. Not recommended. It was hard to get back up. When we pushed off again, it was the same story. My housemate was off like a bullet and I was left picking my way through the crowds of people out walking and jogging. I thought to myself, “Pah! New Year’s resolution saps! The weak among ye will be weeded out within weeks”. And then, “What excuse can I give my housemate so I never have to do this again?”

My housemate was out of sight at this stage. He smokes. Passing the aquarium I found myself wishing I smoked so I could have an excuse for my abysmal run. I was actually making involuntary yelping noises the last 5oo metres. A pack of stray dogs was following me, thinking I was a bitch in heat. Down by the famous diving board I caught up with my housemate. Well, by catching up with him I mean he’d stopped. He’d been there two minutes and was ready to go again. No Saving Private Ryan heroics here, I told him to head on home, I needed a breather. Being honest, I needed an oxygen tank.

Smug, gloating little….

Now you might not believe me, but I tried to run a fast time home. I really did. But there was a young girl, maybe 9 years old, who passed me out. And passing me out wasn’t enough for this sadistic jezebel, oh no! She ran on a few hundred metres, stopped to “tie her laces” until I had passed her out again. Then when I had gone on a few hundred metres, she’d sail past me again. Kids these days… Out running when they could be eating fast food or playing computer games.

Feeling woof.

Somewhere along the way home, I passed a kindred spirit. There was a dog who sounded like he was coughing up a hairball. He looked like how I felt.

I power walked the last 500 metres home. Power here is a relative term. The alternative was standby mode, where I’d just plonk myself on the nearest convenient bench and hail a taxi.

My housemate had showered and eaten by the time I fell in the door.

And the mental thing is that I plan to do it all again tomorrow. Turns out running is addictive!

Note: This article would have been written last night, but my laptop was upstairs in my room, and after the run, stairs were an issue. I slept on the couch.

photos: wikimedia commons

Dead Cat Bounce
Galway Bulmers Comedy Festival
Roisín Dubh
27th October 2011
First Published November 1st in Sin Newspaper

Ruck and Roll, Baby!
Never arrive late to a comedy gig. There will invariably be two seats left directly in front of the stage which you and whoever is accompanying you will have to take. Oh, and never bring a friend who thinks it is ok to go out in what appear to be his pyjamas in public – this will attract unwanted attention from hungry comedians. Without making reference to his size, (he does enough of that himself) Karl Spain was one very hungry MC on the night. He immediately devoured my dubiously dressed friend, and took a minute to savour the poor girl unfortunate enough to have one of those laughs. You know the one: the Peppa Pig laugh. “Do you do that all the time? I’m only asking because that’s the first time I’ve made a woman make a noise in a long time.” Spain warmed up the crowd so they were in a party mood by the time Dead Cat Bounce, ehhh…. bounced onto the stage at 10pm. The festivities were enhanced by the appearance of local favourite John Donnellan in between.

Dead Cat Bounce is a Wall Street term which signifies a slight increase in stock prices after a severe slump. It is regarded as a mere gradual upward blip. Dead Cat Bounce is also a three piece Dublin comedy rock band. Comprising of three Trinity College graduates; bassist Shane O’Brien, James Walmsley on guitar and vocals, and “comedy drummer” Damien Fox (it says so on his business card). The band’s career could hardly be more dissimilar to the term from which they derive their name. It hasn’t been a gradual upward blip, but rather an explosion to prominence in Irish comedy circles since their appearances on RTE2’s Republic of Telly last year.

The set list reads like something you’d find scratched on padded walls in institutes. ‘Overenthusiastic Contraceptive Lady’ is a song Durex wouldn’t like to get too popular, as it might have an effect on sales. “I just want your lovin’ girl, I don’t want your babies, so I promise to aim for your chest,” is but one of the lines from this song which had the audience rolling around beneath the bar stools. More guffaws for ‘Outsized Orthopaedic Shoe,’ an epic tale of friendship between a man with one leg shorter than the other, and his shoe. ‘Christians in Love’ portrays the carnal adventures of a newlywed couple “getting to know each other” for the first time. “Like a chimpanzee at a buffet car, they’re just grabbing at things before they know what they are, and seeing if they can fit them in their mouths”. The girl with the unfortunate laugh has reached unprecedented decibel levels by the end of this song, and many other audience members are in tears of laughter.

However the biggest cheer of the night is reserved for the lads’ most well known song, ‘Rugby’. The video for this ditty is on YouTube and is well worth a watch or ten, featuring as it does Brent Pope and the mulleted one, former Irish hooker Shane Byrne. The song calls into question the heterosexuality of rugby, with such insightful lines as “we’re fooling the world that there’s nothing sexual, in a ball shaped like a giant testicle”. This gig was rucking brilliant.

Keane Observer

Running Man

Sex, Rugby, and Orthopedic Shoes!