Sligo and N. Ireland, and then I'm done.

I swear.

After galway, we stayed for a night in Sligo, just south of Donegal.  Sligo is also the birth and resting place of W. B. Yeats, if thats your thing.  Also, don't pronouce Yeats "Yeets" because Irish people will not hesitate to correct you, (as Matt learned the hard way.)

Sligo was full of rainbows, and oysters!  Matt and I ended up sneaking away from my family one night to stuff our faces with oysters at Yeats Tavern.  Normally, i wash my oysters down with a dirty martini, but they had never heard of it, so i had to settle for wine instead.

Our B&B had a stunning view of Ben Bulben, a natural plateau which i totally intend to hike up next time we are there.  After leaving Sligo, we headed up to Northern Ireland.  My mom never got to visit before because of the conflict, so we wanted to take advantage.  We drove along the causeway passage, which is basically a beautiful coastal road.  We stopped at Mussenden temple so that i could chase some sheep, and Matt could take 3,000 more pictures.  (I didn't really chase the sheep.  It started raining, so i started running through the field and it startled all of them.)

Mussenden's temple was ok, but i liked the sea view better.

 

After the temple, i was starving as always.  We stopped in Bushmills, the most beautiful little town ever, and a nice lady at a cafe made me a cheese toastie.  (so much cooler to say than grilled cheese, which is a blatant lie if you think about it)  After lunch, we went to bushmills distillery for a tour and tasting.

If you are in Ireland, skip The Jameson tour - but the Bushmills tour is a MUST!  Its the oldest licensed distillery in the world - operating since 1608!  A huge fire destroyed most of the distillery about 100 years ago, but they rebuilt, and that is what stands today.  This tour actually takes you through the warehouse to see how whiskey is made, bottled, and distributed, as well as the aging warehouse, filled to the rafters with barrels of whiskey.  So awesome.  You also drink both before and after the tour, which is smart, because by the time i left, i was drunk enough to buy a very nice bottle of whiskey to bring home.

We left Bushmills and raced to see Giant's Causeway before the sun set.  It was quite the race, and Matt and i ended up running close to a mile, fairly drunk on whisky, in order to make it to the hexagonal volcanic rocks.  These geometric rocks formed naturally, and are staggered along the coast in one small area.  It was unlike anything i have seen before.  We got to watch the sun set, and then spent our last night in a little B&B before flying back in the morning!

Obviously, this is the extremely abridged version of our trip as i don't want to bore you, but i would highly recommend both the Dublin Marathon, or just about any part of Ireland to anyone - Its a great place to visit, and I am already plotting to return!

Thrill-seeking and the west coast (of Ireland, obvi.)

We only spent one night in Dingle, and i think that was one of my biggest mistakes of the whole trip.  I loved it there.  Matt and I went for a very hilly run through the bay, and stopped to look at sheep.  I really wanted to go to the Dingle Brewing Co tour, but the brewery had really weird hours in the off season.  I will be back.  Oh yes, i will be back. 

Our next stop was Bunratty, which wasn't far, so we did some sight seeing on the Dingle Peninsula.

This road side statue caught my attention, apparently it was there when my mom was visiting 30 years ago!

We did some shopping in Bunratty, but didn't have time to visit the castle there, so we just admired it from afar.

We also drove through Kilarney National Park, but it rained the whole time, and i was displeased.  We had to stop for an hour while Matt photographed a stupid waterfall, so my brother and I started goofing around.

After Bunratty, we drove up to the Cliffs of Moher.  Everyone told me it was the most beautiful place and i HAD to go there.  It was beautiful, but i won't lie - it was touristy.  Even in the off season, it was so crowded you couldn't get a picture without some random Italian teenager in the picture.  So, i did what any American would do, i illegally hopped a fence with Matt, and we followed a cow trail along the edge of the cliffs for about half a mile so that we could get some pictures!

Sign?  I don't see a sign.

Matt stopped to take a picture of some cows whose space we were invading.

And so did I! (Look how close she is to the edge!!)

After the cliffs of Moher, we arrived in Galway, and it proceeded to hail the entire time.  So, we made lemonade out of lemons and got drunk at Tig Coili, a trad pub.

Which might not have been our best idea, seeing as how Matt and i were going to climb Crough Patrick (Mount Patrick) in the morning.

Croagh Patrick is a pilgrimage site, so Catholics from all over the country travel there to climb to the top, where St. Patrick supposedly fasted for 40 days, and built a little church.  (You have a lot of free time when you don't eat for 40 days, i suppose)  Aside from the ruins of St. Patrick's church, They built a little modern church at the top, and hold services twice a year.  On these two days, 10's of thousands of devout catholics will make the pilgrimage, sometimes barefoot and shirtless.  The day we went was just a random Saturday, but apparently there are pilgrims 365 days a year, so we weren't alone.  

I will never know why we would think a pilgrimage would be a fun Saturday afternoon.  About a quarter way up, we stopped to check the view, and it was so beautiful we decided to carry on.

We were stopped about half way up by a medic crew, who advised us to turn our American asses around because we were dressed like morons.  Apparently jeans and nike rain jackets are not appropriate hiking gear.  The weather had been a rain/sleet mix with gale force winds, and the suggested we might not be able to handle it.  Naturally, we ignored the warning, and continued on.  Our main reasoning was that obviously, you don't hike all the way to the snow capped top.  For the record, you totally have to go all the way to the snow cap.  We began to realize this when everyone around us were suited up in snow pants, boots, and heavy winter coats.  
Not only were we the only Americans, we were the only people under 50.  Apparently, young people have no appreciation for pilgrimages these days.  As we neared the top, the sleet became snow, the wind picked up, and the terrain became a vertical sheet of ice with a smattering of loose, melon size rocks.  Every time you put your foot down, rocks would shift, and you would start to slide.  Luckily, the 50mph winds helped to keep you upright.  As we neared the very top, everything became hazy, and you couldn't see in front of you, or behind you, and I proceeded to have an anxiety attack.  

This was all i could see.

I became hysterical, because i couldn't see any other pilgrims, and i assumed they were smart enough to turn around because the weather was SO bad.  I was convinced Matt and I would die up here, wearing our blue jeans, and they would make a TV movie about us.  I wondered if Emma Stone would be available to play me.....

Then a woman in her 50's came up to us, passed us, and said, "you know, the top is only about 100 meters from here...."  Ouch.  We followed her to the top, and found about 8 other people just hanging out in the blizzasterous conditions.  The woman was nice enough to take our picture, because my hands were frozen by this point from not wearing gloves....

Is this the resting place of St. Patrick?  No idea.

The little church that St. Patrick built.

On the way down, it was even scarier.  I kept sliding and falling.  There was an 80 year old man with a cane next to us, with his 60 year old son helping him.  They were joking, and laughing, and having the best time.  He was so grateful that he could still walk to make the pilgrimage, and that was incredibly humbling.  I was still visibly in panic mode, mumbling about wanting to live, and another older gentleman asked me if the bar at the top was still serving drinks, which made me laugh out loud despite my terror.  I am not a catholic, or religious, but i still found this pilgrimage to be extremely spiritual, and i have great respect for all the people making it.  Eventually, the descent got easier, and finally we left the haze, and i could see again.  At the bottom, we found a sign with instructions on what to do if you panic near the top of the mountain, so apparently, i am not the only one.  

Did i mention that morning they had a dualathalon that involved ascending and descending most of the mountain?
Seriously, the Irish are so hardcore.

I was going to talk about Sligo as well, but this seems like a lot of pictures for one post, so tomorrow i will wrap up with Sligo and Northern Ireland!

The southwest region of Ireland

After the marathon, we hit the road early the next morning.  We had a lot of driving to do, which is good, seeing as how my whole body was suffering post marathon, and my two big toenails were as black as the night sky, with one threatening to fall off.  (spoiler: the little guy is still hanging in there.  Still black as could be though.)

Our first stop was the rock of Cashel.

It was really cold that day, so i watched the hour long history of the rock of cashel just to enjoy the heated room, but low and behold, it was actually interesting.  You can actually see the ornamentation change in some of the additions that occurred during and post the plagues.  Hence the dark, creepy little faces.  Apparently, the black death was a sad and depressing time.  Who would have thought?

After that, we headed down to Cork, which was sadly plagued by traffic construction.  We took a ferry to the town of Cobh, where the titanic made its last stop before the whole unfortunate meeting with an iceberg.

While we were in Cobh, we got the first news that hurricane Sandy was worse than expected.  We stopped in a bar and watched the news for a while, and i was stunned.  I was worried for my friends in New York, and had no way to contact anyone, and the 5 minutes of internet time i had in the morning i had wasted to blab about something as insignificant as a marathon.  Luckily, a few days later i was able to confirm the safety of my friends, who all pulled through the hurricane like champs.

*a note.  while the number one thing people in ireland wanted to ask me about was the election, multiple people showed concern over Sandy, and when i would say i was from Chicago, they would ask if Chicago survived the hurricane (obviously, the scale of our country is sometimes underestimated.) Luckily, i was confident Chicago had survived.  

After Cork, we headed towards the ring of Kerry, with a stop at a little church in the middle of no where (and i mean NOWHERE) called Gougane Barra.

The church is on a little island, and you walk over a bridge to get to it.  There was no one for miles around.  We were greeted by two sheep dogs from a nearby farm that seemed very excited to see us, and escort us to the church.  We went inside and lit some candles for family members who never got to make the journey home (not that my family is from Cork, they were from Co. Louth!) 
Gougane Barra was way off the beaten path, but it was by far one of my favorite sites.  It was so beautiful, and peaceful, and sheltered from all the bad things in the world.  

It was hard to pull me away from Gougane Barra, but the excitement of dodging sheep on a dirt road helped console me.  We made our way to the ring of Kerry and set out for the Atlantic Ocean!  When we finally saw it, i made Matt stop the car so that my brother and i could run out on the rocky beach - he had never seen the ocean before!

Our destination was Dingle, but we took our time as it was the most beautiful and scenic drive i have ever taken.  I highly recommend the ring of kerry if you like road trippin!

And then we made it to Dingle :)

Next up - Shannon, Galway and Sligo!

The Dublin Marathon!

Where to even begin!!

We got to Ireland at about 8am after an overnight flight.  I couldn't sleep at all on the flight but multiple people told me that the best thing would be to do everything i could to stay awake all day so that i could get a good nights sleep.  We couldn't check into the hotel until 3, so we decided to leave our bags and head to the race expo!  A local told us it wasn't far and we could just walk it.  So we did.

It wasn't far, i suppose in the grand scheme of things but it was about 3 miles.  Probably not the best pre-race prep.  We walked it, and then walked around the expo for a bit.  It wasn't nearly massive as Chicago, but it was a fair size!

We started to walk back, and i began to become very lightheaded from not eating or drinking anything. We ended up stopping at a pub and convincing them to make me a grilled cheese sandwich.  When we got up to leave, both my calves started intensely hurting.  Maybe from the flight, maybe from the lack of water, who knows.  We still had 2 hours to kill before we could go to the hotel, so we checked out some museums.  When we finally checked in, i was so miserable i had to sleep at least a little bit, so i took an hour nap.  After regrouping, i forced everyone to wake up (no easy task) so that we could get some dinner, and go to the musical pub crawl!  (Thanks for the reco, Cary!!)  Being sleep deprived and hungry made me very cranky with everyone around me.  I ended up getting some delicious seafood soup (something i would have a lot of the whole trip!)  and ate probably half a loaf of brown bread.  I sampled my first overseas guinness, and then it was time for music!

Walking around Dublin and listening to trad music was a great way to spend our first night!

The next morning i woke up, got out of bed, and immediately fell to the ground.  Both my calves were in knots, and it was too painful to even walk.  Obviously, a marathon was not in my future.  Matt and i tried to massage the knots out, but it hurt so bad, and i just got upset.  We ended up going to pick up the car so that we could drive around, and not ruin everyone else's day.  We decided to drive up to New Grange - an ancient pagan grave site just north of Dublin.  On the way, we stopped and bought gatorade and an entire bunch of bananas.  I spent the whole car ride hydrating and eating an inhuman amount of bananas in a desperate attempt to make my legs work again.  New Grange was beautiful, and luckily involved very little limping around, as a bus drives you to the site. 

After that, i had gotten us tickets to a Bram Stoker street performance at Dublin Castle.  I have never seen anything like it before, but it was breathtaking.  I don't even know how to describe it other than "spooky"

We got a nightcap, and then headed back to the hotel.  It's important to mention that the hotel i booked happened to be right next a night club.  And since Monday was a bank holiday, that baby was pumping until about 5am.  Who needs sleep, right?

And then came race day.

I woke up, and my calves still hurt, but i could at least walk around.  Matt and i debated if i should even do the race, but in the end decided that i paid for it, i would be a great tour of Dublin, and the 8 hour time limit was more than accommodating.  I decided to just go and try to enjoy the sights.  Our hotel was less than a half mile from the start (which was at 9am anyway!) so i had plenty of time.  We casually walked over with some other people staying in the same hotel, all of which were complaining about the night club.  

I said goodbye to Matt (my family chose to sleep in) and entered my section.  With 14,000 runners, I think this is a perfect sized race.  It was big and exciting, but my anxiety was in check.  I never felt crowded, and actually fed off the energy.  It didn't hurt that the weather was perfect - about 50 degrees and drizzly.  Matt tried to catch me as I started, but i was obviously moving too fast to be photographed.  He did catch the elites though!

Right behind ya, boys!

One weird thing about this marathon was the male to female ratio.  I feel like in the US, it's about 50/50.  Maybe even more women sometimes.  Not here.  More like 90/10.  It was a little lonely as a female.  A bit intimidating too as everyone around me shot out fast, and i just trucked along keeping my calf in check.  I think every runner may have passed me in the first mile, some of them i think passed me twice (?!?!?!)

Miles 1-3:  Just warming up.  My calves hurt, but i was able to shuffle along.  There were crowds and the time passed very quickly.

Miles 4-7: We enter Phoenix Park, and pass the zoo.  The pain disappears (or i just don't notice it)  The crowds are sparse, and i am happy.  All the men around me start snot-rocketing, and i am overjoyed.  I snot-rocket as well, and feel like i fit in.

Miles 8-12:  Apparently 4-7 were uphill?  I had no idea.  Mile 8 is downhill, and i clock an 8:30 mile?? Holy crap.  I slow myself down, but am feeling great.  Then i meet heartbreak hill #1 at mile 9.  I am sure to some people it wasn't a big deal, but it was about the same size as the hill in fort 2 base, for a point of reference, only maybe a little longer because of the winding road.

Miles 13-16: Kind of boring and uneventful, but i am pain free.  I find a pack of 3 women running, and tuck in behind them.  Then another girl tucks in next to me.  And another.  We had a pack of 8 at one point, and every one started shouting "go ladies!!"


**I just realized i skipped 17.  Obviously not a memorable mile.

Miles 18-21: Heartbreak hills 2 and 3.  Two was at 18, (i think) and wasn't terrible, but the one at mile 21 was very steep, and i wanted to scream at everyone.  That was just too much suck for mile 21.  I passed a dead red fox on the side of the road at mile 19.  A sure omen of what was to come.

Miles 22-24: All downhill!  It was a nice break from the hills.  I started to wonder where my family would be....

Miles 25 and 26:  I am tired.  I am cranky.  But i am on pace to run a 4:10 marathon, so i freaking deal with it, and then it happens.  Someone shoots me in the calf.  Okay, no one shot me.  But it felt like it.  The calf just seized up and i couldn't move.  I actually thought i tore something.  I limped to the side, and everyone is yelling at me to keep moving and i don't care.  Everything got blurry and i felt that familiar fainting feeling and by god i did not want to collapse at yet another marathon.  A nice woman came over to me and put her arm on my shoulder and said "not here.  You are so close - just move forward."  So i did.  Slowly.  I limped.  Then i shuffled.  Then everything got blurry and i limped again.  There was a man next to me whose knee had gone out, so we both shuffled along together.  My family was no where to be seen.  I just kept telling myself that there were no more races this year.  

Mile .2:  Finally, we hit the last stretch of 200 meters, covered with green carpeting, and i cranked it up to a blazing 11 minute mile limp.  Damn, i'm good.  I got to the finish line, and i couldn't cross it, because there was a pile of people.  Seriously.  Everyone was collapsing at the finish line.  And what amazed me was that rather than barrel through to shave a few seconds off their time, those that were finishing in a better condition were stopping to help them, pick them up, walk them to waiting med tents.  It just amazed me that so many people ran so hard that they literally collapsed on the finish line (although to be honest, i thought about just laying down right there.  I really did) But it amazed me more that anyone who was still upright went out of their way to help them.  I have heard so many stories about races here where people are pummeled, pushed, tripped, and knocked over in the final stretch by someone trying to shave 3 seconds off their time.  Not the case here. Its not really about your time.  Sadly, i was unable to pick up anyone.  I actually made it 3 feet over the finish line and had to just lay there a minute and try to make the world stop spinning.  It did, and i eventually went to get my t-shirt and medal.

The one downside about this race, and i knew this going into it, is that they only order a set number of t-shirts in each size, and they are unisex, and obviously, the small's are the first to go.  My only mission was to get a size small t-shirt, and by god, i got one of the last ones.  I ran a 4:18 marathon, and only barely got a shirt in my size.  People there are fast.  Real fast.  

I never saw Matt or my family.  They were expecting me to run much slower because of my calves, and had missed my finish.  Matt got some pics of later finishers though:

They ran the whole race with their legs tied together...

The worst part about missing my family?  They had all my clothes and money.  I had to limp back to the hotel alone in a soaking wet tank top in the freezing cold.  It was horrible.  I begged the hotel to make me another key to our room, and i looked so pathetic that they obliged.  I took this finisher photo of myself.

I laid in the hot shower for 30 minutes trying to warm up, and then curled up in bed with tea until they all got back.  We ended up eventually going to o'donoghue's for some victory pints!

I had two and half pints and was drunk as a skunk.  The best part was that we weren't alone.  There was a table of marathoners that had been there for over six hours, drinking, and still in their race clothes!  

I have a lot of work to do!

I loved this race.  Despite its difficulty, it was so fun, and the people are SO friendly.  I would recommend it to anyone, and one day - i will run it again.  I can see why people run this year after year.  I will think twice though, before making an international race my goal race.  I don't travel much, and the jet lag hit me hard, as well as muscle cramping and dehydration from the plane and lack of sleep.  Maybe people who travel alot get used to it though.  Either way, i regret nothing, and i feel like i ran a great race, had a great time, and did not embarrass America.

Next up - Cork, Dingle, and the ring of Kerry!