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Published: October 28th 2007
And now to the travel part of this Travelblog!
But first...
For those of you who don't know, when I'm not running in foreign lands, I reside in San Diego. As I'm sure you may have heard, shortly before leaving for this trip San Diego caught on fire... Pretty much all of it. It was not cool. I work at the airport in Carlsbad and as such, it was my solemn responsibility to stand in the rain of ash and cinders in my mask and goggles to prep and polish the private jets for the local elite to fly to there second or third homes. As I'm sure you can tell, I'm in no way bitter or resentful about that. We actually had cleaning crews out on the tarmac, cleaning the jets so that they would look really nice as they flew over the acres of burning neighborhoods.
All ranting aside, it was a trippy experience. I spent a few days behind a dust mask on my motorcycle, feeling very Kurt-Russell-Escape-from-LA-y as I scouted out the destruction and offered my limited services to friends and loved ones. For a bit, I was worried that I might not be able to come on this trip but luckily for me, the winds died down and all the incredible fire fighters, inmates and military personnel were able to turn this thing around. As a result, I'm now breathing in the crisp, clean, Guiness scented Dublin air, while inwardly, I chuckle about my coworkers back in the casino-esque cloud of smoke undoubtedly hanging over San Diego.
As for Dublin.... I've now spent two nights in this town and it is quite fantastic. As I'm sure you know, the days leading up to a marathon are very important and it's critical to rest, relax and eat healthy. That's why, on our first night here, we decided to go find a pub and have one, just one, pint to celebrate our arrival. We also decided to do this early as we were jet lagged and desperate to stay up. And so, approximately 4 in the afternoon, we headed out, groggy but excited, ready to feel out this city. Approximately 4 the following morning I, having become separated and severely lost, finally managed to relocate the hotel. The first pub had led to an amazing succession of I don't even know how many pubs and that first pint (as it turns out, the locals are overwhelmingly friendly and seem to have an almost pathological aversion to an empty pint glass) became a number of pints.
Being deeply Irish as I am, I have taken to this society and (to my slight embarassment) its accent rapidly. There are two people on my team who still aren't sure if I'm a teammate or a local who's shall we say "befriended" one of their lady teammates. I've also had three Dubliners call me liar when I told them where I'm from. I'm not sure if I should be proud or ashamed.
The following day was deeply unpleasant and for me, a bit confusing as after returning to the hotel, I was anable to remember my room number and wound up bunking with some people I'd met the previous morning. I took it very easy that day, knowing that the morning to follow would be our Breakfast Run (an international event leading up to the marathon in which we all run 3 or so miles and then eat breakfast while watching Irish step dancers and listening to pipe heavy music.
Knowing I had to do that this morning, I played it very low key yesterday. At about 8, I think we were all ready to pack it in, but instead we decided to go to this nearby pub we'd been told of to try a blackberry cider (7% by volume). Betrayed again by Dublin, I found myself far from home at about midnight having a delightful conversation with a local girl and her incomprehensible boyfriend from further north, who was introduced to me as "a gnarly scumbag". I shook his hand and tried to introduce myself but she interrupted with "Oh, don't do that, now ye've got it on yeh." Looking back I realize I never did get his name.
We got up this morning and walked all across Dublin to get to this breakfast run. Got there just as it was starting and happily enough, spent the whole thing at the front of the pack. Tonight's goals include not allowing myself to believe that you can go out for "just one pint" and actually sleeping in a bed. Tomorrow morning, the marathon, and after that, most likely a steep downhill slide of debauchery and drunkeness. Trust me, I'm no happier about it than you are, but in a city of gnarly scumbags and ifectiously lilting accents, I really have no proper defense. Wish me luck, and if I still have enough functional fingers after tomorrows chicanery, I'll tell you about that too.
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Devbo
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ashamed.
I adore and loathe you in equal amounts