“Stay committed to your decisions, but stay flexible in your approach.”
Tony Robbins

Have you ever had the feeling that you have taken something on you’re not quite ready to handle?

One way of avoiding the lottery system to access the Dublin Marathon is to register for next year’s, once you’ve finished the current one.

That’s what I did last year. It seemed a save bet. Nearly 11 months of time to prepare really well and to feel good about it.

Then came my plantar fasciitis in the spring that took forever to recede to a point where it became even bearable.

When October, and with it the date of the Dublin Marathon, approached, my training had been – let’s call it: inadequate.

Real doubts began to settle in at the registration the night before last Sunday. The RDS was filled with terribly fit people who couldn’t wait for the big day.

When I looked at the route and realised how long these 42k were, I asked myself whether the sensible thing to do would be to just face the facts of my age and level of fitness and pack it in, to leave this race to those who were able for it.

But then I thought: I have signed up to this. So I will finish it. Not in a time to shout about, but in time.

What changed was not the decision to participate, but the approach to the race.

What sustained me during those long hours from start to finish was the picture in my mind of this pint we were going to have at the end, having crossed the finishing line. All pain would go away and be replaced by an enormous sense of achievement and satisfaction.

There were times during the race when even the prospect of a cold Guinness waiting for me at the end didn’t quite do the trick. There were times of doubt. Absolute exhaustion. Pain. But with each step, the distance between myself and the end became shorter. To a point where I was sure it was now short enough for me to make it.

To my amazement, it worked. Both finishing, and having this wonderful pint in the best of possible companies.

Now I have time to prepare really well for the Hamburg Marathon in April and, perhaps, even for Dublin next October.

During the week, we celebrated Samhain or Halloween in An Saol. Pumpkin cutting. Costumes. Skeletons. Scary sounds and all. There were witches, Rocky the boxer, ghosts, doctors ready to emigrated to Australia, famous sports people, and the ever-present Mexican.

Pádraig continued his online sessions with Kay Coombes of ARCOS and Facial Oral Tract Therapy (F.O.T.T.) fame. It is amazing what can be done over a distance of hundreds of kilometres. In fact, any distance, using technology that people only talked about during COVID and that has now nearly become part of every-day life. I am not aware how widely it is being used to deliver therapy. In Pádraig’s case, he has benefitted enormously from Kay’s incredible knowledge and experience. As the sessions are being recorded, even people not present can pick up ideas and learn by reviewing them.

Since we started, Pádraig’s posture, positioning, breathing, and voice production have improved considerably. He is trying out new positions. We are learning to observe and help him where needed. This is about subtle, at times minimal, changes in movement or position which make huge differences to him.

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Yesterday, we were on our way to Cork, on the train, to join a double birthday celebration of one of Pádraig’s great friends. Since my nearly daily train commute to Limerick now more than a decade ago, I hadn’t been on the Cork train. And certainly not with Pádraig. A bit of traveling down memory lane.

It was very comfortable. And, in a way, very re-assuring, to see that Irish Rail’s system of checking tickets hadn’t changed: the conductor just requires a red biro.

In their case, they not only stay committed to their service, they also stay committed to their approach of non-reliance on error-prone high tech. As long as they have access to their red pens, the world keeps spinning ’round. The trains run safely.

We decided to travel using public transport. It’s so much more interesting then just getting in an out of your car. Also so much more fun and adventurous. People are so helpful. Each time we try this we’re surprised how well it works. We might have to juggle Pádraig’s chair around a bit more. We might have to wait a little for the bus. We might have to look for the lift. But, overall, it’s a brilliant experience and so much more social.

And then, there was the birthday party.

It was a demonstration of love and peace and enjoying life – which, after all, ain’t always that bad.

It can even be magic.

I have promised myself to change my approach to training. But I will stay committed to my decision.