GRIT Plyo & CXWorx

DOMS_CartoonHave you ever noticed how you come across something for the first time and then within days the same thing crops up in several Facebook/Instagram posts? Is it that you never noticed it before and now do, or is it something newish that is gaining traction, possibly as a direct result of new year’s resolutions? Who knows? So it was for me this week with the term DOMS (Delayed Onset Muscles Soreness). Never heard of it a week ago. Now it’s everywhere- including in my lower back, butt, thighs and shoulders. Oh yes, not only have I learned a new acronym, and noticed several social media posts from people complaining about it, but I’m living it. In fact, I would say that yesterday, I was hobbling it. Now I have had this before. I just didn’t know it had its own dinky name.

This week’s affliction is a result of back-to-back Grit Plyo and CXWorx sessions (30 mins each) after a two week break. I love these classes but unfortunately there are very few of them on offer so generally I do them twice a month – yes they run weekly but I don’t always make them. I have on occasion run 10km before GRIT though not recently. And I’ve never felt stiff or sore afterwards. I haven’t looked like the people in the videos either mind you. However, this week marked a new version of both classes so I guess that change-up/out was enough to leave me two and three days later with DOMS or as I think of it ‘feeling like an 80-year-old’. Actually, I really hope I feel fitter than I have the past few days if I make it to 80!

DOMS aside, if you’re new year’s resolution is to go to the gym more – or at all – I think GRIT and CXWorx are the perfect compliment to running. H.I.I.T plyometric routines in the former boost athletic performance, and core strengthening is the main focus of the latter. Both really give the whole body a good old work out (so my good old body has been telling me for three days) but are only 30 mins each.

I’m hoping that by tomorrow I’ll feel supple and energetic enough to do parkrun. And then next week, to go to the gym again. It’s got to be easier second time around, right?

 

Running Ambitions for 2016

In 2015, I sucked. As a blogger, I sucked. Fifteen posts. Hardly enough to to qualify as a blogger. AMBITION #1. Write weekly. Not because the running world needs me to, but because when I’m not being creative, I’m miserable. Except when running, but given that it’s physiologically impossible to run constantly, a blog post or so every week about running, seems like a more viable recipe for joy.

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In 2015, I had a fantastic running year, with many great races, most of which surpassed my expectations in terms of experience and results. I also avoided injury despite running 2355km, and achieving personal best times in 10km and 21.1km races. As my love affair with running has deepened (one November blip in the romance aside), so has my desire to spread that love. I want everyone in the entire universe (with functioning legs) to experience the joys of running. I want everyone to speak the language of pace, Strava, and blackened toe nails. Running is a journey that nurtures both my brain and my ageing body; it has also introduced me to many fantastic people who are equally in the thrall of placing one foot in front of the other for swathes of time every week. Running makes me feel alive, and powerful in the face of my inevitable mortality. In September, I qualified as an Accredited Athletics Coach Level 1. Basically, this means that I can coach kids at Little Athletics. Ultimately, I’d like to be able to coach adults who want to take up running, resume running, or attain a particular running goal.  AMBITION#2 Qualify as a Recreational Running Coach Level 2.

Then there’s the biggie. I have never had any desire to run a marathon. I’ve found each of my eleven half marathons challenging enough. I’ve been of the opinion, since starting running four years ago, that training for a 42.195km race would be too arduous, too time consuming, too likely to leave me injured and unable to run at all. It would also place too much pressure to succeed at one event. Basically, I haven’t wanted to take the risk. But now, suddenly, I do. I absolutely do want to take the risk of training for and running for my first (possibly only) marathon in 2016, aged 45. Of course, I do. Having warded off injury for 18 months, why not antagonise the Gods of tendons, muscles and ligaments? Why be grateful when you can say I want to do even more?! I happened to be out running by the sea,  feeling strong and happy, when this new resolve to test my body to its limits hit me. Unlike many of the ideas I’ve had while pounding the pavement, this one didn’t lose its lustre once I’d showered. In fact, several weeks on, and I’m pretty excited about the idea – which of course makes sense as I haven’t actually started training, and my targeted event – Perth Marathon – is over five months away. Loadsa time yet to get real. And scared. AMBITION #3 Train for Perth Marathon 2016 (see what I did there? Train, not run? I’m not even assuming I’ll make it to the start line. Best keep expectations low!) Of course, this means that for another year, there isn’t a hope in hell of being able to have a professional pedicure but big ambitions require tough choices – and having ten healthy toe nails simultaneously is an ambition too far.

IMG_2838Finally, I’ve become a parkrun enthusiast. I’ve met so many great people at parkrun, and I once again feel that I’ve found my tribe (having tearfully bid farewell to the previous one in KL in 2014). I’ve run in five different parkrun locations, including my home town Kilkenny, Ireland, and I’ve brought my three children into the parkrun family both as runners and volunteers. AMBITION#4 Run my 50th parkrun in 2016 (only 28x5km more to go!) and earn my volunteer shirt (16 more vollie stints to go). All this is a tad over-ambitious, more so even that the marathon, but hey if you don’t set goals, you can’t hope to attain them, so let’s see how this goes.

So, there it is. Running ambitions for 2016, above and beyond staying healthy and injury-free, something one should never take for granted, at any age. Ultimately, it won’t matter if I achieve any of these lofty ambitions. The true achievement will be in trying. How about you? Ready for 2016?

Lesson 1326 – NEVER EAT FISH & CHIPS THE NIGHT BEFORE A RACE

 

IMG_2956.JPGThe thing is that I was over hungry. A soccer club committee meeting had gone over time and lunch had been on the light side so that by 18:30, I was starving. Perhaps if I hadn’t eaten quite so many chips, I’d have been fine. Anyway, it turned out to be far too big an ask to digest oodles of starch deep-fried in oil while simultaneously trying to sleep before arising at 5:20 for my last WAMC event of 2015. They say that the hard work is in getting to the start line. Well for this even that certainly was the case! This morning, as I nibbled on my pre-race toasted muffin, feeling strangely unhungry, and listened to the rumblings of a tummy that had been audible all night throughout strange dreams including the usual can’t find the start line/my shoes/both race panic dream, I knew I wasn’t going to see any start line or finish line today. It was a shame because I knew the route – 8km between City Beach and Floreat- by heart as it’s one of my regular training routes. Still, an hour after I should have crossed the finish line, I can still hear chips gurgling through my system so je ne regrette pas returning to bed instead of lacing up my shoes. I do however regret eating two tonnes of starch and lard last night. And missing the race. Lesson learned. Enjoy the sunset without the fries. Hopefully there’s always next year to run the City Beach 8km race – and stick to pre-race pasta.IMG_2949.JPG

Cover Girl Interview

IMG_2727A couple of weeks back I opened the December issue of Runner’s World (Au & NZ) to see a photo taken in Fremantle six months ago at the launch of On My Feet•. I was in the photo, ergo I was in Runner’s World. It’s a tenuous claim to fame but I’ll take it. It was a tad ironic that this happened just a few days after I had my major falling out with running. Really I only opened the magazine in the airport newsagents because I was bored, and I’m too old and cynical to be lured by women’s glossies hollering at me on how to change my life – FOR THE BETTER! Instead, I wondered if I my running malaise extended to articles on post-run snacks and classic running mistakes (& how to avoid them). It did, it turns out.

So I posted a photo of the magazine feature and cover on Instagram. The model featured on the front – her name is Joyce – contacted me asking if I could send her a photograph of the cover. I couldn’t resist asking Joyce how she ended up on the cover. I know a lot of runners, but I’m pretty sure I’ve never come in contact, even virtual contact, with any that look like her. I was curious if she actually was a runner or if genetics had bestowed her with the appearance of the idealised runner’s body, as opposed to the real thing. Here’s my email interview with Joyce who is Dutch and in her twenties.

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Joyce’s Runner’s World cover.

ER: Do you actually run?

Joyce: In my free time I run once or twice a week. I like to run short distances. So I don’t run more then 10km. Besides that, I keep my body strong with power training.

ER: How long have you been modelling?

Joyce: I started modelling when I was 19. My first shoot was a campaign for the sport brand Asics. The following year, I did some other shoots for a sport brand in Holland (Perry Sport). After that I didn’t do so much modelling because I was studying sport education for four years which allowed me to improve at many sports. Every year while studying, I did my internship as a sports teacher at different schools. So as you can hear, I am a sporty person.

When I finished my studies, which was in 2013, I started modelling full time. I travelled to many places e.g. Barcelona, Milan, Athens, Paris, London, Miami and Cape Town.

ER: How did you end up on the cover of Runner’s World Australia & New Zealand?

Joyce: I did the shoot for Runner’s World magazine in Cape Town. I worked a half day with a great team. They save all the pictures of me and the other models for one year during which the Runner’s World magazines worldwide can decide which pictures they want to use. So I guess Australia liked my picture, haha:)

It was such a great pleasure to work for Runner’s World, one of the best experiences til now!:)

So there you go. It sounds like Joyce actually does work out a lot. And even more impressively, she wears her claim to fame lightly. Unlike other people who only managed to get their mug in a group shot on page 18 but think it’s worth blogging about. Some people!

On My Fee is a voluntary organisation that aims to use running to help the homeless and long-term unemployed build self esteem and create pathways to training and employment. I manage On My Feet’s social media accounts so you can boost my self-esteem by clicking like on the On My Feet Facebook page and following us on Twitter  @OnMyFeetAus and Instagram @OnMyFeetAu. Thank you:)

Faking it

Two weeks after my falling out with running, two weeks of assuming that any morning now, I’d wake up and have a desperate urge to run, and I’m in danger of becoming a non-runner. After pushing myself to do two short runs on Tuesday and Wednesday, the weekend is sliding by in a very stationary manner. I’m down to 25% of my normal mileage. I’m still wearing running clothes mind you – it turns out that some habits are harder than others to drop. I’m still clicking ‘Going’ on future running events on Facebook too, another habit. But really at the moment I ain’t going anywhere unless it’s in a car or via Netflix.

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I do still want to be a runner, and to some extent recognise that a few weeks’ rest, can’t be a bad thing. However, there is a danger that when I finally snap out of this fug, I discover that my fitness has taken a nose-dive, and end up totally frustrated. Well that IS what’s going to happen if I don’t get out there. So I have a choice: let this passion of mine that has served me so well for the past three and a half years slide into muffin-top, saddle-bag-sporting oblivion, or fake the love until it blossoms again for real.

And I think faking it in new environments, without a training plan, while reminding myself that I’m very lucky not to be injured, is the way back to joy. So, much like someone who hasn’t developed a gym habit but has paid up their membership and really does want to get in shape, I’m going to have to push myself to pound the trail, beach or pavement but without any target pace/distance/performance expectation. I probably should say without a Garmin watch too but come on, who am I kidding?! If it ain’t on Strava, it doesn’t count. Right?

So in the coming week, I am making a promise to myself to ignore the loud voice that urges me back to my computer and the post-breakfast kitchen mess (in that order unfortunately), and directing my car towards Bold Park, Kings Park, or some other goddamn park, or beach, or river path. I’m going to fake it until I make it back to pure running joy.

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When love goes sour

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Dear Running

There’s no easy way of saying this so I’ll be blunt – I think we need a break from each other. Just for a little while. I imagine this comes as a bit of a shock. At least, I didn’t see it coming. Yet, today, I know that if our relationship is to survive for the long-term – and I hope it does- some time apart is essential. I need time. Time to recover from yesterday’s race, time for my glutes, hips and back to relax, time away from you to rekindle what really has been an amazing mid-life romance.

We’ve had a great year! No injuries, ten joyous races, and PBs in 5km, 10km and 21.1.km distances. Until last week, things had never been better between us. Maybe it was the effort of that 5km PB at Champion Lakes parkrun last weekend, or it might have been the half marathon PR I inadvertently set at the WAMC Fremantle Half four weeks back. Or maybe I’m just too old and tired for a full-time commitment. It was probably a combination of these things that turned last week’s short, easy taper runs into drudgery on legs that felt like steel (as in stiff, not strong). Yet, despite these poor training efforts, I thought we’d get through yesterday’s Ironman 70.3 Mandurah race with our love intact. I believed in us. Alas, it wasn’t to be.

The first 10km went according to plan – 49 mins. Then, something went wrong. My legs turned to lead, and took my heavy heart with them. We let each other down. And you know, these things happen. I get that. After all, I’ve been married 17 years, so I know that you’ve got to take the rough with the smooth, but did you have to let me down on such an important event? Did our bust-up have to be the only race where my family stood by the sidelines cheering me on, telling me they loved me and that I was doing really great (when I really, really wasn’t)? Did it have to be the team event where my poor performance cost us a place in the rankings? I know, I know, 5th place is still pretty amazing when you show up vaguely hoping to make the Top 15, and my swimmer and cyclist really couldn’t have been more supportive, but still. Your timing was off – excuse the pun. And telling me that my time (1:52) wasn’t that bad is missing the point too so please stop saying that.

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The point is that I hated you for 11km yesterday. I hated you enough to walk a little bit. Yes, walk! Every step I took was miserable. All those cardio workouts were for nothing; my legs wouldn’t move fast enough to get me out of breath. By the end, I was running slower than an easy training run, and I loathed every step. I watched so many other runners, their mojo intact, their legs springing them across the finish line, and couldn’t help feeling slighted. What had I done wrong? All the time and energy I had invested in our relationship, and for what? To be grateful that at least the ice cubes at every fuel station kept my nausea at bay and I didn’t need to stop at the portaloo? I really thought we’d moved beyond that stage.

I’m going to take a few days rest. I might go for a walk or two. I will probably try a gym session to revive my weary muscles. I will analyse over and over what went wrong between us without much hope of an answer. I will avoid uploading yesterday’s run to my Strava profile until I feel resilient enough to review the graphic representation of our first major argument since we moved to Australia. Today, I honestly feel too fragile.

This morning, for the first time in three and a half years, I actually looked at runners, and felt meh, as if they belonged to another tribe. Ok, so I did go for walk. You can’t expect someone as passionate as I to turn into a total couch potato whatever our difficulties. A girl has her needs. I’m flying to Singapore on thursday for the weekend. I’m hopeful that I’ll feel like taking my Garmin with me. I’m guessing that by Friday, I’ll be checking out Active Wear in Under Armour. Maybe by Saturday, I’ll be missing you enough to get up at 5:30am and do a tropical parkrun, though to be honest, the way I’m feeling today, I think that’s highly unlikely. My Facebook feed (where I won’t change my relationship status – it’s just a break – honest!), so cluttered with running advice and anecdotes, has given me a headache – though this may also be due to dehydration. Today, I will tend to what are left of my toenails (don’t take this as a criticism!) and try make them look less repulsive – assuming I can bend down far enough to brandish tea tree oil and nail polish. I hope you understand that I need time to reassess our relationship and my expectations, to work through my fatigue and ennui (and bruised ego), and do the laundry created by five people going to Mandurah for one night. Be patient. I know we’ll get through this.

Best regards,

Jo

Off the Beaten Track

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Today, I crawled up out of my comfort zone and took my fear of everything that has feathers, beaks, fur, wings, scales, legs, or a pulse and ran with it around Bold Park, a nature reserve that is very close to my kids’ school. It’s surprising how noisy nature can be – between parakeets and crows squawking, unseen things slithering, flies buzzing and fluttering butterflies, it was akin to running through a haunted house for my nerves. But I completed the well-marked Zamia Trail (yellow line on the map) unscathed by swooping magpies, and my lungs got a good workout as the trail is undulating (very, very hilly in plain speech). I’m also pleased to report that there were no sightings of the four possums I had professionally evicted from my roof space over the past four months and relocated to Bold Park, the latest as recently as this week. That’s a non-running story for another day.

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SCKLM Preparation & WAMC Lake Gwelup Race

Lake Gwelup
Lake Gwelup

So now that all the hooha has died down over the change of date and re-change of date for the SCKL Marathon, the countdown to the race has begun. Only four weeks to go! Coincidentally I am going to be in KL with a friend that weekend as it’s school holidays and our respective spouses are taking our six children camping and we would rather pull our teeth out than sleep in a tent that doesn’t have ensuite facilities. In fact what we’d really rather do is stay at a five star hotel with ensuite facilities, and toilets where there are no snakes or deadly spiders lurking, and staff that open doors, and pour coffee, and carry your bags. We’d also rather have much-needed pedicures, and eyebrow threading, do no cooking or cleaning  – well you get the picture. We’re going to KL for a taste of the good life and now it turns out, I’m going to race.

Don't let the blue sky fool you - it was cold at race registration!
Don’t let the blue sky fool you – it was cold at race registration!

Last week, I was offered a media bib at SCKLM and it took me exactly zero seconds to say ‘yes please’ and only another few seconds to allow sense to prevail and choose the 10km race. Given the temperature and humidity, trying to race any further could be a disaster. Even when I lived and trained in Malaysia, the heat and humidity ruined many a race attempt so 10km on Oct 4th will be more than plenty thank you very much. I cannot tell you how excited I am to be returning to my old stomping ground, the place where I first fell in love with running, and to hopefully get to see many familiar, friendly faces in the KL running community.

So, this morning, in preparation for this tropical race which is no big deal, no big deal at all, I ran a local 10km race here in Perth. When I say in preparation I mean mental prep rather than physical. Bar running while wrapped in cling film and a heated body suit, there is little I can do to prepare for the conditions in KL. But I need to train my brain to push though the 5-6km mark slump and stay strong to the finish line, so this morning’s race was a stab at cognitive therapy if you like.

It was the West Australian Marathon Club (WAMC) Lake Gwelup 10km. It was 7ºC when I left the house and only a few degrees warmer at the start line. So, it was totally unlike any start line in Malaysia ever! It also turned out to be a multi-terrain course which was more challenging than I had expected but at least it wasn’t as hilly as last weekend’s City to Surf 12km for which my legs are still not thanking me.

FullSizeRenderI think I was the 9th female across the line which was very pleasing as the standard is really high here and I’m pretty old. Yes, I am. The winner of the 5km race this morning is 12 years old.12! Not even a teenager! She ran the course in sub-20. To be fair, she has probably been running longer than I have but I don’t think that’s the reason she’s so much faster! Bar placing little rockets in my shoes, I will never attain the racing speed of a fast teenager. Oh, that’s a bit depressing. Still, I should be grateful to be able to run at all I suppose, and I am! And I’m even more grateful to be able to return to KL, have an affordable pedicure, and run there. (Though perhaps I should run, then have the pedi?).

Now, I wonder where I can bulk buy cling film and find a heated body suit…

Suck it Up Runners or #SCKLM4October

I have never participated in the Standard Chartered KL Marathon event though I do have one unused half marathon bib (due to injury) from 2013. I no longer live in Kuala Lumpur and I have not registered for this year’s marathon. All of this makes me perfectly qualified to post a detached and well-reasoned post on the decision, announced yesterday, to move the race day back a week to Oct 10, 2015. Yet, I can’t, because even here in Perth, I find myself getting angry over the obvious disdain this decision shows towards runners, towards 35,000 runners who have committed their money, time and training to an event long-scheduled for Oct 4.

The change of date (and day, from Sunday to Saturday) is a political one, to allow the international event to coincide with the newly conceived National Sports Day run by the Malaysian Ministry of Youth & Sport. The National Sports Day has amongst its objectives: ‘promoting unity, stimulating economic growth, growing sporting knowledge and recognising sporting talent.’ Well congratulations, Dirigo Events, you’ve certainly managed to promote unity; unity of anger of thousands of SCKLM registrants who have taken to Facebook, Twitter and blogs to voice their outrage over the mixing of sport with politics with little apparent consideration for the people without whom the event couldn’t exist.

I’m astounded that Standard Chartered Bank would allow their brand to be tarnished by such shoddy treatment of race registrants, surprised that event organisers Dirigo didn’t anticipate the backlash, and very glad that I personally didn’t book flights and accommodation for KL for the race. I feel very bad for those that did.

There have been many reasoned comments made online about the consequences for overseas runners, including many Malaysians who have already booked travel from Sabah and Sarawak. Many commentators have also rightly voiced their dismay over allowing a politically-neutral sporting event to be hijacked for political purposes. There’s also the worrying issue of staging such a major event on a Saturday, a working day in KL, and the fact that the new date clashes with several other running events. How any of this serves to promote ‘economic growth, growing sporting knowledge and recognising sporting talent’ is beyond me!

What bugs me most is the apparent disdain SCKLM organisers have for the commitment made by runners to their event. It’s like organising a secular wedding then, once thousands of loyal friends have bought their outfits, booked their hotels and organised a babysitter, changing the date to suit one wealthy, but distant, acquaintance who is insisting on a Church service to help promote their parish. Well, stuff your wedding I’d say – and don’t bother inviting me at all next time!

There are plenty of races in Asia for those who want to travel. Plenty of races in Cambodia, Thailand and Vietnam that, as far as I am aware, value their runners and don’t flip flop over things as fundamental as race dates. There are plenty of races around KL for those who don’t travel too. Since 2009, SCKLM has been considered the premier running event in Malaysia, adhering to international standards that runners could rely on, and other event organisers could aspire to. Dismissing the commitment of 35,000 runners to keep politicians happy, as SCKLM has done this week, was a misguided move and one from which the event’s (and main sponsor’s) reputation will fail to fully recover. Unless of course, thousands of runners voicing their opinions online get their way and the original date is restored. Everyone can mistakes. The trick is in recognising and rectifying them.

UPDATE: July 16, 2015

Over the past three days there has been no statement from the organisers of SCKLM while runners continued to lobby on social media for the marathon to be returned to its original date of Oct 4. This afternoon, the Malaysian Minister for Youth & Sports, Khairy Jamaluddin, released a statement on his Facebook page announcing that the event would indeed revert to Oct 4. So, common sense prevails, the power of social media seem unassailable and Dirigo Events have been peculiarly mute throughout the whole debacle. Perhaps, silence in this case, speaks a thousand words.

Reunions (and a bit of stalking) in Paris

When I was nine, my best friends were twin girls, four years my senior, who lived next door. Their dad was a bank manager, so they were Irish nomads who moved house every few years. When I was nine, the twins and their siblings moved to a village in an adjacent county, Wexford, less than 100km from Kilkenny. Other than one visit to stay with them, when I vomited in the back of their dad’s car (from eating too many sweets on the sleepover), I never saw them again. I don’t think my spewing over the car was a contributing factor. The twins’ departure from my life was a major, sad event, one which I recall vividly. Back in the pre-internet days, when a telephone call to Wexford was prohibitively expensive, our friendship hadn’t a chance.

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My own children have bid goodbye to many friends during their short lives. When I chaperone their tearful leave takings, I insist on saying it’s not goodbye forever, it’s until next time. I recall the twins and the vomiting and I vow to do better. I mean it when I say that they will see their friends again even if they are moving to the other side of the planet. All this is a long introduction really into how last week I found myself in Paris with four teenagers, aged 12-15. Selfless mother that I am, I travelled from Dublin with my two daughters, to meet up with my eldest’s two friends who now live in Houston and San Francisco. One of the friends, who is Dutch, lived in Paris for 8 years before relocating to Perth, where we first met and understandably his family love the city so much that they visit annually en route to the Netherlands. Spending time in Paris with people who know where to go, how to get there, and can suggest great places to eat, while also being great company, really makes for a spectacular holiday. I might even go as far as saying that I relaxed and enjoyed myself. I know! Incredible! IMG_1089

After five great days of being tourists with insider guides who didn’t charge a fee we took a taxi to Charles de Gaulle Airport to return to Ireland. Our reunions hadn’t finished yet however. Serendipity meant that another friend of my daughter’s, from our time in Kuala Lumpur, was arriving in Paris from Toronto, and we managed to meet her and her mother for coffee and a catch-up. Yes, my children do think such meetings and international travel are normal, no matter how much I try and explain that they’re not. The Wexford situation is beyond their comprehension in this instant messaging age.

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As we approached the airline check-in desk, I spied the familiar figure of Colm Tóibín, probably Ireland’s most famous living writer, coincidentally from the friend-robbing county of Wexford. I was as excited as a teenager bumping into Harry Styles but managed to keep my rapture under wraps channelling my energy instead into explaining to the check-in lady in Frenglish exactly whom she had just served. She was oblivious to Mr Tóibín’s celebrity status and possibly thought I was slightly mad. I’d met Mr Tóibín a couple of times at Kilkenny Arts Festival a few years back but remarkably he didn’t seem to recognise me (!). I’m pathetically bad at shoving myself forward (while sober) so this particular reunion was wordless and only experienced by one party. Some people might call it stalking but I promise, it was inadvertent. Remarkably no one else appeared to recognise him during all the time we sat in the departure lounge – he on his laptop, me pretending not to be watching him on his laptop, or back in Dublin airport in the line for Passport Control, me admonishing my daughters for staring, lest he actually notice me – for the wrong reasons. I guess not everyone thinks that writers are like rock stars but this brush with multi-Booker-nominated celebrity, whose career I’ve long coveted, topped off what turned out to be one of the best weeks I’ve had in years.

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