“Think you’re escaping and run into yourself. Longest way round is the shortest way home.”
― Joyce
I think that there are times in life when friends believe that we do “favors” for them, and that in doing so the net gain will only be felt on their side. And for those people who are owners of pickup trucks, perhaps this line of thinking holds true. For everyone else, I believe that we base our decision to implicate ourselves in stuff on a parsing that is actually a two way street. There’s give-and-take in everything, and often times the less apparent benefit is the one that is far more satisfying.
This weekend my little brother and I participated in a Dublin half marathon with an Irish friend of mine who hadn’t done a race since she was a kid. Now decades on and caught up in the endurance portion of Life Olympics, Olivia had been voicing a desire to regain some time to herself. See most days she’s busy lion taming her two super bouncy little boys, and as a mom one can hardly blame her for putting them first. As for me and my brother, Dublin is always a good idea and importantly I miss Olivia. So it wasn’t long before I was on to the texts and cajoling these to cohorts to converge on the Dublin quays and take on 13.1 mile course through the fair city.
I met Olivia during my time at Trinity, and as my first Irish friend I initially gathered that all Irish people were incredibly generous and talked with northern accents (I would later learn that only one of those statements held true). Olivia had studied abroad for her junior year on Erasmus in Groningen, and when she returned to Dublin she asked to be placed in college rooms with international students. She really enjoyed connecting with other cultures and experiences. Living that year with three American girls might have seemed a bit mad, but lucky for us, over the course of that year we Yanks learned a great deal about Irish culture through the eyes of this unofficial yet fantastic spokeswoman.
As it so happened. We all graduated and the years passed by, ultimately with me falling out of touch with Olivia. It wasn’t until the time where I was going through a divorce that we reconnected. She was getting married and my first act as a newly single person was to book tickets to attend her wedding in County Laois. Though still shattered and unsure of what my new life would bring, her wedding turned out to be the best ceremony I’ve ever attended. Even after a decade apart, meeting up again felt like no time had passed.
Even more importantly, despite the fact that this trip back in 2009 was all about her marriage, she carved out a good chunk of time to sit down and talk to me about what I was going through. It was in that moment that I realized what a solid and genuinely caring person I had in my court. Fast-forward six years later to this weekend’s Race Day, and that revelation has proved itself true many times over.
The morning of the event started like many other races that my brother and I have done: we stood around, scouted for a wind-free place and a preferred starting position. Olivia came up to town from her home in Wicklow, and because this was her first race ever she was a bit overwhelmed by the mass of 20,000 people in neon technical tees. As somewhat seasoned race veterans, John and I were more interested in tracking down breakfast pastries, but we could completely empathize with Olivia’s pre-race nerves. After all, when you’re untested and crowding at the start— and there’s a sign overhead that says “half marathon”—the entire event is kind of intimidating. Thirteen-point-how-long?
As we very well expected, most of the runners pulled away right at the beginning, which was kind of nice since we wound up with the entirety of the Dublin quays to ourselves.
The sun came out at around the time we reached the Ha’Penny Bridge, and I’m pretty sure we passed some folks slinking on home after an extended Saturday night out in the pubs. They were likely on their way to a date with a fry.
It would be boring for you to get a blow by blow account of our time on the course, but I can tell you that the morning passed in no time at all. Though the stroll was long, we alternated between people watching and picking away at conversations that came with wide open spaces through Inchicore and Phoenix Park. Hard to recapture appropriately here but all the same a rare experience in fellowship.
I can’t speak for Olivia or my brother, but as we passed each distance marker, I felt like we were really coming together as a small but determined collective, rather than three undertrained individuals who would otherwise let self-doubt talk us away from our goal. I mean really, who decides that they’re going to wake up and stroll 21K early on a Sunday morning? Especially when someone, somewhere is surely serving up a fantastic Irish breakfast…
All along the course we took photos, fielded phone calls from Olivia’s husband, and thanked the many volunteers and spectators who were cheering us on. Races are not really for the elites who place their fingers at the starting line; they’re for the everyday folks who seek a break from their routine and want to head somewhere new.
And perhaps just a tiny bit, all of these races are for folks looking to have something a bit sparkly to show for their efforts. As a girl who appreciates Ireland-shaped things, I can certainly understand that.
There’s more than one reason for you and your mates to strike out and hazard this sort of event. For one, it’s sure easier when you try it together. There’s also the health aspect– both mentally and physically. I don’t know about you, but I have big plans for me and my friends to be around for awhile. Olivia might have imagined that my brother and I were only out there in order to push her to accomplish something new and scary, but the reality is that we needed her just as much. We’re super lucky to count her as a friend.
Maybe it’s because I feel destined to live a life of terminal singledom, but as I’ve hopped dozens of planes and carry on with this leapfrog lifestyle, I’ve really grown to rely upon my geographically scattered yet closely held friends and family. They are the people, after all, who know me best and accordingly they help me to keep my own doubts in check. Without them I’d spend more time in alone in the granny parlor of a certain Bray pub.
My friends are the ones who know how to furnish a quiet space that will get me to talk when I need it, and they’re also the ones who understand that I’ll totally disappear when a pub or social event gets too crowded. My friends—ones like Olivia and my brother— allow me my time and space, but at the end of the day they know I’ll come back again because I really do need them close at hand.
It’s never a one way street. When you’ve got sound friends and family, all of the favors and adventures that we undertake are things that ultimately add up to something far more balanced. To Olivia, completing this long ass road race might feel like something she accomplished because of two crazy Massholes, but honestly I was the one who felt privileged to have her out there with us. We’ve got many more of these moments ahead of us, and I can’t wait to see where they take us. Next up we’re thinking a stroll through Belfast.
P.S. Olivia, I’ve just signed up. How about you? How about some of those wonderful brothers of yours? 🙂