I may have no idea what I want to do when I grow up, but one thing’s for sure- I have always known where I want my head and feet to lay one day. I kinda had that part figured out when I was still a teenager. It’s here.
Sunrise is always the best time to run, and doesn’t the Stiffey in the LIffey Nail in the Pale Millennium Spire look perfectly spikey from my starting point in Temple Bar?
The O’Connell Street bridge. I’m not in town for very long, and as usual I can think of no better way to cover a large surface area in a short amount of time than with running shoes and a camera.
I am aiming to fit in four or six miles today, depending on my rate of success in negotiating the opposite traffic patterns. I’ve got loads of prior experience, as well as new pair of Brooks to break in, so I’m hoping for an hour out here in the pink morning.
I’m pretty sure that I’m the only person who tourists this much in running tights, but I find the payoff to be far too rewarding to stop this behavior.
An Lar. There are certain terms that you forget you know until you are back in your old surroundings.
Ahh the Custom House Quay. Much has changed along the Liffey, but there are some things that thankfully endure. And serve as reference points to nostalgic Yanks like me who haven’t been back here in over a decade.
New constructions abound- like Samuel Beckett bridges and famine ship replicas. We’ll have to continue eastward for a closer look…
It’s almost as though I’m in a completely different city. There is so much that I don’t recognize or even know about.
This bit of famine-documenting sculpture is located just across the river from where I once lived.
“A procession fraught with most striking and most melancholy interest, wending its painful and mournful way along the whole line of the river, to where the beautiful pile of the Custom house is distinguishable in the far distance…”
“Where I am, I don’t know, I’ll never know, in the silence you don’t know, you must go on, I can’t go on, I’ll go on”
This lies just beyond the bridge. Maybe a more fitting (and cheaper) tribute to the artist quoted just above.
I run up the river until I reach the East Link Bridge. I’ve got to cross over, and in doing so I get a better view of the Dublin stacks. Arguably an eyesore amongst all of this development, but for me it serves as an important marker in the skyline. Moreso than that silly spike on the north side.
I’ve crossed over into Ringsend, and am heading back West towards an lar. Everything is so neat and clean, and I am extremely impressed by the bike lanes available for my use (I hate running on cobblestones, and figure the friendly cyclists will share their smooth terrain).
Ahhh now we are getting back to my old stomping grounds. Although the building and sign have been given a facelift, it’s still The Windjammer. We used to buy cans of Dutch Gold at the off-licence, and this pub was always open for business at 7:30am. The story went that you could walk into this place and arrange to have someone killed. Dunno if it’s true, but it certainly makes for a good story.
This is one of the places where I used to live! Not much to check out now, but I loved this place because it was so close to college. I got the extra room in the apartment because the previous occupier killed herself. In the room. No, I’m not making that up, and I can assure you that there were no ghosts bothering me during my tenure.
And this would be the place that fed me through college. I don’t know how many bags of vinegar-soaked fish and chips that I consumed during those days. It was cheap, delicious, and probably helped contribute to the ten pounds on my happy frame.
The once-dilapidated quays are all so clean and gentrified. I always appreciate a good line handler, so this guy gets a spot in my Rave Run.
Gentrification meets persistent rebel youth. Fantastic.
This is the DART bridge that is reminiscent of the famous black stuff. The sound of the train rattling by is another favorite sound of mine.
Mulligan’s pub. If you know Dublin, then you should know why this place has some significance. I
I’m feeling pretty energetic, and in all actuality I’m quite thrilled to be back in my favorite city. I’ve got at least another two miles on my legs, so I decide to run up O’Connell Street on the other side of the river. Here I am at the top, admiring Charles Parnell.
Passing by the General Post Office, it’s impossible to not be reminded of the important place that this building holds in Irish history. Google 1916 Easter Rising.
Back out onto the Liffey, and I’m always happy to see the Ha’Penny bridge. Back in college, I was kind of known for just leaving a pub without saying goodbye to anyone. When I’d had enough, I’d had enough. (Come to find out later, there’s a term called the “Irish Goodbye” and that’s what I was doing.) That said, usually I would walk around late at night, and this bridge was a favorite haunt. I now wonder how I could have been so stupid as to wander around so late at night by myself. I must have had some really important thoughts worth thinking out.
This is Four Courts, the country’s main building that houses the Supreme Court, the High Court and the Dublin Circuit Court. I’m getting near to five miles, and decide to cross the bridge after the courts and head back towards Temple Bar.
Right near the seat of justice we’ve got what is purported to be Ireland’s oldest pub. The Brazen Head dates back to 1198, and I think that I have only been here once. That’s because this was too far a stumbling distance from where I lived while in college. And I wasn’t about to go on any drunken runs…
I decide to come back via Dame Street, so I head up the hill and pass by Christchurch Cathedral.
What’s Dublin without showing you some Georgian doors? I like the colors.
Dame Street, just in front of the Irish Central Bank. The occupation is not as immense as elsewhere.
Trinners for winners. My race ends me in front of my old school. A fine looking institution if I do say so myself.
And with that I am finally back at my starting point. Behind my hotel is a road that pays tribute to many fantastic notables from this country. In lieu of cooling down properly, I wander up and down and read the various billboards. This country has much to celebrate, and I can’t help but feel quite at home in recognizing each one.
A sign of the times, I am sure.
I could not agree more…
This poster is great, and also kind of fitting as a last photo in this entry. Ireland is a bit of a sardonic contradiction, and that’s a major reason why I love being here.
Whatever it is that I end up doing after this military thingy is all said and done, I hope to return to this place and cover more ground on a more permanent basis. There’s simply too much going on in this land that I could not possibly cover in sixty minutes of silly stop and go photojournalism. I hope at a minimum that you were able to gain an appreciation for why I love this dirty old town. There’s simply no other place like it in the world.