A 10 mile run to Arecife and back
Paula Donnellan Walsh pictured in Arecife, the capital city of Lanzarote, after completing a 10-mile run.
We survive the week, the term, the exams and all the goings on. We make it to the Easter holidays and after a busy morning of packing, cooking and working, we make it to holidays. I don’t get much sleep – not for any particular reason, not because anything is bothering me but simply because I’m wired. Sometimes when one is going at ninety on adrenaline, when one is so busy, but it is a good busyness; like when the to-do list keeps shortening, when some chores get done ahead of time, when one can delegate. When trying to complete it all before deadlines, it can take a day or two to come down and chill, especially with the excitement of heading away for a few days.
After a brilliant day of running, swimming, having fun with loved ones, I am also taught how to play golf. It’s a sport I never really had the patience for, but I quickly get in on the competitiveness of family fun. I watch and quickly learn how the younger ones play; I belt down the ball; a hole-in-one and I am beyond excited. The next shot gets landed out into a bowling alley; the laughs, the craic, the teasing, and the fun is only beginning.
The adrenaline is still pumping the next morning; beautiful thoughts of running in the heat, no jacket, cap or yellow vest needed. I rise early. It’s dark but a brightness exists, it’s peaceful but a vibe exists, it’s quiet but the morning exercisers automatically gather at the coffee station. I go for strong tea. That’s all I need as the heat in the air, the calmness of the ocean, the smiles from friendly and familiar faces are enough to awaken my smile.
As I walk around the grounds, I embrace the me time, breathe deeply and take it all in; we’re here, no one is sick, and all the deadlines were met. I spot four bright white shining dots way out in the ocean, and I wonder what they are. A sky of bright stars? I wonder what’s up there. A warm feeling in the air, a calmness in the water, as the world still sleeps.
Storm Oliver swept through the Canary Islands last week, hitting both outer sides of the island, leaving hotels, houses and roads in Lanzarote inundated with water. As much as 60 litres of rain drenched the island in two hours. Business and properties battered, some closed. A bit like Storm Éowyn in Ireland, but out here it’s unusual. The island is maybe not so prepared. The world’s weather is changing... quickly.
We are being protected in a sheltered village between two valleys, the volcanic mountains powering up like giants around us, keeping the forces well far away. I see the big hotel way in the distance in Arecife; I know by foot exactly how far; five miles in and five miles back, a fulfilling morning of wonder and awe lies ahead.
After a harsh few months in the West of Ireland with frost, rain, winds and storms, today I’ve a need for running in shorts and a vest, in a warm breeze, where sunglasses are a necessity against both the sun and sand. The sea guides my way for miles; a 10-miler along a continuous prom with the company of like-minded runners, walkers, cyclists and swimmers will fulfil a weather beaten, head fried West of Ireland lass for the day ahead.
As I run out of the alleyway, the sky brightens ahead, a greyish blue horizon to my right as the ocean’s waves power against the volcanic rocks, embedded against the shoreline. To my left the white and green houses dotted all along the way, up ahead the volcanic undulating mountains that I hope to frequent before the week is out. How lucky am I? I can glide like a butterfly all along a shoreline to a city that begins with a beach. No roads, no avoiding traffic, only the bikes, runners and walkers that share and move freely along the same path. No noise, only natures. A safety for everyone no matter what the time, no strange looks because everyone is out earlier over here. This morning is a little quieter; the cloud and wind keep people away.
There is something wonderful when one begins to move through the natural motions of movement. The legs and arms flow in sync, the mind is entertained and consumed by one’s surroundings and the miles just fly by. One flows through the process, everything seems easy, time is irrelevant. Today I could run for hours but I must turn back; that’s OK because then another day of fun and adventure begins.
When you enter a world of your own, your mind begins to wander through the past week, through the past year. It begins to look forward to the summer ahead, to races abroad, one begins to feel even better and there’s no stopping one now…until you hear a call ‘Paula’. You jump and think you are imagining it, until two girls in white vests and sunglasses appear. In a world far away, where you think you are alone, you always meet someone you know; two girls from the local triathlon club out for a long run.
We move along, catching up, talking about plans, future events and what’s up for the day ahead. Two miles pass, the girls jog out to the water for their sea swim, training for an iron-man, and they freshen up. I bid farewell, wish them all the very best and will hopefully get to see some of their adventures. I smile. It really is a small world.
I’m nearing the city. It reminds me of Salthill on the edge of Galway but not as nice. The beach is smaller, and the city begins instantly, turning me around for my way back. A fabulous breeze, the sky now bright blue, the clouds have magically disappeared and in seconds that beautiful, orange, round, sight appears. The world is now even more magical; the four dots way out on the ocean can now be seen as sailing boats.
Downhill running is a great feeling, it brings someone fast through a route, where the legs lift higher, the arms pump through the breeze and the heart moves faster, it makes everything seem easier. If there were thoughts consuming the mind, they are suddenly left behind, because now magically bad thoughts become meaningless in a world where beauty surrounds us, where everyone smiles and where there is no panic. One is buzzing for more, more laughter, more plans galore. Rod Stewart’s words enter my mind:
I pass the three local gentlemen that walk this route every morning. I pass the lifeguards warming up like a scene from Baywatch, they jog over and back, buoys underarms, along the sand before their busy day begins. I move along through the motions, happily watching all around and again I hear ‘Paula’, this time in a quiet Spanish accent, a figure with dark sunglasses and dark clothes. It’s my competitive friend Carolina from the races. We have competed against each other many times. I’ve happily been ahead, I admire her friendless always; she runs alongside, interested in hearing about training, events and everything else. I, as always, explain I am enjoying the journey and will follow the road that takes me, she smiles and says I’ll see you at the Worlds so!
We reach the beach a half-mile jog on soft sand. It’s like a different sport; pulling the calves, powering through a sea of blowing sand. We move left along the shore, where the sand is compact and easier to run on, bringing us back to where it all began by the ocean.
I jump out of the runners and sprint for the water. The waves higher than normal, the water a little cooler, the ocean to ourselves, the feel of the hot sand between my toes, the pebbles, stones and debris from Storm Oliver. It’s head-first into the waves, a refreshing cooldown from running. I breaststroke through the blue, green and purple waves, reaching another buzz, as the first verse goes:
As I exit the ocean this morning, I have an even greater excitement about me. I’m up for diving, water polo, and even another hole in one. I bid farewell to another friend and tell her I’ll see her on the mountains. The butterfly is gliding along for another day.....
