Pandemic running

Adjusting to the reality of living through a pandemic has been surreal and difficult for most of us, even those of us not yet directly affected by the infection. The initial disbelief and giddiness of recent weeks has now been replaced by a slowly dawning realization that life is going to be very different for everyone, and dangerous for many, for several months to come. 

And along with protecting ourselves and our families at this time, it is also vital that we think of and support our friends and colleagues working in front-line health services.

Although it may sound clichéd, it is important to focus on the things we can control during these times of externally enforced changes, when privileges we only recently took for granted such as shaking hands or unconscious face-touching, are suddenly off limits. Developing an internal locus of control is always more healthy psychologically, and all the more so at difficult times like this.  

Locus of control explained through the medium of cartoon. 

The bottom line: internal is better than external

Anyone unlucky enough to get one of my lectures on the many physical and psychological benefits of running will know how much I value this activity as a means of keeping things normal and having a sense of control over your day and indeed your life. And so far, the advice in this country is that it is safe to walk and run in outdoor areas, while being mindful of social distancing from others. Therefore, keeping a running routine has never been more important for me (and I’m sure for all runners and walkers) than right now.

One of my staple running routes involves an approximately 5 km loop from Ballina to Killaloe and back. The pattern of that running route is the most familiar of my Strava maps, Strava being a kind of Facebook for runners, cyclists and swimmers that records the detail of your various activities and can be shared with friends. This running route map vaguely resembles a badly drawn bow tie with a 3 km loop on the northeastern Tipperary side and a 2 km loop on the southwestern Clare side, the two loops being joined by the bow tie knot of the bridge crossing the river Shannon. 

The running route between Ballina and Killaloe: very vaguely reminiscent of a bow tie

The bridge between Ballina and Killaloe: the knot in the bow tie

Depending on whether I’m training for a race or just ticking over in between training programmes, I do this particular loop at least three or four times a week at varying levels of intensity, mostly alone but sometimes accompanied by my son and/or our dog. The run is dotted with countless landmarks of personal and historical significance and I could write a whole blog entry on each of them. 

The route takes me past the marina and Lakeside Hotel and across to the bridge memorial for the Scariff Martyrs, down the canal bank and past Murrough’s Well, then back up the slow climb of New Street to the ancient site of Brian Boru’s palace at Kincora (now occupied by St. Flannan's Catholic Church), followed by the sweet descent down Killaloe’s Main Street, Church Street and on to Royal Parade where, after a quick look up at the majestic St. Flannan’s Cathedral, there’s a left turn back towards the bridge and across the Shannon again for home.

The Lakeside Hotel 

Brian Boru: High King of Ireland and 'Emperor of the Irish' 

Within St. Flannan’s Cathedral alone, there are dozens of points of historical interest, including the Romaesque doorway, the Ogham and Rune stone, the Kilfenora High Cross and the magnificent stained glass windows. 

Romanesque doorway, St. Flannan's Cathedral

Ogham stone

Kilfenora High Cross

The walls are filled with stone plaques commemorating various families from down through the centuries, telling sad stories of sons lost to war and fathers lost to the sea. But there is one plaque in St. Flannan’s, dedicated to Dr. George Purdon, that has a particular resonance right now. The inscription goes as follows:

In memory of George Purdon Esq., FRCSI, for many years Medical Attendant of the Killaloe Dispensary, whose exertions during a season of unparalleled distress exhausted his strength and deprived the sick and needy of a kind a skilful and an unwearied friend.

This tablet is erected by the surrounding inhabitants of all creeds and of all classes. The blessing of him that was ready to perish came upon me.

Dr. Purdon's memorial plaque

Dr. Purdon died in 1848, with The Great Famine still raging through Ireland. The ‘unparalleled distress’ that ‘exhausted his strength’ may mean that he died from an infection such as Cholera, like so many of his patients.

So I stopped off on my running route today and went in to St. Flannan’s to read about Dr. Purdon again, mindful of the current health crisis affecting our nation and of the healthcare staff all over Ireland and the wider world working tirelessly and doing all in their power to protect and to treat.

St. Flannan's Cathedral, by Deborah Lonsdale, 2020