Taking it easy is harder than it looks…

Not certain if y’all know this yet (can an Irish girl who lives in Tipp even get away with saying y’all? – fuck it, I like it!)


Getting back in track…

I am not certain how common knowledge it is in this big ol’ world of ours but I am pregnant. Yes, the husband and I are expecting our very own little rugged adventurer who will be raised by wolves (our collie, Jess), throw caution to the wind, roll down hills, dip their wee toes into big waves and probably just live on pizza.

We. Can’t. Wait.

And for the most part I have been enjoying my pregnancy. No real morning sickness, no trouble sleeping, adorable bump and very little unsolicited advice. But there’s been a part of this whole pregnancy that I am struggling with… Taking it easy.

A month after we found out I was expecting we moved into our brand new home. Our forever home, which required considerable work to get it to the beautiful specimen we knew it could be. So despite my husband’s (and mother’s and mother-in-law’s) protest I dug right in! Covered in paint and elbows deep in framed prints and throw cushions. And of course, as you guys all know from before I am quite an active, outdoorsy person and I desperately wanted to keep up my running (while limiting my distance – no more than 5k) and hill walking with the husband and the dog. AAAAAAAND keep my full time job which is a 9-5, 5 days a week sort of scenario. All sounds good, right?

Well that’s what I thought. I had the mentality that I am young, I am fit, I am LOW RISK.

And that’s a great mentality to have, but I needed to be aware of my limitations. Strike that, I needed my limitations rammed down my throat because I was a stubborn ass mother fucker who refused to stop lifting boxes and chasing after the dog!

So I made a rule.

Listen to my body.

It was/is a simple concept. The second something hurt, just stop it. For running, that was about the end of the first trimester. For hill walking, about week 18/19 and for decorating that was Monday. Only problem… I took them all badly. I was supposed to be one of those preggo women that still ate well and exercised loads and looked super duper healthy. That I could achieve all that I wanted while still growing an amazing child! That I was gonna be 100% all the time. ALL. THE. TIME. But I wasn’t, running started to hurt me, so I did slow intervals of jogging and walking. Then that hurt and I had to cut running out all together. Same with hiking, smaller and smaller inclines until I was basically going for a walk. And the decorating became a slower and slower process as I had to take more and more breaks to keep going. The mind was willing but the body wasn’t able.

That’s because the body was doing it’s own amazing thing. GROWING A HUMAN! And as wonderful as that is and as proud of my body as I am, I was disappointed that I couldn’t keep up my normal routine. I felt lazy, unfit and simply no good at being pregnant and carrying on with things. I felt people expected me to be good at it all and I really wanted to live up to that. I was also terrified of putting on too much weight (anyone else have this fear?!?!?) It hurt that I had to admit defeat and sacrifice a little bit of what makes me who I am in order to grow our baby. A sacrifice I didn’t expect I would have to make so soon.

But I do have to make that sacrifice, before it’s too late. Before I do damage to myself, or worse our baby.

They say once you become pregnant you need to start to thinking for 2. But I don’t think that’s right. You are still thinking for one, just it’s not you anymore. It’s your child. And I honestly struggled with that. I wanted to feel equal, to be more than a mere vessel for this new being. That I wasn’t going to lose myself in it all.

That I could feckin’ keep running through pregnancy like everyone says I should have been able to!

But I can’t. And that’s ok, right now I am doing something more important than training for a marathon or climbing the tallest peak in Ireland, or finishing off the guest bedroom (it’s so nearly there you guys!).  When I look down at my growing bump and see kicks so strong I am surprised no one else has noticed them I know that this kid is worth all that and more.

And the best thing I can do for them is just slow down, take it easy and not be so hard on myself.

My husband will be relieved… Now somebody get me a pizza!

Don’t Brake! A lesson in life… and cycling

I’m a scaredy cat…


This is not new information. I don’t like ‘dangerous’ things. Dangerous things being jumping off a wall or playing skipping rope with my 4 year old nephew. I could never understand thrill seekers. Adrenaline junkies. What’s wrong with you?! What’s wrong with being comfy and warm and SAFE!


Well I married an adrenaline junkie.


And now we share hobbies… But guess who won’t learn to crochet?!


So I’m on a mountain bike every so often and this is what I’ve learned about cycling and funnily enough about life.


Don’t brake too much. You spend all your time when mountain biking pedalling like fuck up some shitty incline and then bombing it back down at an unnatural speed. With twists and turns and bumps and branches and bog and wild boars coming at you! If you’re a scaredy cat like me that sounds like a lesson in torture. Let’s burn your legs getting to the top and make you cry like a baby to get back down. So what do I do? I brake. And what happens when I brake? Well many things actually.


My husband is getting away from me

What’s the point in mountain biking with my husband if I’m not anywhere near him? Seriously?! He’s gone! Like the wind Bullseye! How is it ever any fun if I am spending my whole time catching up? And how is it any fun for him if he’s spending his whole time waiting? And I felt this was true for life as well. What’s the point of being with him if I’m not with him. I need to keep moving forward with our lives, staying in the moment but always looking forward, not hanging back because I don’t know what to expect. Because I think I’ll fail. Life’s too short for such bullshit. Be there, with him. Always.


I risk skidding/falling/failing

You’d think that when you feel you’re going to fast you should hit the brakes. False. First time I hit the brakes mountain biking I went straight over the handle bars, landing face first into some mulch and cutting my lip. Second time I broke, I skidded hard, panicked and fell. I could go on but really all you need to know that braking in a panicked state usually leads to me being a pile of embarrassed and bruised bones. When I tried to ‘let go’ and stopped grappling for the brakes I noticed I was grand, a little watery-eyed from the wind but grand. Didn’t fall off, over, under, break myself and cry all the way home… I was shitting it but I was physically grand. I think this can be adopted for life. Don’t try and predict the unexpected by stopping before you even begin, embrace the wind in your eyes and the risk you could fail, because how else will you succeed!


I lose trust in my bike

I am convinced she is gonna fall apart the moment we hit a certain speed. (Yes of course my bike is a she!) She’s not gonna… I need to believe in that bike. I need to work with that bike. I need to trust the bikes and the people around me and work with what I’ve got in life!


I lose trust in myself

How can I ever succeed if I never even try. I am big one for backing away from tricky tasks for risk of failure or I am just too afraid of bad outcomes, mountain biking is no exception. Self belief in your worth and your abilities is so important and it’s something people really struggle with. If I can trust in myself and my abilities to control that bike, I won’t need to brake, you know until I actually need to brake. And if can do that, well that’s the first step in believing in myself in general. Surely…


I don’t truly reap the rewards

Like I said in the beginning, you spend so much time working really hard at mountain biking. Pushing up those hills, cursing your tired legs, feeling like your cycling through hummus. Why waste all that effort on being too afraid to really jump in when you’ve earned your reward? Why let fear stop you when you know it’s ok, why let fear stop even if you don’t. Even if I fall off and hurt myself, cycle into bogland and end up covered in brown, it’s an experience. One I can learn from, one I can live with. Not trying is worse.




That got deep! Sorry about that but you have a surprisingly a lot of time to think when you’re cycling.














Trapped in a sports bra

Last week was a hot one (like seven inches from the midday sun? Santana? No?). Folks were eating ice-cream, sunglasses were on, girls were sporting the latest summer looks down by the river as the lads showed their daring bravery by jumping from the bridge into the cool waters of the Shannon. My father was in a paddling pool. Poor fuckers stuck in offices were slowly but surely melting into puddles of figures and data. It was a glorious Irish summer!


Me, this was the week I joined our local gym.


Gyms are usually hot places. In a heatwave… Well!


After getting a good weight session in I was boiling. Dying. Puddles were forming wherever I stood. I was looking forward to jumping into the cool waters of the pool. As I began peeling of my gym gear, sweat rolling down my forehead, I noticed something. My bra was stuck, literally. The sweat had welded the fabric to me. I never thought I would be betrayed by my most supportive friend. My sports bra. A heavily structured piece that is secure most days. Today, was like it was made from No More Nails. This shit was not coming off. It got to my underarms and no further! So you can just imagine, beetroot red from the training, glistening with heatwave sweat, in my undies with my sports bra only half off. No one around to help a sister out. I started panicking. Was I going to have to just put it back on, walk out to the pool where husband no doubt was already bombing it down the slide to tell him that I am stuck and we need to go home? No I need to get in that pool just to feel human again. Do I just pretend it’s a sporty bikini top and just fuck it and go swimming? No, because the bastard thing has to come off at some point.


Having a fear of being trapped, in anything really, I started to breathe really quickly. I started to feel really claustrophobic and it was only getting hotter. And I couldn’t stop sweating! I was no longer able to get a good grip. I was going to die wearing this thing.


There was only one thing for it, I was going to have to hulk my way out of the bra.


Worried that a more delicate and elegant lady might walk in and spot me ripping my sports bra to pieces, I ran into the toilet cubicles. Great, not only am I trapped in my one clothing, but also in a teeny cubicle with the scent of pee. Sometimes kids forget to flush and that’s ok but it was not helping the situation.


Not convinced this was even going to work I decided that I would have to rip/loosen the elastic enough to push it down over my hips. I grabbed one of the shoulder straps and started pulling, hard. I could hear the stitching creaking under the pressure. I forced my shoulder up and out! Now for the next one, ok, squeeze! Sweat still pumping, breath getting more shallow. What if this doesn’t work and now I am just a woman with a one strapped sports bra! Squeeeeeeeze. Pull. At this point my arm starts to get sore and cramping from being forced into a position it is not used to. Ow, breathe, ow, pull. Once more. Is this was birth feels like??? BOTH SHOULDERS ARE FREE. Now, I just need to get it over my hips, my fine, child-bearing Nolan hips I got off my Daddy. Pushing the bra down, hearing the fibres stretch, feeling the fabric tear, praying it will be over soon. Shimmying, pulling, shimmying once more. Pop! Off it came!


I could have ran around the gym with this surge of freedom I felt! But since I was no longer wearing anything supportive that would have been foolish.


So on went the togs and into the pool I jumped, revelling in my sweet release…




When to Run

Running is often met with a great deal of groaning, moaning, complaining. People don’t like it! It seems repetitive, tiring and loooong. When I discuss running I’m often told that people would rather do something more fun with their time, that exercise shouldn’t be a chore. And I whole heartedly agree. Exercise should be fun! But running is fun, we’re all just looking at it wrong.


The other day I was thinking about all the times we run (or could run) and not think of it. When it’s an asset and a not chore. I thought I would list them to see if I can’t shed some of the running’s bad rap.


Running from the bedroom to the bathroom when you’re naked.

Running after your kids.

Running away from your kids.

Running down a long corridor in a hotel while semi-intoxicated.

Running to the loo.

Running to shelter whenever it rains.

Running to get that thing you forgot when you’re next at the check-out.

Running because you’re scared.

Running because you’re giddy. (Is this just me???)

Running after a bus, train, taxi, that friend who promised you a lift!

Running into the sea because walking is just not an option at that temperature. Hello Ireland!

Running after your dog when he’s spotted the local cat.

Running after your dog when he’s noticed someone eating.

Running after your dog because he’s found a herd of deer.

Running out to the car to give your husband his lunch when he’s leaving in the morning.

Running to work yourself because you’re late (again!)

Running to get shotgun (of a car) because let’s face it, nobody abides by the laws of shotgun.

Running to stop your nephew getting hit by a swing.

Running to win your league’s rounders tournament.

Running to de-stress.

Running to get the last seat.

Running to your family at the airport because you missed them soooooo much.

Running down hills because it’s super easy.

Running on flat surfaces and feeling like a plane taking off (seriously, still only me???)

Running so fast you feel like you are going to keel over.

Running when you’ve gotten in trouble.

Just running.


I am sure there are many more instance where running is beneficial and, what more, lovely. If possible, it’s something that should be embraced. It can be hard when you are pushing yourself but remember, exercise isn’t always about pushing yourself. It’s also about living your life, getting things done, feeling free and de-stressing.


So enjoy you’re run, even it’s just to the the loo.



The Day I Fell On My Face



I went mountain biking on Saturday. Mountain biking is lovely when it’s on the nice little Coillte-built roads through the forest. You’re cycling at a gentle speed, laughing with loved ones, breathing in the fresh mountain air, taking in those stunning views. Yes, it’s all quit lovely!


You know what’s not lovely? Mountain bike trails. Where they hand you a helmet and expect you not to die.


(Now before we go any further, I feel it needs to be stressed that I’m not telling ANYONE not to go mountain biking trailing. It’s an impressive sport and I admire anyone who can do it. It requires a lot of skill and looks awesome, it just wasn’t for me and that’s ok too.)


OK, so over the weekend we had a buddy visiting and the husband (Cormac for those who don’t know him) thought it would be a fine idea to bring him to a mountain bike park. He was eager for me to come too. I was skeptical, I had seen the bruises and cuts Cormac had come home with but at the same time he would be gushing about how amazing it was. So despite my better judgement I decided to tag along. I was already quite emotionally tender form a bust up I had with a crew mate (and bestie) that morning so in hindsight it might not have been the best day to try new things. But what’s done is done.


So, we got there and I got handed a bike which looked class and was in amazing nick. Only thing is I had no idea how to use it. I was only used to my old-as-Bejesus-Frankenstein’s-monster of road bike which had barely any brakes and almost no gears. I loved her. I did not love this bike. The brakes were sharp (which I know is technically a good thing) which I wasn’t used to and it was hella bouncy (again a good trait but felt super weird). I had managed to garner a bit of attention 9not the good kind) from just practicing on it. A lot of “oof’s” and “oh’s” and “no no no’s.” Cormac felt to get myself and our buddy ready for the trails ahead we would start on the practice technical loop, this had a bit of everything that could be expected on the trails and it was within screaming distance of the bike rental place. I was nervous already but they’re weren’t letting me off that easy.


I was on the trail 2 seconds when I thought “Wow! This. Is. Narrow. I can’t cycle on this!” Then we came to a bump and bend and I had to brake sharply. It was a close call. I couldn’t give up just yet. I could hear Cormac yelling “Look forward don’t look down!” but how could I not look down, there was so much to look at! So much to anticipate! It was like a game of chess where every time I made a wrong move and lost a piece I would get punched by my opponent. I was very wary. Over another bump, dodged a rock and down a hill. Another roar came from Cormac “Don’t use your front brake!” Which one is the front brake? Well, I learned that quickly as I came a round a pretty deep bend. Brake! Shit! Oof! Bleurgh.


Yep, I was on the ground… Face first into the ground. Lip swollen, legs (and ego) bruised I sort of just lay there for a moment. Willing myself not to cry. Cormac behind and our buddy in front were quickly by my side. Dusting me off and telling me that this happens all the time and was I ok, was I hurt, could I go on. I could, but now I was slower than ever, afraid of every bend and bump and rock that came my way. All I had in my head was that Friends episode where Rachel quit her job to “get the fear” and Chandler kept saying “I’m too afraid!” I was too afraid. You need some kahones for this sport and frankly I did not have that, not even close. There was reason I love rowing, it’s on a flat, wide surface and it’s mostly in a straight line. This was simply too much for me, or at least for my first time out there.


I swear my lip felt more swollen than it looked! You should see my legs!

I swear my lip felt more swollen than it looked! You should see my legs!


I completed the practice loop and vowed never to such a thing again. Cormac was kind but felt I couldn’t just give up so quickly. However, he was gracious enough to let me off easy, bringing my up the mountain on the nice Coillte-built roads and showing me the beautiful scenery, teaching my how to use the bike and putting up with my random bouts of tears when something was too hard (it really was not my day). I managed a bit of the easier trail (albeit with one foot mostly on the ground) but complained about how I couldn’t enjoy the scenery. The adrenalin rush was just not doing it for me. I preferred the slow and steady mountain biking. Before I was through he made me do the practice loop again, to test what I had learned. I didn’t fall and I gladly retired with that accomplishment under my belt.



If anyone is interested in giving Mountain Bike Trails a go then I have these tips:

  1. Go with someone who has done it before, learn from them. They’ll have all the tricks.
  2. Be prepared to fall. If you want to invest in extra padding then do.
  3. Do try and think of your next move. It’s a sport that is both mentally and physically challenging.
  4. Know how to fix a puncture, their will be no professionals out there to help.
  5. Bring extra gear. You will get wet and you will get cold.
  6. Most of all, try and enjoy it. Don’t be a scaredy cat like me!



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