Coffee Helps

“Let’s go and find the caves!”

Dirk is being enthusiastic again.

Our day of tourism has brought us to Cavehill, where Dirk, for some reason, suspects there may be caves. He asks a hardy-looking runner about this possibilty as we saunter from the carpark, and I am alarmed when I see the guy pointing upwards and hear him using words like “four and a half miles” (upwards!!), “an hour”, and “climb”. “Follow the green trail!” he calls over his shoulder as he takes off running like some sort of mountain goat, skipping nimbly over rocks, puddles, large boulders etc.

My comrades start off on the green trail, which looks a little like a ladder ascending into the clouds, only with no rungs, and a lot of rocks and mud. I gaze wistfully at the blue trail, which goes downhill, and the black trail, which is fairly horizontal, as trails go.

Approximately 30 seconds later, I reach a flat bit, gasping for breath. Jay admits that his calf muscles are burning. I, however, am unable to localise the pain. Suffice to say it all hurts. Calf muscles, knees, lungs, the whole bodily shebang. “It’s good for you!” says E1 cheerfully, striding ahead.

I am sure she is right. I am just not sure how.

15 minutes later we meet the Hardy Runner, running hardily upwards, having already done a short warm-up lap of County Antrim. “You’re going the right way!”, he calls encouragingly, leaping and running and skipping past us at 70m.p.h. “It’s straight on up,” he adds helpfully, as he zooms into the clouds like the Roadrunner on Red Bull. It would be wrong for me to scream obscenities at him. It would also be impossible, as I can no longer breathe or speak.

30 minutes later we meet the Hardy Runner, running hardily downwards. It’s like Groundhog Day, only with a lycra-clad Hardy Runner. “You’re nearly there!” he re-encourages us. He is cool and refreshed, and sounds like he has been lying in a hammock drinking Pimms and reading the sports pages all afternoon. I wipe the sweat out of my eyes and continue resignedly upwards.

“A cave! A cave!”

Dirk has found a cave. He runs to explore it. I collapse on the grass, fighting off death. The worst is over. There is no more up. The only way is down, and in this particular situation, that is a Very Good Thing.

Down proves to be quite difficult. Less painful, less sweat-inducing, but difficult. I stumble, I slide, I panic occasionally – but I make it. I have succeeded!! I have climbed to dizzying heights; I have pushed my leg muscles to the limit; I have lost 4 pints of fluids through my pores; I have climbed, rambled, walked, descended, balanced and, most importantly, not died. I grin triumphantly as we stroll along the easy, flat path to the carpark.

I fall over my own foot.

I sprain my ankle.

I give up.

Filed under: Belfast, Cavehill, caves, exercise, friends, pain, tourists, walking