Aththosnú an fheachtais.

Mar is eol daoibh chaith mé Mí nó mar sin i bhfad ó baile le déanaí agus bhí orm stad a chur le fheachtas smachtú na blonaige. Ó thús bliana i leith d'éirigh thar barr liom mar a léirítear thuas agus inné shuí mé ar ais ar an ndiallat don chéad uair i seachtainí fada. Bhain mé an 33km amach i 79 nóiméad agus bhíos sásta le sin, cé go bhfuil mé in ann cúig nóiméad ar a laghad a bhaint ón am sin, nuair atá mé imithe i dtaithí arís ar an obair.

Is ait an rud é, ach bhíos ag súil le ardú éigin sa mheáchan mar thoradh ar an easpa rothaíocht ach mar a thárla, chaileas dhá kg sa bhreis. Is dócha gurb é an fáth le seo ná gur chaith mé roinnt den am ar Mars i mo sheasamh, in ionad is a bheith sáite suite ós comhair scáileán ar thóir bits 'n' bytes.

Tá sé mar chuspóir anois agam 5kg eile a chailliúnt rud a fhágas ar 75kg sláintiúil. Ansin beidh mé réidh chun mó leabhar a scríobh "D'Íocas le fhíocas". Má éiríonn leis b'fhéidir go ndéanfaidh mé aistriúchán air "Piles after Miles".

Mí ar Mars

Mo leithscéal as ciúnas na háite le déanaí ach tá mé díreach i ndiaidh filleadh ó thuras fada go domhain iomlán éagsúl. Bhíos ar cuairt ann don mórchuid agus fearadh gach fáilte romham, ach rinneas roinnt obair ann freisin chun triail a bhaint asam féin. Thaithin an domhain úr nua seo go mór liom agus tá sé ar intinn agam filleadh arís air sar i bhfad, ach go dtí sin tá mé ar ais i measc cacamais lofa an tíogair.

Is ait an rud a rá é, ach cé go bhfuil muintir Mhars in ainm is a bheith soineanta, tá clisteacht ar leith iontú i dtaobh cóir agus éagóir agus is maith a thuigeann siad cothrom na féinne. Is deacair a rá mar sin cad a cheapfadh siad faoi sliocht Éirinn, an clann a dhíol a máthair, ach ní raibh sé de mhíbéasaí agam a leithéidí a lua leo.

Luan Cásca

I have met them at close of day
Coming with vivid faces
From counter or desk among grey
Eighteenth-century houses.
I have passed with a nod of the head
Or polite meaningless words,
Or have lingered awhile and said
Polite meaningless words,
And thought before I had done
Of a mocking tale or a gibe
To please a companion
Around the fire at the club,
Being certain that they and I
But lived where motley is worn:
All changed, changed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.

That woman's days were spent
In ignorant good-will,
Her nights in argument
Until her voice grew shrill.
What voice more sweet than hers
When, young and beautiful,
She rode to harriers?
This man had kept a school
And rode our winged horse;
This other his helper and friend
Was coming into his force;
He might have won fame in the end,
So sensitive his nature seemed,
So daring and sweet his thought.
This other man I had dreamed
A drunken, vainglorious lout.
He had done most bitter wrong
To some who are near my heart,
Yet I number him in the song;
He, too, has resigned his part
In the casual comedy;
He, too, has been changed in his turn,
Transformed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.

Hearts with one purpose alone
Through summer and winter seem
Enchanted to a stone
To trouble the living stream.
The horse that comes from the road.
The rider, the birds that range
From cloud to tumbling cloud,
Minute by minute they change;
A shadow of cloud on the stream
Changes minute by minute;
A horse-hoof slides on the brim,
And a horse plashes within it;
The long-legged moor-hens dive,
And hens to moor-cocks call;
Minute by minute they live:
The stone's in the midst of all.

Too long a sacrifice
Can make a stone of the heart.
O when may it suffice?
That is Heaven's part, our part
To murmur name upon name,
As a mother names her child
When sleep at last has come
On limbs that had run wild.
What is it but nightfall?
No, no, not night but death;
Was it needless death after all?
For England may keep faith
For all that is done and said.
We know their dream; enough
To know they dreamed and are dead;
And what if excess of love
Bewildered them till they died?
I write it out in a verse -
MacDonagh and MacBride
And Connolly and Pearse
Now and in time to be,
Wherever green is worn,
Are changed, changed utterly:
A terrible beauty is born.

Dul chun cinn go dtí seo.

De bharr brú oibre agus staidéir is beag rothaíocht atá déanta agam le seachtain anuas. I ndiaidh mo bhricfeasta (cúpla céad gram de seacláid, mar a thárla) bhuaileas an bhóthair agus rinneas an gnáth 33km i 77 nóiméad. Táim in ann an aistear sin a dhéanamh i 74 nóiméad anois ach caithfidh a bheith ag súil le tionchar éigin ón seacláid is dócha. Fós féin, is cosúil gur leor aistear amháin in aghaidh na seachtaine chun obair na míonna go dtí seo a chaomhnú - táim greamaithe ar 83kg le seachtainí anois, 11kg níos eadroma ná mar a bhíos ag tús na bliana.

Seo dhaoibh.

Níl sé ceadaithe, de réir dealramh, an físeán seo a uaslódáil ar youtube nó aon áit cosúil leis, ach is féidir é a chur anseo ar fáth éigin. Tá súil agam nach mbrisfidh 'Na Feds' mo dhoras isteach orm dá bharr!

Bainigí sult as.