Idag frångick jag mitt träningsprogram! Igår visade den att jag skulle springa i 1 timme och sju minuter, men när jag tittade i appen denna förmiddag, visade den att det blivit ändrat till en runda på 26-minuter.

Dock, när jag väl skulle ut och springa, så hade den ändrat tillbaka till det förstnämnda. Nu var jag ju inställd på en kortare runda och hade väntat en stunde med att bege mig ut, så nu fick det bli så.

Jag sprang den korta rundan lite snabbare!

Det blev en sen kvällsrunda detta BAS-träningspass på 40-minuter.

Ikväll var det riktigt tufft redan från början. Ätit för mycket och för sent inpå rundan!

Det blev en onsdags-eftermiddags runda i detta Garmin BAS-träningspass på 40-minuter.

Efter dessa 6 km blev jag färdig med The Conqueror utmaningen Giants Causeway och fick mitt diplom.

Jag fick även de två sista vykorten därifrån.

Leaving Bushmills, I entered the Giant’s Causeway Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty, a specially protected area of natural heritage guarded by the UK government and the National Trust. The area is famous for its basalt rock formations, and all kinds of breathtaking structures can be seen as one braves the blustering winds. Great arches, like the remnants of Gothic cathedrals, sheer cliffs rising over 328ft (100m) above the ocean, and sea caves that echo with the thundering boom of the waves colliding against their walls.

One of the most striking features found here is Dunluce Castle, which sits perched on a jutting headland. This castle’s name means ‘Fort of the Waves’, and it’s clear why; standing on the battlements, you experience the Atlantic crashing onto the basalt cliff below, spraying saltwater over the walls. The castle was first built by Norman invaders in the 13th Century but later became the seat of the Macdonalds, a Scottish clan that once ruled most of this area as the Earls of Antrim.

I enjoyed exploring the cavernous halls and crumbling walls, its ivy-draped towers and defiant battlements. I attempted to find some of the hidden corridors that are said to have been used by the castle’s inhabitants to smuggle in supplies during a siege and marvelled at the gravity-powered plumbing system the Macdonalds enjoyed. Indoor plumbing in a medieval castle, who’d have thought?

Looking at the boughs of Irish oak that lined my path, I noticed a wren, with his little upturned tailwings and needle-beak, flittering from branch to branch. In Ireland, this tiniest of creatures is known as the ‘King among Birds. ’ It’s said that once, the Wren challenged the Eagle to a contest to see who could fly the highest, the winner being awarded the right to call themselves King. 

The Eagle accepted immediately, thinking the little wren, with his little wings, had no chance. The Eagle prepared to take off, but just as he did, the Wren hopped on his back. Eagle climbed higher and higher until Ireland was just a speck below them, but eventually, his wings got tired, and he had to dive down back to Earth to rest. As he did so, the Wren jumped from his back, flapped his wings heroically, and flew a little higher than his opponent, and that’s why we call the Wren the King of All Birds!

I gave the Wren a bow and then continued. I climbed to the top of a hill, and then my heart hit my mouth. Laid out below was my destination. The Giant’s Causeway stretched before me, trailing off into the crashing waves of the Atlantic Ocean. I took the scene in and then headed downhill, excited for the final chapter in my Northern Irish adventure.

Giant’s Causeway is truly unique. Over 40,000 pentagonal columns (affectionately called ‘biscuits’ by locals) make up this UNESCO World Heritage Site, each almost too perfect for a natural phenomenon.

The Causeway was formed around 60 million years ago, when the Northern Irish coast was a geological and volcanic hotspot. Lava would erupt from volcanoes and then follow the contours of the land down to the sea, where, upon hitting the cool water, it would quickly solidify and contract, becoming basalt. This contraction led the basalt to crack and, as basalt cracks in a predictable way when cooling, and there was even stress distribution as the lava cooled, it formed honeycomb-like pentagons and long pillars. Then, over the eons, the wind, rain and waves shaped the Causeway, creating the many strange rock formations scattered around. 

I began along the Grand Causeway, the largest and most famous section of the site. I crossed these natural stepping stones, following the footsteps of Fionn Mac Cumhaiil, the legendary giant who is said to have built the causeway to challenge Benandonner, his Scottish rival. I marvelled at the basalt columns rising above me, laid out in their satisfying, regular hexagons. I felt the ocean’s salt spray on my face and placed my hand on a smooth column, weathered by centuries of erosion.   

Then, I headed to the Lesser Causeway and reached the Wishing Chair. This seat-shaped section of the formation is thought to be the throne of the legendary hero Fionn Mac Cumhaill, who rested here before crossing over to Scotland. Sitting here is meant to be good luck, so I dutifully queued with the other tourists before perching myself on it.

I continued around the site, next arriving at the Organ, so called because the formation’s tall parallel columns resemble the pipes of a church organ. I craned my neck, looking up at them, reaching as they do over 30ft (12m) into the sky, and imagined Fionn Mac Cumhaill sitting down here to play a few chords.

Next, I headed out of the main area of the Causeway to see the chimney stacks. These tall, isolated columns are found at the end of a heather-strewn headland, foregrounding an inspiring view over the sea to the Scottish islands. 

Finally, I found the Giant’s Gate, a formation resembling a doorway. Looking through its graceful arch, I found a beautifully framed view of the landscape, the Causeway stretching into the sea. This doorway is said to be the entrance to Fionn Mac Cumhaill’s domain, but I’ve learned from the tale of Ossian what happens when you enter the otherworlds, so I clambered around it.

I’ve had a wonderful day jumping across the basalt columns, exploring the strange shapes and the stranger stories behind them. Now, as the sun starts to fall beneath the horizon, it’s time to rest. I wander to the nearby snack van and order a cone of thick Irish chips (fries to you Americans) sprinkled with salt and drenched in vinegar. Then, I walk up the 162 Shepherd’s Steps to reach a brilliant viewpoint over the Causeway. I breathe in as I watch a group of fulmars wheeling across the sky. I can only feel thankful for the experience of crossing this emerald land, to discover its myths and folklore, as I allow my gaze to follow the Giant’s Causeway as it extends into the Atlantic, merging with the waves. 

Måndag eftermiddag och det blev ännu ett Garmin-träningspass.

30-minuter BAS-träning blev en runda runt kyrkogården.

Efter denna runda, fick jag mitt fjärde vykort från utmaningen Giants Causeway.

This next stage of my journey took me inland, through the hills and dales of County Antrim. I trudged and rambled, hopping over gates and puddles, climbing through the undergrowth, enjoying the sun on my face and the sound of the birds in the trees until, exhausted, I arrived in the town of Bushmills.

I’ve been looking forward to this stop for the entire journey, for some of the best whiskey in Ireland can be found here. Whiskey is a traditional drink in Ireland, and while Irish whiskey probably doesn’t possess the same international renown as Scottish Scotch, it’s a tipple with a deep tradition behind it and a vital place in Irish gastronomy.

Whiskey has been made in Northern Ireland since at least the 6th Century, when monks brought continental distilling techniques back from their travels. But nowhere making the drink today can claim greater venerability than the town of Bushmills, which is home to what is probably the oldest distillery operating in the world.

Though the distillery I’m standing in front of has been operational since 1784, the company claims it began making whiskey in 1608 after the king gave the area a distilling license. The whiskey produced here is smooth and pure, made with 100 percent barley and pure local water from the distillery’s own stream. 

I spent the morning admiring the intricate, shining copper stills, enjoying the aroma of the wooden casks, and learning some fascinating facts about whiskey production. For example, did you know that before adding the whiskey to age, barrels are toasted and charred to impart flavour from the Maillard reaction to the drink? This is the same process that gives a barbecue its distinct savoury flavour and, in turn, lends whiskey its rich, nutty notes.

I spent the rest of the day wandering around the town, which is a perfect representation of rural Northern Ireland. I crossed the beautiful old stone bridge over the River Bush and headed on to the Victorian-era market square, with its old clock tower dominating the scene. It was early afternoon on a Sunday, and so the market was in session. I approached one of the stalls and bought a bag of Dulse and Yellowman. This unusual treat combines the salty, deep umami of chewy local purple seaweed (or dulse) with the caramel sweetness of honeycomb. I enjoyed the bold, contrasting flavours and textures on a nearby bench as I prepared for the next step on my journey. 

Ännu ett Garmin-träningspass inför Midnattsloppet i augusti.

Det blev en kvällsrunda. Startade klockan 19:00 för att ta mig runt detta BAS-pass på 40-minuter,

Efter denna runda, hade jag passerat 80% av min Giants Causeway utmaning och ännu ett träd hade planterats!

Det blev ett träningspass på 49 minuter idag, där det skulle hållas ett tempo på 7.00/km.

Det gick ganska bra. Tog vägen bort mot kalkbrottet. Rundade det medsols och sprang Annetorpsleden tillbaka.

Idag blev det återigen ett träningspass direkt efter hemkomst från jobb.

Det blev samma runda som igår; Elinelundsrundan medsols.

Försökte hålla ett något saktare tempo hela vägen runt.

Då var jag igång med första Garmin träningspasset, inför Midnattsloppet i Malmö den 30 augusti.

Utförde inte träningspasset enligt förslaget som ville att jag skulle hålla ett tempo på 6:55/km i 30-minuter, utan satte fart för att se hur långt jag orkade i ett högre tempo.

Det blev 2km innan jag fick pusta ut lite. Första km på 05:33.

Efter denna runda, fick jag beskedet att jag nått 60% av den totala sträckan i utmaningen Giants Causeway.

Inte nog med det, så fick jag mitt tredje vykort från Giants Causeway!

On my way from Fair Head to the town of Ballycastle, I trudged across the tops of the cliffs, around the magnificent Torr Head, until I arrived at Glenshesk to visit its local Mass Rock. At first, this rock seems completely unremarkable, save for its large flat surface and the crucifix carved upon it, but it tells us something essential about the history of this part of the United Kingdom.

In the 18th Century, the island of Ireland, predominantly Catholic, was occupied by the British, who tended to follow the Protestant faith. The British passed a series of measures in Ireland known as the Penal Laws. These laws stipulated that no Catholic could vote, receive an education or worship the Catholic rites publicly. 

This forced the Catholic Church on the island underground. However, despite the harsh punishments if they were caught, the faithful would flock to these rocks in the dead of night to receive communion, using their wide, flat surfaces as improvised altars. Like most Mass Rocks, this one at Glenshesk is in a wild, remote location, tucked away in a glen, allowing the worshippers to post lookouts on the hills, watching for any British patrols.

I sat for a minute and contemplated these brave acts of resistance, finding inspiration in the fact that, despite centuries of oppression aimed at destroying this island’s culture, the Irish always hung on, marshalling creativity and bravery to preserve themselves. With this thought, I continued on to Ballycastle.

Ballycastle is charming; rows of multi-coloured houses stand next to the marina, where white sailboats glide through the waters, taking tourists along the coast or fishermen to their nets. 

I sat on the town’s golden beach and, hearing the soft flap of wings above, I looked up and saw a squadron of swans passing through the sky. This brought my thoughts to the tale of the Children of Lir, which is said to have taken place in Ballycastle.

Once there lived a chieftain named Lir. For many years, he was married to a woman named Aobh, with whom he had four children. For a while, the little family lived in happiness, until one day, through the cruel whims of Fate, Aobh was taken, dying whilst her children were still young.

Lir grieved deeply the loss of his love, but he found solace in his children, for in each of their angelic little faces, he saw a reflection of his departed wife. He loved them dearly, pouring his deep affection into their care and imparting all he knew about the world to them, teaching them the history of their land, the knowledge and lore of the forest, and the art of music and singing. 

Some time later, Lir met a woman named Aoife, famous for her great beauty and her magical powers. They came together in a field, and, as was custom, a cord was fastened around their clasped hands, binding them together in matrimony.

Aoife too fell in love with Lir’s beautiful children, but realised that she would never equal them in her new husband’s affections. Jealousy began to cloud her mind, so she resolved to do away with them. She commanded the children to mount her carriage, and she took them far away, on a long journey to the lough she had chosen for an evil deed. When they arrived, she drew her magic wand and cast a spell, turning them into four white swans. 

Over the days that followed, Aiofe was wracked with guilt. She returned to the lough and gathered the transformed children. Whilst she could not give them back their human form, she gave them back their voices, and all who passed the lough heard the angelic singing of the children of Lir.

I strained my ears to hear their song as the swans flew overhead and imagined a few notes of their melody. Satisfied, I picked up my bag and continued to the town of Bushmills.

Idag anmälde jag både Pontus och mig själv till Midnattsloppet 2025.

Något att se fram emot.

Jag placerade oss i samma startgrupp: