A 1,400-Mile Pilgrimage: Running Around the Emerald Isle
Ireland’s enduring appeal lies not just in its stunning landscapes, but in the warmth of its people and a cultural embrace of slowing down. For one long-distance runner, turning 50 sparked a desire to experience the land of his ancestors not as a tourist, but as a traveler propelled by his own two feet – a 1,400-mile journey around the entire island of Ireland.
The idea, born from tales of epic runs across continents, resonated with a deeper longing for meaning and connection. Having visited Ireland throughout his childhood with his Irish parents, the author felt a familiar pull, yet acknowledged a limited understanding of the country beyond fleeting family visits. “Most summers as a child, my Irish parents would take us ‘home’ to Ireland, to visit relatives, sitting on sofas in small cottages, a plate of soda bread on the table, a pot of tea under a knitted cosy,” he recalls. “Having been there many times, I thought I knew Ireland, but, really, I knew only a tiny fragment.”
And so, a plan was hatched to circumnavigate Ireland, beginning in Dublin, the birthplace of his mother. The route traced a path south through the Wicklow Mountains to Cork, then north along the rugged Wild Atlantic Way, past Galway – his father’s birthplace – and onward through Donegal and Northern Ireland, ultimately looping back to Dublin. The journey, completed in just under 10 weeks, demanded an average of over 20 miles of running each day, supported by his wife and 15-year-old son traveling alongside in a motorhome.
The landscape proved to be a constant companion. Many days were spent running alone, traversing rolling farmland where “cows staring at me over hedges” became a familiar sight. Yet, the solitude was often broken by the unexpected generosity of the Irish people. “Those were the easiest days, when the miles would slip by unnoticed, like water under a boat, the chat being the wind in our sails,” he writes. This hospitality wasn’t limited to conversation; invitations into homes for food and offers of lodging were commonplace, embodying Ireland’s famed welcoming spirit.
One instance perfectly encapsulates this spirit. After a fuse blew in the motorhome, leaving the family without water, the author found himself knocking on the door of a closed hardware shop – a practice he wouldn’t have considered back home in England. “It just seemed that in Ireland you can do that sort of thing,” he explains. A local man readily provided the needed fuse, refusing payment for his kindness.
Beyond the human connections, the journey offered a glimpse into the heart of Irish culture. Traditional pubs, “seemingly lost in time, wood-panelled walls covered in random objects and pictures,” became regular stops, often featuring impromptu “trad sessions” – informal gatherings of musicians playing fiddles, guitars, and accordions. The author also noted the prevalence of modern housing developments, wryly observing that the designs appeared “picked straight from a book called Bungalow Bliss.”
Despite its beauty, Ireland’s environmental challenges were also apparent. The author acknowledges that it is “one of the least biodiverse countries in the world, with barely any remaining natural forest.” However, moments of profound connection with nature still emerged, particularly during a climb up Knocknadobar, a “holy mountain” in County Kerry. The 14 crosses along the trail, depicting the Stations of the Cross, unexpectedly resonated with his own physical and emotional struggles. “What burden was I carrying?” he pondered, before shifting his focus to gratitude for his health and the opportunity to experience the journey. Remarkably, as he embraced this shift in perspective, “the clouds parted, and below the swooping drop of the mountain the sea appeared.”
The route led him through hidden gems like the Beara Peninsula, with its “mountains pointy and lush, like something from a Japanese painting,” and the Glengarriff nature reserve, home to a rare section of native Irish forest. He discovered secluded swimming spots, from the white sands of Derrynane Beach in Kerry to the serene Poulanassy waterfall in Kilkenny. The north Antrim coast, bathed in sunshine, proved particularly captivating, with the Giant’s Causeway standing as a testament to the power of nature. “I don’t know if it was the power of the evening light…but as I passed through it, I wanted to lie down on the grass and never leave.”
Ultimately, the experience was less about conquering a distance and more about immersing himself in the spirit of Ireland. “Running as much as I did, I never dwelt long in any one place, and while I saw so much, my experiences were, by their nature, mostly fleeting. It felt as though I was getting an impressionistic image of Ireland.” He came away feeling “taken in and looked after by Ireland,” a sentiment underscored by the 30 runners who joined him on his final day, singing Molly Malone as they ran into Dublin and culminating in a celebratory Guinness at a local pub.
Adharanand Finn, author of Running with the Kenyans, The Way of the Runner, and The Rise of the Ultra Runners, has crafted a compelling narrative of physical endurance, cultural immersion, and personal discovery. His journey around Ireland is a testament to the transformative power of slowing down and embracing the unexpected kindness of strangers.
