Running Rivers: River Shannon

You might guess that I am of Irish descent.?

Or, you might, like one of my friends, guess that I am of some "white-European-white-UK-white-heritage."??

Since that is unfortunately a direct quote, I will keep the author anonymous, but I will?solve the mystery of my heritage now: I am primarily Irish.?How lucky I was to be able to travel around Ireland for about a week during a several-week honeymoon.

My wife and I decided to take our official honeymoon a year later so we could enjoy it, but also so we could AFFORD it.?We were able to travel the trodden and untrodden paths of Dublin, Galway, Cork, Limerick, and all points in between.?

If you are unfamiliar with Ireland, Limerick really isn't on the big "tourist" list.?Sure, tourists do travel there, but it isn't like going to the Cliffs of Moher or kissing the Blarney Stone or traversing Galway or Dublin.?In fact, it is similar to visiting Boston and then spending a few nights in Lowell or Worcester.?Limerick was central to a few other tourist stops, all within in driving distance (Galway, Cliffs of Moher, etc.) and lodging was much cheaper than in some other places.?We scored an amazing deal on a very high end hotel, which just happened to be right along the River Shannon.?Of course,?I went for a run.

I will remember this particular river run for life.

It was earlier in the morning but the sun was up and it was a typical weekday.?I stepped out of the hotel and prepped for the run with some light stretching.?I could hear the sound of water falling from a nearby mill.?After I checked my shoestrings, I started out down a gravel path that led toward the river.?I glanced toward the town: folks were waking up and coming to life, and I could hear a bit of traffic in the distance.?I picked up the pace just a tad, listening to the "crunch -crunch" sound of the tiny stones beneath my tread.?I heard voices, some kind of giggling, but I didn't see anybody.?

As I turned around a soft bend following the River Shannon, I saw a group of girls walking and giggling on another gravel path several feet up the grade.?They were probably 9 or 10 years old, wearing crisp and patterned uniforms of blue, gray and green.?"Catholic school..." I?thought.?I knew the large cathedral and school in town weren't too far away.?What they were saying was not audible, but I noted how simple they looked marching and playing along a path in between some grasses and mud.?They were carrying satchels: one girl had a stick in her hand and she was waving it, as if in a dance.?I glanced quickly in their direction and kept up my stride. As I passed them, I heard them giggle even louder.?(I'm sure I looked stereotypically American).

I was struck by how still the water was moving.?The river moved, but from certain vantage points, it looked as if it were glass reflecting the light and the tall grasses of its banks - mirroring the sky above as clouds rolled and birds darted across the light blue canvas.?The peace of the scene kept my breath in perfect rhythm with my stride, as I moved steadily along the river.?In the distance, I could faintly hear the cathedral bell ring and a light buzz of Limerick's traffic floated out into the air.

As I made my way into about 3 miles of the run, I encountered a series of bushes?interrupting?my path and the view of the river.?I weaved left, moving further away from the water so I could go around the overgrowth, hugging the perimeter to make my turn.?My feet carried me swiftly around the curved detour.?When my eyes could see the river again in full view, I was forced to stop short.?

For a second.?A minute??I'm not sure.

There were too many to count, playing in the water and on the riverbank.?Not one of them saw me, but I knew I would be uninvited.?They gracefully gathered--at least twenty--playing and dancing in the most elegant fashion across the River Shannon.?Their feathers elongated as their wings waved outward, not to me, but to each other.?Mostly black and gray, these river dancers moved with occasional flashes of pure white.?Their proud beaks reflected the sunshine, as they gently moved their heads in communion.?I will probably never see that many swans together again in my lifetime.?It was truly a singular event.

For whatever reason, I've reflected on that moment many times since. What exactly made it so special??So beautiful??After all, I've seen a swan before, and certainly, I've seen flocks of birds together.?Many cultures place importance on the symbolism of the swan: love, beauty, purity, partnership, transformation....??Art and music and film and dance have been inspired by the swan.?Most cultures connect swans to representing "light."?

Personally, I hadn't really considered?anything symbolic about a swan, other than elegance.?I started doing further research into the swan and its symbolism.?In Chinese mythology, the swan is connected to the sun.?It is said to live in heaven in the folklore of Japan and it represents "happy death" in Roman literature.?Christianity likens the swan to grace and purity, and in Celtic folklore, the swan represents love. These themes, with subtle differences, seem to center around the soul.

I'm not sure how long I stood there, really.?Gazing at these swans on the River Shannon, my run was paused.?My thoughts were paused.?There was something simple, something spiritual about that encounter.?Looking back, the rhetor in me immediately connected the dots: many swans-River Shannon-Celtic symbol-love-honeymoon...ah, I must be sorely in love with my wife.?While that is true, quite true I might add, I think that is too easy.?I remember running at such a nice clip, drinking in the modest Irish countryside along the river.?In a moment, in an act that truly felt like an appearance, I was stopped--paused--by a flock of swans.?While it is true that I didn't want to disturb them, I was also eager to watch and listen.?

The beauty of the simple gliding, peaceful playing... perhaps a reminder for me to also stop?

I slowly inched back behind the bushes and headed on down the return path back to the hotel.?I don't remember exactly how my run felt on the return.?I'm guessing my pace may have been slower than before, but I had a quiet but overflowing energy inside, bursting to tell someone what I just saw.?It felt like a wonderful secret and I knew that its graceful simplicity of it was significant, but I had no idea how long I would carry it with me or how often I would reflect on it.

I picked up my stride slightly, heading closer and closer back to the town, smiling.?I could see the rooftops and church steeples of Limerick.?The city that wasn't on my top tourist destination list suddenly became a magical place through a moment of beauty, grace, and purity.?In the simple things, I ended up finding the most pleasure.?And I could see further in the distance, that group of school-girls, almost to school, perhaps still giggling.????