It was a strange feeling, walking down the jet way, passport in hand, on my way to Ireland.  Like déjà vu for the thing that had not happened.  I was heading out of the country for the summer, but heading East instead of West

I hoped that Ireland could heal me and I left California shortly after I ran away from Trials.  By then I felt as though the raw disappointment of those first days had coalesced into solid lead inside of me.  Like cooling lava, it was no longer bursting forth, but just lay there, heavy as stone.

And as time has gone by, I’ve found that I have discovered a sort of peace here.  Some solace in the wind and solitude.  Here, you can be lost in the blue gray of the ocean, the ruin of high stone cliffs, and the majesty of long dead monuments.

On our first day here, Greg and I visited the Hill of Tara, seat of the High Kings of Ireland. We touched Lialh Fáil, the stone of destiny. Lost baggage left us ill prepared for the slick wet grass and cutting wind.  Still, the vast emptiness of the place, the sense of past drama and even that cold wet wind seemed to fill some sort of void in my heart.

Now we have set up at the summerhouse of one of my teammates on stark and beautiful Achill Island.  The house is the type of place that has no address, just a few distant neighbors and their twelve cats.  It has been comforting to find out that I have many friends who care for me and not for my success.  They have all come through more than I had ever expected, offering me help at a time when it’s most needed.

As the days pass, I feel the burden of my disappointment less and less.  It is by no means lighter.  Instead, it’s as if the exercise of carrying it and not collapsing under its weight has made me stronger and I can go longer and longer before I notice it.

Now, I can laugh with a gasp at our tiny car becoming airborne off a huge sideways bump in the road.  I chuckled at the local crazy bartender’s response to Greg’s question about the taste of a certain local beer - “It’s beer.”  I even found humor when we figured out halfway through our quick run this morning that it had accidentally turned into a 6+ mile trek.

I have faith that happy days and great days will still come to me and bury the disappointment of this summer beneath them.  I doubt that I will ever forget the pain of what could have been but I will remember that greatness of spirit cannot be left behind in a swimming pool.

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