The Hiroo Santa Land Marathon Taikai

Well, well, only 37 posts for the the year and only a month to go until we say sayonara to 2015. I am determined to beat last year's paltry total of 49, which, yes maths fans, requires that I write something new every 3.333 recurring days. And unfortunately those days don't recur.
But where to begin? It's not like I have nothing to write about. Quite the opposite in fact. We had a busy summer and an even busier autumn and it is only now, as the first snowflakes fall (as they did today. On my bare head. Whilst sitting atop a surfboard down at Itanki this chilly afternoon. I really should have worn my 5mm booties. And at my age and scant hair coverage, I should definitely have worn a hood), that we have time to pause, take a breath, and catch up with the past couple of months.
So, indeed, where to begin. The prompt came from my good friend Master down in Hiroo (another good surfing spot), who rang during the week to inquire if everything was alright in the Gaynor-Takahashi household. Having not added anything to this blog since my fey, the-elvenfolk-go-to-Lake-Toya post, he was concerned that I might have succumbed to a prolonged illness or something.
Nope, I reassured him, just lack of time and eh, commitment.
But he did make me think that for my 'comeback' post I should really write about one of the highlights of the sporting year, the Hiroo marathon. Or rather, the 2015 Ougon-Douro Hiroo Santaland Marathon, to give event its full, majestic title. As Sanae and myself met, married and ahem, 'made' Cian in Hiroo, our ties to the town are many so it was only natural that we participate. Especially as this was the inaugural event and when history is being written you want to be holding the pen, or something. I have no idea - that metaphor came and went before I could fully grasp it.
So on Saturday, October 3rd, we hopped in to my trusty little Mazda and drove the four and half hours to Hiroo. And by the end of the journey my stiff body knew exactly how little my trusty Mazda is.
However, the aches and pains were eased by the marvelous dinner the Master of Goody and his wife gave us, followed by a mountain of ice cream for Cian who claimed he was 'calorie loading' before the big day.


Their generosity also extended to hosting us for the night so that we were fresh and ready for the race. Or rather, races, as Cian, Sanae, and myself were running different distances. Cian was up for the 3km, Sanae was going for gold in the 5km, and Daddy was aiming to be the first foreigner home in the 21km. We were blessed with the weather, a cool, crisp, blue sky day, with only a gentle breeze to contend with. I was off first and the route took us through Hiroo town before going out and back along the Ougon Dooro (Gold Road - so named for the exorbitant amount of money it cost to build it). The road runs along side the sea and this part of Hokkaido is renowned for its great waves (something I was happily oblivious to when I actually lived there. Love will do that to you). As I jogged along I couldn't help but notice the nice swell rolling through and then just beyond Funbe, a group of surfers lined the road cheering us on while out on the sea on a stand-up paddle board, Santa himself waved to us. Man, I nearly quit the race right there, but I kept going, to finish in 1:48, my best time in over two years. That's Hiroo for you. Cian finished 6th in his age group while Sanae stunned the world of athletics by being the 8th women home in the highly competitive 5km race. (Though there was subsequent talk of 'Russian methods' being used to achieve this.)
Then it was back in my little Mazda for the still-no-shorter four and a half hour drive back home. And if I thought my body was stiff after the drive on Saturday...

Lake Toya

 We have been going here quite a bit of late. It seems to be our default destination whenever we decide upon an impromptu day out from Muroran. We were there yesterday amid some very blustery, changeable autumn weather. Almost Irish it was. The Lake is graced with some relaxing, simple cafes (menus are limited, service is slow, views are contemplated) which get by on atmosphere rather than he definitive Italian short espresso. We were out for a stroll by the lake in the falling light, distant showers drifting across the still water when we were treated to this.

Whooohooo....oh, shite....

This is heading our way.

The surfer in me is going "Whoooohooo!!", the home owner in me is looking anxiously at the roof and the tall trees around the house and going "Oh shite".

Andrew Fox, "Good Money"

I subscribe to the Dublin Review, a quarterly periodical that successfully embraces the long form essay and contemporary Irish fiction. At times it tends a tad too much towards a prevalent 'grim brutalism' in its depictions of modern Ireland, but this is balanced by the sheer quality of the contributors' writing. I particularly like the work of a young Dublin novelist Andrew Fox, whose work has appeared in the Review over the past couple of years. He published his first collection of short stories 'Over our heads' earlier this year, and while I have yet to read it (it's on the bedside stack along with the other 300 plus books I haven't read. It's a big stack.), I have just read his most recent story, 'Good money', in the latest issue of the Dublin Review. For what it is worth, in my opinion both Fox and the Review are worth your time (and yes, money).

Up and running

It is Autumn and with it comes a spate of 'Marason Taikai', literally Marathon (running) events. None of them actually involve a full 42.142km marathon, but in Japan anything over a thousand meters qualifies as a marason. Inspired by Daddy's example (as opposed to being shamed by the steady uptick in the weighing scales), both Sanae and Cian have embraced long distance running. Last weekend saw us all up at Forest Kozan for the annual Green Race. Cian ran 3km, Sanae successfully completed her inaugural 5km, and Daddy avoided the bears on his slow 20km through the woods.
This weekend sees the debut of the Santa Land Hiroo marathon, sorry, marason. Cian has his 'Saturday Morning Variety Show at the Mizumoto Palladium' tomorrow morning straight after which  we jump in the Mazda for the four hour drive to Hiroo.
Long distance driving before the long distance running.
The race is on Sunday, and again the Gaynor-Takahashi family plans to dominate the 3km, 5km and 21km events. Then we all pile back into the Mazda and drive another 4 hours home and wonder if we have enough energy left to watch any of the weekend's rugby.

Japan 34 South Africa 32

Out of a clear blue English sky came a thunderbolt to eclipse anything the Rugby World Cup has ever seen. This was the biggest shock in rugby history, bar none, the kind of result that creates ripples beyond mere sport.
The Guardian

South Africa 32 Japan 34. It is the ultimate triumph of the underdog.
The Observer

There is good rugby, there is great rugby, there is rugby for the ages and then . . . then, my friends, there is the rugby match played in the wee hours of Sunday morning between South Africa and Japan.
Sydney Morning Herald

And so it was that a team that is based entirely in Japan, that lost to the United States two months ago, that beat Georgia 13-10 in their final warm-up game, that had won once in 24 matches spanning seven World Cups, shook your windows and rattled your walls.
BBC Sport

Shock and awe in the Brighton air, the vacant stares in South African eyes at the final whistle an arresting image as Japan inflicted on the World Cup double champions the greatest upset in the history of test rugby.
Daily Telegraph

The Rugby World Cup’s biggest shock, on the 2015 tournament’s second day. Wow. There can never have been a din at this stadium like the one raised as Karne Hesketh, a 30-year-old wing born in Napier in New Zealand, scored Japan’s winning try in the left corner to beat the two-time world champions South Africa.
The Independent

Well, well, well now we have a World Cup that's taken a direction no one thought. Magnificent, clever, innovative, brave, brave, brave Japan have pulled off the unthinkable and beaten the Springboks.
The New Zealand Herald

AMAZING! Japan turn the Rugby World Cup on its head by shocking the Springboks
Irish Independent

Nearly four minutes into added time, replacement back Karne Hesketh charged into the edge of the left corner, the crowd’s roar could probably be heard in Tokyo.
The Japan Times

South Africa lost against Japan. Not against the All Blacks. Not against the Wallabies. Not even against Argentina or Wales or England or Ireland. Against Japan. A country that 24 years ago last won a World Cup match (against Zimbabwe). A land that 20 years ago lost 17-145 against New Zealand. A land that last year still lost 21 - 61 against the New Zealand Maori (not the All Blacks). A land that is 13th on the world rankings.
Really a land that was a joke in world rugby. A land that was made fun of over its small players and that could not even scrape together a super rugby team.
But on Saturday, Japan was a giant.
Die Rapport (South Africa)

"YEEEAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSWAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!
Sanae Takahashi (Muroran)

September

The by now annual summer hiatus from blog posting has finally come to an end.
We are back.
Feel free to cry.
August and our trip home (and then Daddy's subsequent tip to the US of goddamn A!) has meant that there is lots to write about, but little time to do it. Plus, September in Hokkaido is a temporal encounter with my conception of heaven: blue skies, light westerly breeze, crisp, dry air, highs of 23, lows of around 14, water temperature a relaxing 18+, and a steady waist to chest high swell.
It won't last long, and when it's gone there will be plenty of (cold) time for blogging, but for now head and the heart are elsewhere.