I like to run, and nowhere more so than in my native Belfast. I live in the east of the city, which wouldn't strike an outsider as being one of the better places to indulge this pastime. I beg to differ, writes Mark Doherty.
One of my favourite routes is to head for the River Lagan at Stranmillis, running up past the row of boathouses where I, without regret, spent more of my time at Queen's University training and socialising than at lectures or study. I then take to the tow-path towards Lisburn, passing the car-park that still contains the filled-in rectangle of "Molly Ward's" lock - the first of 27 on the defunct Lagan Navigation, the canal and river system that led all the way to Lough Neagh.
The former lock-house is commendably kept in excellent order and used as offices for a training company headed by the affable Frank Storrs, who can sometimes be seen sculling by on the river. From here I continue a pleasantly meandering riverside run, passing strollers, dog-walkers and cyclists. The sewage works in Belvoir Forest, across the river, is shielded discreetly by a belt of trees; a warm day and an unfavourable wind sometimes remind me it is there. There are fish again in the river, as confirmed by the presence of the patient herons. My father-in-law, a frequent walker in these parts, has seen the blue dart of the kingfisher along this stretch.
Over the Red Bridge, past the second lock and I reach Shaw's Bridge, a spot beloved of Belfast city folk who fancy a scenic walk or run. The old stone bridge is still there, now bypassed by a modern span carrying a dual-carriageway of fast-moving vehicles. The old bridge was built about 1690 with stone taken from the ancient fort that sat on the higher land north of the river. This site is now occupied by the Georgian Malone House and its surrounding wooded demesne - burnt out by the IRA in the 1970s, when Belfast reached the lowest point in its history, but afterwards renovated and now used for dinners and social functions.
On I run, branching off from the river on a path that rises through woodlands to emerge at the Mary Peters Track, an international-standard 400-metre track set in a bowl of trees. This is named after Northern Ireland's most successful Olympian, who won a gold medal in the 1972 pentathlon at Munich. I hop the gate and run a lap of the track, passing athletes doing their warm-ups, then down through the trees to the river once more.
On I meander beside the Lagan, usually crossing over the wooden footbridge at Edenderry, and head through the village. Edenderry is a former mill village, mainly of redbrick workers' terraced homes, There is a reasonably sensitive new development attached. Some old mill buildings are being demolished, probably to make way for stylish riverside apartments or "townhouses".
I run up a secluded path beside a small gospel hall and head across the fields, sweeping upwards for a great view of the countryside, then join a hedged pathway. This leads to one of Belfast's great secrets - the Giant's Ring. It is an immense earthen "henge" monument, the largest in Ireland. "A broad silent saucer of pre-history on the edge of a traffic-rumbling city" was C.E. Brett's succinct description.
It is like a rath scaled up to 180 metres in diameter, and has a small dolmen in the centre - a little "house" which our children love to play in. I still remember taking our eldest son here for the first time, when he was about three years old. He looked at the smooth green undulations of the site and his eyes lit up in recognition - Telly Tubby Land!
Fortunately for posterity, a benefactor in Victorian times built a wall around this unique piece of our heritage to protect it, and it is still there, free from grazing animals (and their excrement) for all to enjoy.
I now complete a lap of an older track, on top of the earthen bank, passing fields of barley or rapeseed. If I look to the skyline to the west I can pick out the stump of the round tower uniquely sited in a Presbyterian graveyard in Drumbo, on a site used for burials since pagan times. This site was well selected by the early monks, giving a superb view down the Lagan Valley. I return down the hedged path to "where Lagan streams sing lullaby", passing an earthen mote from Norman times as I go.
Turning towards Belfast, I pass over the scenic stone bridge at Minnowburn Beeches before returning to Shaw's Bridge, only to part ways with the Lagan again to run through Belvoir Forest. It is great to be so well away from roads and traffic, yet I am within the city limits.
The forest is part of the former estate of Belvoir House, where the Duke of Wellington's mother, Anna, lived and the Duke himself spent much time. The house is sadly gone, but the stable block remains as headquarters for the Royal Society for the Protection of Birds and the Forestry Service.
Through the car-park on the site of the old house, I pass another tall earthen mote looking over the river, and continue through the woodlands until I emerge, blinking, into the city again at Annadale Avenue, named after Wellington's mother, and pass the newly-built Wellington College to complete my run on the city streets.