Here we are folks, Christmas with the family and snow on the ground, just like in all the books. Just watched the Kirov Ballet's Swan Lake after a warming venison supper with my sister, which has got us into festive mode.
But it's also a time for reflection, in my case thinking of the nine people I know who have sadly been lost this year, including four under 25 and Natalie's dear Godfather Stephen. I'm particularly thinking of his wife and children tonight and also the family of Pete Holmes whose funeral was just a few days ago. It was unfair to see what his parents and brother had to go through that day. And to think their suffering has only just started.
All the above makes it imperative that we enjoy Christmas and look forward to a happy, prosperous and friendly New Year. To all those reading this dross, thanks for putting up with me for the last 12 months and have a great festive break.
Thursday 24 December 2009
Tuesday 15 December 2009
The Psychology of Running
After spending last Sunday afternoon erecting and decorating an enormous Christmas tree in our lounge – why do we humans do such bizarre things? – I felt that I deserved to sit down and read the Sunday Times accompanied by a particularly large whisky, a packet of crisps and with a Rachmaninov piano concerto blasting away. (This custom started in my early 20’s after my flatmate Simon Collingridge and I had been out for our second Sunday run of the day, thus completing another weekend of hard training, drinking and, in Simon’s case, womanising. Trouble was it always seemed to be my whisky being consumed ...)
There was a brilliant Q&A piece on Sir Christopher Chataway (CC) in the ST and it made me laugh a lot. It also made me think. CC is now in his late 70’s and still competes in mob matches for Thames, although was absent when we thrashed them a couple of weeks ago. He was a very fine runner in the 50’s, being particularly remembered, along with my old chum Chris Brasher, for his part in Roger Bannister’s first 4 minute mile in 1954. Brasher took the first two laps, Chataway took it on for the third, leaving Bannister to take the glory at the end.
CC’s finest memory is of his famous 5,000m race against the Russian Vladimir Kuts in October that year. There were 40,000 spectators in the White City stadium in London. In those days there were no floodlights, instead two searchlights followed the runners as they circled the track in the cool autumnal evening, that must have been something special to watch. CC won the race by inches in a new world record of 13.51. Compared to today’s pampered, lottery funded, shoe sponsored, athletes, the top runners of the 50’s had nothing going for them. They did very little training (there having been no real science on the subject), ran in heavy, old leather shoes with no support, and on rough and often flooded cinder tracks ... and they nearly all smoked! CC stated that he cut down to seven cigarettes a day during the summer when he was competing!
So how were they able to run so fast? For starters anyone who ran then had a perception in their mind of what was needed to be competitive and therefore had an inherent belief that they could run at the necessary speed. This is an argument I’ve used a lot when talking to today’s runners about why standards were so much better in the 80’s – you effectively turned up at your club and ran at the pace necessary to keep up, then went away and trained hard on your own so that you could keep up the following week! At a finance seminar I recently attended, someone quoted the famous economist John Maynard Keynes on the paradox of thrift: "if we are all prudent together, there can be no growth." Growth being exactly what our economy needs at present but thrift and lack of ambition holding it back. This can easily been linked to training. There's no point just pottering along together at an easy pace (prudence) when to get fitter (growth) it takes more investment in extra input, effort and energy. No gain without pain.
Back to the 50's, at the highest level it then became a psychological battle to be the best. The Austrian Franz Stampfl coached all three of the 4 minute mile protagonists. As well as being one of the early pioneers of the standard interval session on the track (yep, blame him every time you are asked to do 10 x 400 off 200 recovery), he had a strong belief in the mental aspect of training and racing. As CC stated in the article, he conveyed masses of positive thoughts to the runner, including just before the Kuts race: "don’t forget he’s just as frightened of you." I’ve always tried to convey this to athletes i.e. don’t look across at the guy running alongside you in a race and assume he is better than you; think positively about how the guy is hanging on for dear life and also show positivity to make him feel even worse, a little smile perhaps or a gentle surge for a few metres. This can be the difference between a good and a great runner. A little bit of arrogance is a good thing in a runner.
CC won the first ever Sports Personality of the Year award in 1954, quite remarkable considering that Bannister had broken the 4 minute barrier. However, his greatest memory of that night wasn’t collecting the famous outside broadcast camera trophy but of being given an enormous, extremely expensive cigar!
Finally, some good news at last for me to end an all round tough year. No, I don't mean winning Ciren's athlete of the year award, although very proud of that despite my embarrassing beer belly. I've been asked and have accepted to mentor and coach a top UK international distance athlete. We live some distance apart but have met up a couple of times already, contact each other on a daily basis and are both looking forward to an exciting 2010. It's going to be hard work and a real challenge but hopefully fun as well.
There was a brilliant Q&A piece on Sir Christopher Chataway (CC) in the ST and it made me laugh a lot. It also made me think. CC is now in his late 70’s and still competes in mob matches for Thames, although was absent when we thrashed them a couple of weeks ago. He was a very fine runner in the 50’s, being particularly remembered, along with my old chum Chris Brasher, for his part in Roger Bannister’s first 4 minute mile in 1954. Brasher took the first two laps, Chataway took it on for the third, leaving Bannister to take the glory at the end.
CC’s finest memory is of his famous 5,000m race against the Russian Vladimir Kuts in October that year. There were 40,000 spectators in the White City stadium in London. In those days there were no floodlights, instead two searchlights followed the runners as they circled the track in the cool autumnal evening, that must have been something special to watch. CC won the race by inches in a new world record of 13.51. Compared to today’s pampered, lottery funded, shoe sponsored, athletes, the top runners of the 50’s had nothing going for them. They did very little training (there having been no real science on the subject), ran in heavy, old leather shoes with no support, and on rough and often flooded cinder tracks ... and they nearly all smoked! CC stated that he cut down to seven cigarettes a day during the summer when he was competing!
So how were they able to run so fast? For starters anyone who ran then had a perception in their mind of what was needed to be competitive and therefore had an inherent belief that they could run at the necessary speed. This is an argument I’ve used a lot when talking to today’s runners about why standards were so much better in the 80’s – you effectively turned up at your club and ran at the pace necessary to keep up, then went away and trained hard on your own so that you could keep up the following week! At a finance seminar I recently attended, someone quoted the famous economist John Maynard Keynes on the paradox of thrift: "if we are all prudent together, there can be no growth." Growth being exactly what our economy needs at present but thrift and lack of ambition holding it back. This can easily been linked to training. There's no point just pottering along together at an easy pace (prudence) when to get fitter (growth) it takes more investment in extra input, effort and energy. No gain without pain.
Back to the 50's, at the highest level it then became a psychological battle to be the best. The Austrian Franz Stampfl coached all three of the 4 minute mile protagonists. As well as being one of the early pioneers of the standard interval session on the track (yep, blame him every time you are asked to do 10 x 400 off 200 recovery), he had a strong belief in the mental aspect of training and racing. As CC stated in the article, he conveyed masses of positive thoughts to the runner, including just before the Kuts race: "don’t forget he’s just as frightened of you." I’ve always tried to convey this to athletes i.e. don’t look across at the guy running alongside you in a race and assume he is better than you; think positively about how the guy is hanging on for dear life and also show positivity to make him feel even worse, a little smile perhaps or a gentle surge for a few metres. This can be the difference between a good and a great runner. A little bit of arrogance is a good thing in a runner.
CC won the first ever Sports Personality of the Year award in 1954, quite remarkable considering that Bannister had broken the 4 minute barrier. However, his greatest memory of that night wasn’t collecting the famous outside broadcast camera trophy but of being given an enormous, extremely expensive cigar!
Finally, some good news at last for me to end an all round tough year. No, I don't mean winning Ciren's athlete of the year award, although very proud of that despite my embarrassing beer belly. I've been asked and have accepted to mentor and coach a top UK international distance athlete. We live some distance apart but have met up a couple of times already, contact each other on a daily basis and are both looking forward to an exciting 2010. It's going to be hard work and a real challenge but hopefully fun as well.
Monday 7 December 2009
Pete Holmes 1985-2009
Pete Holmes died at the weekend at the age of 24.In his short life he achieved masses, running initially with Tetbury Royals, then Cirencester AC before going to Loughborough University and joining up with Cheltenham Harriers.
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Upon graduating he landed a plum job as media officer with the British Triathlon Association and then, presumably because he was good at what he did, last year became communications manager of the International Triathlon Union based in Vancouver, Canada, from where he travelled the world of professional triathlon events.
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It was in Canada that he died, falling from a mountain when out on snowshoes. Words cannot accurately convey the awfulness of this dreadful tragedy.
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Pete was a true maverick but the 5,826 hits in the last 24 hours on the thread relating to his death on the running forum website eightlane.com, testify to his popularity and the shock of this awful news within the running community. Never has the oft used phrase Life's too Short been more apt than in relation to Pete's demise.
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Pete, I'll never forget Stroud last year when you just prevailed ahead of Wendy & me - you couldn't face the thought of being beaten by the first lady/V50 - and ran down the finishing straight with your now iconic Ryan Hall moment celebrating qualifying for London. That image will stay with me as will our lovely, friendly chat afterwards.
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At this difficult time one can only offer the deepest sympathy to those closest to him, his parents, brother and girlfriend.
Sunday 22 November 2009
Two endurance tests in three days
Mob match no.138 safely negotiated on probably my favourite of all the courses, Wimbledon Common.
I first started running on the common when at school so it has a particular resonance for me and the course is all you'd want from a xc race: woodland tracks, hills, fallen trees to climb over, streams to jump across, some good fast flat stretches and a bit of mud thrown in near the end. Yesterday was made particularly special because we beat our hosts, the oldest running club in the UK, Thames Hare & Hounds. With mob matches being all about numbers, home advantage usually counts, but Ranelagh managed to get 59 hardy souls across from their Richmond HQ - with a little help from the Cirencester branch of the club (see, from left in picture, me, Paul Barlow, Chris Illman & Adrian Williams) - and ran out relatively easy winners, the first away mob win for Ranelagh since 1989.
Chris (4th) and Adrian (7th) were Ranelagh's first finishers and Paul (19th) had a great battle with Ciren second claimer Andy Bickerstaff (yes, it works both ways). Once again I shouldn't have run but as I've now no longer got any running targets to aim for, having lost all semblance of fitness, I've got nothing more to lose so may as well continue to haul my ample frame around these mobs, at least whilst I still make the scoring team! With another few weeks fitness lost since the last outing I found the 7½ miles hard work but was able to just about keep going all the way. As Baron Hansen said: "Life is short ... running makes it seem longer."
My real endurance test of the week was also up in London. I was invited by our investment bankers, Schroders, to a 'tasting evening' at Fortnum & Mason, the famous store in London. I dragged Claudie along kicking & screaming but with the carrot that she could do the London shops and museums the next morning when I was at a seminar that was part of the Schroders deal (that was good too, as the keynote speaker was Sir Ranulph Fiennes). We expected a glass of champagne, as had been promised, and maybe a vol au vont before escaping back to our hotel via a meal somewhere. The reality was very different.
All four floors of the store had been hired by Schroders for the evening and all the F&M staff retained in their full morning dress regalia. There was indeed champagne and canapes, wherever you turned another waiter was proferring one or other the whole evening. All the food counters were open and we were encouraged to try everything ... so we did. Oysters, smoked salmon, caviar washed down with Polish vodka, truffles, foie gras, suckling pig, fresh pasta cooked in front of us, Jamaican ice cream sundaes, afternoon tea cakes, delicate mince pies, Christmas pud & cake, chocolates to die for, cheeses and fine wines. Wow, what an evening. We decided not to stop off and eat on the way back to the hotel.
Finally, reverting to running as I should, I can't let Cirencester's performance in the first Oxford league race of the winter season go by without comment. Adrian managed to get 21 senior men turning out on a foul day at Ascott, that's three full teams, and the first team performed really well. There's a real feeling that under new chairman Dave Edelsten - who took on the world's hardest job since Tony Blair's search for WMD - together with Adrian's captaincy, the club might at last be emerging from the doldrums. I'm only sorry that I'm not part of the team although in many ways I'm pleased that they no longer need to rely on an ailing old bar steward like me. I think I can safely migrate to the bar on a permanent basis.
I first started running on the common when at school so it has a particular resonance for me and the course is all you'd want from a xc race: woodland tracks, hills, fallen trees to climb over, streams to jump across, some good fast flat stretches and a bit of mud thrown in near the end. Yesterday was made particularly special because we beat our hosts, the oldest running club in the UK, Thames Hare & Hounds. With mob matches being all about numbers, home advantage usually counts, but Ranelagh managed to get 59 hardy souls across from their Richmond HQ - with a little help from the Cirencester branch of the club (see, from left in picture, me, Paul Barlow, Chris Illman & Adrian Williams) - and ran out relatively easy winners, the first away mob win for Ranelagh since 1989.Chris (4th) and Adrian (7th) were Ranelagh's first finishers and Paul (19th) had a great battle with Ciren second claimer Andy Bickerstaff (yes, it works both ways). Once again I shouldn't have run but as I've now no longer got any running targets to aim for, having lost all semblance of fitness, I've got nothing more to lose so may as well continue to haul my ample frame around these mobs, at least whilst I still make the scoring team! With another few weeks fitness lost since the last outing I found the 7½ miles hard work but was able to just about keep going all the way. As Baron Hansen said: "Life is short ... running makes it seem longer."
My real endurance test of the week was also up in London. I was invited by our investment bankers, Schroders, to a 'tasting evening' at Fortnum & Mason, the famous store in London. I dragged Claudie along kicking & screaming but with the carrot that she could do the London shops and museums the next morning when I was at a seminar that was part of the Schroders deal (that was good too, as the keynote speaker was Sir Ranulph Fiennes). We expected a glass of champagne, as had been promised, and maybe a vol au vont before escaping back to our hotel via a meal somewhere. The reality was very different.
All four floors of the store had been hired by Schroders for the evening and all the F&M staff retained in their full morning dress regalia. There was indeed champagne and canapes, wherever you turned another waiter was proferring one or other the whole evening. All the food counters were open and we were encouraged to try everything ... so we did. Oysters, smoked salmon, caviar washed down with Polish vodka, truffles, foie gras, suckling pig, fresh pasta cooked in front of us, Jamaican ice cream sundaes, afternoon tea cakes, delicate mince pies, Christmas pud & cake, chocolates to die for, cheeses and fine wines. Wow, what an evening. We decided not to stop off and eat on the way back to the hotel.
Finally, reverting to running as I should, I can't let Cirencester's performance in the first Oxford league race of the winter season go by without comment. Adrian managed to get 21 senior men turning out on a foul day at Ascott, that's three full teams, and the first team performed really well. There's a real feeling that under new chairman Dave Edelsten - who took on the world's hardest job since Tony Blair's search for WMD - together with Adrian's captaincy, the club might at last be emerging from the doldrums. I'm only sorry that I'm not part of the team although in many ways I'm pleased that they no longer need to rely on an ailing old bar steward like me. I think I can safely migrate to the bar on a permanent basis.
Friday 13 November 2009
My man in Rome
The world has changed since I were a lad. In those days it was a major expedition to drive from Morden to Portsmouth down the old A3 to see my grandparents and watch the Isle of Wight and channel ferries crossing. We used to play pub cricket in the car - hint: always worth starting your innings just before Cobham as lots of runs to be scored there (for those that don't understand the intricacies of this game, you score by counting the number of limbs in the pub name, thus The White Horse scores 4 (legs) whereas the Queen's Head means you are dismissed) - as the A3 in those days used to meander through villages unlike today's dual carriageway. Anyway, I digress ...
These days people go abroad a few times a year, take a year out to travel and even live and work in far flung places. Hell, we even marry foreigners (guilty as charged, m'lud)! My sister, who is married to a German, has recently moved to Ireland even though she works in London. A friend, Geoff, lives in Australia but regularly commutes to London on business. Whilst we were in Paris a couple of weeks ago we met up with Rob, who works for a Norweigan company, en route to French Guiana for a two day trip (see previous blog) and I swapped a number of texts with my good friend Gavin, an economics journalist for Reuters who lives in Rome. He was in Frankfurt to run a marathon. Confused? Gavin's experience in Frankfurt is definitely worth recounting.(He's pictured here racing in Rome and is also in the Ranelagh 100/125 year celebration pictures at the foot on this blog, he's the one with lots of hair in 1981 and none in 2006.)
These days people go abroad a few times a year, take a year out to travel and even live and work in far flung places. Hell, we even marry foreigners (guilty as charged, m'lud)! My sister, who is married to a German, has recently moved to Ireland even though she works in London. A friend, Geoff, lives in Australia but regularly commutes to London on business. Whilst we were in Paris a couple of weeks ago we met up with Rob, who works for a Norweigan company, en route to French Guiana for a two day trip (see previous blog) and I swapped a number of texts with my good friend Gavin, an economics journalist for Reuters who lives in Rome. He was in Frankfurt to run a marathon. Confused? Gavin's experience in Frankfurt is definitely worth recounting.(He's pictured here racing in Rome and is also in the Ranelagh 100/125 year celebration pictures at the foot on this blog, he's the one with lots of hair in 1981 and none in 2006.)Over the last couple of years Gavin, who is a mere 47ish, and I have both got back into semi-serious running after a long break. Our best marathons are similar (low 2.20's) but are ancient history. It was as a consequence of my trip to Rome for the marathon, when Natalie was living out there, that triggered Gavin's renaissance. As it turned out I had flu so didn't run and he had a bit of a 'mare, finishing in 3:10 (he was so slow that I'd stopped looking out for him!). We have since traded times over the half and full distances, each shaving small amounts off the other's best time. We were both going to run Amsterdam this autumn but obviously I was out and he decided he needed another week or two to be ready.
The text on Saturday wasn't promising: he'd made it to Frankfurt but was almost certainly not going to run because he had a temperature (he'd only travelled because everything was booked, I know the feeling). Of course he ran, spending most of the first 8km trying to work out where best to drop out as his chest was tight, he was coughing and he felt dreadful. But there was no obvious place to stop and before he knew it he was swinging along and his legs were fine. He ended up overtaking runners throughout the race and posted a fantastic time of 2.38.37, well under his original 2.40 target. He's also given me a hell of a target to aim for, but that's what I'll try to do ... eventually.
His text after the race was priceless: "Now have [temperature of] 37.5 and burning throat/chest, and am, needless to say, ecstatically happy! As a great man once said 'beware the wounded runner!' " What a man! He is alluding to my blog of 27 February this year with his final comment - it's great to know that someone reads this nonsense.
This story reminds me a bit of Stephen Instone, my friend who sadly died earlier this year. He and I once ran the Sutton ½ Marathon and the local Mayor, in all his regalia, greeted all finishers with a hand shake. He was somewhat shaken however when Stephen said "thanks very much, I was pretty pleased with my run, especially as I've got chicken pox!".
Update on my injury: no change, weight still increasing, trousers no longer fit, main source of exercise is now therapeutic leaf clearance.
Sunday 1 November 2009
How to avoid overdoing the warm-up
An interesting couple of weeks: a bit of (painful) running and walking, some socialising, a few beers, good food and travel. Despite no running for 10 weeks, I couldn't resist fronting up in Coulsdon for another mob match, despite my comments last time. Messrs Illman (for stating in the pub that I was bound to do it, even if it was with a walking stick) and Bickerstaff for not believing that I wouldn't turn up, are mainly to blame for me suggesting to Claudie on the Friday evening that she'd enjoy a stroll in the Surrey countryside the next day. She was very good about it, once I picked myself up from the floor she was quite calm.
Decided to drive straight to the start as couldn't face the half mile jog from HQ, so I went changed. An accident on the M3 confirmed this as a good decision; we arrived 4 minutes before the gun, thanks to some adept driving I might state. Having gone through the trauma of decision making, I wasn't about to miss out because of crashes, contra-flows and congestion. A quick pee in the bushes, pinned my number to my ample midriff and off I went very slowly ... I didn't win.
A week later, another mob match. An unusual state of affairs - in fact I can never remember two in two weeks - but by this time Claudie was resigned to my crazed decision making so off we went back up the motorway, or so we thought ... Onto the M4 at Swindon, slowed down to a crawl and then a halt. Once a fire engine shot down the hard shoulder we knew we were in trouble. Switched engine off for 45 minutes, rang Bickerstaff ("good news is that Chris is in the back of the car, bad news is that we are still in Swindon!"). Eventually got going but Richmond Park for 2.30 start looked impossible, not least because it involved crossing the Thames at Kingston or Richmond into congested town centres, and Harlequins were playing at home in Twickenham. Decided on long route - M4, M3, M25, A3 - and it worked. We kept in touch by mobile and arrived in car park adjacent to the race right on the appointed start time. A quick change in the toilets, pinned our numbers, uttered the club cry and set off with the other 61 Ranelagh runners (Orion had 55, a great overall turnout). I didn't win.
This is not the start of my comeback. I was stupid to run these races but at my age it was a way to maintain some sort of positivity in relation to my running. By missing a mob match I would have lost any sort of momentum, having only missed one since 1974, and probably faded away. At least this way, I've deferred any proper recovery by a few weeks but not on a terminal basis. But to any ambitious athletes, can I suggest that you do as I suggest not what I do!
Sandwiched between my two mob matches there was lots of excitement. One of the reasons I ran the first race was that we were staying with friends in Chiswick, which allowed me to spend some quality time with one of my godchildren (I have two, poor souls). We then took the Eurostar from St Pancras to Paris the next day armed with a red cross parcel for Natalie. It appears that she was pining for marmite and Wispa Gold chocolate bars despite developing a love of all things produced by French patisseries.
We had a lovely few days in the French capital in balmy sunshine. We walked for miles (just what I needed!), did the museums and parks, enjoyed some fantastic gastronomic delights (and expensive beer!) in the Latin quarter on the left bank each evening, and generally enjoyed spending time with Natz. Picture shows the two ladies in my life in the most beautiful city in the world.
Whilst in Paris we met up with an old friend, Rob Wise, affectionately known as Le Sage by Claudie. Rob works for Norweigan Telecom (I know ...) in London and was in Paris en route for a two day trip to French Guiana on the South American mainland, to oversee the launch of a $200 million satellite. We had a great chat about old times & friends and pontificated on important matters like Surrey cricket, Brentford football and the comparison between the superb professional set-up of British cycling under Dave Brailsford and the fragmented organisation that is uk:athletics. To be discussed further.
Finally, and sadly, we attended the memorial service for my dear friend Stephen, who died in the summer. It was held at his university, UCL, just a short walk from St Pancras and our trip back on Eurostar. Having missed his funeral as we were abroad, it was important for us to be there amongst his family, friends and colleagues. There were some lovely words spoken by them about a wonderful man.
Decided to drive straight to the start as couldn't face the half mile jog from HQ, so I went changed. An accident on the M3 confirmed this as a good decision; we arrived 4 minutes before the gun, thanks to some adept driving I might state. Having gone through the trauma of decision making, I wasn't about to miss out because of crashes, contra-flows and congestion. A quick pee in the bushes, pinned my number to my ample midriff and off I went very slowly ... I didn't win.
A week later, another mob match. An unusual state of affairs - in fact I can never remember two in two weeks - but by this time Claudie was resigned to my crazed decision making so off we went back up the motorway, or so we thought ... Onto the M4 at Swindon, slowed down to a crawl and then a halt. Once a fire engine shot down the hard shoulder we knew we were in trouble. Switched engine off for 45 minutes, rang Bickerstaff ("good news is that Chris is in the back of the car, bad news is that we are still in Swindon!"). Eventually got going but Richmond Park for 2.30 start looked impossible, not least because it involved crossing the Thames at Kingston or Richmond into congested town centres, and Harlequins were playing at home in Twickenham. Decided on long route - M4, M3, M25, A3 - and it worked. We kept in touch by mobile and arrived in car park adjacent to the race right on the appointed start time. A quick change in the toilets, pinned our numbers, uttered the club cry and set off with the other 61 Ranelagh runners (Orion had 55, a great overall turnout). I didn't win.
This is not the start of my comeback. I was stupid to run these races but at my age it was a way to maintain some sort of positivity in relation to my running. By missing a mob match I would have lost any sort of momentum, having only missed one since 1974, and probably faded away. At least this way, I've deferred any proper recovery by a few weeks but not on a terminal basis. But to any ambitious athletes, can I suggest that you do as I suggest not what I do!
Sandwiched between my two mob matches there was lots of excitement. One of the reasons I ran the first race was that we were staying with friends in Chiswick, which allowed me to spend some quality time with one of my godchildren (I have two, poor souls). We then took the Eurostar from St Pancras to Paris the next day armed with a red cross parcel for Natalie. It appears that she was pining for marmite and Wispa Gold chocolate bars despite developing a love of all things produced by French patisseries.
We had a lovely few days in the French capital in balmy sunshine. We walked for miles (just what I needed!), did the museums and parks, enjoyed some fantastic gastronomic delights (and expensive beer!) in the Latin quarter on the left bank each evening, and generally enjoyed spending time with Natz. Picture shows the two ladies in my life in the most beautiful city in the world.
Whilst in Paris we met up with an old friend, Rob Wise, affectionately known as Le Sage by Claudie. Rob works for Norweigan Telecom (I know ...) in London and was in Paris en route for a two day trip to French Guiana on the South American mainland, to oversee the launch of a $200 million satellite. We had a great chat about old times & friends and pontificated on important matters like Surrey cricket, Brentford football and the comparison between the superb professional set-up of British cycling under Dave Brailsford and the fragmented organisation that is uk:athletics. To be discussed further.
Finally, and sadly, we attended the memorial service for my dear friend Stephen, who died in the summer. It was held at his university, UCL, just a short walk from St Pancras and our trip back on Eurostar. Having missed his funeral as we were abroad, it was important for us to be there amongst his family, friends and colleagues. There were some lovely words spoken by them about a wonderful man.
Saturday 17 October 2009
Missed Mob
I've started so I'll continue ... I set this up as a running Blog. Unfortunately I'm currently not running, nor am I likely to restart in the forseeable future. However, I enjoy writing and writing about running so I'll endeavour to continue with some relatively topical stuff to maintain momentum. If I do ever start running again, and there has to be some doubt, I will use this Blog to chart my progress from the painful first steps, through a very gradual build-up, ultimately leading to victory in the World Masters Marathon in Brazil in 2013. You read it here first!
Firstly though, a non-running tale (or perhaps tails) of May, Lucy & Max. These are three donkeys we visited in Derbyshire last weekend. We actually went to stay with friends Lyn & Ian in their magnificent house in the hills overlooking Matlock, but Claudie's real desire was to spend time with their donkeys, plus chickens and cats! Taking two of the donkeys for a walk to the pub was worth the drive up to the Dales alone, especially when one decided she was going no further whilst standing in the middle of a main road! A great weekend.
Anyway, back to running. Ranelagh is a traditional running club formed in 1881, making it 128 years old. Like all sporting institutions it has had its ups and downs but it has survived because members love running and enjoy the camaraderie of the sport, bringing together all ages, both sexes, any standards and is classless. The simple mantra, certainly when I was a regular at the club from 1974-1990, was train/race hard then enjoy a pint or two to chew the cud over any subject and with any group you ended up standing around. Great times.
The club has four mob matches each winter; very traditional fixtures with some of the oldest clubs in the country: Thames Hare & Hounds (founded 1868), Blackheath (1869), South London Harriers (1871) and Orion Harriers (1911). With Ranelagh, that's 645 years of existence for just five clubs. The races are on good old fashioned cross country courses over 7½ miles. In one race against Blackheath in the 80's the two clubs mustered 200 runners but these days it's usually between 30-50 per side to score. Since 1974, when my school chemistry teacher Jim Forrest suggested I turn up, I've run 135 of these damn races, that's over 1,000 miles of competitive action in some glorious countryside: Richmond Park, Wimbledon Common, Farthing Downs, Hayes Common and Epping Forest. One race at Blackheath was cancelled because of deep snow and sadly I missed a race in 1999, it would have been my 98th consecutive, due to flu. Having had to commute from Gloucestershire since 1990, that's 75 races or c16,000 miles up and down the M4/M3/M25, my carbon footprint doesn't marry well with the simple freedom of the running, but it's been well worthwhile. I've finished in every position between 1st & 32nd, with a personal worst of 82nd after a long injury lay-off; fallen over countless times; gone off course (mainly in Epping Forest where one year the first four runners finished from the four spectrums of the compass!); chatted about the race in the shower with Ronnie O'Sullivan; raced against at least six Olympians (Chataway, Brasher, Disley, Jones, Welch, O'Sullivan [Sonia, not Ronnie, although snooker will probably be the next sport allowed into the Olympics]); spent many happy hours in the bar afterwards and at (initially stag) riotous suppers where the likes of John Bryant, Chris Brasher, Mal Cother and Auguste Lespinas regaled members from both competing clubs with hilarious and sometimes ribald stories.
Sadly, next Saturday I will miss another Mob due to my Osteitis Pubis and I doubt whether I'll make any of this season's races. It sort of feels like the end of the road, although I'm sure I'll be back for more, if only for the friendship and enjoyment experienced through mixing with people I've run with from all of the clubs over the last 35 years. In fact there was a short piece in Athletics Weekly this week about Les Roberts from Blackheath. He and I used to battle it out near the front in the 80's - he usually prevailed - and share a beer afterwards, but sadly he now has Parkinson's disease. To raise money he's recently cycled from Land's End to John O'Groats despite being on massive amounts of medication. Read his book, great title: From Wits End to John O'Groats. That's what this magnificent sport is all about.
Saturday 3 October 2009
Rio
So Rio got the 2016 Olympic Games despite Barack's last minute day trip to Copenhagen. That's great news, glad the IOC got something right at last; thankfully it puts the States in their place. Just a shame that pragmatism like this didn't result in Paris getting the 2012 Games instead of London. Their bid was far better with so much more of the infrastructure in place. Unfortunately politics took over, London got the Games and we will pay for it for decades to come. We can already see funding being reduced for sport in other areas i.e. Sport for All as it was and should be. The government is spending billions on what amounts to a two week elite jamboree. All this nonsense about it improving grass roots sport is just that ... nonsense, because there are no facilities for the masses. Crazy. We've just had a fantastic high quality World Athletics Championships from Berlin, at a fraction of the price of the Olympics, yet all the pundits could talk about was whether so and so would be in peak condition for 2012 - what about the next World Champs in Korea in 2011? If I was an international athlete, I would far rather travel to the other side of the world rather than risk wind & rain for a run around the east end of London. What we should have in this country is centralised sports facilities in every town the size of Cirencester or bigger, that's what happens in mainland Europe. It is practical, ensures that facilities, both sporting & social, are utilised cost effectively i.e. every day, and brings camaraderie to local communities. I've seen it in Holland, France, Germany, Italy and, more recently, Finland.
The news is fantastic for Brazil, one of the four developing BRIC countries (Brazil, Russia, India, China) that could well dominate the world economy in the years to come given their size and population. I can't believe it's a year since Wendy ran in the World ½ Marathon Champs in Rio (this year's event is next Sunday in Birmingham, not quite the same methinks). Rio is certainly going to dominate the world's sporting stage, with three major events within three years: working backwards, the 2016 OG, 2014 World Cup soccer and the big one, the World Masters Athletics Champs (I'll be there) in 2013!
On the home front, no progress to report on my injury. It's now eight weeks since Finland and despite not running a step in that time, the Osteitis pain hasn't abated one iota. The only thing I've gained is weight, a full stone now. I've stopped using the exercise bike, as I felt it was aggravating my problem, but am doing some core exercises in a futile effort to make me feel I'm doing something worthwhile. The truth is, only rest will help. With the onset of a touch of arthritis in my right hip, diagnosed by Rod Jaques at the same time as the Osteitis, together with some numbness down my left side (don't ask), the prognosis isn't good. My chances of jogging this winter's Ranelagh mob matches, to keep my continuous streak going, are now pretty forlorn I'm afraid. Still, enough of my self-pity, as my mum used to say in her best Scottish accent, "me, me, me, that's the curse of this wretched world."
Talking of mum, I had the dubious pleasure this afternoon of taking charge of the coconut shy at her care home's autumn bazaar (and very bizarre it was too). Because of the dodgy weather most things were taken back indoors but I was left in the marquee that promised to implode or take-off at any stage in the wild winds. It was all rather surreal and as a consequence my total take was £1.50, not great. The whole thing felt flatter than a relief map of the Maldives despite a local valuer doing a type of Antiques Roadshow. We took along a tin dated 1914 from my aunt who died a couple of years ago. The valuer recognised it immediately but was amazed to find the contents intact: a Christmas card from Princess Mary to the troops in the trenches, plus cigarettes and tobacco to help them along! Not sure what the cigarettes would be like now and I'm not about to try. Value was £50-70. Mum, who's suffered with Multiple Sclerosis for 35 years (I remember her using a stick when I was at school) and has been wheelchair bound since 1984, the year we were married (she tried desperately hard to stand up that day, with great help from Claudie's dad, but it was so tough for her), has been in Elm Grove Nursing Home since dad died in 2003. At 85 she is doing well, but I really feel for her as every time she makes a new friend, they invariably die. Another one expired this week at the grand age of 98, mum having befriended her over recent months and made her very contented at the end. Reminds me of some lyrics from The Doors:
"This is the end, beautiful friend
This is the end, my only friend
The end"
The news is fantastic for Brazil, one of the four developing BRIC countries (Brazil, Russia, India, China) that could well dominate the world economy in the years to come given their size and population. I can't believe it's a year since Wendy ran in the World ½ Marathon Champs in Rio (this year's event is next Sunday in Birmingham, not quite the same methinks). Rio is certainly going to dominate the world's sporting stage, with three major events within three years: working backwards, the 2016 OG, 2014 World Cup soccer and the big one, the World Masters Athletics Champs (I'll be there) in 2013!
On the home front, no progress to report on my injury. It's now eight weeks since Finland and despite not running a step in that time, the Osteitis pain hasn't abated one iota. The only thing I've gained is weight, a full stone now. I've stopped using the exercise bike, as I felt it was aggravating my problem, but am doing some core exercises in a futile effort to make me feel I'm doing something worthwhile. The truth is, only rest will help. With the onset of a touch of arthritis in my right hip, diagnosed by Rod Jaques at the same time as the Osteitis, together with some numbness down my left side (don't ask), the prognosis isn't good. My chances of jogging this winter's Ranelagh mob matches, to keep my continuous streak going, are now pretty forlorn I'm afraid. Still, enough of my self-pity, as my mum used to say in her best Scottish accent, "me, me, me, that's the curse of this wretched world."
Talking of mum, I had the dubious pleasure this afternoon of taking charge of the coconut shy at her care home's autumn bazaar (and very bizarre it was too). Because of the dodgy weather most things were taken back indoors but I was left in the marquee that promised to implode or take-off at any stage in the wild winds. It was all rather surreal and as a consequence my total take was £1.50, not great. The whole thing felt flatter than a relief map of the Maldives despite a local valuer doing a type of Antiques Roadshow. We took along a tin dated 1914 from my aunt who died a couple of years ago. The valuer recognised it immediately but was amazed to find the contents intact: a Christmas card from Princess Mary to the troops in the trenches, plus cigarettes and tobacco to help them along! Not sure what the cigarettes would be like now and I'm not about to try. Value was £50-70. Mum, who's suffered with Multiple Sclerosis for 35 years (I remember her using a stick when I was at school) and has been wheelchair bound since 1984, the year we were married (she tried desperately hard to stand up that day, with great help from Claudie's dad, but it was so tough for her), has been in Elm Grove Nursing Home since dad died in 2003. At 85 she is doing well, but I really feel for her as every time she makes a new friend, they invariably die. Another one expired this week at the grand age of 98, mum having befriended her over recent months and made her very contented at the end. Reminds me of some lyrics from The Doors:
"This is the end, beautiful friend
This is the end, my only friend
The end"
Wednesday 16 September 2009
There is no finish line
The finish line was in sight on Westminster Bridge. The Japanese, Hiromi Tanaguchi, was poised to run sub 2.10 in the 1987 London Marathon, with my Ranelagh clubmate Hugh Jones just a few seconds back, yet with 200 yards to go I was still ahead of them both. It had been a long tortuous road that Sunday morning 22 years ago, particularly on the cobbles at Tower Bridge … particularly driving the lead vehicle, a milk float! Of course, I didn’t win. Just before the bridge I was guided into a pre-arranged parking spot from where I got a great view of the race finish.
I’m currently not allowed to run at all so have been doing some very gentle cycling on an exercise bike at home. It is about as exciting as counting paperclips, so over the last week I have cycled whilst watching the 1987 London on video, it’s the only record I have of any of the Londons but makes great viewing.
Some things never change, like the music and the dubious quality of Brendan Foster’s commentary (although he managed to go 26 miles without mentioning Paula Radcliffe’s name (she’d have been just 13 then so not a surprise)). Some things immediately struck me however: there were no East Africans running and although the quality at the front of the ladies race was very good – Ingrid Kristiansen attempting to break 2:20, three Brits under 2:30 – when the camera panned through the masses they were nearly all men.
The commentary (David Coleman, Ron Pickering plus the ubiquitous Foster) and the graphics were poor, the latter looked like they came from another age, which in computer terms, I suppose, they did. The commentators weren’t helped by the lack of information on times but their lack of awareness made you really appreciate Crammy.
The race was good to watch. Grenville Tuck did some pacemaking before a pack of about 10 broke away. Hugh, resplendent in his Ranelagh vest, tended to be at the front, pushing hard as was his wont. With no cloned & sponsored East Africans all wearing the same vest as invariably happens today, it was great to see club vests & national vests from all over the world: Japan, Italy, Norway, Turkey, Morocco, USA as well as the UK. Taniguchi eventually pulled away through the tower cobbles and held on from a Moroccan who just outsprinted Jones. That gave Hugh a full set of medals, having won in 1982 (still Ranelagh’s club record, 2.09.24!) and finished second in 1986.
Kristiansen, who held the world record of 2.21.06 at the time (London 1985) was surrounded by minders in the early miles – the elite women used to start with everybody else in those days, which was tough for me the year I drove the lead vehicle in front of the women’s race as I had to weave around lots of men – and they dragged her through too fast, thoroughly confusing the commentators. Foster switched between lauding what a fantastic runner she was going at 2.17 pace to how, later on when she started suffering, how suicidal it was! Ron Pickering then uttered a great phrase: "take too much out of the bank early on and you go broke".
Although slowing dramatically, Kristiansen won easily enough in 2.22. Second home was another Ranelagh Harrier, Priscilla Welch who, at the age of 42, broke the UK record with 2.26.50. Proof, if ever it were needed, that age is no barrier to running fast marathons. With sensible, organised and structured training over a period of time, it is amazing what times runners of all ages can attain. Welch had Mick Woods of Aldershot for company in the last mile or so. He is now one of the most successful coaches in the country, numbering Steph Twell amongst his athletes.
I spotted lots of old acquaintances in the race and it brought back great memories. I was very lucky to be running in that period as the depth in standard was so good. Seeing masses of runners coming down The Mall in the 2.15/2.20/2.30’s was evidence of that. It would be easy to say I wish I was running the times I did then in today’s weaker fields but the reality, of course, is that I wouldn’t. The only reason I ran at a decent pace was because everybody around me was doing the same. I just wish I could get across to today’s runners that most don’t understand the sort of times they are capable of. Watching the video – available to anyone interested – should make it all apparent. Just ask otherwise ...
Some statistics: my lunchtime training partner in those days, Bill Harvey, was 158th in 2.29.43 (he was a V45 then), this year only 54 broke 2:30 of whom 11 were elite Africans under 2.10. There were 600 under 2.40 in 1987 and only 175 this year. Most amazingly of all, the roads of London were reopened to traffic 4½ hours into the race, in 2009 that would represent barely half the finishers!
PS On a different tack, my darling daughter is settling well in Paris and has decided to write a Blog about her time there, so if at all interested have a look on http://www.natzinparis.blogspot.com/
I’m currently not allowed to run at all so have been doing some very gentle cycling on an exercise bike at home. It is about as exciting as counting paperclips, so over the last week I have cycled whilst watching the 1987 London on video, it’s the only record I have of any of the Londons but makes great viewing.
Some things never change, like the music and the dubious quality of Brendan Foster’s commentary (although he managed to go 26 miles without mentioning Paula Radcliffe’s name (she’d have been just 13 then so not a surprise)). Some things immediately struck me however: there were no East Africans running and although the quality at the front of the ladies race was very good – Ingrid Kristiansen attempting to break 2:20, three Brits under 2:30 – when the camera panned through the masses they were nearly all men.
The commentary (David Coleman, Ron Pickering plus the ubiquitous Foster) and the graphics were poor, the latter looked like they came from another age, which in computer terms, I suppose, they did. The commentators weren’t helped by the lack of information on times but their lack of awareness made you really appreciate Crammy.
The race was good to watch. Grenville Tuck did some pacemaking before a pack of about 10 broke away. Hugh, resplendent in his Ranelagh vest, tended to be at the front, pushing hard as was his wont. With no cloned & sponsored East Africans all wearing the same vest as invariably happens today, it was great to see club vests & national vests from all over the world: Japan, Italy, Norway, Turkey, Morocco, USA as well as the UK. Taniguchi eventually pulled away through the tower cobbles and held on from a Moroccan who just outsprinted Jones. That gave Hugh a full set of medals, having won in 1982 (still Ranelagh’s club record, 2.09.24!) and finished second in 1986.
Kristiansen, who held the world record of 2.21.06 at the time (London 1985) was surrounded by minders in the early miles – the elite women used to start with everybody else in those days, which was tough for me the year I drove the lead vehicle in front of the women’s race as I had to weave around lots of men – and they dragged her through too fast, thoroughly confusing the commentators. Foster switched between lauding what a fantastic runner she was going at 2.17 pace to how, later on when she started suffering, how suicidal it was! Ron Pickering then uttered a great phrase: "take too much out of the bank early on and you go broke".
Although slowing dramatically, Kristiansen won easily enough in 2.22. Second home was another Ranelagh Harrier, Priscilla Welch who, at the age of 42, broke the UK record with 2.26.50. Proof, if ever it were needed, that age is no barrier to running fast marathons. With sensible, organised and structured training over a period of time, it is amazing what times runners of all ages can attain. Welch had Mick Woods of Aldershot for company in the last mile or so. He is now one of the most successful coaches in the country, numbering Steph Twell amongst his athletes.
I spotted lots of old acquaintances in the race and it brought back great memories. I was very lucky to be running in that period as the depth in standard was so good. Seeing masses of runners coming down The Mall in the 2.15/2.20/2.30’s was evidence of that. It would be easy to say I wish I was running the times I did then in today’s weaker fields but the reality, of course, is that I wouldn’t. The only reason I ran at a decent pace was because everybody around me was doing the same. I just wish I could get across to today’s runners that most don’t understand the sort of times they are capable of. Watching the video – available to anyone interested – should make it all apparent. Just ask otherwise ...
Some statistics: my lunchtime training partner in those days, Bill Harvey, was 158th in 2.29.43 (he was a V45 then), this year only 54 broke 2:30 of whom 11 were elite Africans under 2.10. There were 600 under 2.40 in 1987 and only 175 this year. Most amazingly of all, the roads of London were reopened to traffic 4½ hours into the race, in 2009 that would represent barely half the finishers!
PS On a different tack, my darling daughter is settling well in Paris and has decided to write a Blog about her time there, so if at all interested have a look on http://www.natzinparis.blogspot.com/
Tuesday 8 September 2009
Osteitis, food, wine & birthdays
Four weeks of no running and I am now considerably lighter in the wallet but heavier in the stomach. Two visits to Dr Rod Jaques, Head of Medical Services at the English Institute of Sport and well known to many Cirencester athletes, plus an MRI scan in Cheltenham, have confirmed the diagnosis of Osteitis Pubis. At least I got presented with a cd of pornographic photos after
the MRI, one of which is reproduced here. It clearly shows fluid (white bits) on both sides of the pubic bone, thus causing inflammation on the pubic symphysis joint holding the bone together. Wear and tear - yes I know, I'm getting old - plus weak abdominal and adductor muscles have led to this state of affairs which will keep me off games for a number of months.
.
None of this surprises me as there has been such a long lead in to it; the abdomen pain first manifesting itself in early July. I'm pretty sanguine about it all as life goes on. I had far worse news on a different level last Friday, running is just a recreation. As Sophocles stated, we runners live on "the razor's edge of luck" (thanks Mucky Knees, are you down in Ciren later this month by the way?) and I've sliced off a bit too much. At 52 and with a World Champs to run in, I don't regret having pushed hard as I don't know how many more chances I'll get. That attitude is also relevant at much younger ages: make hay whilst the sun shines. It is far easier to train hard with a young body but also without the constraints of work pressures, family etc. So you 20 somethings, don't talk about training hard 'in a few years', get out there now and go for it.
It does frustrate me somewhat that having initially seen my GP a couple of times to ensure that my abdominal pains were nothing more sinister, and getting the all clear on that front, the NHS then washes its hands of the situation and passes me onto the private sector. All the State propaganda propogates an active healthy lifestyle, running being one of the main ways to express this, yet when health issues arise the State isn't interested. Maybe I should take up smoking, at least I'll get free treatment when the inevitable happens.
Last week didn't help my non-running physique. With Natalie off to Paris to work for a year we had a couple of big special meals with her; we then had friends from Germany staying for two nights, one a big meal with lots to drink at home, the other a large and excellent curry in town. Finally on Saturday we went to a 60th birthday party at friends in Surrey. There were 16 of us and every couple provided a course. Lunch started at 2pm, after the obligatory glass of champagne, and went on well into the evening. Our host, Paul, has the finest wine cellar I know and we did our best to help him drown his sorrows - it was his birthday and 60 has hit him hard.
With Messrs Edelsten & Curry both hitting 65 this month and occasional golfing partner Dave Cowell just turned 60, I'm almost feeling young at 52 despite all my aches & pains.
Finally, best wishes to Cirencester's club captain, Adrian Williams, in the Berlin Marathon next Sunday. He's had a few problems in his build-up - turning up for a race a week early; going off course in Milton Keynes ½ Marathon; turning his ankle whilst warming down from a session; travelling too much for work (only himself to blame as it's his own company and he makes far too much money!) and hurting his back after camping for a week with his family. A London Marathon AAA qualifying time would be pretty impressive after all that and should be easily achieved, as long as he doesn't fall down the aircraft steps in Berlin. Good luck matey, you deserve it.
the MRI, one of which is reproduced here. It clearly shows fluid (white bits) on both sides of the pubic bone, thus causing inflammation on the pubic symphysis joint holding the bone together. Wear and tear - yes I know, I'm getting old - plus weak abdominal and adductor muscles have led to this state of affairs which will keep me off games for a number of months..
None of this surprises me as there has been such a long lead in to it; the abdomen pain first manifesting itself in early July. I'm pretty sanguine about it all as life goes on. I had far worse news on a different level last Friday, running is just a recreation. As Sophocles stated, we runners live on "the razor's edge of luck" (thanks Mucky Knees, are you down in Ciren later this month by the way?) and I've sliced off a bit too much. At 52 and with a World Champs to run in, I don't regret having pushed hard as I don't know how many more chances I'll get. That attitude is also relevant at much younger ages: make hay whilst the sun shines. It is far easier to train hard with a young body but also without the constraints of work pressures, family etc. So you 20 somethings, don't talk about training hard 'in a few years', get out there now and go for it.
It does frustrate me somewhat that having initially seen my GP a couple of times to ensure that my abdominal pains were nothing more sinister, and getting the all clear on that front, the NHS then washes its hands of the situation and passes me onto the private sector. All the State propaganda propogates an active healthy lifestyle, running being one of the main ways to express this, yet when health issues arise the State isn't interested. Maybe I should take up smoking, at least I'll get free treatment when the inevitable happens.
Last week didn't help my non-running physique. With Natalie off to Paris to work for a year we had a couple of big special meals with her; we then had friends from Germany staying for two nights, one a big meal with lots to drink at home, the other a large and excellent curry in town. Finally on Saturday we went to a 60th birthday party at friends in Surrey. There were 16 of us and every couple provided a course. Lunch started at 2pm, after the obligatory glass of champagne, and went on well into the evening. Our host, Paul, has the finest wine cellar I know and we did our best to help him drown his sorrows - it was his birthday and 60 has hit him hard.
With Messrs Edelsten & Curry both hitting 65 this month and occasional golfing partner Dave Cowell just turned 60, I'm almost feeling young at 52 despite all my aches & pains.
Finally, best wishes to Cirencester's club captain, Adrian Williams, in the Berlin Marathon next Sunday. He's had a few problems in his build-up - turning up for a race a week early; going off course in Milton Keynes ½ Marathon; turning his ankle whilst warming down from a session; travelling too much for work (only himself to blame as it's his own company and he makes far too much money!) and hurting his back after camping for a week with his family. A London Marathon AAA qualifying time would be pretty impressive after all that and should be easily achieved, as long as he doesn't fall down the aircraft steps in Berlin. Good luck matey, you deserve it.
Tuesday 25 August 2009
World Masters
Now back from a great trip to Finland & Russia so should write something about what was a fantastic experience running in the World Masters Championships in Lahti, about 100km north of Helsinki. This is a truly massive event lasting two weeks and encompassing all the track & field disciplines. But unlike the true World Athletics Champs just finished in Berlin - what a great games they were, tough for London to emulate - every event had multi races to cope with each five year age group from 35 to 100+. Just look at the results on the official website, they go on forever: http://www.english.wma2009.org/ The competitors handbook, which listed all 5,500 entrants from 90 countries was a mighty tome indeed. These championships, which have been going for about 35 years I think, have become great meeting places for veteran athletes all over the world. They compete, eat & drink together, party and generally have a fantastic time before reconvening at the next global games two years later. The friendly atmosphere was very easy to perceive. Claudie & I managed to take in some of the track & field the day before the marathon, when I picked up my number, and also after my race when all the relays were taking place. Despite staying out of town we met up, chatted to and swopped contact details with athletes from America, Italy & France as well as Bourton, slightly closer to home (but more of that anon). Any of you veterans out there, put Sacramento, California in your diary for July 2011 and enter the next World Champs!
There were about 800 runners in the marathon (picture shows the start). It was run on a two lap course with a few undulations near the end of the lap but otherwise pretty flat. There were quite a few twists & turns, including a lot of clambering up and down kerbs, and the course followed the shores of a big lake for a few miles on a fairly rough & loose surface. It was hot! The race started at 9am; there wasn't a cloud in the sky. There was no shade on the course and the lakeside running had the added burden of a reflected sun beating down on the runners. Still, it was August, what more does one expect? To keep out of the sun before the race, I found a computer and checked out the Ashes scorecard from Headingly ... England all out 102!
There were about 800 runners in the marathon (picture shows the start). It was run on a two lap course with a few undulations near the end of the lap but otherwise pretty flat. There were quite a few twists & turns, including a lot of clambering up and down kerbs, and the course followed the shores of a big lake for a few miles on a fairly rough & loose surface. It was hot! The race started at 9am; there wasn't a cloud in the sky. There was no shade on the course and the lakeside running had the added burden of a reflected sun beating down on the runners. Still, it was August, what more does one expect? To keep out of the sun before the race, I found a computer and checked out the Ashes scorecard from Headingly ... England all out 102!Once I got over my usual abdominal pains and associated stiff adductors in the first km, I soon settled into a good pace of 3.55 per km (2.45 pace). I very quickly met up with Pauline Curley, a well known current senior Irish international runner - I'd spotted her in the entry list and commented to Claudie that she may be a good marker to look out for, always difficult in a foreign race when you don't know anybody else. Pauline seemed really happy to hook up with me and she asked if it was ok for the two of us to run together for a while as she was looking for some help / reassurance as to pace. Her best is 2.39 and she was looking to run in the low 2.40's but was not sounding confident. We got into a good rhythm and chatted quite a lot; being the first woman (by a long way) whenever we encountered big crowds she got a big cheer (have you noticed also that wherever you are in the world you'll always find an Irish bar and lots of Irish people - Finland was no different, but I digress) and that delivered adrenelin resulting in a surge in her pace. I warned her to be careful and control her pace which she did. She was constantly asking if the pace was ok. My legs were feeling ok but every time my right leg hit the tarmac I felt a stab in my abdomen with the kerbs just accentuating the problem. We ran the first lap sensibly, allowing surging runners to move through but also gradually reeling in some fast starters. It was great seeing everyone in their national kit and it was fun looking at ages of runners from the numbers pinned on the back of their vests.
Pauline had a friend on a bike who appeared regularly and Tony Spedding from Bourton, out with his wife Lynn supporting Dennis Walmsley's effort, also made an effort to cycle back, give me support and log my position, which was greatly appreciated. At 16km, by which time a Venezuelan V45 had joined our small group, we caught a larger group of about a dozen runners including four V50's, three Italians and a Spaniard. A km later Tony called out that he had good news and bad news: I was now 4th but there were four other V50's on my shoulder. Strange humour these Bourton people! Halfway was spot on plan at 1.22.30 with Claudie telling me that the third placed runner was a minute ahead (she later told me the gap was much larger but she wanted to make me feel positive).
The three of us then kicked on, leaving my rivals well behind, with the 5km to 25km my fastest of the race - not the most intelligent thing to do but I'd locked into the pace with the others and it seemed the way to go. Inevitably I tired (and ached!) and I let my partners move on with some final words of encouragement to Pauline. My spirits lifted shortly after as I caught and passed the third placed runner to move into a medal position. I held this through to 35km, by which time I was still on 2.45 pace. But I knew it was all over. The last 7km was purgatory; I was reduced to a shuffle but knew I couldn't stop and walk because my abdomen would seize up and I'd have to give up. Managed to raise a decent pace for the last km but it had been so frustrating watching a United Nations of runners edge past me, including some with V50 numbers.
The V50 winner was a Belgian guy in 2.39 (his current best being 2.29), with silver running 2.46 and bronze 2.48. I ran the race with one goal in mind, a medal, and suffered accordingly at the end. I probably made a few mistakes - coaching Pauline round being one, I can't help trying to help others; she was over the moon, winning in 2.43 - but the real problems were the heat; my impaired preparation in the last few weeks because of my abdomen, and the lack of sufficient fluid out on the course. This was my only criticism of a great event. My 5km splits were: 19.12, 19.22, 19.47, 19.45, 18.59, 19.36, 20.56 to 35km. Do the maths if you want the painful truth about the last 7km! A week before the race I had serious doubts as to whether I could start so I had to be happy with the result despite the frustrations. And perhaps, just perhaps, it will inspire me to target more European & World Masters events. Or should I just listen to what's happening to me and retire gracefully, no more races ... ? This is the conundrum.
Can't finish on the race without mentioning Bourton's very own Dennis Walmsley. He ran a superb race to win the V45 age group with a 2.33 clocking. To avoid running in a vacuum he bravely went out with a pack running at 2.28 pace and was strong enough to hold on in the second half for a momentous victory. We waited around afterwards to see his medal ceremony and listen to the national anthem - stirring stuff. We also caught up with Dennis and his lovely wife Lucy a few days later in Helsinki where we celebrated his win with a fine meal.
We stayed in Heinola, another half hour north of Lahti and famous for being the home of the World Sauna Championships, which just happened to be taking place on the same day as my marathon. After the race we went back, had a few beers and a big meal and watched the semi-finals amid a great party atmosphere - Finnish heavy rock band Eternal Erection
(there’s a name, DH) provided the alternative entertainment - as barbeques, heavy drinking and raucous cheering echoed through the late evening twilight. It was quite hilarious: half a dozen fat blokes would enter what looked like a garden centre shed on the stage vacated by aforementioned rock band, then sit in the "sauna" as long as possible as the heat was cranked up. Last one left won, simple really. Perhaps this could be my new vocation – not sure whether it’s professional and there’s a ‘circuit’ - although I think I may need to bulk up marginally from looking at the competition. A report of the championships even appeared in the UK press: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/newstopics/howaboutthat/6001375/Finland-takes-gold-in-World-Sauna-Championships.html
We stayed in Heinola, another half hour north of Lahti and famous for being the home of the World Sauna Championships, which just happened to be taking place on the same day as my marathon. After the race we went back, had a few beers and a big meal and watched the semi-finals amid a great party atmosphere - Finnish heavy rock band Eternal Erection
(there’s a name, DH) provided the alternative entertainment - as barbeques, heavy drinking and raucous cheering echoed through the late evening twilight. It was quite hilarious: half a dozen fat blokes would enter what looked like a garden centre shed on the stage vacated by aforementioned rock band, then sit in the "sauna" as long as possible as the heat was cranked up. Last one left won, simple really. Perhaps this could be my new vocation – not sure whether it’s professional and there’s a ‘circuit’ - although I think I may need to bulk up marginally from looking at the competition. A report of the championships even appeared in the UK press: http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/newstopics/howaboutthat/6001375/Finland-takes-gold-in-World-Sauna-Championships.html
Tuesday 11 August 2009
Well at least I tried
World Champs a great occasion but result for me was bad. A combination of 30 degree heat and continued abdomen pain meant that 42km was too far on the day. Got up to 3rd after 25km but then went backwards. Should have finished 2nd. Longer report to follow when back from Russia. Holiday going great - definitely holiday weather not marathon weather!
Tuesday 4 August 2009
Difficult decision
Still reeling from the awful news of Stephen's death last week. And as I feared, we won't be able to attend his funeral on Tuesday as we'll be away in Finland & Russia. I'm a bit down with that but there was no choice in the matter. I just feel that I want to formally pay my respects to a dear friend so we'll have a quiet moment at the time of the funeral.
Now in the throes of getting organised for our northern odyssey. Claudie and I are off to Finland tomorrow (Thursday). The World Masters Athletics Championships are being held in Lahti, about 100km north of Helsinki and I have rather stupidly entered the marathon which takes place on Saturday, the last day of the championships. This is a big event with athletes from all over the world competing in all age groups from 35 to 100 and is held bi-annually - Sacramento in California in 2011 for anyone interested!
The question is, should I run? I've put in the training, with lots of consistent mileage and plenty of long runs, but the last month has been dogged by a progressive pain in my abdomen which is still to be fully diagnosed. I have been told by my doctor and physio that I won't do myself any permanent damage by running so it's a question of whether the pain threshold is bearable. Of course it may mask the pain of running 26.2 miles in which case I should run well! All logic and common sense dictates that I should stand on the sidelines and watch the race but ... The course is two laps so I'll probably start - at least I'll get to wear my GB vest and run in a world champs - then see how I'm doing at halfway. If I look really bad - nothing new there - then Claudie will probably drag me off the course anyway!
We have a week or so in Finland, initially staying in a lakeside resort, then Helsinki, before taking the 5½ hour train journey into Russia and St Petersburg for a few days. Should be interesting.
My last race before the marathon was for Ranelagh in the Elmbridge 10km on a delightful course by the River Thames at Walton (see picture at 9km). Despite initial pain problems, I soon got into a good rhythm and sustained sub 3:30 k's throughout to achieve my best non-Bourton 10km time for 16 years. I even managed to beat all the V40's which was nice. The fitness is there but is the body willing?
Now in the throes of getting organised for our northern odyssey. Claudie and I are off to Finland tomorrow (Thursday). The World Masters Athletics Championships are being held in Lahti, about 100km north of Helsinki and I have rather stupidly entered the marathon which takes place on Saturday, the last day of the championships. This is a big event with athletes from all over the world competing in all age groups from 35 to 100 and is held bi-annually - Sacramento in California in 2011 for anyone interested!
The question is, should I run? I've put in the training, with lots of consistent mileage and plenty of long runs, but the last month has been dogged by a progressive pain in my abdomen which is still to be fully diagnosed. I have been told by my doctor and physio that I won't do myself any permanent damage by running so it's a question of whether the pain threshold is bearable. Of course it may mask the pain of running 26.2 miles in which case I should run well! All logic and common sense dictates that I should stand on the sidelines and watch the race but ... The course is two laps so I'll probably start - at least I'll get to wear my GB vest and run in a world champs - then see how I'm doing at halfway. If I look really bad - nothing new there - then Claudie will probably drag me off the course anyway!
We have a week or so in Finland, initially staying in a lakeside resort, then Helsinki, before taking the 5½ hour train journey into Russia and St Petersburg for a few days. Should be interesting.
My last race before the marathon was for Ranelagh in the Elmbridge 10km on a delightful course by the River Thames at Walton (see picture at 9km). Despite initial pain problems, I soon got into a good rhythm and sustained sub 3:30 k's throughout to achieve my best non-Bourton 10km time for 16 years. I even managed to beat all the V40's which was nice. The fitness is there but is the body willing?
Wednesday 29 July 2009
Dr Stephen Instone
We lost a dear friend last weekend. Stephen Instone, Natalie's godfather and a close friend of the family for over 30 years, drowned whilst on holiday in Switzerland with his family. Full details are still awaited but it is hard to comprehend this tragic news. He was 54 and leaves behind his lovely wife Shelley plus Florence & Arthur who are, I'd estimate, aged 10 and 8. I just want to write a few words now whilst I think of them.Stephen joined Ranelagh at about the same time as me, in the mid 70's. When I first knew him he was at Oxford University where he spent many years, ultimately gaining a PhD in Classics. Despite his high intellect you couldn't find a more down to earth character and as another friend, Ian Milne, has stated this week, everyone had a soft spot for Stephen. He favoured the longer distances, running numerous marathons all over the world on the back of regular training laps of Richmond Park. His best time would have been in the 2.30's. I remember him being very chuffed to receive a winner's medal - in the days when medals meant something - for being part of Ranelagh's winning team in the Hanwell '5' one year: Ranelagh had a stream of quality Australian internationals running for the club for a number of years and in this race they finished 1st, 2nd & 3rd; Stephen was somewhat further down the field but the medal was won! His running career was blighted somewhat by a badly broken leg in his mid 20's - he fell off a ladder whilst clearing some ivy from his mother's house on Barnes common - although such was his spirit that within a week or so of the accident he was "running" seven mile laps of the park with his leg in plaster and using crutches!
Claudie and I shared some great trips with Stephen; I particularly remember a bleak Poland in 1987 (Claudie was pregnant), where we had guns pointed at us, contrasting with the idyllic caribbean for the Run Barbados races. There were many other trips; he was forever travelling, spending a few months in Kunming, China, training with Hugh Jones and Alan Storey, as well as working out in America for a time.
After working as a journalist for a while, Stephen eventually settled as a research fellow at University College London and had numerous works published. He also regularly turned up on radio & tv esposing his specialist knowledge on an unsuspecting public. A couple of these broadcasts will never be forgotten. The BBC picked up on the fact that Stephen wanted to experiment to see whether the elite athletes of the ancient Olympics had an advantage because they ran naked. He went up to Loughborough and raced against some students, Stephen playing the part of the ancient athlete. As he stated, "they all had lycra on, while I had to run unencumbered". On another occasion he re-enacted men running in full armour, this time in London's Regents Park. He put a saucepan on his head and used a dustbin lid as a shield. I still have the cassette of this absolute classic of a broadcast. Stephen could always laugh at himself but was, of course, also educating at the same time.
Yes, he was quite an eccentric - most runners are - yet he was such a genuine friend who would do anything to help. He was overjoyed when we asked him to be Natalie's godfather. He never forgot a birthday; took a great interest in her development and loved chatting to her about any subject. I spoke to him a few weeks ago and he was so pleased at Natalie's results from Exeter and to hear of her plans for the next two years. I sent him an e-mail last Saturday with a picture from Natalie's graduation; sadly he would not have received it.
Stephen was a devoted family man and spent hours playing all sports with Florence & Arthur. Our thoughts are with Shelley and the children at this dreadful time in their lives.
Stephen, you were a wonderful friend to the Wright family. Rest in peace.
Saturday 25 July 2009
Proud parents
Although this is a running blog, I can't let events of this week go by without mention. On Tuesday Natalie graduated from Exeter University with a 2:1 BA in French & Italian. Whilst the ceremony itself dragged on a bit - there's only so much excitement generated by numerous students lining up to collect their degrees - it was made a bit more colourful by the university's Chancellor, children's tv personality Floella Benjamin. She certainly brightened up the stage which was otherwise filled with crusty old academics.For Claudie and me it was an incredibly proud day and one we will never forget. We stayed overnight - in university halls - and had a great night out with Natalie's three housemates and their parents. With an afternoon reception in the languages department it was, all in all, quite a day.
A few days earlier I sat through a roller coaster afternoon of golf on tv as 59 year old Tom Watson almost won the Open (I was incapable of doing anything else having endured 2h 50m running on a three mile grass circuit - to protect my legs - in pain and in heavy rain in the morning). A lot has been written about how wonderful it was to see someone of that age competing at the top. Having watched it and subsequently thought about it, I have a different view.
Firstly, the world's top golfers must collectively be ruing an opportunity missed. With Tiger Woods missing the cut, there was an opening for someone to make a mark but on the final afternoon they all fell away and became as anonymous as graffiti artist Banksy. Meanwhile Watson looked like a weekend golfer enjoying the monthly medal in what were not difficult conditions. It seems to me that had Woods made the cut, he would probably have won the tournament by half a dozen shots. That doesn't say a lot for the rest of the field.
Watson missed the final putt to win the tournament and suddenly looked his age. The play off was embarrassing for all and pretty difficult for eventual winner, Stewart Cink. Everyone wanted Watson to win, including Cink he said afterwards! It also summed up why sport at the top level should be about the young and not oldies hanging in there for one more moment of glory before going out to pasture.
This has made me think about my own situation. My running has gone well in the last year but it's only a last hurrah and in many ways is quite pathetic. I think it's probably time to stand aside and retire gracefully rather than push my body hard, beyond limits. I'm only doing well because standards have fallen so much. I wish the younger generation who run would grasp hold of this and realise there is a real opportunity to make a mark in the sport. Hell, if I can do it at my age what could someone with a functioning body do if they had belief in their abilities?
The Bourton Mile last Saturday highlighted the age barriers. It took me the first quarter mile to actually get going - my abdomen pains restricting movement through searing pain during that time - then I was flying along for a while, picking off all the fast starters. In the final quarter I was running against two youngsters whose combined age was nearly 20 years less than mine. They kept sprinting for short periods, then fading, whilst I sustained my pace (I never could change gear) and kept catching them. Inevitably, they had one final sprint to beat me.
Tuesday 14 July 2009
A strange day out in London
I'd heard that the British 10km was quite an experience but nothing prepared me for the day's events as they unfolded. An early start got me to a convenient parking spot just behind Liz's house off the Mall by 7.30. Everything was strangely quiet walking across the front of Buck House and up through Green Park, part of my old training route when I worked in London. Having blagged myself a free / elite entry (don't ask, long story!) I registered at the Hard Rock Café near Hyde Park Corner where I was handed elite No. 11 (no pressure then ...). Sat there for an hour watching the real runners go through their pre-race preparation, including luminaries such as Olympic Marathon Champion, Constantina Dita and World Marathon Champion, Catherine Nderaba. I was more interested in looking at the memorabilia on the walls of this famous venue and thinking how different the place must have looked just a few hours earlier with Saturday night's revellers. Chatted to a couple of people then ran up Park Lane to Marble Arch on an uncomfortable warm-up (adductor / abdomen sore, more later). Had to scream blue murder when a job's worth security man wouldn't let me back into the Café (I know, I don't exactly exude elite runner status!). Eventually we were ushered to the start where the enormity of the event started to unfold. Jogged down the first half mile of the course to do a few strides and on the other side of the road, facing up towards the start, were wall to wall runners, thousands of them penned in like sheep!
After interminable speeches by the Lord Mayor and others; a token lighting of the Olympic torch; some fanfares from the military buglers and three (yes three) renditions of God Save the Queen, the race started. Of course I'd stiffened up by then, my aforementioned problems restricting me badly, so the kamikazee starters streamed by. The noise was deafening from the waiting competitors on the other side of the road and this continued all the way to Piccadilly, down Pall Mall and into Trafalgar Square before we reached the end of the snake. Eventually got into my stride and by the time I reached Embankment at about 3km I was going well. Continued to pick off runners coming off the back of the dwindling pack holding the three lead women (an Italian being the third), although after a u-turn just before halfway I was very much on my own. The next stretch is familiar to all who watch the London Marathon as the course emerged from a subway and along the Embankment towards Westminster Bridge - this stretch was straight into a strong wind (I always tell people that the marathon course is into the prevailing wind for long stretches so isn't that fast) and I was running in splendid isolation, apart, that was, from the thousands streaming along in the other direction. The whole thing was made even more surreal by the fact that I was rapidly closing down a solitary runner, namely Olympic champion Dita! Over Westminster Bridge, another u-turn and back over the bridge to Big Ben, around the permanent demonstrators in Parliament Square (they seemed pleased to have something to see for a change), up Victoria Road, yet another u-turn and we finished running past Downing Street in Whitehall. Couldn't quite catch Dita (34.31) but pretty happy with my time of 34.37 as it was my fastest non-Bourton 10km for 14 years (for non-Glos readers, Bourton is reknowned as being very "fast"). Also pleased to beat Ranelagh's Jonathan Stacey after he got the better of me at the Ranelagh ½ in May.
Picked up my gear (from the elite spot just yards from the finish, I could easily get used to this treatment!) and walked up to Trafalgar Square towards my car. I was astonished to see thousands of runners streaming through the 1km point with plenty more still waiting to cross the start line. It has to be said therefore that in finishing 12th out of 27,000 it was a slightly uneven contest! I sat and watched for a couple of minutes as I changed out of my race gear then strolled back to my car - Buck House & The Mall now heaving with tourists in contrast to much earlier - with ominous pains percolating through my body. Dropped my gear into the car and tried to do a warm down: I was in agony, my adductor had seized up and the pain in my abdomen was searing. I was doubled up; I know Ron Hill would have managed to hobble a couple of miles in this state but not me. Was home by 12:30 and wondered how many poor souls were still out on the course.
Postscript: with marathon training in full flow, at least in theory, I'd taken Monday off work to do my long run. So despite a bad night, out I went for a 22 miler, thankfully with Natalie and her friend Alice coming along for the ride on their bikes. Have subsequently seen the doc (already being treated for the adductor problem by the lovely Helen Hall in Fairford, highly recommended) and am waiting on blood tests to see what the problem is and whether Finland is viable.
After interminable speeches by the Lord Mayor and others; a token lighting of the Olympic torch; some fanfares from the military buglers and three (yes three) renditions of God Save the Queen, the race started. Of course I'd stiffened up by then, my aforementioned problems restricting me badly, so the kamikazee starters streamed by. The noise was deafening from the waiting competitors on the other side of the road and this continued all the way to Piccadilly, down Pall Mall and into Trafalgar Square before we reached the end of the snake. Eventually got into my stride and by the time I reached Embankment at about 3km I was going well. Continued to pick off runners coming off the back of the dwindling pack holding the three lead women (an Italian being the third), although after a u-turn just before halfway I was very much on my own. The next stretch is familiar to all who watch the London Marathon as the course emerged from a subway and along the Embankment towards Westminster Bridge - this stretch was straight into a strong wind (I always tell people that the marathon course is into the prevailing wind for long stretches so isn't that fast) and I was running in splendid isolation, apart, that was, from the thousands streaming along in the other direction. The whole thing was made even more surreal by the fact that I was rapidly closing down a solitary runner, namely Olympic champion Dita! Over Westminster Bridge, another u-turn and back over the bridge to Big Ben, around the permanent demonstrators in Parliament Square (they seemed pleased to have something to see for a change), up Victoria Road, yet another u-turn and we finished running past Downing Street in Whitehall. Couldn't quite catch Dita (34.31) but pretty happy with my time of 34.37 as it was my fastest non-Bourton 10km for 14 years (for non-Glos readers, Bourton is reknowned as being very "fast"). Also pleased to beat Ranelagh's Jonathan Stacey after he got the better of me at the Ranelagh ½ in May.
Picked up my gear (from the elite spot just yards from the finish, I could easily get used to this treatment!) and walked up to Trafalgar Square towards my car. I was astonished to see thousands of runners streaming through the 1km point with plenty more still waiting to cross the start line. It has to be said therefore that in finishing 12th out of 27,000 it was a slightly uneven contest! I sat and watched for a couple of minutes as I changed out of my race gear then strolled back to my car - Buck House & The Mall now heaving with tourists in contrast to much earlier - with ominous pains percolating through my body. Dropped my gear into the car and tried to do a warm down: I was in agony, my adductor had seized up and the pain in my abdomen was searing. I was doubled up; I know Ron Hill would have managed to hobble a couple of miles in this state but not me. Was home by 12:30 and wondered how many poor souls were still out on the course.
Postscript: with marathon training in full flow, at least in theory, I'd taken Monday off work to do my long run. So despite a bad night, out I went for a 22 miler, thankfully with Natalie and her friend Alice coming along for the ride on their bikes. Have subsequently seen the doc (already being treated for the adductor problem by the lovely Helen Hall in Fairford, highly recommended) and am waiting on blood tests to see what the problem is and whether Finland is viable.
Tuesday 7 July 2009
The Ashes are back
By Evie Jones (Lakeside Primary School)
The wizards of Oz are coming to Wales,
The best team with a bat,
We’ve built a brand new stadium for them
With a view of the Taff – Howzat!
The Roos bring their Ashes,
With their pads and bats and caps,
But they’re playing in Wales, not England,
So they better pack some maps.
The strange thing about cricket
Is that they stop for tea and scones,
But we’ll serve them Welsh cakes and laver bread,
And large portions of the fast bowler Simon Jones.
The Aussies will pour over the border
To our land of song and hills,
But the Barmy Army will beat them
With weapons of golden daffodils.
All the players will dress in white,
And cover their faces in zinc war paint
Whereas the crowd will bring anoraks and sweaters,
And at the sight of the sun in Wales, they’ll faint!
The wizards of Oz are coming to Wales,
The best team with a bat,
We’ve built a brand new stadium for them
With a view of the Taff – Howzat!
The Roos bring their Ashes,
With their pads and bats and caps,
But they’re playing in Wales, not England,
So they better pack some maps.
The strange thing about cricket
Is that they stop for tea and scones,
But we’ll serve them Welsh cakes and laver bread,
And large portions of the fast bowler Simon Jones.
The Aussies will pour over the border
To our land of song and hills,
But the Barmy Army will beat them
With weapons of golden daffodils.
All the players will dress in white,
And cover their faces in zinc war paint
Whereas the crowd will bring anoraks and sweaters,
And at the sight of the sun in Wales, they’ll faint!
---
I don't have Sky - life's too short to spend hours watching my favourite sports on tv, especially as they are all endurance based: cricket (5 days), golf (4 days), marathon running etc. But it is so frustrating at times like this; the evening highlights are a waste of space as they can't encapsulate the chess match ebb & flow of a quality Test with all the nuances developing as the game goes on. I'll just have to rely on Aggers and the TMS team to bring the games alive in my ears and allow me to picture the view in my mind. This will be difficult for the first match in the unlikely surroundings of Cardiff (money talks more than tradition in modern sport unfortunately). It all reminds me of the 1970/71 winter when I used to listen to the radio commentary from Australia late at night as Ray Illingworth's team beat the Australians over there in a magnificent series.
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At the end of last week's heatwave I had a pleasant workout in the Aerospace '5' near Cheltenham on a tough course which climbed up towards Cleeve Hill. Felt I needed to wear a race number again despite struggling with an adductor strain and other problems that a family Blog like this wouldn't want to know about. Started very slowly as planned then picked up pace in second half as I like to treat these evening races (especially when as hot as its been) as good tempo runs. Splits were 6.07, 5.50, then avg 5.30 for the rest. Nearly caught Mike Smith on the line but as he got thrashed by a 50 year old in Bourton's half marathon the previous week, thought I'd spare him any more embarrassement. Claudie came along and there was some good social with some newer Ciren members as well as a good chat with Dennis & Lucy Walmsley ahead of Finland next month (it appears it's impossible to run anywhere in the world and not find a Bourton runner in the same race).
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Great news from Natalie. She got her 2:1 from Exeter; her next two years are now mapped out for her (and for dad's bank balance!) in two more of Europe's capital cities. What a great life she is having.
Tuesday 30 June 2009
Passing ships in the night
A bit morbid this week but for good reasons. We all think of ourselves as indestructible, especially when young, with a lot of bravado about running vast distances, drinking masses of beer, driving fast and sundry other stupid escapades. When you get as old as me you start to see things differently - albeit I am a mere spring chicken compared to the remarkable Fred Robson, about whom more later - your outlook starts to change when you see what goes on around you.
There was an article in Ranelagh Harriers' newsletter last week that should be pasted up on every club noticeboard in the country. I will try to précis it here but look it up under News (newsletter no. 309) on Ranelagh's website for the full version. A regular club runner aged 35 from Leeds was down in London for a few days and went out for an easy four mile run. He collapsed and died during the run. He had no identification on him so the authorities couldn't contact anybody. Given the vast expanses of our wonderful Cirencester Park (4,000 acres?) and beyond to run in, where we enjoy idyllic isolation, can you imagine how bad things could get here? There are identification gadgets that can be attached to running shoes and it is clearly important to tell people where you are going to run. Since my heart scare last summer and continued associated problems, I always try to tell Claudie my running route and I now always fill in the personal details requested on the back of lots of race numbers, something I used to mock when they first appeared.
I have known of a few deaths associated with running over the years; in most cases the informed opinion has been that running actually deferred the ultimate finishing line although try telling that to the families of the handful of people who all died on the same day in the Gt North Run a few years ago. The recognised creator of the jogging boom in America, James Fixx, died whilst out running aged 52, the ultimate irony given his preaching about the healthy nature of such an activity. My very, very good friend from Australia, George Thomas, died aged 41 whilst driving home from a 10k race. He was my mentor whilst he lived in London in the late 70's and drummed into me how to get regular training lodged into my daily lifestyle.
We are now enjoying / enduring a bit of a heatwave. Great you say, a decent summer at last. I agree and like nothing better than getting out for a run with the freedom of just wearing shorts (I know, with a body like mine I should be covering up to protect the population at large, as my darling daughter Natalie told me the other day!). But the heat brings its own problems. In 2003 there was a lot of publicity about how many elderly people died in France in the heatwave that year; a number of younger people perished on an organised long distance walk in Holland as well, yet there was precious little about the effect it had in the UK. I know though because my dad was one such statistic, dying in his sleep after the hottest day of the year. We must respect weather extremes and not think we are indestructible. Take wise precautions; if doing a long run try to go out early and even drop some water off in advance at points around the course.
Two brighter matters on which to finish. I alluded earlier to 78 year old Fred Robson. He was running marathons 10 years before even I was born and he was out in Finland last weekend doing another one despite 30ºC temperatures (careful Fred!). Picture shows him having a massage after the race. He has a wonderful attitude to life and to running. I look forward to buying him a celebratory half pint of Guinness when he next appears at the pub - what a wonderful man.
Finally, can't let my reader(s) go without mentioning our esteemed club captain Adrian Williams. He missed club training last Tuesday so that he could post a decent 5km time at a race down near Bristol, a round trip of about 60 miles (I think he was actually just trying to get out of attending the club committee meeting personally), as a barometer on how his Berlin Marathon training is going. Just one problem: he got the wrong date, there was no race!
Enjoy the sunshine.
There was an article in Ranelagh Harriers' newsletter last week that should be pasted up on every club noticeboard in the country. I will try to précis it here but look it up under News (newsletter no. 309) on Ranelagh's website for the full version. A regular club runner aged 35 from Leeds was down in London for a few days and went out for an easy four mile run. He collapsed and died during the run. He had no identification on him so the authorities couldn't contact anybody. Given the vast expanses of our wonderful Cirencester Park (4,000 acres?) and beyond to run in, where we enjoy idyllic isolation, can you imagine how bad things could get here? There are identification gadgets that can be attached to running shoes and it is clearly important to tell people where you are going to run. Since my heart scare last summer and continued associated problems, I always try to tell Claudie my running route and I now always fill in the personal details requested on the back of lots of race numbers, something I used to mock when they first appeared.
I have known of a few deaths associated with running over the years; in most cases the informed opinion has been that running actually deferred the ultimate finishing line although try telling that to the families of the handful of people who all died on the same day in the Gt North Run a few years ago. The recognised creator of the jogging boom in America, James Fixx, died whilst out running aged 52, the ultimate irony given his preaching about the healthy nature of such an activity. My very, very good friend from Australia, George Thomas, died aged 41 whilst driving home from a 10k race. He was my mentor whilst he lived in London in the late 70's and drummed into me how to get regular training lodged into my daily lifestyle.
We are now enjoying / enduring a bit of a heatwave. Great you say, a decent summer at last. I agree and like nothing better than getting out for a run with the freedom of just wearing shorts (I know, with a body like mine I should be covering up to protect the population at large, as my darling daughter Natalie told me the other day!). But the heat brings its own problems. In 2003 there was a lot of publicity about how many elderly people died in France in the heatwave that year; a number of younger people perished on an organised long distance walk in Holland as well, yet there was precious little about the effect it had in the UK. I know though because my dad was one such statistic, dying in his sleep after the hottest day of the year. We must respect weather extremes and not think we are indestructible. Take wise precautions; if doing a long run try to go out early and even drop some water off in advance at points around the course.
Two brighter matters on which to finish. I alluded earlier to 78 year old Fred Robson. He was running marathons 10 years before even I was born and he was out in Finland last weekend doing another one despite 30ºC temperatures (careful Fred!). Picture shows him having a massage after the race. He has a wonderful attitude to life and to running. I look forward to buying him a celebratory half pint of Guinness when he next appears at the pub - what a wonderful man.Finally, can't let my reader(s) go without mentioning our esteemed club captain Adrian Williams. He missed club training last Tuesday so that he could post a decent 5km time at a race down near Bristol, a round trip of about 60 miles (I think he was actually just trying to get out of attending the club committee meeting personally), as a barometer on how his Berlin Marathon training is going. Just one problem: he got the wrong date, there was no race!
Enjoy the sunshine.
Monday 15 June 2009
A step back in time
In the good old days, summer lasted from May to September with endless hot, sunny days; village greens sporting cricketers clad in all white gently playing forward defensive shots for hours on end; village fêtes with maypoles, strawberries and cream and WI home made cakes, and running races always starting at 3pm on Saturday afternoons. Well, on Saturday I was able to witness three of these things - cricket being the exception as it has changed somewhat; the commentators were bemoaning the WI run rate falling below nine an over for example, what on earth would Geoff Boycott make of that?
The Broad Town 5 is a lovely little race and has been going 26 years. Start & finish is in a tiny school playing field where the annual fête attracts a lot of interest for what is only a small village (not sure why it's called a town). We parked in an adjoining field where the grass grew higher than my little MG, which as a consequence was camouflaged and thus difficult to find after the race. I was surprised to find four female teammates at the race, mother & daughter Thomas plus itinerant travellers "if there is an obscure race we'll find it" Jane Stevens & Christina See. In fact the overall turnout was excellent with over 200 finishers swelling the coffers of whatever school fund / good cause the fête was raising money for.
I enjoyed most of the race if only for the fact that I was leading for 3½ miles - it's a long time since I've been that close to the lead vehicle. Aim was for a good tempo run to supplement my current heavy marathon training so I wanted to ensure a good pace. By two miles (10:35) I only had Gary O'Brien for company and he allowed me to do all the work which I didn't mind. I maintained a good pace and felt strong despite the hot conditions (3m in 15:59) ... until the big hill just before four miles. In the foothills of this mountain (which ultimately led onto the Ridgeway way above us, although we turned off before reaching the top), O'Brien eased alongside me and then as it became steeper he edged ahead. I was a beaten man and fell away like a Rich Tea biscuit in a freshly made cup of tea. I "ran" the fourth mile in 5:51 before thankfully regaining some composure on the flat and ultimately downhill finish with a final 5:35 and an excellent second overall which Claudie missed as she was watching the dog show!
My day was made when I met up with a couple of acquaintances from many, many years ago, Dennis Williams & Ian Isherwood from Hercules Wimbledon running club. They'd done this race once a long time ago and fancied a weekend away with a Saturday afternoon race, no doubt to be followed by a few glasses in a local hostelry. We spent quite some time reminiscing about old times and mutual friends. Great fun.
A couple of drinks Saturday evening then a long run (2h 15m) Sunday morning completed a really good old fashioned running weekend.
PS For ease of reference, the first WI referred to in the narrative is Womens Institute, the second West Indies. Hope that sorts out any confusion.
The Broad Town 5 is a lovely little race and has been going 26 years. Start & finish is in a tiny school playing field where the annual fête attracts a lot of interest for what is only a small village (not sure why it's called a town). We parked in an adjoining field where the grass grew higher than my little MG, which as a consequence was camouflaged and thus difficult to find after the race. I was surprised to find four female teammates at the race, mother & daughter Thomas plus itinerant travellers "if there is an obscure race we'll find it" Jane Stevens & Christina See. In fact the overall turnout was excellent with over 200 finishers swelling the coffers of whatever school fund / good cause the fête was raising money for.
I enjoyed most of the race if only for the fact that I was leading for 3½ miles - it's a long time since I've been that close to the lead vehicle. Aim was for a good tempo run to supplement my current heavy marathon training so I wanted to ensure a good pace. By two miles (10:35) I only had Gary O'Brien for company and he allowed me to do all the work which I didn't mind. I maintained a good pace and felt strong despite the hot conditions (3m in 15:59) ... until the big hill just before four miles. In the foothills of this mountain (which ultimately led onto the Ridgeway way above us, although we turned off before reaching the top), O'Brien eased alongside me and then as it became steeper he edged ahead. I was a beaten man and fell away like a Rich Tea biscuit in a freshly made cup of tea. I "ran" the fourth mile in 5:51 before thankfully regaining some composure on the flat and ultimately downhill finish with a final 5:35 and an excellent second overall which Claudie missed as she was watching the dog show!
My day was made when I met up with a couple of acquaintances from many, many years ago, Dennis Williams & Ian Isherwood from Hercules Wimbledon running club. They'd done this race once a long time ago and fancied a weekend away with a Saturday afternoon race, no doubt to be followed by a few glasses in a local hostelry. We spent quite some time reminiscing about old times and mutual friends. Great fun.
A couple of drinks Saturday evening then a long run (2h 15m) Sunday morning completed a really good old fashioned running weekend.
PS For ease of reference, the first WI referred to in the narrative is Womens Institute, the second West Indies. Hope that sorts out any confusion.
Tuesday 9 June 2009
Contrasting 10km races
I've attended two 10km races in the last two days, one as a competitor and one as a marshal. The contrasts between the two were dramatic.
The Fairford Festival 10km, as the name implies, is run as part of a weekend of festivities in the town where I work. Both the festival and the race, plus associated 3km fun run, have been going for many years and have been highly successful. Unfortunately this year things changed. The organisers manifestly failed to market the race with no flyers distributed at other local races or to nearby clubs. As a consequence the race almost didn't go ahead because of lack of entries - this at a time when most races close entries early and have to turn people away.
Of course this meant that Cirencester were able to clean up, we managed five of the top eight places and the only reason we didn't have the race winner was because Chris overslept, see his Blog for more! Jon Young's photo shows the beeming winning team of Adrian Williams, Chris Illman & me with the delightful Sharron Davies.
The next evening Cirencester promoted the Westonbirt Arboretum 10km, the course threading its way through the winding footpaths of this beautiful area near Tetbury & Highgrove. Entries closed weeks ago at 750 and organiser Dave Edelsten could easily have accepted double that number. As ever with Dave's organisation, everything went very smoothly; it was a spectacular sight seeing such large numbers spread throughout the grounds of the Arboretum. With a sapling tree for each finisher there was also a bit of novelty for all as well.
The Westonbirt results have been published this morning, just a few hours after the race finished. The Fairford results have also been published today but because the second finisher's time was not recorded all results are incorrect! Apparently the fun run results are even worse. If people pay out £8-10 for a 10km race they expect decent organisation. At Westonbirt they got it, at Fairford they didn't.
The Fairford Festival 10km, as the name implies, is run as part of a weekend of festivities in the town where I work. Both the festival and the race, plus associated 3km fun run, have been going for many years and have been highly successful. Unfortunately this year things changed. The organisers manifestly failed to market the race with no flyers distributed at other local races or to nearby clubs. As a consequence the race almost didn't go ahead because of lack of entries - this at a time when most races close entries early and have to turn people away.
Of course this meant that Cirencester were able to clean up, we managed five of the top eight places and the only reason we didn't have the race winner was because Chris overslept, see his Blog for more! Jon Young's photo shows the beeming winning team of Adrian Williams, Chris Illman & me with the delightful Sharron Davies.The next evening Cirencester promoted the Westonbirt Arboretum 10km, the course threading its way through the winding footpaths of this beautiful area near Tetbury & Highgrove. Entries closed weeks ago at 750 and organiser Dave Edelsten could easily have accepted double that number. As ever with Dave's organisation, everything went very smoothly; it was a spectacular sight seeing such large numbers spread throughout the grounds of the Arboretum. With a sapling tree for each finisher there was also a bit of novelty for all as well.
The Westonbirt results have been published this morning, just a few hours after the race finished. The Fairford results have also been published today but because the second finisher's time was not recorded all results are incorrect! Apparently the fun run results are even worse. If people pay out £8-10 for a 10km race they expect decent organisation. At Westonbirt they got it, at Fairford they didn't.
Thursday 28 May 2009
The longest run
Had planned to run the White Horse 5 on bank holiday Monday but the 11:30am start put me off as it impinged on good eating / drinking time in the midst of a heavy social weekend. It was partly coincidence and partly planned that so much social stuff happened all at once - just like the old 93 bus, you wait ages for one to come along then three come together.
So instead of dodging gypsies & collecting chocolate biscuits at Gloucester, it was off to the Thames Head for lunch with Claudie, my sister & mum. For any locals interested, the food at the TH is now superb. This followed dinner at Jesse Smiths in town on Saturday night and lunch in our garden on a glorious summer Sunday with friends from London.
Saturday's dinner, again high quality, was with Cathie & Dave who, remarkably, got married on the same day as us. We didn't know them then but they were only a few miles away: we married in Morden, south London and they tied the knot in Horsham, Sussex. Unfortunately, being relatively close meant we had the same weather ... it bucketed down all day, absolutely incessant it was. They say that's a good sign and I guess it was because all this waffle is leading to the fact that we celebrated our 25th anniversary on Tuesday! Champagne at home finished off our few sociable days perfectly. Shame Natalie couldn't join us but the poor girl is in the midst of her finals at Exeter Uni.
Of course I trained on our wedding day - my best man was a 30.17 10k runner so it wasn't a gentle plod - and I managed to get out twice on our anniversary. Not sure how many more years I'll be strapping on the trainers rather than slippers but I'll keep it going for as long as I can. As I've said before it's a lifestyle thing.
Thanks Claudie, you're a star for putting up with me all these years!
So instead of dodging gypsies & collecting chocolate biscuits at Gloucester, it was off to the Thames Head for lunch with Claudie, my sister & mum. For any locals interested, the food at the TH is now superb. This followed dinner at Jesse Smiths in town on Saturday night and lunch in our garden on a glorious summer Sunday with friends from London.
Saturday's dinner, again high quality, was with Cathie & Dave who, remarkably, got married on the same day as us. We didn't know them then but they were only a few miles away: we married in Morden, south London and they tied the knot in Horsham, Sussex. Unfortunately, being relatively close meant we had the same weather ... it bucketed down all day, absolutely incessant it was. They say that's a good sign and I guess it was because all this waffle is leading to the fact that we celebrated our 25th anniversary on Tuesday! Champagne at home finished off our few sociable days perfectly. Shame Natalie couldn't join us but the poor girl is in the midst of her finals at Exeter Uni.
Of course I trained on our wedding day - my best man was a 30.17 10k runner so it wasn't a gentle plod - and I managed to get out twice on our anniversary. Not sure how many more years I'll be strapping on the trainers rather than slippers but I'll keep it going for as long as I can. As I've said before it's a lifestyle thing.
Thanks Claudie, you're a star for putting up with me all these years!
Tuesday 12 May 2009
Relaxing by the Thames
Thought I'd crucify my legs further with another half marathon back at my old stomping ground. The Richmond Half, organised by Ranelagh Harriers, takes in some wonderful settings and, as a consequence is very popular despite an 8.30am start. Living 100 miles away this meant Claudie & I staying overnight with old friends and that meant eating & drinking well. That's my first excuse.
The race started right outside the Ranelagh clubhouse, went over Richmond Bridge, then to Twickenham, Kingston and the magnificent Hampton Court, before returning along the (generally) tarmac towpath, over Kingston Bridge and back to Richmond. It was a beautiful warm, sunny day. My race was nondescript as I was isolated for nearly the whole race, just picking off a few fast starters, before I got into a nice little trio after 8 miles and we picked up the pace.
My marathon, previous night's antics and continued health problems all kicked in over the last couple of miles and I was pretty weary by the end. David Rowe's picture shows race winner, Peter Tucker, bounding along. Great to meet up with old friends of course, including two we hadn't seen for a few years: Grenville Tuck and Ned Sullivan. Makes it all worthwhile.
During the previous evening and after the race, swopped lots of texts with my buddy from Rome, Gavin Jones, who decided to run the Prague Marathon. He'd run Rome in 2.48 in March, was aghast to hear that I'd run 2.47 in Scotland, so ran Prague at short notice ... in 2.46! He is a happy man but I shall return and sooner than most expect ...
The race started right outside the Ranelagh clubhouse, went over Richmond Bridge, then to Twickenham, Kingston and the magnificent Hampton Court, before returning along the (generally) tarmac towpath, over Kingston Bridge and back to Richmond. It was a beautiful warm, sunny day. My race was nondescript as I was isolated for nearly the whole race, just picking off a few fast starters, before I got into a nice little trio after 8 miles and we picked up the pace.
My marathon, previous night's antics and continued health problems all kicked in over the last couple of miles and I was pretty weary by the end. David Rowe's picture shows race winner, Peter Tucker, bounding along. Great to meet up with old friends of course, including two we hadn't seen for a few years: Grenville Tuck and Ned Sullivan. Makes it all worthwhile.During the previous evening and after the race, swopped lots of texts with my buddy from Rome, Gavin Jones, who decided to run the Prague Marathon. He'd run Rome in 2.48 in March, was aghast to hear that I'd run 2.47 in Scotland, so ran Prague at short notice ... in 2.46! He is a happy man but I shall return and sooner than most expect ...
Monday 4 May 2009
London revisited
It is many, many years since I did anything other than watch the London Marathon from the comfort of my armchair. I ran the first two editions in 1981 & 1982, drove the lead vehicle in a few subsequent years and even supervised the laying of the blue line marking the route one year (long story but involved starting at midnight and jogging alone through some pretty dodgy Dickensian type areas of the Surrey Docks at 3am with rabid dogs howling ...). I decided this year to go up and soak in the atmosphere whilst supporting Chris Illman in particular.
I arranged to meet up with a gang from Ranelagh who go up every year and therefore know the lie of the land and shortcuts etc., or so I thought ... I felt a bit guilty on the Docklands Light Railway being squeezed in amongst all the runners going to the start (leaving it a bit late I thought). It was very interesting observing them: a lot of jovial banter amongst those travelling together, some very pensive faces, ashen faced even (what other sport does that to you?) and others just constantly drinking as much fluid as possible - most of which would have been flushed out of their system before the start so would actually be a bit pointless.
Greenwich was heaving with spectators even though there was an hour before the elite women were due through and another 45 minutes until the masses. The plan was to watch at six miles then jog under the Thames using the Greenwich foot tunnel and watch again on the Isle of Dogs, this was the standard Ranelagh plan. As I was early I checked out the tunnel - blocked off! There was no chance of using the tunnel. So much for the Ranelagh experience & expertise.
Time at Greenwich wasn't wasted as I met up with Ray & Margaret Auerback, friends from
Ranelagh who now live down in Devon. Margaret was a very good runner in her time, winning the Isle of Wight Marathon along with me in 1985, and it was interesting talking to Ray, who never professed to being anything other than a very average club runner - he was more interested in making money as a barrister - yet he ran 2.33.30 in London in the early '80's. Perception has changed so much since that time. In 1982 Ranelagh had 21 finishers under 2.50, including five under 2.30, led by race winner Hugh Jones in 2.09.24. Picture shows me with teammate Andy Ewers in the last mile, we both ran 2.25.48 (click on picture for larger image). Ranelagh was never seen as an elite club, or one that was particularly strong - Hugh obviously being the exception - yet we all trained together and accepted that these kind of times were normal. Oh that we could garner that feeling and competitiveness at Cirencester's sessions! Progress is being made but there is still a long way to go. I really believe the club can move forward en masse - Wendy, Jane & Chris have led by example - the improvements over the last couple of years are testament to that, witness greatly improved regional & national relay results and Ciren depth in most local road races. Positive thinking and belief are so important as is team spirit. Club captain Adrian Williams is superbly capturing the latter and will hopefully drive the club forward. Whether I will be part of that only time will tell, I hope that I can be of help. Perhaps I will take a back seat and watch it happen.
Anyway, I digress, back to the race. First sight of the runners was the rather incongruous one of a handful of elite women. Only about a dozen started whilst 35,000 waited another 45 minutes, and I found it rather sad to see the current Olympic champion, Constantina Dita, already tailed off last of the dozen (clearly at the race to cash in on her champion status). Soon enough the main race came through led by a phalanx of rapid Africans - TV doesn't give a true perspective on the pace these guys run. They are rapid! Chris followed soon after, worringly earlier than planned but given the downhill nature of the first few miles, slightly understandable.
I then fought through the masses to get to Greenwich station, leaving my Ranelagh friends behind, and the DLR train across to the IoD, managing to see the runners again at 25km (15½ miles) where Chris was looking pretty good, and again at Canary Wharf at 19 miles amongst heaving crowds (not looking so good!). Underground to Waterloo and a bit of pace across Hungerford Bridge got me to the 40km marker where I met up with my very good Dutch friend Alex Halter, over with a tour group from Holland. I was too late for the leaders here but saw Chris go through and walked with Alex to the finish. Tony Curry then rang me from his spot helping at the finish line to say that Chris had finished; he was somewhat aghast to hear that I was only 400 metres away when he thought I was in Cirencester!
Caught up with Chris afterwards. Although disappointed, having got his pace wrong, he was quite sanquine about things as he lugged the biggest rucksack ever seen from the finishing funnel to his waiting parents. This was a stepping stone for him and he'll be stronger for it going forward. Ranked 2nd in the marathon at U23 level he knows there are opportunities ahead to make a real impression at the highest level. Quite ironic though that he was only 30 seconds faster than my afore-mentioned friend Ray. Also had a chat with Adam Harborow, who must have been the only runner in the race holding himself back in the last few miles: his sole aim was to get the three hour monkey off his back and he didn't want to seize up, so he paced himself perfectly. Look for a sub 2.50 next year from Adam.
Don't know about the guys who ran the race but I was exhausted; lots of short, fast running bursts throughout the morning interspersed with regular text messages to/from interested parties: Rupert Chesmore, out on the course supporting Liza, the Ranelagh gang, Claudie, Natalie, Wendy, Alex and others. An exhilarating morning, thoroughly enjoyable, but perhaps next year I'll have my feet up in front of the TV again.
I arranged to meet up with a gang from Ranelagh who go up every year and therefore know the lie of the land and shortcuts etc., or so I thought ... I felt a bit guilty on the Docklands Light Railway being squeezed in amongst all the runners going to the start (leaving it a bit late I thought). It was very interesting observing them: a lot of jovial banter amongst those travelling together, some very pensive faces, ashen faced even (what other sport does that to you?) and others just constantly drinking as much fluid as possible - most of which would have been flushed out of their system before the start so would actually be a bit pointless.
Greenwich was heaving with spectators even though there was an hour before the elite women were due through and another 45 minutes until the masses. The plan was to watch at six miles then jog under the Thames using the Greenwich foot tunnel and watch again on the Isle of Dogs, this was the standard Ranelagh plan. As I was early I checked out the tunnel - blocked off! There was no chance of using the tunnel. So much for the Ranelagh experience & expertise.
Time at Greenwich wasn't wasted as I met up with Ray & Margaret Auerback, friends from
Ranelagh who now live down in Devon. Margaret was a very good runner in her time, winning the Isle of Wight Marathon along with me in 1985, and it was interesting talking to Ray, who never professed to being anything other than a very average club runner - he was more interested in making money as a barrister - yet he ran 2.33.30 in London in the early '80's. Perception has changed so much since that time. In 1982 Ranelagh had 21 finishers under 2.50, including five under 2.30, led by race winner Hugh Jones in 2.09.24. Picture shows me with teammate Andy Ewers in the last mile, we both ran 2.25.48 (click on picture for larger image). Ranelagh was never seen as an elite club, or one that was particularly strong - Hugh obviously being the exception - yet we all trained together and accepted that these kind of times were normal. Oh that we could garner that feeling and competitiveness at Cirencester's sessions! Progress is being made but there is still a long way to go. I really believe the club can move forward en masse - Wendy, Jane & Chris have led by example - the improvements over the last couple of years are testament to that, witness greatly improved regional & national relay results and Ciren depth in most local road races. Positive thinking and belief are so important as is team spirit. Club captain Adrian Williams is superbly capturing the latter and will hopefully drive the club forward. Whether I will be part of that only time will tell, I hope that I can be of help. Perhaps I will take a back seat and watch it happen.Anyway, I digress, back to the race. First sight of the runners was the rather incongruous one of a handful of elite women. Only about a dozen started whilst 35,000 waited another 45 minutes, and I found it rather sad to see the current Olympic champion, Constantina Dita, already tailed off last of the dozen (clearly at the race to cash in on her champion status). Soon enough the main race came through led by a phalanx of rapid Africans - TV doesn't give a true perspective on the pace these guys run. They are rapid! Chris followed soon after, worringly earlier than planned but given the downhill nature of the first few miles, slightly understandable.
I then fought through the masses to get to Greenwich station, leaving my Ranelagh friends behind, and the DLR train across to the IoD, managing to see the runners again at 25km (15½ miles) where Chris was looking pretty good, and again at Canary Wharf at 19 miles amongst heaving crowds (not looking so good!). Underground to Waterloo and a bit of pace across Hungerford Bridge got me to the 40km marker where I met up with my very good Dutch friend Alex Halter, over with a tour group from Holland. I was too late for the leaders here but saw Chris go through and walked with Alex to the finish. Tony Curry then rang me from his spot helping at the finish line to say that Chris had finished; he was somewhat aghast to hear that I was only 400 metres away when he thought I was in Cirencester!
Caught up with Chris afterwards. Although disappointed, having got his pace wrong, he was quite sanquine about things as he lugged the biggest rucksack ever seen from the finishing funnel to his waiting parents. This was a stepping stone for him and he'll be stronger for it going forward. Ranked 2nd in the marathon at U23 level he knows there are opportunities ahead to make a real impression at the highest level. Quite ironic though that he was only 30 seconds faster than my afore-mentioned friend Ray. Also had a chat with Adam Harborow, who must have been the only runner in the race holding himself back in the last few miles: his sole aim was to get the three hour monkey off his back and he didn't want to seize up, so he paced himself perfectly. Look for a sub 2.50 next year from Adam.
Don't know about the guys who ran the race but I was exhausted; lots of short, fast running bursts throughout the morning interspersed with regular text messages to/from interested parties: Rupert Chesmore, out on the course supporting Liza, the Ranelagh gang, Claudie, Natalie, Wendy, Alex and others. An exhilarating morning, thoroughly enjoyable, but perhaps next year I'll have my feet up in front of the TV again.
Tuesday 21 April 2009
The joys of marathoning revisited.
I woke with intense cramp in my right calf and didn't know what to do with myself. It is many years since I've had this sensation, probably when I last ran a marathon in 1995 (the one before that was in 1985). Oh, the joys of marathon running. Only this happened on Saturday morning in our delightful Guest House in Oban on the way up to Fort William and therefore before the marathon! Had I been dreaming about the race? Don't think so and if I had it would have been a nightmare not a dream. What was I letting myself in for after two months of bad health manifesting itself in many different and dispiriting ways? At least Claudie and I had already enjoyed a few days in delightful warm sunshine as a prelude to the race, initially visiting my favourite cousin in Perth, then meeting for the first time in my life a cousin of my mum's in Oban, interspersing all this with touring in some of the most wonderful scenery in the world. So the flights, car hire, accommodation all booked up when I entered the race weren't totally wasted.
I chose this marathon some months ago for a number of reasons: I felt to urge to revisit my former favourite distance, especially having rediscovered some form in recent months; I didn't want to do a big race like London or a foreign city race as I felt low key was the best way back; I figured that a top 10 place was there for the taking, and I really fancied a short break in Scotland. This race, which has been going for 26 years, appealed especially because as well as the backdrop of Ben Nevis and, ironically, the lure of a relatively flat course, it tracked the banks of Loch Eil, which has a special affinity to my family. My mum's maiden name is Cameron and she came from the Clan Cameron of Loch Eil, so it really just had to be done.
First impressions when collecting my number in Fort William was how this race is the absolutely perfect antidote to the brash commercialism of the London Marathon. 500 entrants, no stands selling shoes, very little publicity, just a good, well organised old fashioned race starting and finishing on a shinty pitch (watched a match the day before the race, it makes ice hockey look gentile). There wasn't a cloud in the sky and it was ominously warm for the relatively late 11am start. Chatted to a couple of Bourton athletes (why is there always a Bourton runner wherever one races?!) then we were off with a 3,2,1 go!
Despite still feeling the calf cramp, I felt ok and was determined not to go off too fast. This was incredibly frustrating as I desperately wanted to go off with the lead pack. I had planned to run 6.45 miling to start with then, if I felt ok, maybe drop to 6.30's. 19.22 after 3 miles was a bit faster than this but I felt that I would feel uncomfortable running any slower, I'd already got into a good little group and I may as well try to get the race over with 'quickly' as this would save time on my feet - I know, a bit like accelerating towards a petrol station when running out of fuel but there you go.
Every mile between 3 and 10 was within 6 seconds (6.21 / 6.27) as I hooked up with a guy from Motherwell who seemed to know what he was doing. We were flowing along. By this stage I was about 25th. He then slowed at a drinks station and I found myself alone and reeled off 3 miles to halfway at an average of 6.17, picking off runners along the way. Being an out & back course I was able to ascertain my position at halfway, 12th in 1.24.00, faster than planned but I felt good and was enjoying picking off the runners ahead. This I did consistently, catching the guy in 4th at 19 miles. Thankfully he stayed with me, although I was slightly worried at his greying locks (turns out he wasn't even a V40!), and we helped each other through the "wall" miles. Fatigue was setting in but I'd hydrated well throughout the race, both with water and electrolyte (things have changed since I used to run marathons, in those days you made do with plastic cups of tap water which were impossible to drink out of), and also carried a gel, which I took at 19 miles and washed down at the next water station. Throughout the return journey along the banks of the Loch, the enormous, snow covered peak of Ben Nevis beckoned ever nearer - there was no doubting where the finish line was, although thankfully at the base not the summit of the country's highest mountain.
I was waiting for intense weariness to set in but I'd paced myself well and just after 23 miles the footsteps of my partner faded behind me (he eventually finished 4 minutes behind as the heat got to him). I was on my own in 4th but the next guy was a long way down the road. Held things together well (my fastest mile at 6.12 was no. 24) until the last mile which incorporated a couple of short, sharp climbs and was also into the brisk wind that had always been around but never in our faces. Claudie got the shock of her life when she looked up from reading her Sunday paper in the shinty stand: here was Wrighty flying (I exaggerate) down the finishing straight some 8 minutes faster than predicted, before collapsing in a heap across the finish line.
Elation turned to frustration a while later when I found out that the winner was only 4 minutes ahead - this was a race I could, in fact should, have won. I'd paced it perfectly, coming home in 1.23.20, giving me a negative split. Apart from my slow last mile (6.45), all my mile splits were between 6.12 and 6.29 and my 5 mile splits were 32.15, 32.04, 31.26, 31.31, 31.55.
After the presentation we drove to a wonderful hotel in the middle of Glencoe, miles away from anywhere, and enjoyed a few beers in the hot early evening sunshine (see picture). My face and shoulders were burnt but my calf cramp had gone! I think I've got the marathon bug back.
I chose this marathon some months ago for a number of reasons: I felt to urge to revisit my former favourite distance, especially having rediscovered some form in recent months; I didn't want to do a big race like London or a foreign city race as I felt low key was the best way back; I figured that a top 10 place was there for the taking, and I really fancied a short break in Scotland. This race, which has been going for 26 years, appealed especially because as well as the backdrop of Ben Nevis and, ironically, the lure of a relatively flat course, it tracked the banks of Loch Eil, which has a special affinity to my family. My mum's maiden name is Cameron and she came from the Clan Cameron of Loch Eil, so it really just had to be done.First impressions when collecting my number in Fort William was how this race is the absolutely perfect antidote to the brash commercialism of the London Marathon. 500 entrants, no stands selling shoes, very little publicity, just a good, well organised old fashioned race starting and finishing on a shinty pitch (watched a match the day before the race, it makes ice hockey look gentile). There wasn't a cloud in the sky and it was ominously warm for the relatively late 11am start. Chatted to a couple of Bourton athletes (why is there always a Bourton runner wherever one races?!) then we were off with a 3,2,1 go!
Despite still feeling the calf cramp, I felt ok and was determined not to go off too fast. This was incredibly frustrating as I desperately wanted to go off with the lead pack. I had planned to run 6.45 miling to start with then, if I felt ok, maybe drop to 6.30's. 19.22 after 3 miles was a bit faster than this but I felt that I would feel uncomfortable running any slower, I'd already got into a good little group and I may as well try to get the race over with 'quickly' as this would save time on my feet - I know, a bit like accelerating towards a petrol station when running out of fuel but there you go.
Every mile between 3 and 10 was within 6 seconds (6.21 / 6.27) as I hooked up with a guy from Motherwell who seemed to know what he was doing. We were flowing along. By this stage I was about 25th. He then slowed at a drinks station and I found myself alone and reeled off 3 miles to halfway at an average of 6.17, picking off runners along the way. Being an out & back course I was able to ascertain my position at halfway, 12th in 1.24.00, faster than planned but I felt good and was enjoying picking off the runners ahead. This I did consistently, catching the guy in 4th at 19 miles. Thankfully he stayed with me, although I was slightly worried at his greying locks (turns out he wasn't even a V40!), and we helped each other through the "wall" miles. Fatigue was setting in but I'd hydrated well throughout the race, both with water and electrolyte (things have changed since I used to run marathons, in those days you made do with plastic cups of tap water which were impossible to drink out of), and also carried a gel, which I took at 19 miles and washed down at the next water station. Throughout the return journey along the banks of the Loch, the enormous, snow covered peak of Ben Nevis beckoned ever nearer - there was no doubting where the finish line was, although thankfully at the base not the summit of the country's highest mountain.
I was waiting for intense weariness to set in but I'd paced myself well and just after 23 miles the footsteps of my partner faded behind me (he eventually finished 4 minutes behind as the heat got to him). I was on my own in 4th but the next guy was a long way down the road. Held things together well (my fastest mile at 6.12 was no. 24) until the last mile which incorporated a couple of short, sharp climbs and was also into the brisk wind that had always been around but never in our faces. Claudie got the shock of her life when she looked up from reading her Sunday paper in the shinty stand: here was Wrighty flying (I exaggerate) down the finishing straight some 8 minutes faster than predicted, before collapsing in a heap across the finish line.
Elation turned to frustration a while later when I found out that the winner was only 4 minutes ahead - this was a race I could, in fact should, have won. I'd paced it perfectly, coming home in 1.23.20, giving me a negative split. Apart from my slow last mile (6.45), all my mile splits were between 6.12 and 6.29 and my 5 mile splits were 32.15, 32.04, 31.26, 31.31, 31.55.
After the presentation we drove to a wonderful hotel in the middle of Glencoe, miles away from anywhere, and enjoyed a few beers in the hot early evening sunshine (see picture). My face and shoulders were burnt but my calf cramp had gone! I think I've got the marathon bug back.
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