Another setback

Time to join in the general haranguing of LOCOG about the dire organisation of the Olympic ticketing set-up? After all I got no tickets at all ... it has to be stated that I didn't actually apply for any so this could have had a bearing on the absolute zero achieved. So, was it an almighty cock up? Frankly, no. If the gullible British public were willing to put up hundreds of pounds on their credit card (Visa, of course, Mastercard not accepted as they are not sponsors of the Olympics, that great amateur sporting event) on the off chance of getting tickets for nondescript morning heats of athletics or Greco-Roman wrestling, more fool them. Don't complain if you got the tickets you didn't want (why apply?) or none at all, that's life. What is the whole thing about wanting tickets, any tickets? Surely you only go to watch something if you are interested in it. What is the point in someone going to the high diving, a very technical event, if they know nothing about the sport other than the fact that some spotty teenager from GB is a medal contender? By the very nature of the event there are not many seats so an outsider buying a ticket means that someone with a great interest in the sport can't get in. That's wrong and is the same in all the sports. Why are people willing to pay hundreds of pounds for the 100m final, an event that lasts less than 10 seconds? It's beyond me. Presumably it's just to say, 'I was there' and impress their friends.


All this makes me want to write about the total lack of awareness about athletics from within athletics clubs these days, but that can wait for another day.


So, my setback has nothing to do with the Olympics. As previously reported I've been building my running up incredibly gradually and with real patience, so what happened last Sunday was very frustrating. I went out for an easy 20 minute potter around town; it was going perfectly pleasantly with no issues until in one stride I felt my left Achilles 'pop'. All my problems in recent times have been with the right Achilles so this was out of the blue and for no apparent reason. Of course I was at the furthest point from home, namely 10 minutes, so struggled home before applying ice. Next day was hobbling about something rotten. It's eased in recent days but I have absolutely no confidence in going out running again. It seems my body is telling me something: broken body, broken mind. Time to stop.

"a writer (runner) has a quiet, inner motivation, and doesn't seek validation in the outwardly visible." Another corker from Haruki Murakami in his philosophical tome What I talk about when I talk about running.


Anyway, off to Wimbledon tomorrow. Lucky enough to get Centre Court tickets so will see Andy, Rafa & Venus amongst others. Never been to this hallowed turf - other that to play cricket at the adjoining Aorangi Park many years ago (memories: big defeat, lots of beers, major thunderstorm over corrugated iron shed bar around midnight) - although just missed out on being a ball boy as our school provided such youngsters. As I was in school cricket team I couldn't be spared on Saturdays (something to do with my wicked inswinging yorkers it appears) so missed out. Looking forward to the tennis: Murray is a fascinating character and gets a mixed press but I admire his honesty and dedication. There are a lot of similarities with running, the only way to succeed is to be single-minded, ruthless and tough. Murray (& Radcliffe in running) have this attitude, so many others who are far more talented than these two don't have it. As I've said so many times to people, it's all about dedication over the long term.


Finally, it's July this week and the bi-annual world masters athletics champs in Sacramento, USA. I ran in the last version in Finland two years ago, my last proper race. I have high hopes for my old Ranelagh chum Gavin Jones (no. 80 in picture), British but living in Rome, to come home with a gold medal in the V50 marathon. Would love to be there myself but Gavin's the man and gold beckons.

Race for Life

Went for a run yesterday and got as far as Cirencester Park. With regular runs throughout 2011, I'm at least building some sort of base without overstretching myself: started with five minute jogs then a couple of months at 10-15 minutes a couple of times a week; now can manage up to 30 mins although mostly easy runs around 15-20 mins only. No real change healthwise as everything hurts from head to Achilles, but weight still dropping slowly and it's so lovely just to be able to run.

In the park I stumbled across a mass of pink as (mainly) ladies gathered for the 5km Race for Life. One small group of half a dozen were congregated behind one of the park's many stone follies; as I reached them I realised they were having a smoke before the race. Killing themselves whilst trying to save others, a juxtaposition if ever there was one. My first reaction was what idiots they were but then I decided that their outing was pretty impressive and deserved of praise. Would like to know what time they ran and what state they were in at the end, mind.

Talking of smokers, a promised mention for Sue Soar, the aunt of one of my oldest mates Rob Wise (I once took 5-14 as we skittled his U14 school team out for about 30, although he insists that he cover drove me to the boundary, about as likely as Rob managing to run as well as he talks about running [he's a scholar on the sport and would make a great coach]). Sue was born in 1939 and although she's run for many years, was a smoker until just three years ago. Since turning 70 she has run two marathons - both in her home town of Brighton - ranking top FV70 in the country in 2010 with 4.23.36 and to date 2nd nationally this year with 4.35.16 on a scorching hot day. As with Ed Whitlock in Canada (see previous blogs), Sue's running is based on lots of lsd (long steady distance) either on Brighton's seafront or on the beautiful South Downs overlooking the town. That's the way to do it.