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.
