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.
