It's been a while. Quick update: had my IV infusion of pamidronate at Oxford Nuffield Hospital last month, in an effort to beat this osteitis lark. The promised 'flu-like symptoms' kicked in for a few days afterwards, I'd have been disappointed if they hadn't, so they certainly pumped something strong into my ailing body. No obvious progress to date but as I'm limping around in pain with ongoing Achilles' issues and now a dodgy knee (too much on the exercise bike in a vain attempt to burn off some calories), my abdominal pains seem less obvious right now. Since last posting I have also partaken in two more mob matches, in Richmond Park and at Orion's home course in Epping Forest.
On our dry, relatively flat, grassland and stoney track course in Richmond it was relatively easy to maintain forward momentum, although a chronic lack of fitness conspired to hold me back from sustaining anything close to a decent pace.
Epping Forest on the other hand is one of the great traditional xc courses where there is no hiding place from underfoot conditions: it is a very tough one lap course with deep mud, steep hills, ditches to cross and stiles to traverse. I was nervous beforehand as I felt that, unlike in Richmond Pk, the terrain would be of little help. I was not wrong but strangely enough thoroughly enjoyed the experience.
Andy Bickerstaff, a fellow past winner of this race and a lot more recently than me, who himself is battling medical issues, joined me for the first mile. This was a big mistake (for me, not him) as we chatted about finding ourselves so far down the field; at least he chatted, I muttered some breathless utterances and curses as I slid around in my training flats and couldn't catch my breath. Just jogging and I couldn't talk! Experienced runners always face aches & pains, sniffles etc., breathing is never an issue, but here I was less than a mile into a 7½ mile race and totally out of breath. Thankfully the other element of my lack of fitness, the total inability to run up hills, at least allowed me to get my breath back, although I was really miffed when walking up the last big hill when I was overtaken by another walker and couldn't keep up!
Anyway, thankfully AB got bored with my company - the conversation was rather one-way - and proceeded to scythe through the field without any of his feared medical issues resurfacing. I was left to survive, which I did although not without mishap. A thorn in my shoe, which I couldn't budge, necessitated stopping, a rather leisurely break sitting on a log changing my shoe and watching the world, in the form of many runners, go by. I then got into a battle with a couple of others; quite hilariously they would run past me on the precarious downhills where I had no grip at all, falling flat on my face in the mud at one point, I would then overtake them along the flat and road sections, before walking up the hills allowing my bemused opponents to once again go ahead. Just like that cartoon series, was it the Ant Hill Mob? This link clearly reflects the delights of Epping Forest: http://www.flickr.com/photos/14963062@N04/5257606364/in/set-72157625589293120/
The result of all this nonsense was a time 14 minutes slower than two years earlier, that's a whole two miles behind where I was! Ignoring all the frustrations of my various ailments, I find it fascinating how fitness levels can change so radically. To extend the differential, even when I was running relatively well two years ago i.e. 14 minutes faster over 7 miles than at present, I couldn't run more than two miles at my pb marathon pace per mile.
Just Blackheath's equally tough course left on this winter's mob match agenda then I can safely retire again. Hopefully the pamidronate will help things along so that I can actually do some training. Who knows. As Kierkegaard so rightly said, "life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards."
Finally, great news that Alf Tupper's blog has reappeared after over a year. Written by Mike Cadman, a real character and ex-top notch runner from the black country. He writes what he thinks, no-one is left in any doubt about that! Check him out on www.alftupper.blogspot.com
Wednesday, 15 December 2010
Monday, 1 November 2010
Who said the AAA supports athletes?
Back in the days of real runners, my old friend Clive Beauvais once stated that if he ever failed to crack 60 minutes for a 10 miler he would hang up his racers. He did, of course, eventually succumb to the hour but he is still racing well into his 60's, a dodgy knee notwithstanding. I felt like echoing Clive's blunt sentiments last week.
I've only missed one mob match for Ranelagh in the last 35 years (there are four each winter). It's a silly record and one that just gradually evolved (obviously!); now it seems to be the only thing people talk to me about when I travel up to Richmond (memories of Monty Python: "all they ever want to talk about is my two sheds."). So the decision had to be made last Saturday with the onset of a new season: should I do the sensible thing, stay at home and watch the darts on tv or should I at least show my face and make a vain attempt to hobble 7½ miles over two laps of Richmond Park? Although, as my old mate Norman Archer used to lament on a regular basis about anything, it was pointless, somehow I felt that if I didn't show up I would be cutting a tie that has given me so much pleasure over the years, namely my membership of Ranelagh Harriers. I know fewer & fewer runners there each time I go up but the magic of the club, as conveyed to me by one of its many Australian members a few years ago, is that you can disappear for a year or two but always know that when you return there will be a familiar face to buy you a pint. So I ran ...
Of course it was a ridiculous run, I jogged at the back, momentum down Queen's Ride (beautifully pictured here one early morning by David Rowe) taking me past a few stragglers, then walked every time there was the slightest climb (Richmond Park is far from mountainous). A concerned Claudie asked whether I would continue after the first lap but by then there was no choice. My breathing by this stage was very heavy but the regular walks sorted that. My aches and pains all seemed numbed by the experience; it was the utter lack of fitness that was so horrendous. Forward momentum in the last couple of miles, even on the flat bits, was marginal but I crawled home and collapsed over the line. My time? Well my best on the course from a long way back is 40:32 and, in more recent times, 47.04. I ran 59:10. Clive's words came back to me: if I ever fail to break the hour my time is up, a bit worrying given that I've got to go through the whole proceses again in a couple of weeks and last Saturday conditions were perfect.
The most frightening statistic however is that I finished 61st out of 116, there were 55 behind me!
I did my various injuries no good at all. My Achilles still aches like hell all day despite regular eccentric heel raises carrying close to 20kg on my back (hernia next methinks); my Abdomen is a sleeping pain, stinging when I make any sudden movement (getting out a chair / car etc) and my Adductor hurts when I put my foot on the clutch when driving. I've at last received confirmation that I will get my pamidronate IV infusion next Monday so live in hope that this might help things. Otherwise it looks like the AAA will terminate my running career, which is somewhat ironic don't you think?!
I've only missed one mob match for Ranelagh in the last 35 years (there are four each winter). It's a silly record and one that just gradually evolved (obviously!); now it seems to be the only thing people talk to me about when I travel up to Richmond (memories of Monty Python: "all they ever want to talk about is my two sheds."). So the decision had to be made last Saturday with the onset of a new season: should I do the sensible thing, stay at home and watch the darts on tv or should I at least show my face and make a vain attempt to hobble 7½ miles over two laps of Richmond Park? Although, as my old mate Norman Archer used to lament on a regular basis about anything, it was pointless, somehow I felt that if I didn't show up I would be cutting a tie that has given me so much pleasure over the years, namely my membership of Ranelagh Harriers. I know fewer & fewer runners there each time I go up but the magic of the club, as conveyed to me by one of its many Australian members a few years ago, is that you can disappear for a year or two but always know that when you return there will be a familiar face to buy you a pint. So I ran ...
Of course it was a ridiculous run, I jogged at the back, momentum down Queen's Ride (beautifully pictured here one early morning by David Rowe) taking me past a few stragglers, then walked every time there was the slightest climb (Richmond Park is far from mountainous). A concerned Claudie asked whether I would continue after the first lap but by then there was no choice. My breathing by this stage was very heavy but the regular walks sorted that. My aches and pains all seemed numbed by the experience; it was the utter lack of fitness that was so horrendous. Forward momentum in the last couple of miles, even on the flat bits, was marginal but I crawled home and collapsed over the line. My time? Well my best on the course from a long way back is 40:32 and, in more recent times, 47.04. I ran 59:10. Clive's words came back to me: if I ever fail to break the hour my time is up, a bit worrying given that I've got to go through the whole proceses again in a couple of weeks and last Saturday conditions were perfect.The most frightening statistic however is that I finished 61st out of 116, there were 55 behind me!
I did my various injuries no good at all. My Achilles still aches like hell all day despite regular eccentric heel raises carrying close to 20kg on my back (hernia next methinks); my Abdomen is a sleeping pain, stinging when I make any sudden movement (getting out a chair / car etc) and my Adductor hurts when I put my foot on the clutch when driving. I've at last received confirmation that I will get my pamidronate IV infusion next Monday so live in hope that this might help things. Otherwise it looks like the AAA will terminate my running career, which is somewhat ironic don't you think?!
Thursday, 21 October 2010
What would Pheidippides think?
Had some good feedback from readers of this inane blog in recent weeks. Apparently it is read in Afghanistan and Australia. Wonder if I can stretch it all the way to Zambia and Zimbabwe. All of those countries, and quite a few inbetween, will be represented in the London Olympics 2012 so with this tenuous link I shall continue.
The most iconic image of any Olympic Games has to be the lone figure of the lead marathoner emerging from the lonely, dark shadows into the Olympic stadium holding 80,000 cheering spectators. This is where the lonelieness of the long distance runner becomes a distant memory and a rush of adrenalin kicks in for that final 400 surge to the line and immortality. I've experienced finishing races on the track (Polytechnic Marathon at Windsor, Wimbledon 10, Cheltenham 10km and others); it is a wonderful feeling even in front of a timekeeper and his dog. But in the Olympics must be the best feeling. The only other sporting occasion I can think of that can create anything like the same theatre would be the walk down the 18th fairway at the Open Golf at St Andrews with a three shot lead.
So what is happening in 2012? The marathon will finish in the Mall in Central London. Crazy decision.
The course will be numerous laps around the iconic sites of London, incorporating lots of twists and turns in our ancient city. Seb Coe, sounding somewhat embarrassed in my view because he knows where the race should finish, was wheeled out to state that it was impossible to find a safe route taking the runners to the stadium without decimating traffic congestion. Absolute rubbish, the organisers and many corporate sponsors (yes, money dictates in this horrendously commercial Olympics) didn't want the world to see the East end of London and what that would portray to the viewing tv audience around the world.
It would have been very easy to start the race in central London, put in a few loops taking in all the sites, then direct the runners towards the stadium for the finish - by this time the race would be getting serious and cameras would be concentrating on the runners and not the surroundings anyway. But no, it will be just like any other London Marathon each spring. Very sad. At least the Queen will be able to watch the finish, perhaps she can reverse the decision made by her predecessor in 1908 and lop 2.2 miles off the distance. Those 2.2 miles have caused me an awful lot of pain over the years - in New York 1983 I hit the wall and walked a lot in the last couple of miles yet still managed 2.23.
I've joined the Tower Hamlets protest group on Facebook and would urge others to do the same but sadly the decision has been made and money talks. Not least the fact that it will cost between £20 and £50 to watch the marathon!
Still on the marathon theme, I sat up all night to watch last week's Commonwealth Games marathons from Delhi. The night was made more fun as I chatted online to my darling daughter Natalie in London (I don't think she ever sleeps) and a great old friend of mine, Paul Beauvais, in Melbourne, Australia. Conditions were tough and it was very frustrating to watch as little news filtered through from down the field, but Michelle eventually emerged and was happy with 6th in the race, despite the inevitable Delhi belly, thus ending an eventful and successful year. Great run too from Ben for which there has been little publicity.
The most iconic image of any Olympic Games has to be the lone figure of the lead marathoner emerging from the lonely, dark shadows into the Olympic stadium holding 80,000 cheering spectators. This is where the lonelieness of the long distance runner becomes a distant memory and a rush of adrenalin kicks in for that final 400 surge to the line and immortality. I've experienced finishing races on the track (Polytechnic Marathon at Windsor, Wimbledon 10, Cheltenham 10km and others); it is a wonderful feeling even in front of a timekeeper and his dog. But in the Olympics must be the best feeling. The only other sporting occasion I can think of that can create anything like the same theatre would be the walk down the 18th fairway at the Open Golf at St Andrews with a three shot lead.
So what is happening in 2012? The marathon will finish in the Mall in Central London. Crazy decision.
The course will be numerous laps around the iconic sites of London, incorporating lots of twists and turns in our ancient city. Seb Coe, sounding somewhat embarrassed in my view because he knows where the race should finish, was wheeled out to state that it was impossible to find a safe route taking the runners to the stadium without decimating traffic congestion. Absolute rubbish, the organisers and many corporate sponsors (yes, money dictates in this horrendously commercial Olympics) didn't want the world to see the East end of London and what that would portray to the viewing tv audience around the world.
It would have been very easy to start the race in central London, put in a few loops taking in all the sites, then direct the runners towards the stadium for the finish - by this time the race would be getting serious and cameras would be concentrating on the runners and not the surroundings anyway. But no, it will be just like any other London Marathon each spring. Very sad. At least the Queen will be able to watch the finish, perhaps she can reverse the decision made by her predecessor in 1908 and lop 2.2 miles off the distance. Those 2.2 miles have caused me an awful lot of pain over the years - in New York 1983 I hit the wall and walked a lot in the last couple of miles yet still managed 2.23.
I've joined the Tower Hamlets protest group on Facebook and would urge others to do the same but sadly the decision has been made and money talks. Not least the fact that it will cost between £20 and £50 to watch the marathon!
Still on the marathon theme, I sat up all night to watch last week's Commonwealth Games marathons from Delhi. The night was made more fun as I chatted online to my darling daughter Natalie in London (I don't think she ever sleeps) and a great old friend of mine, Paul Beauvais, in Melbourne, Australia. Conditions were tough and it was very frustrating to watch as little news filtered through from down the field, but Michelle eventually emerged and was happy with 6th in the race, despite the inevitable Delhi belly, thus ending an eventful and successful year. Great run too from Ben for which there has been little publicity.
Friday, 8 October 2010
79 is the new 39
It must be time for another posting so let's see what random stuff I can come up with - I tell you it's not easy managing a runner's blog when not running, but here goes.
A celebration of near octogenarians.
.
I am lucky to know two wonderful characters who are both 79 years old. Both run and are still ambitious in the racing stakes, putting my miserable efforts into perspective. My local chum Fred Robson is 80 this Sunday (10/10/10) and will celebrate by running a charity 10km race. If he doesn't crack 60 minutes he will be annoyed with himself but will soon get over it and have half a Guinness, tend to his bees and plan his next business trip to eastern Europe. Fred never stops, in fact he has been running marathons for some 60 years. Fred can always tell a story in the pub yet doesn't go on about 'the good old days' but prefers to embrace today and the future. A wonderful man.
Ed Whitlock is a member of Ranelagh Harriers, my other club in London. He actually only ran once for the club, in the early 60's, before emigrating to Canada where he still lives. He reconnected with the club about five years ago and now runs all his races in his precious blue
Ranelagh singlet. Ed ran last week's Toronto ½ Marathon in 1.34.27, a world record for a 79 year old. He is the only man over 70 to run a marathon under three hours, clocking 2.59.10 in 2003. Like Fred he is always looking forward; he stated after Toronto that the world V80 marathon record of 3.39.18 should be well within his compass next year as long as his fragile knees hold out. I met him in Rotterdam three years ago when he was over for the marathon. When I told him that I was a Ranelagh Harrier and introduced him to Wendy, who has run for the club, and my Dutch friend Alex (pictured with Ed and me) who has socialised on many occasions with us in Richmond, he was elated to meet up with us. A lovely, self-effacing character.
"The end of a race is just a temporary marker without much significance. The same with our lives. Just because there's an end doesn't mean existence has meaning. An end point is simply set up as a temporary marker, or perhaps as an indirect metaphor for the fleeting nature of existence. It's all very philosophical." Yes, another extract from Haruki Murakami's book.
A short follow up to my last blog: I spent half a day at John Radcliffe hospital in Oxford but at the end of it I didn't get the promised elixir of life, or in my case injected dose of pamidronate to alleviate my osteitis. The very friendly doctor wanted more blood tests and to analyse my MRI scan more fully. Another appointment has been made for December - will this ever end?!
Despite all the portents of gloom from the media, I've been enjoying the Commonwealth Games and particularly enjoyed watching an Indian athlete winning bronze in the women's 10,000, the first woman to win a track medal for India. I particularly liked the lap of honour with her and the two Kenyan medallists ... incongruous but also perhaps portentious. News from Doha in Qatar, where the English team's holding camp is based, is of searing temperatures of 40ºC. This makes little sense as it is impossible to train in these conditions other than on the treadmill in air conditioned gyms. It will be bizarre for the marathoners to travel to India in a few days time for (relatively) cooler temperatures, albeit 80% humidity. Looking forward to watching the marathons next Thursday even though they start at 2am UK time (day off after that methinks).
A celebration of near octogenarians.
.
I am lucky to know two wonderful characters who are both 79 years old. Both run and are still ambitious in the racing stakes, putting my miserable efforts into perspective. My local chum Fred Robson is 80 this Sunday (10/10/10) and will celebrate by running a charity 10km race. If he doesn't crack 60 minutes he will be annoyed with himself but will soon get over it and have half a Guinness, tend to his bees and plan his next business trip to eastern Europe. Fred never stops, in fact he has been running marathons for some 60 years. Fred can always tell a story in the pub yet doesn't go on about 'the good old days' but prefers to embrace today and the future. A wonderful man.
Ed Whitlock is a member of Ranelagh Harriers, my other club in London. He actually only ran once for the club, in the early 60's, before emigrating to Canada where he still lives. He reconnected with the club about five years ago and now runs all his races in his precious blue
Ranelagh singlet. Ed ran last week's Toronto ½ Marathon in 1.34.27, a world record for a 79 year old. He is the only man over 70 to run a marathon under three hours, clocking 2.59.10 in 2003. Like Fred he is always looking forward; he stated after Toronto that the world V80 marathon record of 3.39.18 should be well within his compass next year as long as his fragile knees hold out. I met him in Rotterdam three years ago when he was over for the marathon. When I told him that I was a Ranelagh Harrier and introduced him to Wendy, who has run for the club, and my Dutch friend Alex (pictured with Ed and me) who has socialised on many occasions with us in Richmond, he was elated to meet up with us. A lovely, self-effacing character."The end of a race is just a temporary marker without much significance. The same with our lives. Just because there's an end doesn't mean existence has meaning. An end point is simply set up as a temporary marker, or perhaps as an indirect metaphor for the fleeting nature of existence. It's all very philosophical." Yes, another extract from Haruki Murakami's book.
A short follow up to my last blog: I spent half a day at John Radcliffe hospital in Oxford but at the end of it I didn't get the promised elixir of life, or in my case injected dose of pamidronate to alleviate my osteitis. The very friendly doctor wanted more blood tests and to analyse my MRI scan more fully. Another appointment has been made for December - will this ever end?!
Despite all the portents of gloom from the media, I've been enjoying the Commonwealth Games and particularly enjoyed watching an Indian athlete winning bronze in the women's 10,000, the first woman to win a track medal for India. I particularly liked the lap of honour with her and the two Kenyan medallists ... incongruous but also perhaps portentious. News from Doha in Qatar, where the English team's holding camp is based, is of searing temperatures of 40ºC. This makes little sense as it is impossible to train in these conditions other than on the treadmill in air conditioned gyms. It will be bizarre for the marathoners to travel to India in a few days time for (relatively) cooler temperatures, albeit 80% humidity. Looking forward to watching the marathons next Thursday even though they start at 2am UK time (day off after that methinks).
Tuesday, 14 September 2010
France & Haruki Murakami
A strange combination I grant but for me they came together last week. Had a lovely nine days in France, visiting family in Nantes then exploring northern Brittany, all in hot sunshine. I don't generally read running books, they are usually very one dimensional and shallow, although I have of course read the two mighty tomes that make up Ron Hill's autobiography, an anthology that should be issued to everybody who joins a running club so that today's athletes can understand what the sport should be about. Anyway, in France I decided to read Haruki Murakami's much acclaimed 'What I talk about when I talk about running.' It is a very philosophical paperback despite some dubious translation from the author's native Japanese into Americanised English.
"In each shave is a philosophy. No matter how mundane some action might appear, keep at it long enough and it becomes a contemplative, even meditative act."
In Nantes I really missed not being able to train, I have a lovely course that takes me down past the university where Claudie studied - it is normal to go to your local uni in France rather than get into massive debt just for the sake of numerous hangovers - along the river Erdre, a tributary of the Loire; up 120 steep steps to cross a bridge over the river; down the other side; a circuit of the magnificent Stade de la Beaujoire, where World Cup football & rugby has been played and where Nantes currently sadly ply their trade in the second division of the French league; a tour of the beautifully landscaped surrounding gardens; back across the river; a lap of the horse racing circuit (always loads of joggers, so good for the ego, a bit like Central Park in New York), then home. About 25km in total.
"You have to continually transmit the object of your focus to your entire body ... gradually you'll expand the limits of what you're able to do. Almost imperceptively you'll raise the bar. Repeat & repeat. Patience is a must but results will come."
In Brittany I discovered some lovely running trails, albeit whilst walking, driving and checking out maps. This was all important stuff as we hunt for the best location to buy property. A little training camp would go down perfectly. Also checked out golf courses for that rapidly approaching dreaded day (is it here already?) when I finally give in and consign the running shoes to gardening & car washing duties.
"I have only a few reasons to keep on running, and a truckload of them to quit. All I can do is keep those few reasons nicely polished."
I am still struggling badly with my Achilles. Religiously doing my eccentric exercises but struggling with the concept that pain is good, as instructed by my consultant. It feels counter intuitive to be creating even more pain in my foot in seeking a remedy. More on this next time as well as the lowdown on my visit next Monday to the John Radcliffe Hospital in Oxford. Yes, I've decided to go ahead and have an intravenous drip of pamidronate fed into me to attack my osteitis. Look out next time for all the gory details; I've been warned that there are some fairly nasty side effects.
"When I'm running I don't have to talk to anybody & don't have to listen to anybody. This is a part of my day I can't do without."
Finally, yet another tragedy has hit the running world. Steve Wheeler, a top runner for many years with Bourton Road Runners, died in a freak accident last week. He was a similar age to me and although I didn't know him that well, he was one of those guys that was always around. By all accounts he was a real character - in fact from reading some of the anecdotes on Bourton's website, he had similar oddball traits to my great friend Stephen Instone who tragically drowned a year ago. Bourton, a club with whom Cirencester has strong links (the first mob match between our two clubs took place in July) has had more that its fair share of tragedies in recent years; my thoughts go out to Steve's family but also to all at Bourton at this sad & difficult time.
"In each shave is a philosophy. No matter how mundane some action might appear, keep at it long enough and it becomes a contemplative, even meditative act."
In Nantes I really missed not being able to train, I have a lovely course that takes me down past the university where Claudie studied - it is normal to go to your local uni in France rather than get into massive debt just for the sake of numerous hangovers - along the river Erdre, a tributary of the Loire; up 120 steep steps to cross a bridge over the river; down the other side; a circuit of the magnificent Stade de la Beaujoire, where World Cup football & rugby has been played and where Nantes currently sadly ply their trade in the second division of the French league; a tour of the beautifully landscaped surrounding gardens; back across the river; a lap of the horse racing circuit (always loads of joggers, so good for the ego, a bit like Central Park in New York), then home. About 25km in total.
"You have to continually transmit the object of your focus to your entire body ... gradually you'll expand the limits of what you're able to do. Almost imperceptively you'll raise the bar. Repeat & repeat. Patience is a must but results will come."
In Brittany I discovered some lovely running trails, albeit whilst walking, driving and checking out maps. This was all important stuff as we hunt for the best location to buy property. A little training camp would go down perfectly. Also checked out golf courses for that rapidly approaching dreaded day (is it here already?) when I finally give in and consign the running shoes to gardening & car washing duties.
"I have only a few reasons to keep on running, and a truckload of them to quit. All I can do is keep those few reasons nicely polished."
I am still struggling badly with my Achilles. Religiously doing my eccentric exercises but struggling with the concept that pain is good, as instructed by my consultant. It feels counter intuitive to be creating even more pain in my foot in seeking a remedy. More on this next time as well as the lowdown on my visit next Monday to the John Radcliffe Hospital in Oxford. Yes, I've decided to go ahead and have an intravenous drip of pamidronate fed into me to attack my osteitis. Look out next time for all the gory details; I've been warned that there are some fairly nasty side effects.
"When I'm running I don't have to talk to anybody & don't have to listen to anybody. This is a part of my day I can't do without."
Finally, yet another tragedy has hit the running world. Steve Wheeler, a top runner for many years with Bourton Road Runners, died in a freak accident last week. He was a similar age to me and although I didn't know him that well, he was one of those guys that was always around. By all accounts he was a real character - in fact from reading some of the anecdotes on Bourton's website, he had similar oddball traits to my great friend Stephen Instone who tragically drowned a year ago. Bourton, a club with whom Cirencester has strong links (the first mob match between our two clubs took place in July) has had more that its fair share of tragedies in recent years; my thoughts go out to Steve's family but also to all at Bourton at this sad & difficult time.
Saturday, 21 August 2010
One year on
A year ago I ran the classic marathon distance in the World Masters Championships in Finland. I was aware at the time that I was carrying an injury but little did I know that 12 months down the line my osteitis pubis would still be lingering on and I'd not be running, let alone racing. Add to that a badly inflamed Achilles from jogging a bit whilst carrying two stone more than my racing weight, and things are not good. So what should I do? Bearing in mind a total of 23 miles under my belt in the last 12 weeks - just under that magical two miles a week average, damn! - I decided this morning to do the Swindon Parkrun 5km, well I had to go to Swindon anyway so why not have a little potter to see how the pegs (& lungs) reacted?
I maintain a rolling average weekly mileage graph with my training diary: in August 2009 it stood at 54, today it shows 5, or to put it another way, 2,800 miles a year against 260. That's a stark statistic. It also flags up what I always bang on about to runners who want to improve but can't understand why they don't. It's not a question of banging out 10 good weeks before a big race then doing very little until the next build-up, but a lifestyle change that involves an ongoing training regime throughout the year that allows consistent, good mileage.
Anyway I thoroughly enjoyed a gentle run round at about 7.20 mile pace today although won't have done myself any good. It was a complete contrast to the last race I attended, the European Championships Marathon in Barcelona, not least because today's winner was attached to three dogs! Talking of Barcelona, my visit to that beautiful city now means I have been to 13 out of the 22 cities that have hosted the summer Olympics, only St Louis, Stockholm, Berlin, Melbourne, Tokyo, Mexico, Atlanta, Seoul & Beijing remain to complete the set. Answers on a postcard to name the 13 visited.
Footnote: when staying in Heinola, Finland for last year's World Masters, we watched the world sauna championships (see my blog 28 August 2009). The event builds up to a climax over a couple of days through eliminating rounds until the final, the winner being the last competitor left in the sauna, where temperatures are cranked up to 110ºC (230ºF) by adding half a litre of water to the stove every 30 seconds. The Championships were once again held at the same venue this year but sadly one of the two finalists, a Russian named Vladimir Ladyzhensky, died (the other, defending champion Timo Kaukonen, suffered bad burns and was hospitalised). Think I'll stick to running, or if unable to get back, perhaps bowls.
I maintain a rolling average weekly mileage graph with my training diary: in August 2009 it stood at 54, today it shows 5, or to put it another way, 2,800 miles a year against 260. That's a stark statistic. It also flags up what I always bang on about to runners who want to improve but can't understand why they don't. It's not a question of banging out 10 good weeks before a big race then doing very little until the next build-up, but a lifestyle change that involves an ongoing training regime throughout the year that allows consistent, good mileage.
Anyway I thoroughly enjoyed a gentle run round at about 7.20 mile pace today although won't have done myself any good. It was a complete contrast to the last race I attended, the European Championships Marathon in Barcelona, not least because today's winner was attached to three dogs! Talking of Barcelona, my visit to that beautiful city now means I have been to 13 out of the 22 cities that have hosted the summer Olympics, only St Louis, Stockholm, Berlin, Melbourne, Tokyo, Mexico, Atlanta, Seoul & Beijing remain to complete the set. Answers on a postcard to name the 13 visited.
Footnote: when staying in Heinola, Finland for last year's World Masters, we watched the world sauna championships (see my blog 28 August 2009). The event builds up to a climax over a couple of days through eliminating rounds until the final, the winner being the last competitor left in the sauna, where temperatures are cranked up to 110ºC (230ºF) by adding half a litre of water to the stove every 30 seconds. The Championships were once again held at the same venue this year but sadly one of the two finalists, a Russian named Vladimir Ladyzhensky, died (the other, defending champion Timo Kaukonen, suffered bad burns and was hospitalised). Think I'll stick to running, or if unable to get back, perhaps bowls.
Friday, 6 August 2010
Barcelona
After long weekends taking in the remote but beautiful south west coast of Ireland, and the total contrast of a heaving but equally beautiful city of Paris, my four week July odyssey concluded with a trip to Barcelona for the European Athletics Championships.
Natalie flew down from Paris to join me and we didn't stop all weekend. Obviously my main reason to be there was for the ladies marathon but we also managed to fit in one evening of athletics at the magnificent Olympic stadium and, of course, watched the men's marathon as well. Whilst the marathoners won't agree, the hot sunshine and warm, balmy evenings helped make the championships truly memorable. After the evening session we let the crowds disperse and sat in the magnificent grounds of the complex quietly drinking beer and soaking up the atmosphere until midnight amongst spectators and competitors from all over Europe - there were flags from everywhere in abundance. We then strolled into a tapas bar at 1am for a fine meal to finish off a magnificent day. (The previous night was paella sitting outside at midnight.) Not sure that a cold damp evening in the regenerated east end of London will have quite the same allure in two years time.
The action was exciting: our ladies paced themselves perfectly in the brutal 30ºC conditions which produced carnage in the later stages. Starting at 10am was not the cleverest idea. Thanks to texts received from Claudie & Wendy, Natz and I were able to relay news to the girls that they were in with a shout of the bronze team medals and so it proved by the narrowest of margins - seeing them collect their medals in the stadium later that evening was a never to be forgotten experience. Despite my total lack of fitness I managed some good interval work that enabled me to watch the race in 13 places on the four lap course with some out & back sections. Exhausting. Michelle (14th, 2.38), who paced her run perfectly having been 27th at 5km, finished strongly, overtaking Sue (16th, 2.39) in the last 5km to lead the team home. An interesting statistic gives an indicator of how well they both ran: excluding the two Brits, only two of the top 19 finishers had pb's outside 2.30 (2.30 & 2.31), all the others were between 2.22 and 2.27. Impressive stuff and an indicator of targets ahead.
Highlight of the evening's athletics was without doubt Farah's 5000, the last four laps were
superlative as he relentlessly wound up the pace lap on lap finishing with a 55sec effort amid raucous crowd noise as the Spaniard tried in vain to hold on. Ennis showed her professionalism with a gutsy 800 to win the heptathlon but she's going to have to nurse herself through to the Olympics as her opponents are breathing down her neck. We sat by the pole vault and watched enthralled as it built up over the whole evening - this is the sort of thing tv misses as the panellists waffle on inanely in the studio - it was fascinating watching the interaction between the athletes and their coaches who were standing right by us. There was plenty of other action, most notably for Natalie the men's javelin but that's a long story. Rather embarrassingly I appeared on the big screen at one stage much to the mirth of a few people back home. Thanks for the texts guys.
There were many stories from the weekend but most are best left untold for varying reasons. The whole thing finished with a function for the GB endurance squad in the 5* Arts Hotel down on the marina. I don't want to name drop so will just use christian names of some of those with whom we dined: Seb, Mo, Paula, Charles ... A nice way to end a cracking weekend.
Natalie flew down from Paris to join me and we didn't stop all weekend. Obviously my main reason to be there was for the ladies marathon but we also managed to fit in one evening of athletics at the magnificent Olympic stadium and, of course, watched the men's marathon as well. Whilst the marathoners won't agree, the hot sunshine and warm, balmy evenings helped make the championships truly memorable. After the evening session we let the crowds disperse and sat in the magnificent grounds of the complex quietly drinking beer and soaking up the atmosphere until midnight amongst spectators and competitors from all over Europe - there were flags from everywhere in abundance. We then strolled into a tapas bar at 1am for a fine meal to finish off a magnificent day. (The previous night was paella sitting outside at midnight.) Not sure that a cold damp evening in the regenerated east end of London will have quite the same allure in two years time.
The action was exciting: our ladies paced themselves perfectly in the brutal 30ºC conditions which produced carnage in the later stages. Starting at 10am was not the cleverest idea. Thanks to texts received from Claudie & Wendy, Natz and I were able to relay news to the girls that they were in with a shout of the bronze team medals and so it proved by the narrowest of margins - seeing them collect their medals in the stadium later that evening was a never to be forgotten experience. Despite my total lack of fitness I managed some good interval work that enabled me to watch the race in 13 places on the four lap course with some out & back sections. Exhausting. Michelle (14th, 2.38), who paced her run perfectly having been 27th at 5km, finished strongly, overtaking Sue (16th, 2.39) in the last 5km to lead the team home. An interesting statistic gives an indicator of how well they both ran: excluding the two Brits, only two of the top 19 finishers had pb's outside 2.30 (2.30 & 2.31), all the others were between 2.22 and 2.27. Impressive stuff and an indicator of targets ahead.
Highlight of the evening's athletics was without doubt Farah's 5000, the last four laps were
superlative as he relentlessly wound up the pace lap on lap finishing with a 55sec effort amid raucous crowd noise as the Spaniard tried in vain to hold on. Ennis showed her professionalism with a gutsy 800 to win the heptathlon but she's going to have to nurse herself through to the Olympics as her opponents are breathing down her neck. We sat by the pole vault and watched enthralled as it built up over the whole evening - this is the sort of thing tv misses as the panellists waffle on inanely in the studio - it was fascinating watching the interaction between the athletes and their coaches who were standing right by us. There was plenty of other action, most notably for Natalie the men's javelin but that's a long story. Rather embarrassingly I appeared on the big screen at one stage much to the mirth of a few people back home. Thanks for the texts guys.There were many stories from the weekend but most are best left untold for varying reasons. The whole thing finished with a function for the GB endurance squad in the 5* Arts Hotel down on the marina. I don't want to name drop so will just use christian names of some of those with whom we dined: Seb, Mo, Paula, Charles ... A nice way to end a cracking weekend.
Wednesday, 21 July 2010
The art of making money
Last Friday in Paris I witnessed an interesting phenomenon. One person transformed an athletics meeting as no other could. With crowds at athletics events generally on the wane, particularly in apathetic countries such as France, in excess of 40,000 filled the bottom two layers of the impressive Stade de France for the Diamond League series. The one man was, of course, Usain Bolt. Because of his participation in an event that would last for less than 10 seconds, this large crowd sat through three hours of top class athletics just two weeks before the European Championships.
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If Bolt had not been competing I doubt whether 10,000 would have turned up. The whole meeting was set up around him, with a couple of side issues in his race. His first head to head in 2010 with his countryman and fastest in the world this year, Asafa Powell, was set up to be a 'monumental' clash according to Athletics Weekly. And standing between these two muscle bound Jamaican monsters on the start line was France's new pin-up, the diminutive Christof Lemaitre, who recently became the first white man to break 10 seconds. Of course the race was slightly anti-climactic with Bolt winning relatively comfortably in 9.84, (positively pedestrian !). But that wasn't the point. The showmanship and electricity produced by Bolt (slight pun there, sorry) in the last two years has created a new audience for the sport on the back of his incredible world records, particularly his unbelievable 9.58. Yes, some people question whether he is clean, particularly given the bad press the Jamaican team are currently getting, but this guy was something special as a 15 year old and has revolutionised sprinting in the way that Dick Fosbury and Bob Beamon did many moons ago.
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The whole of Paris was talking Bolt whilst I was there. All the billboards had his familiar signature lightning bolt pose; a special Jamaican festival was set up in front of the vast Hotel de Ville the night before the race (Usain was there of course), where rum was drunk, dancing was constant and visitors were able to race a machine that ran at Bolt's 9.58 pace; Bolt was on the front pages of the papers photographed at Paris' top night club where the likes of Rafa Nadal and Hollywood 'A' listers had been in recent weeks, and most importantly, people were talking athletics.
Many sportsmen are vastly overpaid but it is easy to see why Bolt gets the big bucks: the event promoters and tv companies love him. He is single handedly keeping the sport's head above water. Just seeing the masses percolating out of the metro station towards the stadium, like oil leaking in the Gulf of Mexico, made me realise we have to be thankful for the likes of Bolt. Whether he'll ever get back to world record form I have my doubts - he's lapping up the superstar lifestyle and may struggle to sustain his brilliance, there are already signs of the actual running becoming almost an irritant.
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Highlight of the meeting for me was the women's high jump where the cloned long-legged Russian blondes gradually crashed out, leaving a great head to head between the charismatic American Chaunte Howard-Lowe and the crowd manipulator Blanka Vlasic, who eventually prevailed with 2.02, having been behind at one stage. It was wonderful to be engrossed in the developing event without being whisked away for another banal Jonathan Edwards / Colin Jackson love-in. There was lots of other good stuff to fill the evening, and some bad - the Russian Alminova storming to victory in the women's 1500 (3.57) having just come off a drugs ban - but despite my ongoing health issues, I came away from the meet feeling pretty good for a change.
.
If Bolt had not been competing I doubt whether 10,000 would have turned up. The whole meeting was set up around him, with a couple of side issues in his race. His first head to head in 2010 with his countryman and fastest in the world this year, Asafa Powell, was set up to be a 'monumental' clash according to Athletics Weekly. And standing between these two muscle bound Jamaican monsters on the start line was France's new pin-up, the diminutive Christof Lemaitre, who recently became the first white man to break 10 seconds. Of course the race was slightly anti-climactic with Bolt winning relatively comfortably in 9.84, (positively pedestrian !). But that wasn't the point. The showmanship and electricity produced by Bolt (slight pun there, sorry) in the last two years has created a new audience for the sport on the back of his incredible world records, particularly his unbelievable 9.58. Yes, some people question whether he is clean, particularly given the bad press the Jamaican team are currently getting, but this guy was something special as a 15 year old and has revolutionised sprinting in the way that Dick Fosbury and Bob Beamon did many moons ago.
.
The whole of Paris was talking Bolt whilst I was there. All the billboards had his familiar signature lightning bolt pose; a special Jamaican festival was set up in front of the vast Hotel de Ville the night before the race (Usain was there of course), where rum was drunk, dancing was constant and visitors were able to race a machine that ran at Bolt's 9.58 pace; Bolt was on the front pages of the papers photographed at Paris' top night club where the likes of Rafa Nadal and Hollywood 'A' listers had been in recent weeks, and most importantly, people were talking athletics.
Many sportsmen are vastly overpaid but it is easy to see why Bolt gets the big bucks: the event promoters and tv companies love him. He is single handedly keeping the sport's head above water. Just seeing the masses percolating out of the metro station towards the stadium, like oil leaking in the Gulf of Mexico, made me realise we have to be thankful for the likes of Bolt. Whether he'll ever get back to world record form I have my doubts - he's lapping up the superstar lifestyle and may struggle to sustain his brilliance, there are already signs of the actual running becoming almost an irritant.
.
Highlight of the meeting for me was the women's high jump where the cloned long-legged Russian blondes gradually crashed out, leaving a great head to head between the charismatic American Chaunte Howard-Lowe and the crowd manipulator Blanka Vlasic, who eventually prevailed with 2.02, having been behind at one stage. It was wonderful to be engrossed in the developing event without being whisked away for another banal Jonathan Edwards / Colin Jackson love-in. There was lots of other good stuff to fill the evening, and some bad - the Russian Alminova storming to victory in the women's 1500 (3.57) having just come off a drugs ban - but despite my ongoing health issues, I came away from the meet feeling pretty good for a change.
Friday, 9 July 2010
To be sure
Along with an array of elite athletes from around the world, I flew into Cork last weekend. They went north from the airport to take part in the Cork City Sports, where, despite a blustery wind, some fine times were achieved. In a metaphor for my running these days, I went south in my hire car and didn't run a step for the five days Claudie and I spent in the emerald isle. 
We had an idyllic short break staying at my sister's remote house, Tig Na Carrige (pictured) at Toormore, near Mizen Head, Ireland's equivalent of our own Land's End. Whilst at Mizen Head we were approached by two emaciated guys asking if we could give them a lift to the nearest main town, Schull. They'd just cycled from the north of the island and in their words never wanted to get on a f****** bike again.
Despite being in an area with a low population density, I was surprised at the number of people we saw out running. Not top athletes training hard but just locals or tourists, often overweight, doing their daily workout along the country lanes. It's great to see so many people putting on their trainers and not being villified as we used to be 30 years ago. This is mirrored at running clubs up and down the country nowadays: where there would have been a hardy dozen working out at a Tuesday or Wednesday club session in the past you now see 60 or 70, most of whom will rarely or never race other than perhaps for a charity 5k or maybe the London Marathon in the unlikely event of them being accepted under the ballot system. Running clubs have changed massively and the sport has become a leisure activity for middle aged people aware of health issues, rather than in such as football, cricket, rugby, cycling where one joins a club to be competitive. I don't have an issue with this, it is merely an observation.
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I'm currently enjoying the best sport on tv at the moment: the Tour de France is a fantastic event and the production of it on tv is superb. It's a real antidote to the banal World Cup where players feigned injury at the merest touch from an opponent. Most of the riders in France appear to have gauze over arms & legs where they've fallen at 60kph and just got back on their bikes. A phenomenal sport despite ongoing drugs issues which will probably never be fully resolved. Part of the allure of the great coverage over the years has been the double act commentary team of Phil Liggett and ex-pro Paul Sherwen. They have always got the balance right between explaining what's going on, taking in the beautiful surroundings, introducing some humour and avoiding any patronising rubbish that sometimes comes with watching events like the London Marathon. I don't know whether others agree, however, but I get the feeling that Liggett is now just a bit past his best and makes a lot of mistakes. The winner? I'd go for Contador to continue the Spanish domination of sport this year (and how about Sergio Garcia as an outsider at St Andrews?).
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Blogstar this week has to be Fred Robson. Fred, who turns 80 on 10.10.10 has been running marathons for 60 years and flew out to Finland last week to run in the Parvo Nurmi Marathon in Turku (he ran this race last year and finished despite temperatures in the mid 30ºCs). "There's some decent money on offer in the age groups, David" he told me with a scheming voice, "so I think it's a good one to do, especially if it's not too hot." Unfortunately his flight was delayed by many hours and he didn't reach his destination until 4am on the day of the race. He sensibly decided just to run in the accompanying 10k, once again in 33ºC temps and won his age group. I think his secret is Guinness as he always seems to have a glass of the dark stuff in his hand. Which brings me back to Ireland last weekend ... ah the Murphys was silky smooth.
We had an idyllic short break staying at my sister's remote house, Tig Na Carrige (pictured) at Toormore, near Mizen Head, Ireland's equivalent of our own Land's End. Whilst at Mizen Head we were approached by two emaciated guys asking if we could give them a lift to the nearest main town, Schull. They'd just cycled from the north of the island and in their words never wanted to get on a f****** bike again.Despite being in an area with a low population density, I was surprised at the number of people we saw out running. Not top athletes training hard but just locals or tourists, often overweight, doing their daily workout along the country lanes. It's great to see so many people putting on their trainers and not being villified as we used to be 30 years ago. This is mirrored at running clubs up and down the country nowadays: where there would have been a hardy dozen working out at a Tuesday or Wednesday club session in the past you now see 60 or 70, most of whom will rarely or never race other than perhaps for a charity 5k or maybe the London Marathon in the unlikely event of them being accepted under the ballot system. Running clubs have changed massively and the sport has become a leisure activity for middle aged people aware of health issues, rather than in such as football, cricket, rugby, cycling where one joins a club to be competitive. I don't have an issue with this, it is merely an observation.
.
I'm currently enjoying the best sport on tv at the moment: the Tour de France is a fantastic event and the production of it on tv is superb. It's a real antidote to the banal World Cup where players feigned injury at the merest touch from an opponent. Most of the riders in France appear to have gauze over arms & legs where they've fallen at 60kph and just got back on their bikes. A phenomenal sport despite ongoing drugs issues which will probably never be fully resolved. Part of the allure of the great coverage over the years has been the double act commentary team of Phil Liggett and ex-pro Paul Sherwen. They have always got the balance right between explaining what's going on, taking in the beautiful surroundings, introducing some humour and avoiding any patronising rubbish that sometimes comes with watching events like the London Marathon. I don't know whether others agree, however, but I get the feeling that Liggett is now just a bit past his best and makes a lot of mistakes. The winner? I'd go for Contador to continue the Spanish domination of sport this year (and how about Sergio Garcia as an outsider at St Andrews?).
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Blogstar this week has to be Fred Robson. Fred, who turns 80 on 10.10.10 has been running marathons for 60 years and flew out to Finland last week to run in the Parvo Nurmi Marathon in Turku (he ran this race last year and finished despite temperatures in the mid 30ºCs). "There's some decent money on offer in the age groups, David" he told me with a scheming voice, "so I think it's a good one to do, especially if it's not too hot." Unfortunately his flight was delayed by many hours and he didn't reach his destination until 4am on the day of the race. He sensibly decided just to run in the accompanying 10k, once again in 33ºC temps and won his age group. I think his secret is Guinness as he always seems to have a glass of the dark stuff in his hand. Which brings me back to Ireland last weekend ... ah the Murphys was silky smooth.
Friday, 25 June 2010
Random observations
The object of this blog when I set it up last year was to present weekly observations on the running scene through my eyes and around my own training & racing. That's gone belly up (or, more accurately, belly out!) because of my injury, although I'm still involved through coaching & mentoring. The only trouble with this is the lack of control - you can help and advise until the cows come home but once the start gun goes off you lose all semblance of control. All very nerve wracking & frustrating. So some random thoughts whilst we are in the midst of this beautiful summer weather, a football world cup throwing up surprises and a crazy Wimbledon fortnight.
I recently read this quote by Brian Moore, the former England rugby hooker: "I love the French. This least likely of statements is not said in jest; it is borne out of a continuing realisation that in many facets of life, such as health, education, food, social cohesion, work-life balance and so on, I find myself admitting that they have got it right and the rest of the world, which they resolutely refuse to follow, has got it wrong." He then related this to the attitude of the French - the gallic shrug - in rugby. I have to say that I agree wholeheartedly with Moore's sentiments - not just because I have a French wife - and fully intend being part of all that when I retire to that part of the world. The non-conformist side of things has been witnessed this week with the French football team and in that amazing world record tennis match. Nicolas Mahut didn't come out with the usual sound bites that modern sportsmen are sadly programmed to utter, but merely stated what he really thought about things (basically he was cheesed off to have lost, hardly surprising when you've successfully served to stay in the match 64 times - all that effort for nothing). He also appeared totally underwhelmed afterwards by the presentation of a momento to celebrate the match. I hate it when modern football/rugby/cricket players are wheeled out to give the party line on the state of play. Thankfully the trackside interviews in athletics, usually mundane in the extreme and always far too soon after the event, sometimes throw up some cracking banter - the 110m hurdler after last year's world champs immediately springs to mind, as does any interview with Dean Macey - and I like nothing better than an interviewer to say what a great race it was and the athlete replying that he thought it was crap! The new UK chief of athletics, Van Commence, is like that and it's a breath of fresh air: BBC man, 'the plucky Brit did really well to finish 4th, you must be very happy' ... VC, 'no, she got the pace completely wrong in the first lap, was boxed in and ran out of options. This makes me angry.' Love it.
Observations on the football? Well, I'm afraid it's a game I no longer enjoy watching and the xenophobia that accompanies world cups completely turns me off. Watching the delightful passing, changes in pace, vision and pure natural ball skills of the South Americans makes it worth watching but I can't get excited beyond that. England appear to be throttled by the fear of error based on the ridiculous expectation heaped on the team. One thought, which doesn't appear to have been mentioned at all: why is David Beckham sitting in the dugout looking like a tailor's dummy in his awful three piece M&S suit? What possible use is he with the squad, other than a diversion?
July promises to be a busy month for me with trips lined up to Ireland (my sister's house on the remote but beautiful south coast of Co. Cork); Paris, to see Natalie and take in the Diamond League athletics meeting, and Barcelona for the European Athletics Champs where it will be too hot for marathon running!
I recently read this quote by Brian Moore, the former England rugby hooker: "I love the French. This least likely of statements is not said in jest; it is borne out of a continuing realisation that in many facets of life, such as health, education, food, social cohesion, work-life balance and so on, I find myself admitting that they have got it right and the rest of the world, which they resolutely refuse to follow, has got it wrong." He then related this to the attitude of the French - the gallic shrug - in rugby. I have to say that I agree wholeheartedly with Moore's sentiments - not just because I have a French wife - and fully intend being part of all that when I retire to that part of the world. The non-conformist side of things has been witnessed this week with the French football team and in that amazing world record tennis match. Nicolas Mahut didn't come out with the usual sound bites that modern sportsmen are sadly programmed to utter, but merely stated what he really thought about things (basically he was cheesed off to have lost, hardly surprising when you've successfully served to stay in the match 64 times - all that effort for nothing). He also appeared totally underwhelmed afterwards by the presentation of a momento to celebrate the match. I hate it when modern football/rugby/cricket players are wheeled out to give the party line on the state of play. Thankfully the trackside interviews in athletics, usually mundane in the extreme and always far too soon after the event, sometimes throw up some cracking banter - the 110m hurdler after last year's world champs immediately springs to mind, as does any interview with Dean Macey - and I like nothing better than an interviewer to say what a great race it was and the athlete replying that he thought it was crap! The new UK chief of athletics, Van Commence, is like that and it's a breath of fresh air: BBC man, 'the plucky Brit did really well to finish 4th, you must be very happy' ... VC, 'no, she got the pace completely wrong in the first lap, was boxed in and ran out of options. This makes me angry.' Love it.
Observations on the football? Well, I'm afraid it's a game I no longer enjoy watching and the xenophobia that accompanies world cups completely turns me off. Watching the delightful passing, changes in pace, vision and pure natural ball skills of the South Americans makes it worth watching but I can't get excited beyond that. England appear to be throttled by the fear of error based on the ridiculous expectation heaped on the team. One thought, which doesn't appear to have been mentioned at all: why is David Beckham sitting in the dugout looking like a tailor's dummy in his awful three piece M&S suit? What possible use is he with the squad, other than a diversion?
July promises to be a busy month for me with trips lined up to Ireland (my sister's house on the remote but beautiful south coast of Co. Cork); Paris, to see Natalie and take in the Diamond League athletics meeting, and Barcelona for the European Athletics Champs where it will be too hot for marathon running!
No blogstar this time but instead just a few words about the passing of a great sportsman. Andy Ripley sadly died at the age of 62 last week. That's no age these days but boy did he pack a lot into those years: international rugby player, athlete & rower; excelled also at sailing, triathlon, basketball, tennis & water skiing; qualified canoe instructor; won the BBC Superstars; fluent linguist; gained a MPhil from Cambridge University at 50 (an age when he narrowly missed selection for the University boat race) and even had time to make a fortune in the City. He enjoyed life and sport to the full, something that the professional sporting world has sadly but inevitably lost. With his long hair and rugged face he resembled the great French film actor Gerard Depardieu - perhaps GD will play him in what surely must be the inevitable film of Ripley's life. RIP Andy, you were the last of the great true all round amateur sportsmen.
Wednesday, 26 May 2010
Guinness is good for you
"As highly-tuned athletes, we appreciate the necessity of treating our bodies with respect and the importance of ensuring proper replacement of nutrients after running. Consequently our Wednesday evening training is followed by an intensive "rehydration" session in one of the local hostelries (Guinness and London Pride are particularly popular) coupled with very good value high carbohydrate replacement foods (such as egg, chips & beans)." Marlborough Running Club's website somehow encapsulates what the sport should be all about and what, sadly, has been lost in recent times. It was certainly the reason that I joined a club back in the 70's. It also probably explains why Keith Firkin is now a member!
If any reader feels that this blog doesn't satiate their need for digesting inconsequential nonsense then I have just the answer: http://www.runnersblogs.blogspot.com/ is a site set-up for insomniacs who can't get enough of running blogs. It's a dumping ground for all types of running blogs, mine included, covering many aspects of the sport under various headings: Host Athlete; Elite Athlete; Humorous; Other Athlete (I know my place and should be thankful to still be categorised as athlete) and Other Blogs. There's some good topical stuff, with some great anecdotes on our sport, as well as plenty of dross. Some of them are almost as interesting as my blog.
Blogstar this week: Rob Forbes decided to watch England play in the World Cup in South Africa.
He set off from Cirencester about eight months ago ... on his bike! 19,500km later he arrived in South Africa, via a 20km swim across the straits of Gibraltar, and promptly ran the Comrades Ultra Marathon from the high veldt of Pietermaritzburg to Durban with 23,500 others, a mere 89km (56 miles). And he performed superbly: at 23 he's only run one marathon before (2.45 at Berlin) so to complete the course 846th in 7:48:39 (3:40 marathon pace) was impressive indeed. A truly epic journey which you can read more about on http://www.tri4africa.co.uk/
He set off from Cirencester about eight months ago ... on his bike! 19,500km later he arrived in South Africa, via a 20km swim across the straits of Gibraltar, and promptly ran the Comrades Ultra Marathon from the high veldt of Pietermaritzburg to Durban with 23,500 others, a mere 89km (56 miles). And he performed superbly: at 23 he's only run one marathon before (2.45 at Berlin) so to complete the course 846th in 7:48:39 (3:40 marathon pace) was impressive indeed. A truly epic journey which you can read more about on http://www.tri4africa.co.uk/
Tuesday, 11 May 2010
Wednesday
So many endurance athletes struggle with Wednesday's training. To me it is the key day of the week but it is also the hardest to get right. The theory is do a track session on a Tuesday and maybe a fartlek or hill session on a Thursday. Most of us work during the day and might be able to get out for a 40 minute run at lunchtime at best. But if serious about performing at the marathon, a long midweek run is crucial and for most, doing this during the lunch hour is just not viable. So that leaves the evening and a 90 minute plus run after work is not an exciting proposition...
I promised a couple of posts ago to publish my old training schedule. This would make for too much excitement for one blog so instead I shall drip feed the reader with some of the finer points of a highly scientific process that took place through the late 70's and the 80's. Here is Wednesday.
Ranelagh's club night was a Wednesday, unusual as most clubs meet for a Tuesday night session. The faster runners would meet independently on a Tuesday for hills (plenty of them in Richmond) in winter and on an old gravel track at Harlequins' Rugby ground, The Stoop (this was a run down place before the onset of professional rugby union and is now much changed and has no track) in summer, followed by a few pints of Fullers in Twickenham.
Ranelagh's clubhouse - a corrugated iron shed when I first joined but then converted into a fine building thanks to a wonderfully generous legacy from a former member, Harry Sheer (a great cricketing chum of mine) - is set in the car park of The Dysart Arms pub opposite Richmond Park. Many a happy hour was spent in the pub on Wednesday evenings and on Saturdays after races when I used to help behind the bar. It was a good old fashioned pub with both a saloon and public bar, where the beer was cheaper, and a great landlord, Jim, who fully embraced the club and even came away on our annual outlying run weekend to Oxfordshire (best not to get into what happened on those trips in this blog ... oh dear!). The pub was featured in the opening credits of this year's London Marathon TV coverage when Sue Barker charted the initial discussions on the viability of the race that were held in the pub with the likes of Chris Brasher, John Disley and me! Sadly the pub has now been converted into Dysarts, a bistro type place with lousy beer, no atmosphere and a frosty relationship between pub & club (members drink at the top of Richmond Hill nowadays). A sad but inevitable consequence of today's society I guess.
Anyway, I digress. We met at 6pm on Wednesdays - it was always a struggle for me to get there, having commuted home from London then driven to Richmond. As a consequence of ongoing continuous heavy training I always felt like a zombie before Wednesday runs - possibly this was partly psychosomatic as I pondered the evening run - to the extent that it was a struggle to even jog at first, such was my weariness. Thankfully the others would be feeling the same and the first couple of miles along the flat paths in the park leading towards Kingston gate were always painfully slow with a lot of idle chat. But this was the perfect way to get into the run ...
As we approached Kingston the chat would gradually fade away and imperceptibly the pace start to pick up. No-one would say anything about this, it all happened naturally (there were no coaches in those days telling us to pick up the pace blah, blah, blah). By the time we reached a good hill just after the gate we were starting to really move, and off the top of the hill we were in top gear and absolutely flying. This hard threshold pace would be sustained to Robin Hood gate where, having done a couple of miles at pace we dropped down to a jog and regrouped. We started up again along the meadows towards Roehampton and the pace soon picked up; this time we sustained what must have been sub five minute miling all the way back to Richmond gate, another 2-3 miles. The lap of the park was about eight miles; we'd then regroup and add a few miles down into Richmond and back along the Thames towpath, generally at a good steady six minute miling, giving us about 13-14 miles in total. This was a hard session but so rewarding - the beer always tasted good afterwards as we chatted away into the evening.
This type of run is absolutely vital to a marathoner's armoury yet almost impossible to replicate. I tried it a couple of times a year or so ago on unsuspecting clubmates at Cirencester and it worked, but in today's regimented and structured coach induced training sessions this type of run cannot be categorised. It was all about feel and natural inclinations and was dictated somewhat by extreme weariness of the runners. Perhaps this is the problem today, runners don't experience that total wipeout fatigue that makes just walking a few strides so difficult. I wish I could bottle what I experienced all those years ago on a Wednesday evening and sprinkle it on today's runners.
My Blog Hero of the week (a new idea): Martin Croucher (see Jon Young's picture), fresh from taking part in the Two Oceans 36 miler in Cape Town, South Africa (a race I did a few years ago and would recommend to anyone, it knocks spots off London, NY etc), won the local Parkrun 5km race last Saturday. He doesn't profess to being a top athlete but just loves the sport - the fact that he's run races dressed up as various cartoon characters attests to this. He wrote a lovely piece for the Ciren AC website about surprisingly finding himself in the lead and how he dealt with it. This was his first ever race win and is something he'll never forget. Well done mate, thoroughly deserved and one to dine out on for years to come.
I promised a couple of posts ago to publish my old training schedule. This would make for too much excitement for one blog so instead I shall drip feed the reader with some of the finer points of a highly scientific process that took place through the late 70's and the 80's. Here is Wednesday.
Ranelagh's club night was a Wednesday, unusual as most clubs meet for a Tuesday night session. The faster runners would meet independently on a Tuesday for hills (plenty of them in Richmond) in winter and on an old gravel track at Harlequins' Rugby ground, The Stoop (this was a run down place before the onset of professional rugby union and is now much changed and has no track) in summer, followed by a few pints of Fullers in Twickenham.Ranelagh's clubhouse - a corrugated iron shed when I first joined but then converted into a fine building thanks to a wonderfully generous legacy from a former member, Harry Sheer (a great cricketing chum of mine) - is set in the car park of The Dysart Arms pub opposite Richmond Park. Many a happy hour was spent in the pub on Wednesday evenings and on Saturdays after races when I used to help behind the bar. It was a good old fashioned pub with both a saloon and public bar, where the beer was cheaper, and a great landlord, Jim, who fully embraced the club and even came away on our annual outlying run weekend to Oxfordshire (best not to get into what happened on those trips in this blog ... oh dear!). The pub was featured in the opening credits of this year's London Marathon TV coverage when Sue Barker charted the initial discussions on the viability of the race that were held in the pub with the likes of Chris Brasher, John Disley and me! Sadly the pub has now been converted into Dysarts, a bistro type place with lousy beer, no atmosphere and a frosty relationship between pub & club (members drink at the top of Richmond Hill nowadays). A sad but inevitable consequence of today's society I guess.
Anyway, I digress. We met at 6pm on Wednesdays - it was always a struggle for me to get there, having commuted home from London then driven to Richmond. As a consequence of ongoing continuous heavy training I always felt like a zombie before Wednesday runs - possibly this was partly psychosomatic as I pondered the evening run - to the extent that it was a struggle to even jog at first, such was my weariness. Thankfully the others would be feeling the same and the first couple of miles along the flat paths in the park leading towards Kingston gate were always painfully slow with a lot of idle chat. But this was the perfect way to get into the run ...
As we approached Kingston the chat would gradually fade away and imperceptibly the pace start to pick up. No-one would say anything about this, it all happened naturally (there were no coaches in those days telling us to pick up the pace blah, blah, blah). By the time we reached a good hill just after the gate we were starting to really move, and off the top of the hill we were in top gear and absolutely flying. This hard threshold pace would be sustained to Robin Hood gate where, having done a couple of miles at pace we dropped down to a jog and regrouped. We started up again along the meadows towards Roehampton and the pace soon picked up; this time we sustained what must have been sub five minute miling all the way back to Richmond gate, another 2-3 miles. The lap of the park was about eight miles; we'd then regroup and add a few miles down into Richmond and back along the Thames towpath, generally at a good steady six minute miling, giving us about 13-14 miles in total. This was a hard session but so rewarding - the beer always tasted good afterwards as we chatted away into the evening.
This type of run is absolutely vital to a marathoner's armoury yet almost impossible to replicate. I tried it a couple of times a year or so ago on unsuspecting clubmates at Cirencester and it worked, but in today's regimented and structured coach induced training sessions this type of run cannot be categorised. It was all about feel and natural inclinations and was dictated somewhat by extreme weariness of the runners. Perhaps this is the problem today, runners don't experience that total wipeout fatigue that makes just walking a few strides so difficult. I wish I could bottle what I experienced all those years ago on a Wednesday evening and sprinkle it on today's runners.
My Blog Hero of the week (a new idea): Martin Croucher (see Jon Young's picture), fresh from taking part in the Two Oceans 36 miler in Cape Town, South Africa (a race I did a few years ago and would recommend to anyone, it knocks spots off London, NY etc), won the local Parkrun 5km race last Saturday. He doesn't profess to being a top athlete but just loves the sport - the fact that he's run races dressed up as various cartoon characters attests to this. He wrote a lovely piece for the Ciren AC website about surprisingly finding himself in the lead and how he dealt with it. This was his first ever race win and is something he'll never forget. Well done mate, thoroughly deserved and one to dine out on for years to come.
Sunday, 2 May 2010
New target
I have only finished 20 marathons since my first one as a 19 year old in 1976, some 34 years ago. Given that I went through a phase of doing 3 or 4 a year in the mid 80's that leaves a lot of gaps. This week I read in Athletics Weekly that only a select few runners in the world have completed a sub 3 
hour marathon in five separate decades. At London last weekend the first two Britons were added to this small group: Chris Finill who has run in all 30 Londons, and my old combatant from school days (he was at Roan, nr Greenwich, me Raynes Park), Steve Smythe. Steve won't thank me for reproducing this picture of the two of us battling it out in the Mitcham 25km in January 1981 (the Ranelagh gazette records that there was a strong northerly wind and a mid-race snow blast, hence the socks on my hands [running gloves hadn't been invented then nor colour photography it seems]).
This got me thinking and so I dusted off my old running records: had I run a marathon each decade? I knew that I went 10 years and then 15 years avoiding the classic distance, so wasn't sure how the dates slotted in. It transpires that I have indeed run marathons in four consecutive decades, the 70's (5), 80's(12), 90's(1) and 00's(2), all at 2.47 or faster, as recorded elsewhere on this blog. So I now have a new challenge: to run a sub 3 hour marathon this decade and maintain my long standing duel with Steve (he ran 2.46 last week). It was only a year ago that I ran 2.47 at Lochaber but, of course, it feels a lot longer than that given what has happened since. But surely I can muster up enough energy to potter round in sub 7's for a 2.50 something over the next 9½ years.
Whilst delving deep into my past I found this old picture from the last mile of the New York City Marathon 1981 (2:26). I might be biased having run six of them, but there is no doubt in my mind that this is the greatest of the city marathons - there is something special about the course, not least the fact that it goes through all five boroughs from Staten Island through Brooklyn, Queens, Manhattan and The Bronx ("you're in The Bronx now man so you gotta run fast" was the rather frightening proclamation on a banner at the 20 mile mark one year). Standing on the start line you can just about make out the famous Manhattan skyline (changed, sadly, since I was last there) on a clear day, and that's where you are headed. It's tough because it wasn't designed to be fast as later city marathons like London were, but as a consequence takes in all the best bits (and some of the worst, see above!), including the magnificent views onto Manhattan across the Queensboro' bridge and the delights of the rolling hills in Central Park for the last few miles.
Finally, great news from the selectors at uk:a after London on Sunday (you don't often hear that), so everything now geared towards Barcelona in July = hot!
hour marathon in five separate decades. At London last weekend the first two Britons were added to this small group: Chris Finill who has run in all 30 Londons, and my old combatant from school days (he was at Roan, nr Greenwich, me Raynes Park), Steve Smythe. Steve won't thank me for reproducing this picture of the two of us battling it out in the Mitcham 25km in January 1981 (the Ranelagh gazette records that there was a strong northerly wind and a mid-race snow blast, hence the socks on my hands [running gloves hadn't been invented then nor colour photography it seems]).This got me thinking and so I dusted off my old running records: had I run a marathon each decade? I knew that I went 10 years and then 15 years avoiding the classic distance, so wasn't sure how the dates slotted in. It transpires that I have indeed run marathons in four consecutive decades, the 70's (5), 80's(12), 90's(1) and 00's(2), all at 2.47 or faster, as recorded elsewhere on this blog. So I now have a new challenge: to run a sub 3 hour marathon this decade and maintain my long standing duel with Steve (he ran 2.46 last week). It was only a year ago that I ran 2.47 at Lochaber but, of course, it feels a lot longer than that given what has happened since. But surely I can muster up enough energy to potter round in sub 7's for a 2.50 something over the next 9½ years.
Whilst delving deep into my past I found this old picture from the last mile of the New York City Marathon 1981 (2:26). I might be biased having run six of them, but there is no doubt in my mind that this is the greatest of the city marathons - there is something special about the course, not least the fact that it goes through all five boroughs from Staten Island through Brooklyn, Queens, Manhattan and The Bronx ("you're in The Bronx now man so you gotta run fast" was the rather frightening proclamation on a banner at the 20 mile mark one year). Standing on the start line you can just about make out the famous Manhattan skyline (changed, sadly, since I was last there) on a clear day, and that's where you are headed. It's tough because it wasn't designed to be fast as later city marathons like London were, but as a consequence takes in all the best bits (and some of the worst, see above!), including the magnificent views onto Manhattan across the Queensboro' bridge and the delights of the rolling hills in Central Park for the last few miles.
Finally, great news from the selectors at uk:a after London on Sunday (you don't often hear that), so everything now geared towards Barcelona in July = hot!
Saturday, 24 April 2010
Parkrun fun
Swindon now hosts a Parkrun every Saturday morning, in Lydiard Park; they've spread like wild fire since Ranelagh club mate Paul Sinton-Hewitt started them up a few short years back. Simple format: register your name, turn up for 9am any Saturday at any venue (see excellent Parkrun website) and run 5km. Time and position recorded and published online usually before you get home, along with all sorts of statistics and photos. All free of charge.
Despite, or perhaps because of, my pathetic lack of fitness, I've pitched up for a few of these and absolutely loved their informality, the first one was won by a guy running with his dog. What a wonderful antidote to the commercial brashness of this weekend's over-populated London Marathon. Cirencester's Adrian Williams won today's race in a course record 16:35 - he's had quite a week, his first ever race win last Sunday, at the Highworth 5, today's course record and sandwiched between the two his 35th birthday. On top of all that he's just succumbed to Facebook!
.
The only danger of Parkrun is in its popularity. At some of the bigger venues, turnouts are regularly over 200 and a breed of runner is evolving who never runs anything but Parkruns, their sole aim in life being to achieve a t-shirt for running 50, 100, 250 even 500 of the things. This is having an impact on some clubs; I know at Ranelagh, which has a full fixture list through the winter (championship, league, mob, inter-club, handicap races), many members are doing the Parkruns instead. These runs are certainly great fun and to be fully encouraged whether for serious racing, coming back from injury or just for exercise with the dog/child, but a thriving club scene is vital for the longevity of our wonderful sport.
3 miles is my absolute limit at the moment: as well as my osteitis causing pain in the abdomen and adductors, my Achilles aches like hell (thought having time off would ease that) and my arthritic hip is causing me all sorts of problems. Add in constant headaches and feeling that I've been dragged through a hedge backwards (wouldn't mind if it was off 80 miles a week, not 12), and it's no surprise that I'm struggling. I'm getting out for 15-20 mins a few times a week, which is at least giving me some fresh air & exercise and has stopped my weight gain.
Talking of weight, I was particularly pleased that I didn't put any on a couple of weeks ago after a big 50th birthday party of an old school friend in London. I had a few drinks for the first time this year and apart from feeling a bit weary the next morning (!) I still went for an easy run; it felt like the old days when a Saturday afternoon race was followed by a few pints then the long Sunday run chatting to friends about the night before, if remembered. Highlight of the party came when the birthday girl tried to guess Claudie's age and underestimated it by 12 years (all started when she said to Claudie, "your turn next"!). It certainly made her feel good about her dieting - yes, she's been losing weight (lots of) while I've been adding it.
There will be a lot of nervous runners (& non-runners) tonight with the marathon on in the morning. Good luck to all, especially from Ranelagh / Cirencester, at least the weather is looking good this year. I had planned to be up there but Michelle pulled out with injury on Friday, very frustrating. Sweating on Monday's selection meeting now.
Finally, my best wishes go to a good running friend, Tim Willson, following his minor heart scare this week. He's a great guy with a wicked sense of humour and may he soon be back to full health & fitness. Tim isn't on Facebook but his Cockerel, Roger (see picture), is and has many friends including, sadly, me.
Wednesday, 24 March 2010
Trouser troubles
I held on as long as possible but inevitably have succumbed on the trouser front. I've been a size 32 for a long, long time and in late 2008 / early 2009 had to tighten my belt (literally rather than figuratively) as my heavy training meant size 30 was the order of the day - I know, I looked emaciated but I was as fit as I'd been in 20 years and could eat and drink all I wanted! Claudie went shopping last week and brought back two pairs of size 34. I wanted to hold off in the vain hope that I could shed some lbs, but it's not going to happen; I have to say it is good to be able to have trousers that now fit.
Since deciding not to drink in January, I've hardly touched alcohol (plan was to refrain for one
month only). I've become virtually teetotal which is a great worry, not least given the thought of all those wonderful wines maturing in my cellar (aka cupboard under the stairs). I guess the only good thing is that the decent clarets will get time to properly mature for real depth of flavour rather than be tasted too young - all assuming I start up again. Otherwise, keep your eyes open for an exciting auction with bargains galore.
Not much happening on the running front, apart from working hard in helping out a few people, although am getting out for a few easy 15 minute potters just to break up the day at work. Adductor muscles in particular just won't ease. Will see how Jeremy B gets on following his dosage of pamindronate administered in January. I'm not really inclined at my age to go down this avenue (see 7 Feb blog), especially as Dr Rod Jaques made it clear that the evidence of improvement is only really anecdotal at present (and with younger, healthier athletes?), but if Jeremy, a sensible guy and decent athlete, genuinely feels that it has helped him then I may go down the same route.
As not much happening and this is a running blog, which I want to keep going (not least because of some interesting feedback from some very unlikely sources all over the world), I will talk next time about my training routine in the 80's. I warn you it was pretty unscientific (coaches were unheard of and my knowledge only evolved later) but mighty effective, involving, as it did, lots of miles and lots of pints! Life was good.
Best of luck to all those in heavy training for a spring marathon. Hopefully the hard work has been done and you are now nursing yourself through to the big day, perhaps with some shorter sharpening up runs (DH, in your case, perhaps it's time to start building up the mileage!).
PS David R, if you read this, rest assured I haven't forgotten you want to borrow the LM '87 video. I'll bring it up next time I'm in town.
Since deciding not to drink in January, I've hardly touched alcohol (plan was to refrain for one
month only). I've become virtually teetotal which is a great worry, not least given the thought of all those wonderful wines maturing in my cellar (aka cupboard under the stairs). I guess the only good thing is that the decent clarets will get time to properly mature for real depth of flavour rather than be tasted too young - all assuming I start up again. Otherwise, keep your eyes open for an exciting auction with bargains galore.Not much happening on the running front, apart from working hard in helping out a few people, although am getting out for a few easy 15 minute potters just to break up the day at work. Adductor muscles in particular just won't ease. Will see how Jeremy B gets on following his dosage of pamindronate administered in January. I'm not really inclined at my age to go down this avenue (see 7 Feb blog), especially as Dr Rod Jaques made it clear that the evidence of improvement is only really anecdotal at present (and with younger, healthier athletes?), but if Jeremy, a sensible guy and decent athlete, genuinely feels that it has helped him then I may go down the same route.
As not much happening and this is a running blog, which I want to keep going (not least because of some interesting feedback from some very unlikely sources all over the world), I will talk next time about my training routine in the 80's. I warn you it was pretty unscientific (coaches were unheard of and my knowledge only evolved later) but mighty effective, involving, as it did, lots of miles and lots of pints! Life was good.
Best of luck to all those in heavy training for a spring marathon. Hopefully the hard work has been done and you are now nursing yourself through to the big day, perhaps with some shorter sharpening up runs (DH, in your case, perhaps it's time to start building up the mileage!).
PS David R, if you read this, rest assured I haven't forgotten you want to borrow the LM '87 video. I'll bring it up next time I'm in town.
Sunday, 7 March 2010
Cavin Woodward
I was saddened to hear of the death last week of Cavin Woodward. He was only 62. Woodward was a legend in the ultra distance running world in the 70's & 80's. Although I didn't know him that well, I came across him sometimes in races and remember taking the best part of 10 miles to catch him in the brutally tough Isle of Wight Marathon in heatwave temperatures in 1985, a race I eventually won by five minutes in 2:32. He had the unique gift of going off at an apparently suicidal pace in even the longest races and holding on to win them. His opponents were usually dumbfounded - especially quality foreigners brought across to race the big ultras - as they didn't know what to do: follow & blow up or be patient and watch victory disappear into the distance. Woodward won the 55 mile London to Brighton classic a few times but is probably best remembered for an awesome performance at Tipton in 1976 ...
... this was a 100 mile track race and the organisers had brought together a top quality field with the hope that the existing world record of 11.56.56 could be broken. Woodward ran the first mile in 5.19! He then went through 10 miles in 56.27, 20 miles in 1.54 and the marathon in 2.31. He still had the best part of three more marathons to complete. He inevitably slowed but broke three world records: 50 miles in 4.58.53 (that's sub 6 minute miling), 100km in 6.25.28 and the magic 100 mile record with 11.38.54.
He was by all accounts a lovely man and was a great stalwart of Leamington AC, as have been many of his family. A great loss to the sport.
I watched the Bath Half Marathon this morning in crisp sunshine and with a gathering bitter wind. The course consists of two laps plus a mile or so at the start & finish. It was great for spectating as even an old, unfit & injured cripple like me could just jog across the bridges over the Avon and spectate in four places. When the leaders went through the 8 mile mark on the second lap they were already lapping literally thousands of runners who'd just gone through two miles. It was an amazing sight and one that Woodward's generation from 30 years ago would not have believed possible. The sport has changed a great deal in that time; sadly standards have dropped alarmingly whilst participants have increased massively. Many run for charity and raise thousands of pounds, which is commendable in itself, but it is such a shame that more of those in the middle don't believe that they can run faster, especially as they appear to put in so much effort.
.
It is, of course, easy to measure the general decline in standards over the years in running events - you just compare ranking lists. But in other sports this is not so easy to do, the obvious example being the national game: football. Pundits and the public alike appear to think it natural to assume that England should be challenging to win the World Cup every four years. We were good enough in 1966, why not now? I can think of many reasons why 2010 won't be the year, the obvious one being the domination of foreigners in the Premier League, but nobody seems to take into account the drop in standards in measurable events such as distance running and transfer them to team sports such as football. I've just seen today's Davis Cup tennis result, losing to Lithuania rather supports my argument. I rest my case. Does hosting the 2012 Olympics enhance or otherwise the prospects for the nation? I know my answer to that and it is not the former. Something to think about over your Sunday evening drink and roast before sitting down in front of the tv or the pc ...
Tuesday, 23 February 2010
A mucky end
That's it then ...
The Richmond Park course, usually dry as a bone, was quite mucky in places. This clearly explains my 10 minute decline in 12 months over a mere 7½ miles. I got round my 139th mob match but only just. Dragging my aching limbs through the mud on the second lap was cruel and when added to my total inability to maintain a forward running motion on the slightest of climbs, all helps to make my decision about the future quite easy.
The day was a wonderful occasion as Ranelagh pulled out all the stops to match the club record turnout of 106 in 1988, just failing as 92 toed the line. We therefore easily won the match to give the club a 2-2 record this winter in mobs. As ever with Blackheath, the craic afterwards was fantastic as we all retired to The Roebuck at the top of Richmond Hill and talked about the day, races past and anything else that came up, over a few pints. Surely the whole point of sport and something that, at Ranelagh at least, hasn't changed. Even our best man and my ex-flatmate, Simon Collingridge, was there (fatter than ever but still beating me). This is why I've kept my links and why I do the mobs. Going to a local Sunday morning 10k, running the race and driving straight home in wet kit loses the essence of what the camaraderie of sport means.
Some interesting comparative statistics say a lot about what has happened to the sport in the last 22 years since our biggest turnout. In 1988, the first two (Tim Nash of Blackheath 14 seconds ahead of Hugh Jones) broke 40 mins; 90 broke 50 mins; 16 failed to beat the hour and the last finisher in 198th did 1:08:40. On Saturday the winner (Phil Killingley) ran 43:40, 1:40 clear of Pete Haarer in 2nd and 3:40 ahead of 3rd; 12 beat 50 mins; 68 took more than an hour and the recorders had to wait until 1:43:53 for the 123rd and last finisher.
Amazing statistics and why I keep telling those that want to listen that there are opportunities
out there, for anyone willing to put in some hard graft, to make a real impact on the sport. That's also why I like helping those with the right attitude who recognise that they can improve massively with good solid training over a sustained period and not just every February & March because London is just around the corner. It's all about lifestyle and attitude. Train hard, have belief and enjoy a balanced life i.e. not just running. Talking of which, picture shows Natalie working hard in Paris.
Will I do a Sinatra / Henin / Schumacher? Who knows, but I see no pleasure in grafting out 57 mins in a mob match on an ongoing basis. My health problems mean that a return is unlikely.
PS If anyone is interested in buying my 2003 MG TF please get in touch.
The Richmond Park course, usually dry as a bone, was quite mucky in places. This clearly explains my 10 minute decline in 12 months over a mere 7½ miles. I got round my 139th mob match but only just. Dragging my aching limbs through the mud on the second lap was cruel and when added to my total inability to maintain a forward running motion on the slightest of climbs, all helps to make my decision about the future quite easy.
The day was a wonderful occasion as Ranelagh pulled out all the stops to match the club record turnout of 106 in 1988, just failing as 92 toed the line. We therefore easily won the match to give the club a 2-2 record this winter in mobs. As ever with Blackheath, the craic afterwards was fantastic as we all retired to The Roebuck at the top of Richmond Hill and talked about the day, races past and anything else that came up, over a few pints. Surely the whole point of sport and something that, at Ranelagh at least, hasn't changed. Even our best man and my ex-flatmate, Simon Collingridge, was there (fatter than ever but still beating me). This is why I've kept my links and why I do the mobs. Going to a local Sunday morning 10k, running the race and driving straight home in wet kit loses the essence of what the camaraderie of sport means.
Some interesting comparative statistics say a lot about what has happened to the sport in the last 22 years since our biggest turnout. In 1988, the first two (Tim Nash of Blackheath 14 seconds ahead of Hugh Jones) broke 40 mins; 90 broke 50 mins; 16 failed to beat the hour and the last finisher in 198th did 1:08:40. On Saturday the winner (Phil Killingley) ran 43:40, 1:40 clear of Pete Haarer in 2nd and 3:40 ahead of 3rd; 12 beat 50 mins; 68 took more than an hour and the recorders had to wait until 1:43:53 for the 123rd and last finisher.
Amazing statistics and why I keep telling those that want to listen that there are opportunities
out there, for anyone willing to put in some hard graft, to make a real impact on the sport. That's also why I like helping those with the right attitude who recognise that they can improve massively with good solid training over a sustained period and not just every February & March because London is just around the corner. It's all about lifestyle and attitude. Train hard, have belief and enjoy a balanced life i.e. not just running. Talking of which, picture shows Natalie working hard in Paris.Will I do a Sinatra / Henin / Schumacher? Who knows, but I see no pleasure in grafting out 57 mins in a mob match on an ongoing basis. My health problems mean that a return is unlikely.
PS If anyone is interested in buying my 2003 MG TF please get in touch.
Thursday, 18 February 2010
Dutch courage needed
Just had to take this photograph. Was out walking in the freezing Dutch countryside in Schoorl, a small north-west coastal village, last weekend when came across this haulage yard. What a magnificent moniker for a haulage company: Krap Transport if you can't read it (click on picture for better view). The business pages of a national broadsheet has been running a thread of these this week so I got mine added today.Schoorl was also the venue for my first beers of 2010, a whole 45 days into the year. They went down very well as I watched the Dutch going mad over their first gold in the Olympics, in speed skating. I even managed a half decent run despite the bitter weather. Did a 38 minute warm-down (not that I'd raced) in reverse direction on the beautiful 10k course (not full distance I might add, missing a loop at start) after Michelle's great win. It was a good day's sport with 21km and 30km races starting together at 11am (5,000 runners) and then the international 10km at 2.30pm with another 5,000 runners. All in this tiny village with one hotel and a handful of houses, plus aforementioned excellent haulage company. It snowed nearly all day but the temperature stayed just above freezing so the roads were just about ok. See this short video for a view of the lovely course & conditions: http://www.groetuitschoorl.nl/index.php?option=com_content&view=article&id=137:bekijk-de-sfeerbeelden&catid=2:nieuws&Itemid=49
My room mate at the hotel was an Irish PhD student - physics, so we discussed the wonderful programme on infinity on tv last week - he ran in the 30km. Remarkably, after I inevitably bored someone else with my osteitis pubis, it turns out that he suffered with it a couple of years ago. Said patience was the key plus lots of core work. He also told me that the top class US college based Irish runner Martin Fagan also suffers with it. He is a reknowned hard man and is trying to run through it. All I can say is good luck but beware of what you are doing to yourself. That's now six athletes I'm aware of with this problem. By talking to as many as possible I'm building up some sort of picture; this might help my future decision making.I shall certainly need some Dutch courage to get round Saturday's mob match. I clicked over another year this week so not only do I have to fight lack of fitness through virtually no running, but also senility and creaking joints. However, there is one thing I've learnt from a horrible 12 months: do not regret growing older, it is a privilege denied to many. With my 38 mins in Holland, another 27 mins in Fairford (too far, bad reaction afterwards) and a couple of short jogs, I've done all I can to prepare given the circumstances so let's see if I can negotiate Richmond Park. Miles 13 (that's 60 in 8 weeks this year), weight 12st 13lbs.
PS Can't end without congratulating Wendy & Justin on the birth of Gabriel (Angel) this week. With Niel recently fathering a son it's now down to Adam to complete the hat trick of Cirencester babies born within a few weeks of each other.
Saturday, 13 February 2010
Blogging works
Another four attempts at running this week: 15 mins on Ag College grass; 23 minutes at the water park nr Somerford Keynes; 15 mins around lakes at Fairford and a 25 min run one evening in the dark to Siddington. Although this last run went relatively well in that I was able to run without stopping, my abdomen and adductors were painful afterwards. I don't feel that there is any fitness percolting through either but I'll keep going through to the mob match and probably beyond for a while just to test Dr Rod Jaques' prognosis.
Before I went down with osteitis pubis I'd never heard of the problem. Although it's not normally a running related injury - generally it's associated with kicking sports - I now know of three other runners (well two runners plus Chris Riches - sorry Chris!) who have experienced it. The two others are / were both very good runners and have only been in touch with me because of my blog. So good news: the blog works in terms of creating debate and discussion, and more importantly, someone reads it!
Miles: 12, weight 12st 12lbs (82kg), minor improvement.
Before I went down with osteitis pubis I'd never heard of the problem. Although it's not normally a running related injury - generally it's associated with kicking sports - I now know of three other runners (well two runners plus Chris Riches - sorry Chris!) who have experienced it. The two others are / were both very good runners and have only been in touch with me because of my blog. So good news: the blog works in terms of creating debate and discussion, and more importantly, someone reads it!
Miles: 12, weight 12st 12lbs (82kg), minor improvement.
Sunday, 7 February 2010
On the track ...
An interesting week started with a track session in Stoke*, it was a good one too with not a steeplechase barrier in sight: 25 x 400 compound with alternate fast and float laps. Thankfully I was only holding the stopwatch although I did help with some pacing for Michelle and did a good long warm down with her. Not sure how much good it did me as rigamortis had set in by the time I got home.
That's about as good as my running got all week. Did my usual easy run on the grass at the Ag College on Sunday then spent the week fighting off a sore throat. Only did one other easy run, during which was spotted by Jon Young who was so surprised he stopped the car to get out and check it was me (you can't do anything in Ciren without being spotted!). This was good as it allowed me to stop for a chat and gather my breath. Funny how the last thing you think of when running 80 miles a week is breathing, when it's the first thing on the mind doing a slow two miler when out of condition.
I had hoped that this long lay-off would be good for my Achilles but sadly not. Presumably because of the long inactivity it is now agony again after my pitiful attempts at running. As it is now six months since last seeing him and I've saved up my pennies in the meantime, thought a return visit to Dr Rod £aques was in order this week. As expected little came of it although his squeeze tests indicated that things were not so bad that I couldn't run. So he has encouraged me to gradually build up my running for a month (didn't tell him about the mob match!) with a view to reviewing again (more pennies) and if any further reaction, put plan B into place, which appears to be the intravenous administration of a drug (pamindronate) generally used on post-menopausal women to encourage bone growth! Not sure I'm really interested in going that far down the line. Just giving up running seems the easier option.
* there's often been talk at the club in Ciren about having a proper running track and what a difference it would make; I noticed a sign on the gate at the track in Stoke stating that annual subs were due at £85 to include hire of the track - that might put a few people off.
Miles: 10, weight 13st 0lbs (no change).
That's about as good as my running got all week. Did my usual easy run on the grass at the Ag College on Sunday then spent the week fighting off a sore throat. Only did one other easy run, during which was spotted by Jon Young who was so surprised he stopped the car to get out and check it was me (you can't do anything in Ciren without being spotted!). This was good as it allowed me to stop for a chat and gather my breath. Funny how the last thing you think of when running 80 miles a week is breathing, when it's the first thing on the mind doing a slow two miler when out of condition.
I had hoped that this long lay-off would be good for my Achilles but sadly not. Presumably because of the long inactivity it is now agony again after my pitiful attempts at running. As it is now six months since last seeing him and I've saved up my pennies in the meantime, thought a return visit to Dr Rod £aques was in order this week. As expected little came of it although his squeeze tests indicated that things were not so bad that I couldn't run. So he has encouraged me to gradually build up my running for a month (didn't tell him about the mob match!) with a view to reviewing again (more pennies) and if any further reaction, put plan B into place, which appears to be the intravenous administration of a drug (pamindronate) generally used on post-menopausal women to encourage bone growth! Not sure I'm really interested in going that far down the line. Just giving up running seems the easier option.
* there's often been talk at the club in Ciren about having a proper running track and what a difference it would make; I noticed a sign on the gate at the track in Stoke stating that annual subs were due at £85 to include hire of the track - that might put a few people off.
Miles: 10, weight 13st 0lbs (no change).
Monday, 1 February 2010
Technique
I recently stumbled across this montage of photos taken at a Southern League track meeting in Ilford, Essex in 1982 when running for Richmond & Twickenham AC (Ranelagh didn't have a track team). Clearly they could have been plucked from a coaching manual such is my superb technique! Actually I was quite pleased with top left - until one sees how little of the water I was able to avoid - but I'll admit the others leave something for the purists to cringe over and I'm sure the Kenyans don't stick their tongue out when about to jump! In my defence I had already completed a 5,000 metres that afternoon and was only doing the 'chase to garner points for the club. Like everything, of course, it shows that practice makes perfect.
I did have one great experience at this event. At Raynes Park school we had a really good bunch of runners including 'Ants' Orr who was virtually unbeatable on the circuit (he won many county xc champs). He and I ran in the Surrey Schools 2,000 steeplechase at Motspur Park where Chariots of Fire was filmed, must have been 1974, and he very quickly pulled away from the field. On the last lap he was some 50 metres clear and I'd managed to get into a clear second. As most people know I have little knee lift - many contemporaries used to be very frustrated at being beaten by someone resembling a shuffler - but Ants' was worse. As a consequence he, like me, struggled to get over the barriers. The 'chase is unforgiving, especially when fatigue sets in. Add a lack of concentration and the inevitable happens; in the case of the race leader it was total immersion in the water as he stumbled across the barrier. I spotted my chance and although he was and still is a good friend (he's actually a methodist minister these days) and I'm an absolute gentleman, I accelerated, accidently pushed him back under the water as I traversed the barrier in my own inimitable style and proceeded to stride home for a totally unexpected win.
Back to reality: got out four times again this week, albeit not for very long each time. With two evening Farmor's School Governors meetings plus a business trip to London, where I managed to slip in lunch with old chum Simon in The Olde Watling pub, it was a busy week but one can always find time to have a run if organised. Even though the running is pathetic, I'm at least building a routine that may, just may, stand me in good stead as time goes by.
Miles: 9. Weight 13st 0lbs (no change).
Wednesday, 27 January 2010
This isn't working ... no surprise there
Second week into my new training regime: good news was managing four runs in the week and completing the mob match distance of 8 miles. Bad news is that the latter was achieved only by adding all four runs together! Yes, 4 x 15 minutes was the sum of my work, which sounds like a good Saturday tempo session but of course was far from it. A couple of lunchtime potters around the lakes in Fairford and two runs on the soft, smooth grass at the Agri College was the extent of my exercise and it was purgatory.
However, some good news comes with the loss of 2lbs, although this is probably a timing issue as my waist is still screaming blue murder every time I try to put on a pair of 32" trousers. Any weight loss will be as a result of no alcohol so far in 2010; cakes, chips and chocolate are also taking a back seat right now.
Add to all that woe, I'm offloading my beloved MG after four years of blissful driving, although thankfully not Claudie and mother-in-law also in the picture. At least it should ensure a long hot summer this year.
Miles: 8. Weight: 13st 0lb (82kg).
.
However, some good news comes with the loss of 2lbs, although this is probably a timing issue as my waist is still screaming blue murder every time I try to put on a pair of 32" trousers. Any weight loss will be as a result of no alcohol so far in 2010; cakes, chips and chocolate are also taking a back seat right now.
Add to all that woe, I'm offloading my beloved MG after four years of blissful driving, although thankfully not Claudie and mother-in-law also in the picture. At least it should ensure a long hot summer this year.
Miles: 8. Weight: 13st 0lb (82kg).
.
Wednesday, 20 January 2010
End of the Road
Six months since injury stopped me running, eight months since it first manifested itself, there is no improvement and I'm somehow doubting that I'll ever get back. I've decided that I want to do the Blackheath mob match in Richmond Park next month to tidy up the season, meet a few friends, have a beer, stay for a meal and then stop running. To do that I have to generate sufficient fitness to grind my way through 7½ miles. That will be difficult but I'll record my efforts in this blog as it will at least focus my mind.
I'm seeing the specialist again in a couple of weeks but know he'll have nothing new to tell me.
Ok so I started last week. This was mainly because of the snow; I love running in the white stuff when it's fresh and couldn't resist getting out there. Drove up to Deer Park school and did three figure of eight loops in pristine virgin snow, it was beautiful. A single 4WD vehicle had driven along part of the field and I jogged in the tracks; for the rest I just ran through the light, fluffy snow. Two miles was the result. It's a mighty effort deciding on going out, changing, driving to the run & back, showering and changing all for 15 minutes of futile jogging. I repeated the exercise a few days later. My weight at the end of the week was 13st 2lb (84kg). Mileage for the week: 4.
.
I'm seeing the specialist again in a couple of weeks but know he'll have nothing new to tell me.
Ok so I started last week. This was mainly because of the snow; I love running in the white stuff when it's fresh and couldn't resist getting out there. Drove up to Deer Park school and did three figure of eight loops in pristine virgin snow, it was beautiful. A single 4WD vehicle had driven along part of the field and I jogged in the tracks; for the rest I just ran through the light, fluffy snow. Two miles was the result. It's a mighty effort deciding on going out, changing, driving to the run & back, showering and changing all for 15 minutes of futile jogging. I repeated the exercise a few days later. My weight at the end of the week was 13st 2lb (84kg). Mileage for the week: 4.
.
Sunday, 10 January 2010
The Australian Connection (pt 2)
Not a bad view from my office window in Fairford (picture courtesy of my colleague Sue). Certainly beats working in the centre of London. Admittedly a strange choice given the theme this week but it is topical for any UK readers. I can think of a few Australians who would love these conditions right now: apparently Melbourne experienced the hottest night for 100 years this week ... 34ºC in the middle of the night!Australians in their 20's have traditionally spent a couple of years in Europe with London as their base: work for a few months then buy a VW Combi and drive all over the continent taking in the sights, festivals etc. I always referred to it as their National Service. The girls who used to come through Queensland House, where I worked for many years, always had a wild time before going home and settling down. I'm still in touch with quite a few old friends (Linda, Majella, Donna, Kaye et al). For good runners the opportunities were fantastic: it was a chance to live the life of a professional athlete. Three such runners came over and did just that. They rented a house in Croydon and raced all over Europe. The house became a precursor to the now famous abodes in Teddington where the top Africans, Australians and Americans now live and train, basically a mecca for running with kit strewn around the place, itinerant runners sleeping on floors and always a big pot of food on the boil. I remember one Christmas the three had Italian runners staying with them. The Aussies prepared Christmas dinner with all the trimmings which went down well. By mid-afternoon they were all hungry again so the Italians cooked mounds of pasta! Italy was the favourite location for the guys, a combination of perfect running food and lots of it, plus the best money on offer at races. This was before the African domination so it was quite lucrative. Race organisers liked the publicity of antipodean runners in the field. So who were these three guys?
Max Little aka The Bear or The Tasmanian Devil, was the best runner. Another Tasmanian obviously - see my last blog - he ran in the World XC, later becoming Australia's team manager many times, won races all over Europe and had track pb's of 13:55 and 28:36, finishing 4th in the AAA 10,000 behind Brendan Foster at Crystal Palace. In his formative years as a runner he once completed 20 consecutive weeks of training between 100 and 141 miles. This workload couldn't be sustained but created a fantastic base for his future success and can be learned from - get the hard work done early and then your career is set up. The Americans are doing that right now and look at the results they are getting. Max was tall and looked like a stick insect but I've never known anyone eat as much as he did. He also had the wickedest sense of humour and was a real pleasure to be around. Like fellow international Jim Langford (last blog), Max was always happy to turn out for Ranelagh in Surrey League or Mob matches and loved the social element of the club. I remember persuading him to do the Newport to Tredegar 22 miler one December. This was the day after a Surrey League, which Max had won, and we drove down to S Wales in my old Ford Anglia. The rain never stopped, it was torrential, and my windscreen wipers failed! The race winds its way uphill all the way through some dire mining villages - goodness knows why we did it - with lashing rain throughout. For Max it was just another way to get a long Sunday run done - he was virtually last after a mile and just ran easily throughout - as well as to experience another part of the world. Similarly when training with the club on a Wednesday he was nearly always dropped in the first couple of miles because it was an easy run. His self-control and determination to do the training that was right for him was a lesson that today's runners can learn from.
Geoff Nicholson, known as Nicko, was also a top runner, albeit not in Max's class. He had some fine track pb's (8:14 whilst hitch-hiking through Sweden, 14:05, 29:30) and also loved cross country. He was good enough to make some decent money on the European circuit. I'll never forget the first time I met him, which would have been in the late 1970's. He sported a particularly hirsute look: long ginger hair and a fiery beard that hadn't been trimmed for many months - he looked like a heavy metal rock musician (I've seen a similar picture of Rob deCastella before he, like Nicko, became respectable). We still see a lot of Geoff as he comes to the UK regularly on business. He still runs regularly - despite rising to the very top in the business world he insists on getting out every day for his lunchtime run in Melbourne - and turns out most years in the famous City to Surf race in Sydney (being, I think, the only person to have run a time under his age for the tough 14km course that attracts some 75,000 participants). He's just bought a property with 27 acres of land so perhaps he might build a running track and we can all go warm weather training there.
The third of this triumvirate was George Thomas, who was without doubt the most influential person in my running career. George wasn't in the same class as the other two but loved his running and was a qualified and commited coach. He also loved fine wines which definitely endeared him to me. He stayed on in Europe for a number of years and became a very close friend. In the late 70's, when cricket was still my main sport and I only ran in winter for socialising purposes, George said to me that with a bit of application I could end up with an international vest. I put this ridiculous comment down to too much port, he and the others regularly downed great dollops of the stuff, but it sowed a seed in my mind and I started to apply myself to my running. He was a great mentor to me in subsequent years and the two of us used to race a lot in Holland where he ended up working. Even after he returned to Austrtalia he took a great interest (and pride perhaps) in my progress and even though I didn't ever get that elusive vest, I got a lot closer than would otherwise have been the case thanks to George and had a wonderful time trying. Tragically George had a heart attack and died aged 43 whilst driving home from a 10km race. A great man and a true friend.
Tuesday, 5 January 2010
The Australian Connection (pt 1)
An interesting festive period has now ended and if it wasn't for the heavy snow currently falling outside, things would be getting back to normal. I even managed a run, a race in fact. I just had to do the Boxing Day charity 4 miler at Cheltenham race course in memory of Pete Holmes who had won the race in 2008. Before the race I had the humbling experience, thanks to Chris Riches, o
f meeting Pete's parents who came along with his brother to support the run and present the winning trophy, which now bears their son's name. What lovely people and how they have kept their dignity and poise in such tragic circumstances. The run was purgatory for me, weight has ballooned by over two stone (see the evidence alongside) and any semblance of fitness disappeared a long time ago. Treacherous icy patches didn't help and checking my watch at the one mile mark (8min, must have been long) confirmed my worst fears. Still, I caught the enormous bulk that is Dave Newport in the last mile, gave him a smug look and uttered some fanciful words like: 'good luck mate, hope you get to the finish ok'. This lump of lard then proceeded to ease past me (thankfully the road was wide at that point) and stride towards the finish leaving me speechless, less than smug and totally out of breath.
Jim was so enamoured by the Ranelagh scene that the poor guy accepted an invitation to the Isle of Man Easter athletic festival. This was not a weekend for the faint-hearted. As the name implies it takes place at Easter, not the warmest time of the year. It's good for the local economy because all the guest houses get filled up out of season; unfortunately none of them have any heating! I did this event five times and always went down with a heavy cold a couple of weeks later. Whilst, again as the name implies, there was athletics involved, the weekend has other attractions also ... there are three races: a five miler on a brutal course starting & finishing on the famous TT grid and taking in the superb Douglas sea front; a 4 x 3 mile relay taking in the same tough hill as Friday night, and finally a four mile fell race on the other side of the island in Peel (this latter event not always taken that seriously, I well remember stopping for a pint after half a mile, before the climb started, downing half of it and leaving the rest for the return journey). Tradition dictates that after this last race the runners jog back across the island, about 12 miles, to Douglas ... stopping at every pub for a drink along the way! The final event of the weekend was the beer race, always totally dominated by the university teams. Manchester University, aka Far Canal AC (think about it), usually won in a canter in the 4 x 1 pint format. By this stage we were all a little tired, especially given that we didn't go to bed at 10pm each night in anticipation of the next day's race! In fact in one year a madman from Edinburgh University, Robin Thomas was his name, decided to attempt (for charity) to run 100 miles and drink 100 pints in the 100 hours of the festival weekend. He was successful in his bid despite being an epileptic. Unfortunately he was billetted in our guest house which meant either signing for yet another pint with him at 3am or, even worse, accompanying him on another couple of miles at the same hour of the morning. Unforgettable times. Jim was never the same again. He is still running though at 65 and is also adept at rogaining, a form of long distance orienteering (look it up on google).
A few days before Christmas I received an e-mail out of the blue from another Australian acquaintance, Mike Dalton (Dorley to his friends). Mike (no. 574 in the picture, a veterans 5,000m race in 2008) stumbled across my blog and got in touch, I knew there was a purpose in writing this dross, someone out there reads it and, in this case, gets in touch after many years. It works! Mike and his friend Dean Giblin (in red singlet), both from Tasmania, also ran with Ranelagh, around 1990. These guys were quality athletes (Dorley ran 1.03.56 / 2.16; Dean won our half marathon and was a top class 1500/5000m runner). Claudie and I now need to add Tasmania to our many places to visit, especially as Dorley's address is the inspirationally named Seven Mile Beach!
I guess the first Aussie I knew at Ranelagh was the legendary Mal Cother - he arrived in 1970, having travelled via the Trans-Siberian express to watch the Commonwealth Games in Edinburgh. He arrived on a six month visa and left in about 1990, 20 years later! And what a legacy he left. His story telling at social dinners was amazing, he was so self-deprecating and his jokes bizarre in the extreme. The Ranelagh clubhouse used to be full of his possessions as he slept in the changing rooms for many years!
More next time on Mal plus close friends Max Little, Geoff Nicholson and George Thomas and sundry other Aussies. I might even regale readers about my 11 years working at Queensland House in London and the many friends made there if space allows. There is no doubt that my running and social heritage stems to a large extent from these wonderful Australian friends.
f meeting Pete's parents who came along with his brother to support the run and present the winning trophy, which now bears their son's name. What lovely people and how they have kept their dignity and poise in such tragic circumstances. The run was purgatory for me, weight has ballooned by over two stone (see the evidence alongside) and any semblance of fitness disappeared a long time ago. Treacherous icy patches didn't help and checking my watch at the one mile mark (8min, must have been long) confirmed my worst fears. Still, I caught the enormous bulk that is Dave Newport in the last mile, gave him a smug look and uttered some fanciful words like: 'good luck mate, hope you get to the finish ok'. This lump of lard then proceeded to ease past me (thankfully the road was wide at that point) and stride towards the finish leaving me speechless, less than smug and totally out of breath. .
The next day, as part of a very social Christmas / New Year (23 in our house one evening!), we had Australian visitors to lunch, Jim and Margaret Langford and their respective daughters. Jim was a top class runner, winning the Australian XC Champs on more than one occasion and finishing 30th in the World XC Champs in Limerick in 1979. A number of us went over to support Jim and despite a very heavy weekend indeed (we stayed with mad Irishman and fellow Ranelagh Harrier Gerry Walsh, who with his twin and the rest of his eight siblings could drink with the best of them), I can still remember cheering Jim on down the home straight in the pouring rain and clawing mud, and gate crashing the official party later that evening. He ran with Ranelagh and got himself totally integrated into the club scene, racing every week and rewriting the record books. I remember a classic race between him and Hugh Jones in a mob match in 1976, Jim prevailing by 10 seconds in 38.53, a course record by a long way.
Jim was so enamoured by the Ranelagh scene that the poor guy accepted an invitation to the Isle of Man Easter athletic festival. This was not a weekend for the faint-hearted. As the name implies it takes place at Easter, not the warmest time of the year. It's good for the local economy because all the guest houses get filled up out of season; unfortunately none of them have any heating! I did this event five times and always went down with a heavy cold a couple of weeks later. Whilst, again as the name implies, there was athletics involved, the weekend has other attractions also ... there are three races: a five miler on a brutal course starting & finishing on the famous TT grid and taking in the superb Douglas sea front; a 4 x 3 mile relay taking in the same tough hill as Friday night, and finally a four mile fell race on the other side of the island in Peel (this latter event not always taken that seriously, I well remember stopping for a pint after half a mile, before the climb started, downing half of it and leaving the rest for the return journey). Tradition dictates that after this last race the runners jog back across the island, about 12 miles, to Douglas ... stopping at every pub for a drink along the way! The final event of the weekend was the beer race, always totally dominated by the university teams. Manchester University, aka Far Canal AC (think about it), usually won in a canter in the 4 x 1 pint format. By this stage we were all a little tired, especially given that we didn't go to bed at 10pm each night in anticipation of the next day's race! In fact in one year a madman from Edinburgh University, Robin Thomas was his name, decided to attempt (for charity) to run 100 miles and drink 100 pints in the 100 hours of the festival weekend. He was successful in his bid despite being an epileptic. Unfortunately he was billetted in our guest house which meant either signing for yet another pint with him at 3am or, even worse, accompanying him on another couple of miles at the same hour of the morning. Unforgettable times. Jim was never the same again. He is still running though at 65 and is also adept at rogaining, a form of long distance orienteering (look it up on google).
A few days before Christmas I received an e-mail out of the blue from another Australian acquaintance, Mike Dalton (Dorley to his friends). Mike (no. 574 in the picture, a veterans 5,000m race in 2008) stumbled across my blog and got in touch, I knew there was a purpose in writing this dross, someone out there reads it and, in this case, gets in touch after many years. It works! Mike and his friend Dean Giblin (in red singlet), both from Tasmania, also ran with Ranelagh, around 1990. These guys were quality athletes (Dorley ran 1.03.56 / 2.16; Dean won our half marathon and was a top class 1500/5000m runner). Claudie and I now need to add Tasmania to our many places to visit, especially as Dorley's address is the inspirationally named Seven Mile Beach!I guess the first Aussie I knew at Ranelagh was the legendary Mal Cother - he arrived in 1970, having travelled via the Trans-Siberian express to watch the Commonwealth Games in Edinburgh. He arrived on a six month visa and left in about 1990, 20 years later! And what a legacy he left. His story telling at social dinners was amazing, he was so self-deprecating and his jokes bizarre in the extreme. The Ranelagh clubhouse used to be full of his possessions as he slept in the changing rooms for many years!
More next time on Mal plus close friends Max Little, Geoff Nicholson and George Thomas and sundry other Aussies. I might even regale readers about my 11 years working at Queensland House in London and the many friends made there if space allows. There is no doubt that my running and social heritage stems to a large extent from these wonderful Australian friends.
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