Over the edge.

By the very nature of our great sport, dedicated runners always train "on the edge", always striving to gain that little bit extra without putting so much pressure on their bodies that injuries and illness result, thus making that extra effort counter productive in the extreme.  I'm far too old for all that nonsense these days but I'm still striving to get the balance right.  Unfortunately, when you get to my age, having run for over 40 years, the first 20 or so without any science or decent shoes (today's runners would not believe what Tiger Cub shoes were like), it doesn't take much to tip me into the 'dark' side.

At the end of a year that has seen my running improve no end - certainly beyond my dreams 12 months ago after three years of health issues - I have tipped myself over the edge to the extent that my right Achilles has flared up again and that familiar Wrighty hobble has re-emerged.  It all happened at the Eynsham 10k, a race I'd never done before but was keen to compete in as it's up there with Bourton as one of the fastest courses around.

In all my races this year I've started cautiously and gradually moved through the field, much to the annoyance of others, not least because of my shuffling action which kind of 'takes the p*** as I float past far more elegant runners.  This is, however, a very frustrating form of racing because I'm always 'crossing the gap' in cycling parlance, and therefore never really running in the right group at any one time, leading to frustration at the end.  So at Eynsham, with a couple of decent results behind me I went off at a faster pace than usual.  It wasn't a suicidal pace but one that I recognised very early on was probably five seconds per km faster than I would be comfortable with over the full distance.  Sure enough the little group that I was hanging onto started to drift away at about 6km, a difficult 2km ensued but then I settled back into a rhythm and finished strongly for my fastest time of the year, albeit I know there is another minute to come off at my current fitness levels

Felt ok after the race and did my usual couple of miles easy warm-down during which I felt a slight twinge in my Achilles.  Next day I went out for a steady lunchtime run with Adrian as I had the day off work, but I immediately knew things weren't right.  My right Achilles was not happy.  Two weeks later, Kinesio tape on my ankle, pain permanently etched in my mind if I try to run, I realise that at Eynsham by pushing that little bit harder and stressing my legs more than I should have reasonably done, I've put myself back a few months. Not a good end to the year but nobody to blame except me and can't really complain as the year has still gone far better than planned.  Time for a rest.

Mob match course in Richmond Park

Footnote to my mob match article last time.  Talking to a running friend in Cirencester this week who has been injured for a year and is just getting back, a comment he made resonated strongly with me.  He stated that he very nearly gave up and threw in the towel, thankfully he's now back training and will hopefully make a full recovery.  Back in 1987 I was in that position and got so close to giving up: I'd just become a dad; had an annoying running injury; was in a stressful job; and seriously thought I had a serious long term illness (jury still out on that one).  As a consequence I didn't run for six months as I wallowed in self-pity (and enjoyed changing nappies).  I was only 30 but as far as I was concerned running was over for me, the golf course beckoned.  One thing changed that, a mob match loomed on October '87: I thought long and hard, surely there was no way I could even contemplate 7½ miles after my idleness ...  Yet something inside me said 'go on, have a run, what's the worst that could happen?', so I went out a couple of times in the week leading to the race, just for a short jog, felt awful, yet decided on the morning of the race that 'Hell, if I don't run I'll be on the slippery slope and will never recover.'  I ran, it was hell but I got round in 50th place, got a great welcome back, found my enthusiasm and rediscovered this fantastic sport.  That one day was so important to me.

Eulogy to Ranelagh

Well it was a long time coming but last Saturday I churned out my 150th mob match for Ranelagh Harriers, that's 1,125 racing miles on Wimbledon Common, Epping Forest, Farthing Downs, Hayes Common and, of course, Richmond Park.  These traditional races between two clubs started back in the 19th century and I joined the pantheon of participants on 21 December 1974.  Ranelagh's fixture card stated that all members were expected to run in the mob matches - as the name implies it is all about getting as many people out as possible - and I took it rather literally having only missed one (it would have been my 98th consecutive) due to flu, I've not missed one since. (I remember once flying in on the red eye from New York on a Saturday morning and running a mob match that afternoon.)  The biggest field, excluding the centenary races of both Ranelagh & Orion, which were mass mob matches, was against Blackheath in 1988 when 192 toed the line, not bad for two clubs.  Amazingly, a total of 187 turned out in January 1985 to run Blackheath's tough course in deep snow drifts - health & safety wouldn't allow that these days - a race that I managed to win.

I was very kindly presented with an engraved tankard after the race so I took the opportunity of both thanking and eulogising the club with the following note in its regular newsletter:

"I was very touched and surprised with the presentation for my 150th mob match on Saturday.  Thank you so much, it means masses to me.  Difficult to know how to   respond - hence the lack of a speech - but I think the whole thing comes back to Ranelagh Harriers incorporated.  This club has meant so much to me over the past 38 years for which I have to thank, once again, my old chemistry teacher Jim     Forrest (who himself has clocked up 117 mob matches)who persuaded me to run the  mob match against SLH in December 1974 and join this great club.  It really is 

 rather sad that I've been available for 150 Saturday afternoons since then but   in many ways this again reflects so well on the club because the four 'mobs' are the first things that go in the diary when the fixtures secretary publishes the  year ahead every August.

 I remember once, some twenty years ago, an Australian member Geoff Nicholson (he once ran 19.59 for the Thomas Cup course) said he loved the fact that he'd been  back in Australia for a number of years but knew he'd be able to walk into The   Dysart Arms, as it was, and be able to pick up on a conversation with a Ranelagh member that he'd started a few years earlier. Sadly The Dysart is not what it    was, but the clubhouse has usurped this and The Roebuck at the top of the hill 

 replicates the pub atmosphere as I found out this weekend.  Two old members from the 1980's, Dave Muckersie & Rob Wise, ran the mob match, their first time 

 back at the club for some 25 years.  They were welcomed back by those who knew 

 them in such a lovely way, conversations flowed as if they'd never been away.  

 That to me is the ethos of Ranelagh and long may it continue.

 Sadly because I live so far away down deep in the Cotswolds, I don't know a lot  of today's members but that's a good thing because it means the club continues 

 to move forward.  Long standing members are important but the driving force 

 behind the club must be those who are around today.  

 The standard in yesterday's mob match was of the highest order, it was just a 

 shame that Ranelagh couldn't compete at the front with what is an incredibly 

 strong Thames outfit.  It does, however, beg the question that if they can do it why can't we?  Ranelagh has so much going for it, a wonderful clubhouse, vibrant membership, captive marketplace ... I just think a bit of belief, positive 

 thinking and concerted group effort can take the club up to another level.  

 Ranelagh has been closely involved with two major seismic changes to the sport 

 in recent times, namely the London Marathon and Parkrun through Chris Brasher /  John Disley and Paul Sinton-Hewitt, two events that have changed the sport 

 massively.  The club should be incredibly proud of these achievements.  However, for  running to continue to prosper, the club system needs to survive and races  such as mob matches, which unlike most athletics events involve everybody who 

 turns up and therefore personify club sport, must be seen to prevail. Ranelagh 

 turned out 60 plus yesterday, a decent number but not as many as should have 

 been there.  This may be partly because of Parkrun: participants are besotted by taking part in this fantastic event but I think there needs to be a bit of 

 balance here, by all means take part in parkrun but don't forget club athletics  at its best and the joys of running on different courses with the camaraderie of team sport. This has to be so important in keeping the club spirit going forward and getting Ranelagh up to its 150th anniversary, by which time I may well be up

 to 200 of these damn races!

 Ranelagh Ranelagh Rah Rah Rah!"