Here we are folks, Christmas with the family and snow on the ground, just like in all the books. Just watched the Kirov Ballet's Swan Lake after a warming venison supper with my sister, which has got us into festive mode.
But it's also a time for reflection, in my case thinking of the nine people I know who have sadly been lost this year, including four under 25 and Natalie's dear Godfather Stephen. I'm particularly thinking of his wife and children tonight and also the family of Pete Holmes whose funeral was just a few days ago. It was unfair to see what his parents and brother had to go through that day. And to think their suffering has only just started.
All the above makes it imperative that we enjoy Christmas and look forward to a happy, prosperous and friendly New Year. To all those reading this dross, thanks for putting up with me for the last 12 months and have a great festive break.
Thursday, 24 December 2009
Tuesday, 15 December 2009
The Psychology of Running
After spending last Sunday afternoon erecting and decorating an enormous Christmas tree in our lounge – why do we humans do such bizarre things? – I felt that I deserved to sit down and read the Sunday Times accompanied by a particularly large whisky, a packet of crisps and with a Rachmaninov piano concerto blasting away. (This custom started in my early 20’s after my flatmate Simon Collingridge and I had been out for our second Sunday run of the day, thus completing another weekend of hard training, drinking and, in Simon’s case, womanising. Trouble was it always seemed to be my whisky being consumed ...)
There was a brilliant Q&A piece on Sir Christopher Chataway (CC) in the ST and it made me laugh a lot. It also made me think. CC is now in his late 70’s and still competes in mob matches for Thames, although was absent when we thrashed them a couple of weeks ago. He was a very fine runner in the 50’s, being particularly remembered, along with my old chum Chris Brasher, for his part in Roger Bannister’s first 4 minute mile in 1954. Brasher took the first two laps, Chataway took it on for the third, leaving Bannister to take the glory at the end.
CC’s finest memory is of his famous 5,000m race against the Russian Vladimir Kuts in October that year. There were 40,000 spectators in the White City stadium in London. In those days there were no floodlights, instead two searchlights followed the runners as they circled the track in the cool autumnal evening, that must have been something special to watch. CC won the race by inches in a new world record of 13.51. Compared to today’s pampered, lottery funded, shoe sponsored, athletes, the top runners of the 50’s had nothing going for them. They did very little training (there having been no real science on the subject), ran in heavy, old leather shoes with no support, and on rough and often flooded cinder tracks ... and they nearly all smoked! CC stated that he cut down to seven cigarettes a day during the summer when he was competing!
So how were they able to run so fast? For starters anyone who ran then had a perception in their mind of what was needed to be competitive and therefore had an inherent belief that they could run at the necessary speed. This is an argument I’ve used a lot when talking to today’s runners about why standards were so much better in the 80’s – you effectively turned up at your club and ran at the pace necessary to keep up, then went away and trained hard on your own so that you could keep up the following week! At a finance seminar I recently attended, someone quoted the famous economist John Maynard Keynes on the paradox of thrift: "if we are all prudent together, there can be no growth." Growth being exactly what our economy needs at present but thrift and lack of ambition holding it back. This can easily been linked to training. There's no point just pottering along together at an easy pace (prudence) when to get fitter (growth) it takes more investment in extra input, effort and energy. No gain without pain.
Back to the 50's, at the highest level it then became a psychological battle to be the best. The Austrian Franz Stampfl coached all three of the 4 minute mile protagonists. As well as being one of the early pioneers of the standard interval session on the track (yep, blame him every time you are asked to do 10 x 400 off 200 recovery), he had a strong belief in the mental aspect of training and racing. As CC stated in the article, he conveyed masses of positive thoughts to the runner, including just before the Kuts race: "don’t forget he’s just as frightened of you." I’ve always tried to convey this to athletes i.e. don’t look across at the guy running alongside you in a race and assume he is better than you; think positively about how the guy is hanging on for dear life and also show positivity to make him feel even worse, a little smile perhaps or a gentle surge for a few metres. This can be the difference between a good and a great runner. A little bit of arrogance is a good thing in a runner.
CC won the first ever Sports Personality of the Year award in 1954, quite remarkable considering that Bannister had broken the 4 minute barrier. However, his greatest memory of that night wasn’t collecting the famous outside broadcast camera trophy but of being given an enormous, extremely expensive cigar!
Finally, some good news at last for me to end an all round tough year. No, I don't mean winning Ciren's athlete of the year award, although very proud of that despite my embarrassing beer belly. I've been asked and have accepted to mentor and coach a top UK international distance athlete. We live some distance apart but have met up a couple of times already, contact each other on a daily basis and are both looking forward to an exciting 2010. It's going to be hard work and a real challenge but hopefully fun as well.
There was a brilliant Q&A piece on Sir Christopher Chataway (CC) in the ST and it made me laugh a lot. It also made me think. CC is now in his late 70’s and still competes in mob matches for Thames, although was absent when we thrashed them a couple of weeks ago. He was a very fine runner in the 50’s, being particularly remembered, along with my old chum Chris Brasher, for his part in Roger Bannister’s first 4 minute mile in 1954. Brasher took the first two laps, Chataway took it on for the third, leaving Bannister to take the glory at the end.
CC’s finest memory is of his famous 5,000m race against the Russian Vladimir Kuts in October that year. There were 40,000 spectators in the White City stadium in London. In those days there were no floodlights, instead two searchlights followed the runners as they circled the track in the cool autumnal evening, that must have been something special to watch. CC won the race by inches in a new world record of 13.51. Compared to today’s pampered, lottery funded, shoe sponsored, athletes, the top runners of the 50’s had nothing going for them. They did very little training (there having been no real science on the subject), ran in heavy, old leather shoes with no support, and on rough and often flooded cinder tracks ... and they nearly all smoked! CC stated that he cut down to seven cigarettes a day during the summer when he was competing!
So how were they able to run so fast? For starters anyone who ran then had a perception in their mind of what was needed to be competitive and therefore had an inherent belief that they could run at the necessary speed. This is an argument I’ve used a lot when talking to today’s runners about why standards were so much better in the 80’s – you effectively turned up at your club and ran at the pace necessary to keep up, then went away and trained hard on your own so that you could keep up the following week! At a finance seminar I recently attended, someone quoted the famous economist John Maynard Keynes on the paradox of thrift: "if we are all prudent together, there can be no growth." Growth being exactly what our economy needs at present but thrift and lack of ambition holding it back. This can easily been linked to training. There's no point just pottering along together at an easy pace (prudence) when to get fitter (growth) it takes more investment in extra input, effort and energy. No gain without pain.
Back to the 50's, at the highest level it then became a psychological battle to be the best. The Austrian Franz Stampfl coached all three of the 4 minute mile protagonists. As well as being one of the early pioneers of the standard interval session on the track (yep, blame him every time you are asked to do 10 x 400 off 200 recovery), he had a strong belief in the mental aspect of training and racing. As CC stated in the article, he conveyed masses of positive thoughts to the runner, including just before the Kuts race: "don’t forget he’s just as frightened of you." I’ve always tried to convey this to athletes i.e. don’t look across at the guy running alongside you in a race and assume he is better than you; think positively about how the guy is hanging on for dear life and also show positivity to make him feel even worse, a little smile perhaps or a gentle surge for a few metres. This can be the difference between a good and a great runner. A little bit of arrogance is a good thing in a runner.
CC won the first ever Sports Personality of the Year award in 1954, quite remarkable considering that Bannister had broken the 4 minute barrier. However, his greatest memory of that night wasn’t collecting the famous outside broadcast camera trophy but of being given an enormous, extremely expensive cigar!
Finally, some good news at last for me to end an all round tough year. No, I don't mean winning Ciren's athlete of the year award, although very proud of that despite my embarrassing beer belly. I've been asked and have accepted to mentor and coach a top UK international distance athlete. We live some distance apart but have met up a couple of times already, contact each other on a daily basis and are both looking forward to an exciting 2010. It's going to be hard work and a real challenge but hopefully fun as well.
Monday, 7 December 2009
Pete Holmes 1985-2009
Pete Holmes died at the weekend at the age of 24.In his short life he achieved masses, running initially with Tetbury Royals, then Cirencester AC before going to Loughborough University and joining up with Cheltenham Harriers.
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Upon graduating he landed a plum job as media officer with the British Triathlon Association and then, presumably because he was good at what he did, last year became communications manager of the International Triathlon Union based in Vancouver, Canada, from where he travelled the world of professional triathlon events.
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It was in Canada that he died, falling from a mountain when out on snowshoes. Words cannot accurately convey the awfulness of this dreadful tragedy.
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Pete was a true maverick but the 5,826 hits in the last 24 hours on the thread relating to his death on the running forum website eightlane.com, testify to his popularity and the shock of this awful news within the running community. Never has the oft used phrase Life's too Short been more apt than in relation to Pete's demise.
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Pete, I'll never forget Stroud last year when you just prevailed ahead of Wendy & me - you couldn't face the thought of being beaten by the first lady/V50 - and ran down the finishing straight with your now iconic Ryan Hall moment celebrating qualifying for London. That image will stay with me as will our lovely, friendly chat afterwards.
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At this difficult time one can only offer the deepest sympathy to those closest to him, his parents, brother and girlfriend.
Sunday, 22 November 2009
Two endurance tests in three days
Mob match no.138 safely negotiated on probably my favourite of all the courses, Wimbledon Common.
I first started running on the common when at school so it has a particular resonance for me and the course is all you'd want from a xc race: woodland tracks, hills, fallen trees to climb over, streams to jump across, some good fast flat stretches and a bit of mud thrown in near the end. Yesterday was made particularly special because we beat our hosts, the oldest running club in the UK, Thames Hare & Hounds. With mob matches being all about numbers, home advantage usually counts, but Ranelagh managed to get 59 hardy souls across from their Richmond HQ - with a little help from the Cirencester branch of the club (see, from left in picture, me, Paul Barlow, Chris Illman & Adrian Williams) - and ran out relatively easy winners, the first away mob win for Ranelagh since 1989.
Chris (4th) and Adrian (7th) were Ranelagh's first finishers and Paul (19th) had a great battle with Ciren second claimer Andy Bickerstaff (yes, it works both ways). Once again I shouldn't have run but as I've now no longer got any running targets to aim for, having lost all semblance of fitness, I've got nothing more to lose so may as well continue to haul my ample frame around these mobs, at least whilst I still make the scoring team! With another few weeks fitness lost since the last outing I found the 7½ miles hard work but was able to just about keep going all the way. As Baron Hansen said: "Life is short ... running makes it seem longer."
My real endurance test of the week was also up in London. I was invited by our investment bankers, Schroders, to a 'tasting evening' at Fortnum & Mason, the famous store in London. I dragged Claudie along kicking & screaming but with the carrot that she could do the London shops and museums the next morning when I was at a seminar that was part of the Schroders deal (that was good too, as the keynote speaker was Sir Ranulph Fiennes). We expected a glass of champagne, as had been promised, and maybe a vol au vont before escaping back to our hotel via a meal somewhere. The reality was very different.
All four floors of the store had been hired by Schroders for the evening and all the F&M staff retained in their full morning dress regalia. There was indeed champagne and canapes, wherever you turned another waiter was proferring one or other the whole evening. All the food counters were open and we were encouraged to try everything ... so we did. Oysters, smoked salmon, caviar washed down with Polish vodka, truffles, foie gras, suckling pig, fresh pasta cooked in front of us, Jamaican ice cream sundaes, afternoon tea cakes, delicate mince pies, Christmas pud & cake, chocolates to die for, cheeses and fine wines. Wow, what an evening. We decided not to stop off and eat on the way back to the hotel.
Finally, reverting to running as I should, I can't let Cirencester's performance in the first Oxford league race of the winter season go by without comment. Adrian managed to get 21 senior men turning out on a foul day at Ascott, that's three full teams, and the first team performed really well. There's a real feeling that under new chairman Dave Edelsten - who took on the world's hardest job since Tony Blair's search for WMD - together with Adrian's captaincy, the club might at last be emerging from the doldrums. I'm only sorry that I'm not part of the team although in many ways I'm pleased that they no longer need to rely on an ailing old bar steward like me. I think I can safely migrate to the bar on a permanent basis.
I first started running on the common when at school so it has a particular resonance for me and the course is all you'd want from a xc race: woodland tracks, hills, fallen trees to climb over, streams to jump across, some good fast flat stretches and a bit of mud thrown in near the end. Yesterday was made particularly special because we beat our hosts, the oldest running club in the UK, Thames Hare & Hounds. With mob matches being all about numbers, home advantage usually counts, but Ranelagh managed to get 59 hardy souls across from their Richmond HQ - with a little help from the Cirencester branch of the club (see, from left in picture, me, Paul Barlow, Chris Illman & Adrian Williams) - and ran out relatively easy winners, the first away mob win for Ranelagh since 1989.Chris (4th) and Adrian (7th) were Ranelagh's first finishers and Paul (19th) had a great battle with Ciren second claimer Andy Bickerstaff (yes, it works both ways). Once again I shouldn't have run but as I've now no longer got any running targets to aim for, having lost all semblance of fitness, I've got nothing more to lose so may as well continue to haul my ample frame around these mobs, at least whilst I still make the scoring team! With another few weeks fitness lost since the last outing I found the 7½ miles hard work but was able to just about keep going all the way. As Baron Hansen said: "Life is short ... running makes it seem longer."
My real endurance test of the week was also up in London. I was invited by our investment bankers, Schroders, to a 'tasting evening' at Fortnum & Mason, the famous store in London. I dragged Claudie along kicking & screaming but with the carrot that she could do the London shops and museums the next morning when I was at a seminar that was part of the Schroders deal (that was good too, as the keynote speaker was Sir Ranulph Fiennes). We expected a glass of champagne, as had been promised, and maybe a vol au vont before escaping back to our hotel via a meal somewhere. The reality was very different.
All four floors of the store had been hired by Schroders for the evening and all the F&M staff retained in their full morning dress regalia. There was indeed champagne and canapes, wherever you turned another waiter was proferring one or other the whole evening. All the food counters were open and we were encouraged to try everything ... so we did. Oysters, smoked salmon, caviar washed down with Polish vodka, truffles, foie gras, suckling pig, fresh pasta cooked in front of us, Jamaican ice cream sundaes, afternoon tea cakes, delicate mince pies, Christmas pud & cake, chocolates to die for, cheeses and fine wines. Wow, what an evening. We decided not to stop off and eat on the way back to the hotel.
Finally, reverting to running as I should, I can't let Cirencester's performance in the first Oxford league race of the winter season go by without comment. Adrian managed to get 21 senior men turning out on a foul day at Ascott, that's three full teams, and the first team performed really well. There's a real feeling that under new chairman Dave Edelsten - who took on the world's hardest job since Tony Blair's search for WMD - together with Adrian's captaincy, the club might at last be emerging from the doldrums. I'm only sorry that I'm not part of the team although in many ways I'm pleased that they no longer need to rely on an ailing old bar steward like me. I think I can safely migrate to the bar on a permanent basis.
Friday, 13 November 2009
My man in Rome
The world has changed since I were a lad. In those days it was a major expedition to drive from Morden to Portsmouth down the old A3 to see my grandparents and watch the Isle of Wight and channel ferries crossing. We used to play pub cricket in the car - hint: always worth starting your innings just before Cobham as lots of runs to be scored there (for those that don't understand the intricacies of this game, you score by counting the number of limbs in the pub name, thus The White Horse scores 4 (legs) whereas the Queen's Head means you are dismissed) - as the A3 in those days used to meander through villages unlike today's dual carriageway. Anyway, I digress ...
These days people go abroad a few times a year, take a year out to travel and even live and work in far flung places. Hell, we even marry foreigners (guilty as charged, m'lud)! My sister, who is married to a German, has recently moved to Ireland even though she works in London. A friend, Geoff, lives in Australia but regularly commutes to London on business. Whilst we were in Paris a couple of weeks ago we met up with Rob, who works for a Norweigan company, en route to French Guiana for a two day trip (see previous blog) and I swapped a number of texts with my good friend Gavin, an economics journalist for Reuters who lives in Rome. He was in Frankfurt to run a marathon. Confused? Gavin's experience in Frankfurt is definitely worth recounting.(He's pictured here racing in Rome and is also in the Ranelagh 100/125 year celebration pictures at the foot on this blog, he's the one with lots of hair in 1981 and none in 2006.)
These days people go abroad a few times a year, take a year out to travel and even live and work in far flung places. Hell, we even marry foreigners (guilty as charged, m'lud)! My sister, who is married to a German, has recently moved to Ireland even though she works in London. A friend, Geoff, lives in Australia but regularly commutes to London on business. Whilst we were in Paris a couple of weeks ago we met up with Rob, who works for a Norweigan company, en route to French Guiana for a two day trip (see previous blog) and I swapped a number of texts with my good friend Gavin, an economics journalist for Reuters who lives in Rome. He was in Frankfurt to run a marathon. Confused? Gavin's experience in Frankfurt is definitely worth recounting.(He's pictured here racing in Rome and is also in the Ranelagh 100/125 year celebration pictures at the foot on this blog, he's the one with lots of hair in 1981 and none in 2006.)Over the last couple of years Gavin, who is a mere 47ish, and I have both got back into semi-serious running after a long break. Our best marathons are similar (low 2.20's) but are ancient history. It was as a consequence of my trip to Rome for the marathon, when Natalie was living out there, that triggered Gavin's renaissance. As it turned out I had flu so didn't run and he had a bit of a 'mare, finishing in 3:10 (he was so slow that I'd stopped looking out for him!). We have since traded times over the half and full distances, each shaving small amounts off the other's best time. We were both going to run Amsterdam this autumn but obviously I was out and he decided he needed another week or two to be ready.
The text on Saturday wasn't promising: he'd made it to Frankfurt but was almost certainly not going to run because he had a temperature (he'd only travelled because everything was booked, I know the feeling). Of course he ran, spending most of the first 8km trying to work out where best to drop out as his chest was tight, he was coughing and he felt dreadful. But there was no obvious place to stop and before he knew it he was swinging along and his legs were fine. He ended up overtaking runners throughout the race and posted a fantastic time of 2.38.37, well under his original 2.40 target. He's also given me a hell of a target to aim for, but that's what I'll try to do ... eventually.
His text after the race was priceless: "Now have [temperature of] 37.5 and burning throat/chest, and am, needless to say, ecstatically happy! As a great man once said 'beware the wounded runner!' " What a man! He is alluding to my blog of 27 February this year with his final comment - it's great to know that someone reads this nonsense.
This story reminds me a bit of Stephen Instone, my friend who sadly died earlier this year. He and I once ran the Sutton ½ Marathon and the local Mayor, in all his regalia, greeted all finishers with a hand shake. He was somewhat shaken however when Stephen said "thanks very much, I was pretty pleased with my run, especially as I've got chicken pox!".
Update on my injury: no change, weight still increasing, trousers no longer fit, main source of exercise is now therapeutic leaf clearance.
Sunday, 1 November 2009
How to avoid overdoing the warm-up
An interesting couple of weeks: a bit of (painful) running and walking, some socialising, a few beers, good food and travel. Despite no running for 10 weeks, I couldn't resist fronting up in Coulsdon for another mob match, despite my comments last time. Messrs Illman (for stating in the pub that I was bound to do it, even if it was with a walking stick) and Bickerstaff for not believing that I wouldn't turn up, are mainly to blame for me suggesting to Claudie on the Friday evening that she'd enjoy a stroll in the Surrey countryside the next day. She was very good about it, once I picked myself up from the floor she was quite calm.
Decided to drive straight to the start as couldn't face the half mile jog from HQ, so I went changed. An accident on the M3 confirmed this as a good decision; we arrived 4 minutes before the gun, thanks to some adept driving I might state. Having gone through the trauma of decision making, I wasn't about to miss out because of crashes, contra-flows and congestion. A quick pee in the bushes, pinned my number to my ample midriff and off I went very slowly ... I didn't win.
A week later, another mob match. An unusual state of affairs - in fact I can never remember two in two weeks - but by this time Claudie was resigned to my crazed decision making so off we went back up the motorway, or so we thought ... Onto the M4 at Swindon, slowed down to a crawl and then a halt. Once a fire engine shot down the hard shoulder we knew we were in trouble. Switched engine off for 45 minutes, rang Bickerstaff ("good news is that Chris is in the back of the car, bad news is that we are still in Swindon!"). Eventually got going but Richmond Park for 2.30 start looked impossible, not least because it involved crossing the Thames at Kingston or Richmond into congested town centres, and Harlequins were playing at home in Twickenham. Decided on long route - M4, M3, M25, A3 - and it worked. We kept in touch by mobile and arrived in car park adjacent to the race right on the appointed start time. A quick change in the toilets, pinned our numbers, uttered the club cry and set off with the other 61 Ranelagh runners (Orion had 55, a great overall turnout). I didn't win.
This is not the start of my comeback. I was stupid to run these races but at my age it was a way to maintain some sort of positivity in relation to my running. By missing a mob match I would have lost any sort of momentum, having only missed one since 1974, and probably faded away. At least this way, I've deferred any proper recovery by a few weeks but not on a terminal basis. But to any ambitious athletes, can I suggest that you do as I suggest not what I do!
Sandwiched between my two mob matches there was lots of excitement. One of the reasons I ran the first race was that we were staying with friends in Chiswick, which allowed me to spend some quality time with one of my godchildren (I have two, poor souls). We then took the Eurostar from St Pancras to Paris the next day armed with a red cross parcel for Natalie. It appears that she was pining for marmite and Wispa Gold chocolate bars despite developing a love of all things produced by French patisseries.
We had a lovely few days in the French capital in balmy sunshine. We walked for miles (just what I needed!), did the museums and parks, enjoyed some fantastic gastronomic delights (and expensive beer!) in the Latin quarter on the left bank each evening, and generally enjoyed spending time with Natz. Picture shows the two ladies in my life in the most beautiful city in the world.
Whilst in Paris we met up with an old friend, Rob Wise, affectionately known as Le Sage by Claudie. Rob works for Norweigan Telecom (I know ...) in London and was in Paris en route for a two day trip to French Guiana on the South American mainland, to oversee the launch of a $200 million satellite. We had a great chat about old times & friends and pontificated on important matters like Surrey cricket, Brentford football and the comparison between the superb professional set-up of British cycling under Dave Brailsford and the fragmented organisation that is uk:athletics. To be discussed further.
Finally, and sadly, we attended the memorial service for my dear friend Stephen, who died in the summer. It was held at his university, UCL, just a short walk from St Pancras and our trip back on Eurostar. Having missed his funeral as we were abroad, it was important for us to be there amongst his family, friends and colleagues. There were some lovely words spoken by them about a wonderful man.
Decided to drive straight to the start as couldn't face the half mile jog from HQ, so I went changed. An accident on the M3 confirmed this as a good decision; we arrived 4 minutes before the gun, thanks to some adept driving I might state. Having gone through the trauma of decision making, I wasn't about to miss out because of crashes, contra-flows and congestion. A quick pee in the bushes, pinned my number to my ample midriff and off I went very slowly ... I didn't win.
A week later, another mob match. An unusual state of affairs - in fact I can never remember two in two weeks - but by this time Claudie was resigned to my crazed decision making so off we went back up the motorway, or so we thought ... Onto the M4 at Swindon, slowed down to a crawl and then a halt. Once a fire engine shot down the hard shoulder we knew we were in trouble. Switched engine off for 45 minutes, rang Bickerstaff ("good news is that Chris is in the back of the car, bad news is that we are still in Swindon!"). Eventually got going but Richmond Park for 2.30 start looked impossible, not least because it involved crossing the Thames at Kingston or Richmond into congested town centres, and Harlequins were playing at home in Twickenham. Decided on long route - M4, M3, M25, A3 - and it worked. We kept in touch by mobile and arrived in car park adjacent to the race right on the appointed start time. A quick change in the toilets, pinned our numbers, uttered the club cry and set off with the other 61 Ranelagh runners (Orion had 55, a great overall turnout). I didn't win.
This is not the start of my comeback. I was stupid to run these races but at my age it was a way to maintain some sort of positivity in relation to my running. By missing a mob match I would have lost any sort of momentum, having only missed one since 1974, and probably faded away. At least this way, I've deferred any proper recovery by a few weeks but not on a terminal basis. But to any ambitious athletes, can I suggest that you do as I suggest not what I do!
Sandwiched between my two mob matches there was lots of excitement. One of the reasons I ran the first race was that we were staying with friends in Chiswick, which allowed me to spend some quality time with one of my godchildren (I have two, poor souls). We then took the Eurostar from St Pancras to Paris the next day armed with a red cross parcel for Natalie. It appears that she was pining for marmite and Wispa Gold chocolate bars despite developing a love of all things produced by French patisseries.
We had a lovely few days in the French capital in balmy sunshine. We walked for miles (just what I needed!), did the museums and parks, enjoyed some fantastic gastronomic delights (and expensive beer!) in the Latin quarter on the left bank each evening, and generally enjoyed spending time with Natz. Picture shows the two ladies in my life in the most beautiful city in the world.
Whilst in Paris we met up with an old friend, Rob Wise, affectionately known as Le Sage by Claudie. Rob works for Norweigan Telecom (I know ...) in London and was in Paris en route for a two day trip to French Guiana on the South American mainland, to oversee the launch of a $200 million satellite. We had a great chat about old times & friends and pontificated on important matters like Surrey cricket, Brentford football and the comparison between the superb professional set-up of British cycling under Dave Brailsford and the fragmented organisation that is uk:athletics. To be discussed further.
Finally, and sadly, we attended the memorial service for my dear friend Stephen, who died in the summer. It was held at his university, UCL, just a short walk from St Pancras and our trip back on Eurostar. Having missed his funeral as we were abroad, it was important for us to be there amongst his family, friends and colleagues. There were some lovely words spoken by them about a wonderful man.
Saturday, 17 October 2009
Missed Mob
I've started so I'll continue ... I set this up as a running Blog. Unfortunately I'm currently not running, nor am I likely to restart in the forseeable future. However, I enjoy writing and writing about running so I'll endeavour to continue with some relatively topical stuff to maintain momentum. If I do ever start running again, and there has to be some doubt, I will use this Blog to chart my progress from the painful first steps, through a very gradual build-up, ultimately leading to victory in the World Masters Marathon in Brazil in 2013. You read it here first!
Firstly though, a non-running tale (or perhaps tails) of May, Lucy & Max. These are three donkeys we visited in Derbyshire last weekend. We actually went to stay with friends Lyn & Ian in their magnificent house in the hills overlooking Matlock, but Claudie's real desire was to spend time with their donkeys, plus chickens and cats! Taking two of the donkeys for a walk to the pub was worth the drive up to the Dales alone, especially when one decided she was going no further whilst standing in the middle of a main road! A great weekend.
Anyway, back to running. Ranelagh is a traditional running club formed in 1881, making it 128 years old. Like all sporting institutions it has had its ups and downs but it has survived because members love running and enjoy the camaraderie of the sport, bringing together all ages, both sexes, any standards and is classless. The simple mantra, certainly when I was a regular at the club from 1974-1990, was train/race hard then enjoy a pint or two to chew the cud over any subject and with any group you ended up standing around. Great times.
The club has four mob matches each winter; very traditional fixtures with some of the oldest clubs in the country: Thames Hare & Hounds (founded 1868), Blackheath (1869), South London Harriers (1871) and Orion Harriers (1911). With Ranelagh, that's 645 years of existence for just five clubs. The races are on good old fashioned cross country courses over 7½ miles. In one race against Blackheath in the 80's the two clubs mustered 200 runners but these days it's usually between 30-50 per side to score. Since 1974, when my school chemistry teacher Jim Forrest suggested I turn up, I've run 135 of these damn races, that's over 1,000 miles of competitive action in some glorious countryside: Richmond Park, Wimbledon Common, Farthing Downs, Hayes Common and Epping Forest. One race at Blackheath was cancelled because of deep snow and sadly I missed a race in 1999, it would have been my 98th consecutive, due to flu. Having had to commute from Gloucestershire since 1990, that's 75 races or c16,000 miles up and down the M4/M3/M25, my carbon footprint doesn't marry well with the simple freedom of the running, but it's been well worthwhile. I've finished in every position between 1st & 32nd, with a personal worst of 82nd after a long injury lay-off; fallen over countless times; gone off course (mainly in Epping Forest where one year the first four runners finished from the four spectrums of the compass!); chatted about the race in the shower with Ronnie O'Sullivan; raced against at least six Olympians (Chataway, Brasher, Disley, Jones, Welch, O'Sullivan [Sonia, not Ronnie, although snooker will probably be the next sport allowed into the Olympics]); spent many happy hours in the bar afterwards and at (initially stag) riotous suppers where the likes of John Bryant, Chris Brasher, Mal Cother and Auguste Lespinas regaled members from both competing clubs with hilarious and sometimes ribald stories.
Sadly, next Saturday I will miss another Mob due to my Osteitis Pubis and I doubt whether I'll make any of this season's races. It sort of feels like the end of the road, although I'm sure I'll be back for more, if only for the friendship and enjoyment experienced through mixing with people I've run with from all of the clubs over the last 35 years. In fact there was a short piece in Athletics Weekly this week about Les Roberts from Blackheath. He and I used to battle it out near the front in the 80's - he usually prevailed - and share a beer afterwards, but sadly he now has Parkinson's disease. To raise money he's recently cycled from Land's End to John O'Groats despite being on massive amounts of medication. Read his book, great title: From Wits End to John O'Groats. That's what this magnificent sport is all about.
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