This blog is brought to you by……..

This blog is brought to you by……..

 

2017-11-18 09.21.19ME!! It’s brought to you by me.

As an aspiring writer (!), I try to read as much as possible, I’ve always got a book on the go, and I read online articles, normally running related. I also delve into others’ blogs as often as I can. Reading others work, and seeing which styles I enjoy, helps steer my own scribblings. Don’t forget the OTHER BLOG for occasional, mostly non-running related, witterings.

2017-06-04 15.20.11I have noticed that some of the ‘bigger’ blogs tend to have a leaning towards product ‘reviews’. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m not taking some sort of reverse snobbery based moral high ground here. Oh no, although I always look for truly independent journalism , or writing in general, I would probably struggle to turn down a supply of free running kit if it was thrown my way. And then what would I do????

Anyway, luckily for me and my blogging integrity, that’s highly unlikely to happen. So if I do mention a product, company, event or any other service, then my opinion will be based purely on the experience I have had.

Which brings me to running shoes. I’ve just opened a box of shiny new road kicks, the umpteenth pair of Adidas Boost shoes I’ve owned. I find them soooo comfy, cushioning my clumpy and heavy running stride and compensating for the odd angles my feet tend to approach the ground at.

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A running ‘style’!

I may have mentioned before, my running ‘style’ was once described by an esteemed running coach to be like a drunk man herding cats!!

 

This latest pair are a few models old now, so I picked them up for a reasonable price too. Being rather dull, I keep a count of miles ran in my shoes and my last pair did 600+ miles of road running. The PREVIOUS pair (pictured alongside the new ones) also racked up  100s of road miles before becoming my work shoes. I’ve probably done 6 months of building work in them too, only swapping them for boots on heavy weather days.

So, if anyone asked me, even without a cash incentive from the multi-national fashion and sports wear brand, I would recommend them, especially if you have the same bizarre running geometry as me.

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Coniston Marathon – something else we heartily recommend

I used to use Adidas trail shoes too, but found said running technique tended to trash them too quickly. Some of you may recall I had the chance to run in a second hand pair of Inov8 shoes at the Conistion Marathon (read all about that beautiful event HERE). I splashed the credit card there and then and those shoes have been absolutely amazing, and still going strong after 500+ miles of all types terrain and weather.

 

I wore them for a lumpy coast path run on Saturday, keeping it simple, with an out and back route, but the views are always different in the other direction. The sun was barely awake at the start and it turned into a lovely crisp morning by the end. Have a nosey HERE, if you like.

2017-11-19 09.18.08Ahhhh, my wonderful wife……. I truly am INSPIRED by her…… we are both pretty exhausted at the moment and it would be easy to reject our runs and training. Hopefully, the cajoling is reciprocal. I am so, so determined to train, especially when I have the absolute joy of Nicky to be driven by.

2017-11-19 09.29.19On Sunday, we ventured a bit further along the coast, both feeling lethargic, but, together, convincing each other we were doing the right thing.

Running with Nicky is incredible, time becomes meaningless, and before we knew it we were 10 miles in, and ready to turn. We fancied a fairly flat 20 miler as our next planned marathon is on an out and back and flattish road course. We’re off on our holidays next week, and running a marathon on the middle weekend.

2017-11-19 11.12.06I enjoy running with Nicky so much. I ALWAYS enjoy running, but the runs with Nicky have that little extra magic….

In fact, whilst we were trotting along the Exe estuary, I started a ‘best of 2017’ conversation, in preparation for an end of year blog. I said my proudest achievement was when Nicky and I crossed the line of the 50k R.A.T. (read all about it HERE), where we smashed our best time for the event, in our third attempt at the route. Apparently there’s a 100k version….

 

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What a great moment, back in August!!

 

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Inspirational graffiti in Dawlish

She was surprised that I hadn’t said my Gower 50 Ultra, which I completed solo (blogged about HERE). I pointed out to her that, even if I successfully go on to complete longer and tougher challenges, and I will take great pride in them, that little bit of heart fluttering magic will be missing.

 

We will line up at 5.15am on December 2nd, for our holiday marathon, hopefully crossing the line holding hands a few hours later, and THAT will be the secret magic….

Anyway, we had a gorgeous (mostly flat) run on Sunday – check it out HERE – and we’re ready for a break now…….

I think it’s called ‘tapering’!

There’ll be blogging from holiday, but it’ll be short posts from the phone I guess, but mostly we’re looking forward to no alarms, warm breeze and seas, good food, the BEST company and, of course, a marathon!

A few piccies from last weekend’s runs….

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How Hard Can It Be?

How Hard Can It Be?

 

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Callum in Lego heaven

Quite often our mantra whilst we’re casually googling potential new challenges.

 

Swim 10km? How hard can it be? 50km over Dartmoor? How hard can it be?

how hard can it beYou get the picture.

Also my work chum and myself……. plumbing? roofing, underfloor heating etc? Just how hard can they be?

 

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This please is, to steal from the young man’s vernacular, “WELL COOL!”

So, a couple of days with the eldest grandson, Callum, taking him away for his birthday treat. Not a problem?

 

I’m often found to be idly flicking through the well-thumbed pages of Ultra Marathon websites, ooohhh, ahhhh, mmmmm, ha ha ha, how hard can they be?

But multi-day events. Ow! Not sure that’d be up my street, not my bag, unlike my cup of tea (which is actually coffee, anyway). Nope, as regular readers will know, I DO have ambitions for long single stage events, but multi stage events, nahh.

Until now.

Legoland. Two days. Two CONSECUTIVE days! I know!! Is there a test of endurance to match it?

I’ve been blessed. I know I’ve mentioned this before, and my rather wonderful, beautiful and, quite frankly, HOT, lady wife, Nicky keeps telling me to stop being so soppy. I’ll be making the avid readership feel nauseaous, she reckons. BUT, I truly am blessed.

20171028_142338-1.jpgFrom the moment Nicky bundled her way into my soulless life and filled it with all this phenomenal love, adventure and laughter, I have felt, well, blessed!! AND I became Grandad to her two bundles of fun filled granchildren, which has now become three. And I absolutely love it.

Late on day 2 in this world of a billion coloured bricks, we found a perch and had a selfie with a lego batman soft toy. We looked drained!! In the most wonderful way. Callum has been full to the brim with excitement, with wonder, with awe and has, for two whole days been nothing but a joy to share the time with.

A 6am start (sounds like an identikit race report coming up….) followed by 4 hours in the car and we arrived at the park. It’s big! Luckily, we had booked, as the place was sold out, mostly because it was open late for fireworks.

 

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Callum looking REALLY impressed with his Lego name I lovingly made for him!

Yes, we’ve had our moneys worth, getting to the Holiday Inn Express in Slough about 8.30pm that night (we know how to live!!) where we promptly ordered a Dominoes gorge fest. The three of us propped ourselves up on the (less than) double bed and feasted our tired, hungry faces. Bliss.

 

 

 

 

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Tired? Nah?

Callum slept well on his put-me-up, whilst we enjoyed the aural delights of Heathrow, and before we knew it, day two was upon us.

 

By the time we climbed into the car at tea time, we were all suitably sated of our lego desires and the trusty Mini devoured the miles home.

An extra hours sleep?

 

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Spooky light on this morning’s run

Nah, an extra hours RUNNING!!!

 

(Did I mention I’d completed a 50 mile Ultra? – read alllll about it HERE) I reckon the three weeks since my Gower exploits haven’t yet flushed the fatigue from my legs. Combined with the previous two days adventures, I was never going to break any records on THIS run.

BUT, I loved the three hours around the bay, much of it by headtorch, and, after the ‘injury’ at Gower, I seem to have also been blessed with amazing powers of recovery too.

20171028_140857-1.jpgI know, we will, and I’m sure Callum will too, treasure these moments forever!

Keep on keeping on people, don’t let the b******s grind us down….

 

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They even had a life size Lego model of my Brother…..

 

 

 

 

Blogging From The Bench

Blogging From The Bench

2017-10-14 10.01.44I stood and watched a hundred or so runners, including my rather wonderful lady wife, Nicky, head off towards the moors.

Jealous? Moi??

 

 

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Nicky ready to follow those ORANGE flags

“Follow the ORANGE flags!!” yelled myself, the race crew and other spectators. A race of 3 halves, as it were. Pure Trail’s Dartmoor 3-in-1. Those who had elected to try and run all three race on the day were to follow the “ORANGE FLAGS” on the first loop. At 9.75miles this was the longest of the day.

 

Not only the longest (and even longer for those who drifted off course in the mist) race but also the hilliest and the foggiest as it turned out.

In another guise, I did home delivery for Sainsbury’s (You KNEW you recognised me from somewhere!) and for a while we used to cover these west moorland villages. And what a lovely village to base a race, the quirkily named Peter Tavy. Quite a magical air to the village as we optimistically parked  the mini on the wet field. (“it’ll be drier by the time we leave!”)

 

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I wonder just WHAT they keep in the shed

The village hall, acting as HQ for this cracking event, is classic fare – the modern era only nodded towards with the addition of a defibulator, not that heart failure is particularly a modern phenomenon.

 

Anyway, off they all went. Jealous? Moi?

I’d probably have preferred to have been gallivanting across the moors chasing sheep rather than perched amongst the kit bags in the village hall, notepad in hand, trying for all the world to look like “a writer”!

Well, if I DO want to be a writer, then write I must…..

2017-10-14 11.11.28But, my self-diagnosed fooked ankle (did I mention I did The Gower 50 ultra last week?? – read all about it HERE), isn’t in a hurry to get running again, so coat holder and cake eater I was. I also had a wander in the lane and found a Cornish pasty recipe on the village notice board!

 

 

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Steve Skedgell, you know he’s in charge with that hi-viz & air horn

I’m a bit of a Pure Trail fan, trail running events, usually with a twist, created by runners, for runners. We had a great time at their Race The Tide earlier in the year (blogged about, naturally, HERE). They have a regular group runs across the moors and are genuinely good guys to be around.

 

With a 9.75 mile race, followed by a 7 miler and finally 5 miles (with different coloured flags to follow), some were charging around, then using varied techniques to keep warm before the next race’s start time, the day was definitely one for clever pacing.

2017-10-14 12.24.16Rather dangerously for me, I ended up chatting to Steve, half of the duo who are responsible for Pure Trail’s success, whilst the runners were out on race 1. Dangerous? Well, inevitably talk of ultra challenges, “ooooo 150 miles on a canal…” “oooooo MOUNTAINS!” etc etc……..

 

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Jamie after race 1, write your own caption……

So after some quaffing, and scribbling, and chatting, I limped outside to watch the runners arrive back to base. A regular fixture in this blog, Jamie Bullock (see blog about his Stoke Gabriel Carnival 10k HERE) came cruising back, well inside the top 10. In fact he finished 8th overall after all three races.

 

Nicky meanwhile came back with plenty of time to spare. Despite this, the week’s chaos, tight calves and poor night’s sleep had caught up with her. She opted to partake of the three C’s instead of lining up for race 2 – Coffee, Cake and a Cuddle.

Anyway, a great event and lovely day out on the moors, we took a scenic route home, the mist having cleared, and headed for a chilled evening.

BUT – the real action of the weekend was the pebble skimming at Elberry Cove on Sunday, as four generations of this wonderful and kooky family I’m so proud to belong to took a stroll (or limp in my case) in the warm autumnal breeze.

 

 

 

Perfume River

Perfume River

Autumn is about 3/4 of the way through the year. Whilst the brightest and longest days of the year may be behind us, we’re right in the middle of the BEST days.

 

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Autumn – good, init?

The best colours, the best shadows, sunrises, sunsets. Fast changing weather and the challenges of wintry conditions start showing their faces.

 

(Appallingly cliched analagy alert) A bit like my life. Whilst being young was great, the first couple of decades of adulthood were full of, you know, STUFF. So, my bright, silky skinned, jet black barnet days are long behind me.

Phew!

Because THIS, this is the life I’ve been waiting for……

Utopia. Pure and simple.

I guess one man’s utopia is another man’s dystopia.

Clean. Healthy. Loving. Truthful.

What on earth has this all got to do with a book review?

 

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Busy here on the injury bench, although, I’m sure there’s nothing wrong with Charlie!

Well, here I am on the injury bench, Charlie for company, feeling all, er, all wordy……

 

THE LAST DOG ON EARTH by Adrian J Walker.

Yet another holiday read. The main protagonist, Reg (and his dog Linekar) have ended up living in a post-apocolyptic dystopia. Only that’s not how it feels to them.

One man’s…… oh I’ve said that.

I see, going off subject a bit here, that White Star’s Andy Palmer wrote another piece for The Guardian. Nice. Run Deep Magazine got a plug too. I’ve got a column in Run Deep. Tenuous link to fame there…..

Interesting that people I follow in the media and sporting world tend NOT to be columnists for The Daily Mail (no link inserted there, naturally).

By way of example, Kate Carter, Adharanand Finnish, Rob Deering…… and, er, Andy Palmer!

Anyway, one man’s dystopia…..

the last dog on earthSo, THE LAST DOG ON EARTH

On a the face of it, a quirky, light hearted romp, told through the voice of a foul-mouthed mutt, around a make believe world where barely anyone has survived a civil war led apocalypse.

Linekar (the dog) and Reg (his owner) have remained in London, creating their own power and scavenging for food. Living a simple, simple existence in isolation. Dependent on each other for company and the routine they both enjoy.

The sparse pattern of lights that remain on view are the only suggestion that a hint of life in the city goes on. There are barely enough (of these lights) for a football team (which is sort of the point), and we learn that gruesome deaths and a hurried exodus has accounted for nearly all of the city’s population.

Gradually, we encounter those that rule the deserted streets and others who have remained. Belief doesn’t have to be suspended too much.

The rhetoric and undercurrent of hatred which we seem to have cultivated in Britain is enough for me to join the dots from today’s realities to Walker’s imagined future. Scary.

It’s a fabulous, moody yet pacey, look at relationships, at how we interact and, yes, how our dogs become part of our personality (as well as suggesting what THEY might be thinking).

Reg and Linekar have their crude but effective existence blown apart after a mission to find fuel for their generator.

Inadvertently, and unwillingly, they become guardians to a lost child.

Their journey, their bonds, their fights and fears as they venture further out into the world now run by extremists, are all grippingly delivered.

With echoes of one of my favourite ever books, Station 11, this band of misfits grows, makes allies, encounters relics from the past (everyday life items which we don’t even notice).

The battle to avoid the ultimate test to determine whether they still have a use in the world (I’m avoiding too many spoilers) is terrifying, absorbing and quite humbling.

 

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Charlie’s best ‘DID SOMEONE SAY SQUIRRELS!?’ face

A book which tackles extremists controlling the future, mass murder, the destruction of what we call ‘civilization’ and yet can open a chapter with the line “Squirrels are c***s” is a rare trick I reckon.

 

From this book, I look closer at the things that frighten me in the world more and more, perhaps ask myself questions, and definitely look at Charlie and wonder what HE’S thinking!

Keep on keeping people……..

70 pence for 2 hours

70 pence for 2 hours

Not only has Sherborne in Dorset (NOT Sherbourne in KENT!) got a White Stuff, lovely coffee shops, stunning period architecture and a well posh independent school, it’s also a mere 70 pence to park for 2 hours.

 

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Nicky opted to buy a cap rather than a full carbon fibre TT bike

We do love a bargain.

 

Sherborne was pit stop 2 on our journey. Our first port of call was Tri Uk in Yeovil. I had previously had my bargain wetsuit from these guys, online, but had never visited this sweet shop for endurance fans.

We saw bikes for hundreds, but mostly thousands, of pounds and a bike in front of a television screen which you could sit on and ride with people in Japan. We obviously looked a little bit out of place as it took a while for us to be acknowledge as genuine potential customers. But, yes, even us oldies are interested in shiny things and bright moving pictures.

We managed, between us, to only buy a cap. Oh, and coffee, toasties and cake, naturally.

So what was our destination on this trip east?

Ferndown. Yup, the Premier Inn in Ferndown. A mere mile from the start (and finish) of the Ferndown Try a Tri. A triathlon, not a marathon, ultra marathon or trail run. Nope, it’s DEFINITELY a triathlon.

 

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Ahh, the classic kit laid out piccy

Me? Doing a triathlon? Really? Absolutely not!! I’m sure regular readers will guess…. yes my astonishing, adventurous, inspirational (and HOT) lady wife Nicky made her triathlon debut on Sunday. And what a marvellous day it turned out to be.

 

Having blitzed the money we saved on parking on a meal out, although Nicky’s steak was rather disappointingly grizzly (it was heavily discounted as a result), we tucked up for a little bit of Strictly before trying to shake off the pre-race nerves and get some quality shut eye.

The chirpy chappy working reception in the hotel had furnished us with athlete worthy quantities of coffee sashes and we set about these after the alarm broke our fitful sleep at stupid o’clock.

 

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Nicky’s ‘how hard can it be’ pre-match gritted teeth grin!

Nicky braved a porridge pot as best she could and before we knew it we were making the short drive to the leisure centre. Sporting her tri-suit which, was as yet to see active service, and a couple of extra layers to combat the chilly, drizzly air, she registered and set about orientating herself with the event layout.

 

Any new activity, engaged for the first time, is daunting. Some of that apprehension dissipated as we realised that she was far from the only debutant. There appeared to be a full range of ages and levels of experience. We made our way to the swimming pool to watch the first waves complete their lengths using a variety of strokes and techniques.

A really friendly, supportive and inclusive atmosphere cloaked the whole event in a comforting glow despite the grey skies. Before I knew it, Nicky was poolside for her briefing and without any drama she was in. Etiquette in the pool was being observed on the whole and Nicky looked strong as she rattled off the lengths in front of her two lane companions.

 

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So fast through transition the pictures are just a blur

I rushed outside to see her jog along towards the tennis courts where the bike racking and transitions took place. I was so excited, and just bursting with pride, maybe a tad jealous, but mostly just motivated to replicate my incredible lady’s fabulous enthusiasm and drive to keep pushing the boundaries.

 

Before long she was jogging back out ready to mount her trusty stead and head to the streets of Ferndown. We had driven the 11 mile bike route the previous evening and found it to be prolifically marked (and marshalled on the day) and without any alarming hills or dangers.

Disappointingly, the vending machine back inside the leisure centre delivered me a black flat white (actually I quite enjoyed it) to warm the bones whilst I enjoyed watching the transition action. With start times spread out over an hour and a half and a selection of speeds on show, there was always someone passing to wish bon chance.

 

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Blimey, Nicky’s back!

Before I could say ‘blimey, here comes Nicky!’ I was saying ‘BLIMEY, here comes Nicky’!!

 

She gracefully dismounted (there had been quite a selection of dismounting styles) and trotted off to transition. Us spectators were welcome to enter the different areas as long as we didn’t impede the intrepid athletes. But, I’m pleased to report, the anticipated confusion and calamitous comedy was absent from transition.

Smoother than a particularly smooth smoothie, Nicky racked her bike and removed cycling related paraphernalia. Slightly shaking from the cycling effort, she calmly donned her running shoes and set off for the field.

 

The run was four laps (about 3 miles) of the sports fields alongside the centre and, again, it was great for spectators. Being able to see the whole course and your athletes several times, as well as little battles taking place, throughout the field, made for compelling viewing.

And then it was over.

And Nicky was absolutely buzzing.

She has the bug.

And, yet again, I’m just the proudest husband.

And I’m INSPIRED and motivated.

Which is handy.

As I’m doing THIS on Saturday.

 

 

 

Panda Eyes

Panda Eyes

Feel free to blame John Bew and Clement Attlee for holding up my book writing progress.

One of the books I devoured on holiday was Citizen Clem. Nicky and I are both avid readers, so a week in the sun with our books was a very welcome rest.

Holiday BooksNicky claims (without any foundation, I hasten to add) that I am prone to being more ‘high brow’ in my book choice. We actually both enjoy being entertained and challenged and are as happy to be lightly titillated by a read as we are to have our beliefs, or realities suspended.

It’s probably true that I’m more likely to pick up a 700 page political biography, but then I suppose I’m the whiny, leftie dreamer amongst us!

I imagine this weighty volume, which kept me in sunglasses for many hours, leaving gorgeous white rings on my weathered face, has become prominent again in recent months after the apparent resurgence in Socialism, and of the Labour movement, as Jeremy Corbyn led his party to savage the hideous majority previously enjoyed by Theresa May.

Truthfully, I’m no great political historian and cannot claim to have been a frustrated Attleeite awaiting a chance to be part of a larger crusade. Aware of his tenure through regular references and opinion columns in the type of newspaper I lean towards, his name was also our dinner table topic a few months ago.

“Who was Prime Minister when the NHS was founded?” Why this question? Nicky and I share a home with Frank, Nicky’s father. As regular readers will know, Frank suffers from dementia and quite often struggles to join in topical conversations over dinner.

 

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Not a bad spot for a bit of scribbling

Whilst he may struggle, on occasions, to remember the days events, either domestic or from the news, he can quite often hold more detailed conversations when delving into his longer term memory.

 

With this in mind, we sometimes pick something in the news (like the NHS) and try and relate it to occurrences in the past. We try and have our social time over a meal each evening and this ‘tool’ we’ve developed can often lead to a more inclusive conversation.

Anyway, between us we, I’m ashamed to say, failed to answer with any certainty, until we delved into the magic little google machine. To be fair to Frank, he was only 9 at the time!

I picked the book up at Bristol Airport on the way out, and was initially daunted by it’s weight, page count and small print (and luggage allowance!).  BUT, as Nicky will testify, I became quite antisocial as I feasted on the glorious cradle to grave chronicle of one of the truly ‘great’ Britons.

A man who was born in the 19th century, fought in one world war, was deputy leader of the country through another, won an absolute landslide general election victory for Labour and steered the country through the carnage of the post war years, his is a tale to behold.

It is a chronicle told with poise and elegance, an insight into the man as much through what he himself read as much as what he did. Bew’s ability to make such a potentially academic subject so ALIVE is wonderful.

 

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We took our training VERY seriously on holiday…

After a few days of slowly cooking myself in the sun, with my head buried deep in the book, I felt I truly knew this gentleman of a statesman. Despite Attlee dying the year I was born, I find him to be the type of political figure who feels me relevant to me.

 

Having enjoyed (enjoyed!) a 40 mile outing the day before our holiday, I felt I was ready for, firstly, a REST and secondly the Gower 50 which is rapidly approaching…

 

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Nicky still putting the lengths in after the sun had disappeared

I managed a few little runs on holiday and a couple of lovely sea swims just to tick over the fitness but with only now a week to go until the big one, I don’t feel I need, nor would I benefit from, any more epic runs.

 

So, this weekend we’re off to a secret location where I’ll be supporting Nicky as she, yet again, pushes herself to find new skills, new limits, new potential, and most wonderfully, new adventure. Yes, she’s making her debut in………..

Find out next week!

 

 

 

PS I’m a bit shy about this – but I occasionally post poems and scribblings here too –

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hot Air For A Cool Breeze

Hot Air For A Cool Breeze

Pink FloydI guess sometimes our heroes really ARE ghosts. We’ve all lost people too early, before they had chance to realise their own dreams and potentials. Equally, I imagine we’ve all drawn inspiration from those lost to us and, maybe, felt the urge to push a little bit harder to realise OUR dreams and find OUR capabilities whilst we are still blessed with the good fortune of health to do so.

2017-09-27 16.51.35Grief top-trumps is a game I find objectionable, the idea that there is a scale of tragedy worthy of different levels of sympathy is, quite frankly, unsavoury at best. And whilst I’m airing my gggrrrrs, what is this social media phenomenon of being asked to ‘prove’ you care by ‘liking’ or ‘sharing’ somebody else’s story? I don’t need to prove I’ve read all of your post in order to care. And yes I DO know how tragic cancer can be. Believe me. I know. tragic, cruel, relentless, indiscriminate, debilitating, destructive, painful and despicable. Yup.

So, where was I? Ah yes, ghosts as heroes.

road to spartaIt’s a breath of fresh air to read some books. The Road To Sparta by Dean Karnazes…. Now, I don’t know how many losses or tragedies have befallen the Karnazes family but I do know that he tragically lost his sister just as she turned 18 (the details of which are covered in his first book). This latest tome is a journey into his family history (him being of Greek parentage) and deep into the history of the Greek nation and the people therein.

Told with a wit and eloquence often lacking in ‘sports’ biographies and combining, cleverly, his strength of character and his confidence with his self depreciating humour and his self doubts.

Embarking on a mission to truly follow in the footsteps of the original ultra marathon man Pheidippides, it charts his frustrations as he struggled to make this happen alone. Ultimately tracing the route by competing in the uber long Spartathon, he compares his progress, diet, emotions and fatigue to how he imagines Pheidippides was coping way way back when.

 

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Spartathlon – a very VERY long race

Acknowledging the new modern fandangle of aid stations, crews and fuelling products, Karnazes made his attempt by sticking to traditional Greek foodstuffs instead of tubes of sickly gunk and power bars. These are the foods that would have been available in 490bc, although Dean concludes that the stomachs of ancient times must have been made of strong stuff.

 

His constitution wasn’t playing ball and he graphically describes his stomach churning attempts to eat or digest this food in the second half of the race. Don’t read these passages too close to your Greek supper, as I did on holiday!!

The second half of the 153 mile race was survived on water, an iron will and muscle memory. Hallucinations (or reality?), despair, negotiations with his maker, negotiations with his mind, body and soul are all charted and delivered in Karnazes’ trademark boisterous, page turning rhetoric.

Yes, it’s ‘in yer face’ stuff, the way life should be lived, honouring those ghosts. This book should be read at full tilt. you don’t need to be an ultra marathon runner (or a runner at all) to enjoy this book, nor a Karnazes aficionado, although you may well become both before long as a direct result of reading it.

I’m not claiming to produce a literary chronicle, but we do like a good read……… and this is DEFINITELY that.

I think, tomorrow, I shall run with my ghosts!

 

Anyway, find me on Facebook – here, Twitter – here, Instagram – here

AND, please check out the new online magazine RUN DEEP where you might just find some more words by yours truly!