All I want for Cwismas is me two flunt tleff,

Win my medal Guess my time .... don't forget to record your guess

Dear Blog,

      No need to get so uppity. How was I to know that you are so touchy about people calling you nicknames? Honestly, I didn’t mean to upset you. Would I do that to a friend? Sorry. I’ll try not to do it again.

      What a week I’ve had. My trudging took a bit of a knock as I had to make a visit, or rather four (!) visits, to the dentist. Friday was a recovery day. I was suppose to have a tooth extracted and have a replacement for it, fitted to my plate; well that was the plan. Impression taken, out came the offending molar, plate to be fitted was sent to the technician, back came the plate next day; but - wrong tooth put on my plate!!! Well that is not quite the truth. Not one wrong tooth fitted to my plate, but three. Yes three extra teeth which did not include the one I wanted! It is like a medical take on the supermarket slogan, ‘Buy one, get one three’! I have more teeth in my mouth now that I have had for the last half century. Move over Knasher. Boy you should see me have a beano with a pile of food!!  Everything is now fine and dandy. Finally got it sorted but it meant that with all the messing, it was a bit awkward trudging; the pain, the blood, the dribbling. I have raced with a nose bleed, but to train with bloody dribbles flowing down my chin?? So the old mileage dipped a bit.

 And what else you might ask has befallen me? Well, there was the interview on local radio where the presenter had me to jogging on the spot while being interviewed – I kid you not. Yes – gasp - 66 years old – gasp - for children’s charities – gasp – Tiny Tims - cough – Newlife - sweat – £1 per guess - splutter – London marathon – gasp gasp. I could hardly walk the next days. Then there was the 25 minute interview with the local paper. It is so difficult talking about your own obsession with someone who is not wearing the same coloured anorak, don’t you find?

    I must confess, I did try a long run on the Tuesday. To combat the effect of the arthritis in my big toe, I did a little DIY on my shoes. I cut a large hole in my training shoe sole, to relieve the pressure. However, it was only partially successful. It was a 97 minute run and grit did tend to get inside the shoe; obviously the prototype needs a little more attention. The whole hole thing took me back to the 60s, when I was running a trial race for one of the Games. I couldn’t afford a new pair of shoes. The sole had worn through. And anyway, in the good old days, it was surprisingly difficult to find a sports shop that sold ‘proper’ athletic shoes. There was no demand. As it was, because of the money situation, to get down to Windsor, I’d had to hitch and then slept on the Embankment the night before the race. I confess I did treat myself to a train ride out to Windsor Castle on race day! Anyway, I had this hole in the sole, so before I travelled down to London from Durham, I’d cut out two inner soles of linoleum and then several layers of newspaper to act as cushioning, to stuff inside each of my ‘Tiger’** cubs (the oldies will remember those!!) to make an inner sole sandwich. All went well until about 21 miles when the lino finally wore through, the newspaper had turned into sweat soaked papier-mâché and I was running barefoot on the tarmac. Boy, those last five miles were interesting!!!

     Then there was the time I ran a 3000m steeplechase in bare feet and lost most of the skin off the soles of my feet before I reached 2000m ... cinder track in those days remember! Boy, those last 1000m were interesting!!!

                                    Teck care lad,      Colin, but you can call me Col if you like.

** To anyone under 50, ‘Tiger’ is the pre Cambrian name for ASICS.