999

Photograph Quiz:

Photo no. 63:- What is special about this cycling badge? What is the connection with Coventry Godiva Harriers? When did the club start? When did the club fold? Which club official died this week?

Oh Boy, Blog,

    What a day Monday was. I usually get up about 6:30am as body alarm goes off. Years of early rising for a first session has become second nature. As kids we all got up early because dad left for work before 7am, the industrial Yorkshire routine. On Monday, the electric radio cum alarm clock was blank. Not a peep. Another power cut. So what, you ask, Blog. We have a break in power transmission about four or five times per year; a consequence of living in the country being served by an overhead cable supply. Thank you, Mr Lets Make Another Million Quids power man for that reassurance. Electric off, no power, ergo no heat. Stay in bed …. A trudge without a shower to return to in the freezing cold. Am I called Stupid, with a capital ‘S’ or am I called sensible with a capital ‘S’? Stay in bed, you have to be joking Blog. BANG. BANG. To prevent the back door being kicked down, I got up. The nice gentleman from the power supply company told me that the power lines had been stolen during the night and it would take all day to erect new ones!! Over 400m of overhead cable had been nicked. 400m! I kid you not, Blog. The police arrived and the pole men started. The police left. The gentleman from the farm next door arrived. He had been burgled, could he use our phone?? He phones the police. Then he phoned the local newspaper because amongst the gear stolen was a box which contained his wife’s ashes. The police arrived and the gentleman from next door left with them to show them the damage etc.. The police left. The newsman arrived, took notes and photographs which headlined the front page of Tuesday’s paper. Would I lie to you Blog? Shivered through to 3pm and then went for a short trudge to warm up. Up the lane the police had stopped a white van man. An hour later, they were still with the white van man as I returned. Good news. The men from the power company had packed up; they knew I was due back so had put the power back on for me to shower, my wife had told them that I was in a delicate state of health and would suffer if I could not cleanse my body. Hardly had I finished stretching the old body here and there when two police cars screamed up the Lane…. I bet the local newspaper report made the national press on Tuesday. If you get a red top Blog, just check and let me know, please.

Today has been so boring, only relieved my 70 minute trudge on the grass in the country side.

                     Colin

Down at heel??

Dear Blog,

             My daughter told me this morning that there was a Distance Running Seminar at Warwick University this afternoon. It bought a smile to my face. Not particularly to do with the Warwick University Seminars, but to a similar event somewhere outside Coventry. I assume it must have been organised by an acquaintance of yours Blog?? Ages and ages ago, I mention a little training tip, half in jest. The tip was based on sound principles but my suggested implementation to you dear Blog, was a little tongue in cheek. I was a little surprised therefore, to hear the advice given lock stock and blocked up barrel by the expert with loads of badges, related as if it was his own!!! The joke must have been on him if his audience was paying attention and later tried to put the advice into practice. C’est la vie …. Question:- Is that the first time in 50 years that five years of tears studying French has been of any use, I ask myself. That’s about five years for each letter. So Mr Butler’s 1944 investment really was gilt bonded, wasn’t it Blog?

Coincidentally, on this morning’s trudge over the fields around Kenilworth Castle, I happened upon a couple of crocked runners at different times; both trying to dispel their frustration at their incapacity by suffering a Sunday morning family walk. You could feel the sadness in their eyes as they saw me fly past. It is usually at this time of year, that the numbers of injured runners seems to noticeably increase. I wonder if their coaches wonder why? Imagine a coach turning up to supervise an evening session and no one turns up! We are a couple of months into cross country. Most coaches seem to have their athletes pounding the streets and hitting the track big time. I wonder if the coaches wonder if the events are linked in some way. ‘Can’t get on the grass this time of year’ is the clarion cry. Rubbish. With a little thought there are plenty of lighted usable areas around. A bit of lateral thinking. I used to half a dozen different areas up my sleeve to use during the winter months on the dark nights which afforded protection from the repeated crunching of joints upon tarmac; variety is the spice of training. Think. I have always been amazed at many athletes being injured and spending months in a ‘rehab’ situation because the injury refused to respond to expensive treatment. Yes, jog. Yes, choose a friendly surface. Yes buy new training shoes. But why not examine the condition of the shoes you walk around in, examine the shoes you use to work. Now there is a surprise; the inner soles are moulded to the shape of your foot profile from eons of wear; the heels are badly worn down and are in urgent need of repair; the laces and tongue have ceased to afford a comfortable fit about the same time as the dinosaurs disappeared from the surface of the earth!! Quids spent on treatment. Quids spent on new trainers. Quids spent on new racers. And the solution could be a trip down to Clarkes in the High Street to spend quids on a simple pair of ordinary shoes. Worth a thought??? Look at the shoe heels of the general public who are walking just in front of you as you take your trip to the High Steer. Neglect the balancing act being performed by the females on the top of their towering heels … that obviously causes back / hip problems in later life. But just look at the multi worn down shoes all around. A recipe for later life problems in the population at large. I mentioned to you last week Blog, the possible failings of the medical profession. Well hows about the worn down heels??? Wake up Mr Juju man. You can save the NHS millions of quids if you tell your patients to pop along to Clarkes. Forget the back pills, forget the specialist appointment, tell them to just jump on the bus into town. Don’t forget Blog, when that healthy friend of that nice Mr Cameroon, Mr Lansey or something, starts spouting about the shoe cure for the nation, YOU SAW IT HERE FIRST!!

I wonder if anyone still uses a glue gun to mend their trainers? Shoe goo? Well I do Blog!!

                                   Colin

Birmingham and Cross Country League 2011

Photograph Quiz:

Photo no. 60, I think! How many Games gold medals did the athlete on the right win? How many National titles? At what event? Where did he finish in the Olympic Games? Who is he?

Well now Blog,

      Talk about running short of puff …. Sorry, that should read …. ‘Talk about trudging short of puff’. Got quite carried away there for a minute! I have just got back from a trudge and once more, shortage of breath was a real problem … so another slow trudge!!!! Went out to trudge down to the club last night, but by the time I had reached the street lighting, I was really gasping; and it wasn’t through effort I can assure you, Blog!! Was intending to do a 6 mile quality trudge, but it deteriorated into a gentle trundle. Mind you, in the evening it is getting so difficult to focus in these dull yellow street lights that I will have to go out during the daylight or revert to country roads where there are no street lights. It is much the safest option anyway, because, wearing a luminous bib, you stand out quite dramatically in the car headlights. Most drivers are very good in using dips when they see you, although, as in the rest of life, you do get the odd idiot who does or does not appreciate the blinding effect of a full beam. At least my last two shuffles have given some quality time to think. I told you Blog, that last week was the first Birmingham and District Cross Country League Race for men and the Midland Women’s Race at Leamington Spa. The course used is very similar to that which has been raced over for yonks. Talking in the showers last night with one of the Godiva men who had competed at Leamington, and was a little down the field, he was surprised that I didn’t know about the bottle neck which had developed soon after the start of the men’s race. The start was a flat straight of 400m with a gradual left hand sweep which took the runners on to the course proper. This soon took the runners through a narrow hedgerow gap … a recipe for disaster so soon after the gun; you would have expect experienced organisers to know better??? At dinner later in the evening, I mentioned this to my wife who said she had seen the crowded bottleneck but added that the runners were all quite good spirited about it with no real pushing or shoving, all very gentlemanly! How events have changed ‘sin wen I were a nobbut lad’, perhaps reflecting how the sport has altered from a purely intensive competitive sport with no prisoners taken, to a recreational pastime where friendly banter has taken over from cursing and swearing. Once in the Inter Counties Croo Country Championships, at Derby I think, a North Eastern Counties runner came up to me after about a mile and said ‘You pushed me’. Can you believe that Blog, ‘You pushed me’! In a crowded cross country championship race. ‘You pushed me’! I kid you not. He then gave me a bloody great shove which totally knocked me off balance. Now I know I am a nice kind bloke who would not normally say ‘Boo’ to a gosling, but there was no way was I going to take that. The adrenalin kicked in. It took me about half a mile [800 metres to you Blog] to catch him, where I bided my time for a few minutes. As we approached a narrowing of the course which passed along a short bridleway hedged with hawthorn, I felt a slight pang of guilt as I gentle leaned on him, enough to run him rather painfully into a mass of thorns. I must confess that I was surprised that he had so much breath to scream like he did. The adrenalin kicked in again. I failed to wait to see if he managed to extract all the thorns. I scooted off up the field; I didn’t fancy another confrontation during the race. And I was surprised I didn’t see him afterwards, although I had moved up a considerable number of places and he might have been way down the finishing funnel.

It is surprising that the officials at Leamington had made such an elementary mistake. The course has been used for years, very many years, for all standards of racing. It has been used for the National Cross Country Championships on at least half a dozen occasions. Co-incidentally, although I don’t actually remember, in 1929, the National used the same course with several thousand paying spectators watching and a plethora of bookies in unofficial attendance. A similar bottleneck occurred after about a mile when the field were funnelled through a farm gateway. On this occasion, fisticuffs were employed and events turned so nasty that the police were asked to attend to try to sort out the ensuing melee which involved runners, spectators and officials!! The chaos which reigned was caused mainly by dissatisfied punters who saw the disorganised field of competitors not fulfilling the pre-race speculation and failing to come up with the expected race result thereby making a mockery of the quoted betting odds, providing the bookies with a field day.

                           Colin     

Sphinx A.C. race result 2011

Photograph Quiz:

Photo -1:- no photo again because you keep pestering me for a clue for the number quiz. No way matey boy. But to further foster good relations between us, I will give you another line. So … hows about

211213

And to reassure you, it is a sums quiz, a simple sums quiz, not one of your childish type like …

What is the next number in the sequence 6 6 7 9 8 …..????

                                                             => … 6.

And the reason is:- the numbers indicate the number of letters of days of the week, i.e. Sunday is 6, Monday is 6, etc.. Stupid. I cannot stand the quizzie tv type dumb dumbs. Enough.

Well Blog,

          Contrasting events ……

In the mist this morning I went for a mini trudge while watching both my daughters compete in the Sphinx 8 mile off road event at Coombe Abbey, near Coventry. As is usual for an athletic club promoted event, it was well organised, well marshalled, good field, free long sleeved T-shirt for every finisher, a generous free mug of soup for all, spot prizes for competitors, a good level and spread of prizes, even free bags of sweets given out to the kids who had been dragged along by parents, grandparents etc.. Basically, doing what clubs do best … giving a good value for money event whilst at the same time raising much needed funds to plough back into their athletic’s club to help promote the sport and bring on the next generation of athlets; all with the help of an army of unpaid volunteers.

First contrast:- not a thousand miles away, it is possible that a ‘fun run’ for charity was taking place, organised by one of the new breed of Grabbit Co. Ltd.. Or perhaps it is in a week or two?I might be wrong? At the charity event that did / might have taken place / will be taking place, ask yourself Blog, What did the runners get/will get for their fee?? How much did the charity get /will get? How do you find out?????? Who did/will do the first aid???????? Did they need / will they have a permit????????? What was/will be their insurance cover?????????? Interesting or what? To my mind one of the obligations of a governing body of a sport, any sport, is to protect their existing club members, to police the sport and when not in a position to exert any kind of control, to at least use some influence to publicise any worries to potential participants / entrants. But are the authorities bothered in athletics about any ‘rogue’ races?? A moot question.

Second contrast:- last year the race at Coombe Abbey was run in -7 degrees, yes minus 7, with snow on the ground. Would I lie to you Blog? Compare to 9 degrees this year. Now all my sums learning tell me that the difference is a lot. Last year the air was crystal clear because of the low temperature. This year visibility was severely curtailed because of the mist. About this time of year some fifty years ago, the annual inter universities’ race at Wollaton Park in Nottingham was held in fog. Thick fog. Very thick fog. One of the famed pea soupers of the time.  All the runners set off but soon spread out, it being a student competition for half a dozen universities. I knew the park as well as anyone and I got lost! In those days we started and finished at the far gate by the Nottingham University Campus, not the familiar start line of recent Inter Counties competition. The course was marked in the usual lax university way .. none of this marshal rubbish, only an occasional flag. A recipe for disaster in the fog. At the finish, if it was found, runners emerged from the fog from all directions!! I kid you not. So having travelled a couple of hundred miles, the race was declared void. GREAT. At least this morning was only misty.

Third contrast:- A contrast of attitudes. How time and a few quids can alter perspective. On Saturday morning I did a trudge up the University of Warwick Playing fields. Not very far and very slow …. I fell a**e over tit on Thursday night and my poor collarbone thinks it is my shin or something. Pleasing really that no more damage was done …. And the added bonus was that a lady in a car pulled over to see if I was OK!! Now that’s a first. She kindly left me her card with me when I had reassured her that I was fine. She seems to work for an insurance company specialising in injury claims. Only joking Blog. About the insurance company that is, not about her stopping to see if I was OK. It might have been my fourth discussion at close quarters this year with Mother Gaia but it has been three months since I was last in contact. Being so sore, I did my trudge around the trim track.

Imagine

    acres of manicured playing fields, hardly sullied by sports men and women of the student variety….. a near two mile jog trail, the envy of all other jog trails …. a pavilion with a bar and lounge built on as a second story, from the comfort of which you have a vantage point overlooking the entire sporting fields complex⁽¹⁾ … a ground staff who are both pleasant and helpful … an administrative staff who are both obliging and helpful. That dear Blog is what you get with the University of Warwick, which has its campus in the country side, three miles from the Coventry city centre, but a long way from the county town of Warwick.

But there is or was, a fly in the ointment in the shape of a single member of University Senate who managed to put his spoke into the activities of athletics / cross country about a decade ago with his blinkered views. On a Saturday in November, I had organised a schools inter county cross country race with teams from as far away as London in the south and Liverpool in the north. Unfortunately, the previous week was a re-enactment of the conditions Noah had encountered when he went sailing with his pets. And of course, all those little children’s feet tramping in the mud, made the university fields look rough. Very rough. But two weeks later they were fine again. BUT. The problem was that a member of University Senate took his doggie for a walk on the Sunday morning. [N.B. not allowed under university rules]. The said senate member carried a disproportionate amount of weight on the University governing body and at the next Senate meeting he was successful in banning all cross country on the university playing fields!!! The ground staff, the administrative staff and the club were equally appalled but the gentleman who carried a great deal of weight on Senate. So that was it. The damage was done. Thanks to the tolerance and understanding of the university staff, the edict was quietly forgotten over a suitable period of time. Nod, nod. Wink, wink. It seemed that most staff regarded him as a pain in the derrière but couldn’t say so because he carried a great deal of weight on Senate.

Now those very footpaths on the university perimeter which the gentleman on Senate and his doggie didn’t want cross country runners feet spoiling, have now been incorporated into the new University to Kenilworth cycle way, courtesy of Sustrans⁽²⁾. So the Senate gentleman’s precious soil is being ripped up, his trees felled and a tarmac grit path laid. I do hope he still walks his dog along there and hope doggiekins doesn’t get too much grip in his poor paws. I bet those quids ameliorated his objections?

To be fair, I have to question why this new path is being laid at great expense when a perfectly suitable cycle path exists parallel and about 400 metres to the south of the new development. I kid you not, Blog. The existing path has been there for a decade and last year was updated, the signage repainted and new tarmac laid!!

                                Colin

Notes 1. The pavilion is so placed that VIPs could be accommodated in comfort whilst a cross country race took place outside, the whole of the proceedings viewed from the vantage point. The sports field has every type of surface required of a top class Cross Country race, and if it were televised, few cameras would be needed. What an opportunity for a sponsor. Any offers Blog??

Notes 2. Sustrans is sustainable transport

The Big Sleep

Photograph Quiz:

Photo no. 60?:- Why did government legislation in 1860 bring about the creation of this silk picture? Where is the track and what is so special about it? What sport now takes place on the site? What is the link between the track, the designer and Coventry Godiva Harriers? What little joke is the designer having?

So, Heavy Blog. Real Heavy.

I asked in a recent communication to you Blog, if you had seen the television trailer for a report on insomnia?? I don’t know if it has gone down the tubes as I may have missed it. Anyway. Not to fret.

Insomnia.

Insomnia for athletes. What every athlete should know about insomnia but dare not ask.

We all need eight hours sleep. Don’t we? Or do we? We are told we need eight by the experts, so if we don’t get eight => Armageddon!!!! ‘Gissa pill’.

So. All you ever wanted to know about insomnia, or sleeplessness to you and me Blog; as finely honed athletes we need to know about these things. Don’t we?

            BUT. Who am I to question the accumulated wisdom of Hippocrates and his mates??? On my oath, I don’t mean to criticise the NHS, they do a good job, but I do think we live in ‘gissa pill’ society. We seem to have reached the ludicrous stage where we are given, as a matter of course, antibiotics to cure everything from an infestation of nits to a broken leg!! Joking? ‘I can’t sleep Mr Juju man’ ‘Have a pill. Don’t worry. Make you happy’.  We have forgotten the basics, Blog. Simple cures. It can be seen from the training schedules athletes appear to follow that most people are easily duped. Most of the published schedules don’t seem to make much sense to me but they it must be good because they have appeared in an athletics magazine. And the writers have badges. And the selective bibliographical research quoted in an article reinforces the credibility of the schedules, so they must be good for you …. Look at all those fabulous sports drinks that aid your recovery. Oh sorry, Blog, I mean look at all those advertisements published by companies who sell sports drinks to aid their profits. But they do work. Don’t they? They are brilliant. All those advertisements by all those companies who sell all those sports drinks to aid all those tired athletes who can’t get all eight hours sleep before a race, confirm it. So do the company’s profits. Athletes wouldn’t drink gallons of the sports energy/ recovery drinks if they didn’t do them good. Would they? And the companies do have the research to prove it, so it must be good for them …. And so it is with sleep, or the apparent lack of it. A kind of parallel world, PARALLEL. Running schedules, need for sleep. Both are an essential requirement. The belief in both are ingrained. Never questioned. Athletes need schedules, insomniacs need pills, night follows day. Simple. Quids depend on our trust in the extensive research provided for our consumption.

Hang in there Blog.

Now. Insomnia.

Premise number one:- Humans are descended from apes. Apes are animals. Therefore humans are not far removed from animals in the great scheme of things. Serious Blog.

Premise number two and two part ‘a’:- Most animals are a potential breakfast, lunch or dinner for another animal a little higher up the predatory chain. Animals are constantly on their guard so they do not become a potential breakfast, lunch or dinner for an animal a little higher up the predatory chain.

Premise number three:- Animals get tired and need rest to recover. Rest is usually taken in the form of sleep. But nodding off for several hours of pleasant dreams does nothing to enhance the chances of survival of a tasty potential breakfast, lunch or dinner for an animal a little higher up the predatory chain. As a result, animals help their chances of survival by napping for short periods. Even when napping, they are subconsciously aware of any strange noises that might spell danger from an animal a little higher up the predatory chain that might be on the lookout for breakfast, lunch or dinner, …. or just a snack. They are on constant alert mode.

Premise number four:- If an animal is not tired, the animal does not have a nap.

Premise number five:- It is difficult to sleep if you are stressed by excitement, worried about a job loss or by a threat of being breakfast, lunch or dinner for another animal further up the food chain. It is even harder to sleep if you are worried about being worried.

Before a race it is difficult to sleep. The thought of a race causes excitement because it is just a race or because it is an important race or because the preparation for the race has not been 100%. Worry might cause sleeplessness because the outcome of a race might be important. Occasionally, after a hard training session the body does not want to relax. But usually a tired athlete can easily fall asleep.

Using premises one to five, it can be concluded that humans should not expect to sleep for several hours without being disturbed unless they have tired themselves out to the point of exhaustion. Disturbed sleep should be accepted as the norm not the exception. Get used to it. Don’t worry about it. Do wake up in the night but do not fret. Get up, have an early morning. No problem. Unfortunately, the pill producers brainwash their potential customers into using their quids to buy pills because they should sleep for long spells. They need eight hours sleep. The doctor man finds it easier to dish out another box of mother’s comforters than to tell the sleepless customer to go away and chill. The pill pushers tell the sleepless customer they should expect another box of mother’s comforters when they visit the doctor man for a chill pill. The pill pushers spend millions of quids  on television advertisements to get their message across to the sleepless customer. But the sleepless customer has been brain washed anyway. ‘Gissa pill’. GISSA PILL I SAID. And that nice Mr Cameroon gives lots of quids to his big Juju man so that the sleepless customer can have their pill and so will give that nice Mr Cameroon a great big X for being so kind.

But the athlete knows better. They should expect not to sleep before an important race. They have to learn not worry about not sleeping. All the other trudgers in the big race do not expect to sleep. Get on with it. The excitement will kick in before the race starts. No worry. The thrill of the chase. Ask a knackered Reynard if he can still run when he has a pack of hounds up his a**e. Tired he may be, but that doesn’t stop him getting a shift on. I bet a gazelle gets excited by the thrill of the chase with a lion a couple of metres behind his behind.  So a tired trudger can still trudge in a race. After all, from Premise number one:- Humans are descended from apes. Apes are animals. Therefore humans are not far removed from animals in the great scheme of things. So we must question how much sleep we need.

Perhaps the general public should learn from athletes …  Get tired and don’t fret.

A few years ago, presumably to celebrate the bicentennial of the achievement of Captain Barclay in 1808, the London Marathon Organisers decided to recreate his feat of running / walking 1000 miles in 1000 days, but I don’t think they mentioned the 1000 guineas. An advertisement was duly placed in the athletic magazines appealing for volunteers … well I wasn’t do too much was I? I thought it a good idea at the time, so I applied. Like most things I try to do, I believe in being over prepared to put me a position of strength. So that I wasn’t talking out of my a**e at the interview, I spent the month before I was called for selection, experimenting with the idea … for thirty days I ran a mile in every hour of the day for twenty four hours each day, which gave me a background of at least 24 multiplied by 30 miles, ie 700 plus miles. Now, at the viva, I got the impression that I was expected to say ‘difficult task’, ‘brilliant idea’, ‘what a gas’ or some such media type pandering. But I don’t pander, not before and only once since when I was seeking to raise money for the two charities for disable kiddies, NEWLIFE and TINY TIMS CHILDREN’S CENTRE. [Paid up yet Blog???] If you remember, it was when I started to be your friend Blog, by trudging in the London Marathon. Anyway, I blew it. WHY? Firstly; when I told them that I was not too impressed by Capt. Barclay as I had already done three quarters of his feat with no real problem. Secondly; I didn’t think much of the quality of service his bank gave its customers. Thirdly; at the start of the screening process, I was told that everyone applying to be a latter-day Barclay, had to volunteer to do a bleep test to help a research project being carried out by some student who I believe had some connection to the who project; we could stop at any time during the test if we wanted. No pressure there then. I duly started with half a dozen others, we being the last group to go to and fro in the gym. It was not long before I was the last one standing or rather, still running up and down the gym. As I had seen the others perform I knew that my bleeping was the best bleep of the morning. So I thought ‘sod this for a troop of monkeys’ and stopped, pointless to continue if I was the best there? Gissa medal. The organisers did not seem best pleased as I had the impression that I could have provided a significant result for the research if I had continued!!! Anyway I didn’t make the cut. No surprise there then. Oh well. For my own edification, during my Barclay re-enactment I compared how I coped on an hour by hour basis with how Captain Barclay managed. Most interesting. The comparison of mile times was enlightening too, given that I was trudging while he was walking. The differences were stark. Presumably my modern diet and my extra rest time contributed significantly to how much better I reacted to the stress than he did. I subsequently researched how often the 1000miles in 1000 hours had been attempted. Surprisingly often. So I researched how many miles had been done in an each hour for a thousand hours. The results were stunning. Most feats were achieved by Australians. Look up the results Blog, they do make interesting reading ... enough to make Capt. Barclay swim the channel with his mate Webb or something. Fancy giving it a go Blog, if ever a similar event were organised?? I am up for it!

I am off now for a quick nap before I go for a trudge up the University of Warwick playing fields.

                                   Colin

Marathon Training Advice no. 9.

Well Blog, did you crack the quiz?????????????????? Because I feel so generous I will tell you the next line. It is

3112

But why? What is the next line??? And the next???

When I was teaching sums, one of my pupils (politically correct .. students!!) brought in this little problem for me. I was a sums teacher so I obviously knew the answer … it goes with the job! Ask any pupil. (politically correct .. student!!) It transpired that dad had sent the problem in as it was part of some national pub quiz that had taken place the previous night and no one had been able to give the correct answer. Would I solve it please. Now usually when this sort of thing happened, I had seen the question or one similar at some time or other. But this one I had not seen before. We got on with the lesson with the promise that I would do it for him at lunch time and if he came to see me before he went home I would give dad the correct solution. Part of my job was to teach hard sums to Oxbridge candidates who wanted to do even harder sums amid the dreaming spires. Some scholarship stuff was a bit taxing and if I was a bit slow on the uptake, I found that my lunchtime running session, usually a fast, flat outish 6 miles, was enough for a subconscious solution to appear. No conscious effort. It just happened. An almost fool proof method of coping with the hard stuff. The pub quiz took about 400m to solve, which was a bit below average, I have to admit. Home time came and the solution was dispatched home with the pupil (politically correct .. student!!). I was a bit pissed off when the said pupil was waiting for me at registration next morning with an envelope. I expected another pub question .. and sure enough the little ******* handed me the envelope from his dad. There was a note inside … a £20 note!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I kid you not, Blog. So what was my percentage?? What was I worth?? Also enclosed was a thank you note from dad for the solution, the money was a part of his winnings!!!! Can you believe that Blog? BUT WAIT. There is more. On my run home that night I got to thinking about the sequence of numbers. By the time I had finished the training session and arrived home, I had extended the series, found a new idea and mentally written an article for a Mathematics Publication about the strange properties the numbers offered. I got very many quids for the article and even more quids for an extension of the idea from a different publication. Since then the whole number system has been extended further, but I have been too idle to do anything with it …. I mentioned it to you many months ago if you remember Blog. So you want details … well I started off steady from school, down the lane, over the footbridge next to the ford, past the derelict school house and through Packington Estate, which is the private country estate of Lord Alyesford and from whom I had been given permission to use his land to and from school. And a privilege it was. Morning it was Me, the Mist, the Deer, the Game Birds and No One Else. That Blog, you just cannot buy. No how! From the Maxstoke Gate entrance, I used to do fast ~ slow on the climb up to the transmitter pylons on Fillongly top. An extra hard effort was always made past the old oak where Wesley is supposed to have preached. It was my personal thank you for the time I spent in his chapel Sunday School. Down the country lanes towards home was fast but easy quality. Birmingham to Coventry, no traffic, no body, no problem. Can you believe that Blog. I kid you not.

Now Blog, did you see on television the advertisement for a hospital programme which was to discuss insomnia? Might make an effort to view that. It is an interesting subject because I think it is another of those topics that the medical profession (read society) has got so wrong. If you use trudging as your framework, a whole new perspective is opened up …… I’ll drop you a note on it Blog, Keep you curious or what? Bore the pants off you or what?? That as they say is the sixty three thousand dollar question!!

                                          Colin

Marathon Training Advice no. 8.

Photograph Quiz:

Photo number zero ‘cos there ain’t no photo, just a Quiz:-

1

11

21

1112

What is the next line in this sequence? Why did it get me a few quids? What has it to do with marathon training?

Well now Blog,

I went for a trudge this morning in the unseasonably pleasant weather. I am sure you will be most relieved to hear that the hamstring I hurt ten days ago while trying to shift a very heavy door by myself which a friend had given me to chop up to burn on my stove, is responding to my own devised rehabilitation. It usually works, and it works quickly which is a boon. Out on the trudge I got to thinking about this coaching lark in the running magazines. Like I said to you last time, I was going to get myself some of it. So, last night, dragging myself away from watching the paint, I thumbed through a few copies. Its hot stuff Blog, you really do want to get yourself some. Absolutely absorbing. And the articles are so clever with all those long words which not only can I not spell, but I cannot pronounce either!! My eye was caught by one particularly riveting article which was so full of technical jargon that it must have been written by someone who had filled both his arms up with badges and was now half way down his second leg. He was comparing past and present training sessions and techniques.

Imagine:- It is easy …..

Magazine to aged athlete. [3 mile runner] ‘Give me a track session’.

“Well, I did 3 miles run to the track from home, half a dozen strides, 10 times 44o with 220 jog then 5 times 220 with the same jog recovery, then I ran three miles back home.”

Magazine to young funded athlete. [5k track specialist] ‘Give me your last tack session’.

“It was last evening actually. By the time I had read up on all the nutritional requirements and buffed up on the physiological factors needed for such a session and prepared my energy drinks for the work out and what the post session massage essentials were going to involve and strapped on my heart rate monitor and fixed my Garmin to my wrist, it was time for the track to close for the night and my car was locked in the car park sos I had to walk home like.”

“My session was a two mile brisk walk home carrying my kit bag which was so heavy with all my gear that I had to stop every eight hundred metres [measured accurately on my Garmin] for electrolytic replacement therapy.”

Imagine:- It is easy if ….

Magazine to top two cross country exponents of 2011. ‘How often does your coach set a schedule that involves running over ploughed land?’

“Plough? You mean like where the farmer has been digging his field up with his tractor? No way, man. Our coach says we might get injured. And anyways, we will get our trainers covered in mud and our kit dirty. You gotta be joking.”

Magazine to top cross country international of forty years ago. ‘How often did your coach set a schedule that involves running over ploughed land?’

“We didn’t have coaches. Plough? Well it all depends. Doesn’t it. Do you mean on a steady cross country run or an interval session. If it’s an interval session, do you mean long or short intervals, and do mean wearing studs, spikes or boots??”

I’m really getting into this magazine lark. Try it Blog. Hows about we go on a course together, get a few badges, learn all those long words.

My other eye was caught by another particularly riveting articles which was also so full of technical jargon that it definitely had to have been written by someone who had filled both his arms up with badges and filled both his legs up with badges and was now half way to covering his sleepy blanket. He was rabbiting on about injuries – Achilles problems, tenosynovitis and metatarsal problems, you know the sort of page filler. You are quite correct Blog when you say I am not a top Harley Street Specialist – well not at the moment. But I have yet to see mentioned in all these magazine things what I consider to be the bleeding obvious causes and therefore the bleeding obvious solutions to Achilles problems, tenosynovitis and metatarsal problems. Years back, I remember having metatarsal problems that refused to go away despite extensive expensive treatment. In frustration I decided to examine the underlying mechanical process of what was, or was not, going on from a mathematical perspective. The process was elementary. So I devised a solution and hey presto, within a week, the long standing pain had gone. I kid you not, Bloggo. GONE!  Now, whenever fellow athletes have a similar problem, I wait until they have spent several quids before I tentative offer aid. It is only when they have spent lots of quids and are most frustrated that they might just pay heed to a badge less uncertified helper.

Injuried are you Blog? Hobble on boyo. See if I care. I suppose if you gave a few quids to Tiny Tims Children’s Centre I might just consider helping you with your Achilles, Blog; I might be a little more forth coming … as the art mistress said to the gardener. I don’t suppose you are old enough Blog, to remember which wireless show that came from, are you Blog. Sorry Blog, I know I have told you before, but in case you have forgotten, a wireless is the same as an i-pod with no pictures and is much too heavy to carry around in your pocket, even if your pockets are deep. You’d need a shopping trolley.

Back to the subject of the plough. Sessions not only did a great deal to build up physical strength in the muscles in the legs but also ensured a mental toughness. Such a work out had many of the attributes of a circuit but without the indoor boredom. Could be used as a first ‘a.m.’ session followed by a ‘p.m.’ track interval workout or as a ‘p.m.’ session following a long ‘a.m.’ run. One famous marathon Games medallist always used to tell me to ‘train heavy, race light’. Now Blog, think about it. Clever stuff. It has at least three meanings; one being applied to quantity, the second to the use of plough and the third to the weight of running shoes. BUT. The latter is hardly possible today because modern technology produces training shoes which are lighter than the racers of yesteryear – but more about that next time, Blog. I’ must stop, now. The farmer who lives across from the driveway at the edge of my estate has just phoned to ask me how long am I going to be before I change into kit as he has finished sharpening his shares and is ready and waiting to go. Bother – where did I leave my boots?

                              Colin

P.S. In Yorkshire we did not ‘do’ running over plough, we did bog trotting. If you have ever tried to run over a moorland bog, Blog, you know how hard it is.

    

Marathon Training Tip no. 7.

Sorry Blog for not being in touch … I have been busy. Last week the family was involved in three separate races on three different days … because I couldn’t remember the start time of one of them, I had to refer to one of those running magazine things for that particular piece of information. As I flicked through the mag, an article caught my eye about training. Impressed was I Blog? Obviously the writer had an armful of badges and must have been very knowledgeable as he had an impressive bibliography to reinforce the validity of his arguments. But I ask you … Have any of these experts actually broken sweat? Has their pristine tracksuit ever got a tinsy winsy bit mucky? The gist of this particular article was to question the reasons for training twice a day. One nugget seemed to be that the athlete should not start the second session tired. I thought that the idea of training twice a day WAS to start the second session tired. I could be wrong? But then, my arms are noticeably lacking in badges telling the world that I am a clever a******e. The point of the athlete’s personal ambitions seems to not have been mentioned. I would have thought that the whole point of running/ training is to fulfil an athletic aim, viz to satisfy an ambition which burns so fiercely that an athlete’s whole life is geared towards success. Or has the sport gone so far down the social jogging path that such desires are regarded as mundane and are the prerogative of only running eccentrics?? I thought that the world class marathoners which this country used to produce spent their entire waking hours being tired? Their sleeping hours were pretty tiring too?? I am probably wrong about this as well. No bibliography for me Blog. Motivation seems to be damaged if an athlete embarks of double dosing the article suggested. Well let me tell you Mr Expert, motivation is no problem if the athlete’s ambition burns so fiercely that the athlete’s whole life is geared towards success. Oh don’t do it suggests Mr Qualifiedman, because you may get sore or tired muscles. I could be in error when I say this, but I am lead to believe that an athlete gets sore and tired muscles in a race if he tries to run fast. Give me a social trudge any day …what do you say Blog?? And best of all is saved until last. Read on Blog. Be surprised. Training twice a day may take up more time than training once. Bugger me, that’s a bit of a stunner. It may interfere with the rest of your life, spending all that time getting change into and out of kit, travelling to and from training. I might have misunderstood, but I took it that if an athlete wanted to train twice a day, it was implicit that athletics was the rest of the athlete’s life? No sacrifice there matey. The blindingly obvious solution to minimise time spent training / changing / travelling was cracked years ago ….run to and from work, train in the lunch hour. It’s not rocket science, it has been tried before, I am reliably informed. By 6.60 pm three sessions complete and the rest of the evening is free to do whatever takes your fancy…. Well actually it isn’t. You are so knackered that all you want to do is nothing, with a capital ‘N’. I am sure there must be a learned paper about it somewhere. One thing is for sure; I want a bit more of this clever stuff Blog. So if you don’t hear from me for a couple of hours, I will deep into the archives of one of those institutions that knows all about this technical stuff, reading their running magazines. [I can’t afford to buy them on my pension. Have you seen the price Blog? They cost an arm and a leg. But that’s OK as I still would have one left to stitch the badges to.]  ‘Kirkham, we are pleased to announce that you have been awarded Third Class Honours with Bar for partly for your thesis on ‘Ceaseless Trudging Here and There’ but mostly for boring the pants off Blob’. Here, here.

                                 Colin

P.S. When I have a few spare moments, I think I will write to this knowledgeable expert with an armful of badges to ask for his advice about training three times a day.

P.P.S. I wonder if the expert has heard of that London Marathon Organiser fella, Dave somebody or other. I think he sometimes used to run more than once a day. But I could be wrong?

New York City Marathon 2011 Result

Hi Blog!

 I see the New York Marathon was this weekend. I suppose I must have run about 2:18 when I ran the New York City Marathon a few years back. I usually ran about that time when there was no pressing urgency to knacker myself. I don’t know what time I ran but I can remember at the presentation, I was awarded a large cup for something, (I don’t think I was old enough to qualify as a veteran runner?) which, as usual, on my return home caused some delay at customs with the usual plethora of questions. Precisely what qualifications do customs officers need?? A degree in asking the bleeding obvious? A Masters in being very annoying? A PhD in making sure you miss your next transport connection?

I found New York a very friendly city. So nice of people to speak to you on the streets; complete strangers willing to enter into conversation. Every time I ventured out of the hotel I was greeted by a young lady or two wanting to know if I was enjoying myself, was I having a good day, or enquiring if I wanted a good time or if I wanted to see some sights. I said to one young lady who offered to let me explore with her that I could not really accept her kind offer as I thought that, as she was dressed so inappropriately for the cold weather with so few clothes, I was afraid that she might catch her death if she stayed out with me too long. I think she wanted to borrow my jacket to keep warm; I assume that the American slang for jacket or jerkin is ‘Jerk’? I don’t think she was American because her language was a little stilted; to ask for the jacket she just said ‘You Jerk’. The friendliness started as soon as I landed on American soil. I went to go through the ‘Nothing to Declare’ channel at the airport but these two nice gentlemen in uniform asked me to step into their office. Very nice. They didn’t offer me coffee straight away as I was expecting. They explained that they worked for some relation of theirs called Uncle Sam and he wanted to know how long I was staying in ‘the U.S.’, how much money I had and what were my arrangements for accommodation during my stay. And did I have a return ticket? Now I don’t mind telling you, Blog, that I thought the questions were a little bit obtrusive, but you can never tell with these Johnny Foreigners, so I decided to play along with them. I thought it might be polite to start by asking them how their Uncle Sam was, was he in good health? In reality, I was more worried about one of the two gentlemen questioning me as he had exploded into a coughing fit. Almost apoplexic he was. He had to take a swig out of his little hip flask to recover. I told him that in England the chemist usually prescribes cough medicine in a glass bottle but I supposed with his job, he could not risk any of the glass shards on the airport lounge floor if he happened to drop his medicine bottle. I said I thought that using a hip flask was a good idea in the circumstances. He was turning a funny colour though. Quite worrying. He asked me how many American dollars I had brought with me. I said I hadn’t any. No joke. Sterling? None. No kidding. Credit card? Don’t own one. Honest! Travellers cheques? Nope. I kid you not. With every question his tone seemed to become more aggressive and each successive question increased in volume until he actually shouted at me to turn out my pockets. Quite scary. I thought he wanted to borrow my handkerchief to mop his brow such was the streams of sweat flowing down his chubby cheeks. ‘Why are did you come to the U.S. if you have no money, Sir?’ the other one asked in a quieter tone; he had said very little up until this juncture. ‘To run the New York City Marathon’. ‘With no money for accommodation or food?? ‘Oh no’ I said ‘I have been invited to run’ ‘Invited? By who?’ As he was now starting to get excited, I didn’t like to tell him that I thought he should have said ‘By Whom’. I let it pass in the interests of Anglo American relations. I mentioned the name of the lady who worked for the marathon organiser and said she had made all the arrangements, accommodation, meals, finance etc.. ‘You are an invited athlete Sir? Come this way. Welcome to the United States of America. We do hope you enjoy your stay in our country. Wait. Do join us for coffee’ Which in the circumstances I thought was very civil of them both. Over coffee they explained that I had to be careful in a big city like New York and if the marathon organiser’s cab hadn’t arrived they would organise transport, it not being safe to just take any old cab that plied for hire. This was a very perceptive statement. I knew this to be true as two years previous, another marathon runner from one of the countries with a common border with England had been forced to take out a large amount of insurance in dollar notes with the cabbie who took him from the airport into the city. I kid you not! My taxi ride was very pleasant, right to the front of the hotel. The cabbie asked me to sign the chit so he could claim the fare from the race organisers. I said I thought that the distance he had written down was rather OTT but he explained that the bill was in American miles not English miles. He said he thought an English mile was about the same as five English miles. I said that that was an interesting fact about the differences in our two countries and I signed the chit. He said it was a pleasure to do business with me and he hoped I had a good day. Such a nice man.

And of course, just like anyone who has flown into Kennedy, I got a massive electric shock off the handrail!!!

                More later perhaps, as I have to trudge now, because this afternoon, I am marshalling for at a Midland League Walk. This morning, my wife and two kids are running in a 5 mile race, so it’s a busy old day.          

                                 Colin

Cheats in Sport?

Salut Blog,

It is an interesting outcome to the Test Match cricketing fixing scandal don’t you think Blog? Prison sentences for players Butt, Asif and agent Majeed with detention for Amir, followed by an extended ban from the sport of up to 5 years, to act as a deterrent, said by the judge, to anyone in the sport who might be tempted to go down a similar path. Would that all sports took a similar hard line to their participants who spoil a sport for others. Severe though the sentence is, it should have gone further. A life ban would have conveyed an absolute message. WE DO NOT WANT CHEATS IN OUR SPORT and if you do cheat, expect no mercy. NONE. Pure and simple. On the other hand, if the cricketers and their manager had intended to cheat at the outset of their careers, you’d have thought that the silly billies would have chosen a softer sport where escaping really serious sanctions is easier, wouldn’t you Blog? Athletics? No problarmo. Take a pill, get caught, have a ban, concentrate on training for a year and that’s OK baby, you are back competing earning quids!

Just imagine ..... it’s easy if you try.

Suppose you are in athletics; you’re a big black guy who decided to pop a pill packet or two to speed you up or something. You get caught. You get banned for a year ... or two if you’ve been really, really naughty. No fine, that’s fine. No prison. O.K.. You do the year, you are reinstated, you compete again, and you earn quids again. No problamo. That’s the rules, baby. But, in the media, you are still the big black bloke who got banned for drug taking. Each meet media commentary, you are still the big black bloke who got banned for drug taking.

 Just imagine ..... it’s easy if you try.

Suppose you are in athletics; you’re a blonde white bimbo who has the quids to live and train quite legitimately at high altitude to stimulate the same effect as taking the banned E.P.O. or using the illegal method of blood doping to make you speed up or something. You don’t get banned because you have done nothing really, really naughty. Or even a little bit naughty. That’s fine. No rules broken baby. No problarmo. You continue to get the quids. In the media you are still the blonde white bimbo who lives and trains at altitude. No problarmo. Each meet media commentary you attend for the quids, you are still the blonde white bimbo who lives and trains at high altitude.

Some sports not only appear to have a softer attitude to cheats but they also seem to have a flexible attitude to implementation and interpretation, apparently. Can you think of any sports where this might apply, Blog?

So those poor Pakistanis are now in jail doing time, that’s fine, and they will then, after their sentence is completed, have further penalties to suffer. If their mums and dads had thought it through when they were young kids, instead of buying them a cricket bat for their birthday presents, they had been given a pair of running spikes, they would have only suffered a minor blip in their sporting careers and not a massive life changing blow. C’est la vie.

                                            Bonsoir, Blog

Genes for Jeans Day

Dearest Bloggo,

                            I think I told you that last week I went up to Yorkshire and stayed in a Pod? I think I did. (Tell you I mean ... I know I stayed in a Pod). Well, while I was Podding I went to see my mother. We were chatting generally, and I said that I was still trudging. She enquired if I had found out about my granddad, her father. Now this is interesting. I had been running about four or five years when Granddad died. As far as I can recall, he never mentioned my running to me. This was in the 1960s. Out of the blue, about three years ago, my mother suddenly mentioned that Granddad used to run. I thought this was my mother just being fanciful as she had never mentioned this fact before; somewhat surprising considering I had run once, twice, three times daily for the best part of forty years!!! I would have expected it to have surfaced at some time in the past? I questioned her further, not really believing what she had to say. She went into details saying that he had been a member of Wath Athletic Club and she had seen a couple of his medals. I had seen medals in a drawer full of oddments when I was young but had assumed that they were his war medals; I am sure they were. Granddad did come from Wath on Dearne which is near Doncaster. As I had never heard of the athletics club, I naturally did a bit of research and found out that there indeed used to be such a club in the immediate post WW1 days, which would be the right era for Granddad to be active. Then I drew a blank. SO. Doncaster seems to be a possible holiday destination for weekend break to check up the facts at the local library to see what athletic news they might have in the local papers from that time. It would be most interesting to see if running ran in the family genes!!??

                      I told my mother that I would make some further enquiries for her about my granddad’s athletic prowess, I also told her what the rest of the family had been doing athletic competition wise. Furthermore, I mentioned the situation with someone running using my full name, club and birth date etc. (see London Marathon and Stafford Half Marathon I mentioned to you a couple of weeks ago Blog). I also made reference to the other coincidences that have happened in the past, repeating what I have told you Blog, suspecting that there may be two Colin Kirkhams. It was then that she broke down and started to cry. She got quite emotional. I wondered what on earth was wrong with her. I tried to comfort her, wondering whether to call for help from one of the care assistants. Heartbroken she was. (My mother, not the care assistant). When she finally calmed down, she sobbed that there was something that she had meant to tell me for years! I didn’t know what to expect. She explained that I actually was a twin, and that my brother and I were both christened Colin. Apparently, at the christening, my dad was suffering from a heavy cold which had temporarily made him a little deaf. After I had been baptised, I started to yell from the cold water being placed on my forehead. Regardless, the vicar pressed on with the ceremony and asked my dad what the name of my brother was to be. With the row I was kicking up and the fact that dad could not hear too clearly, my dad thought the vicar was still talking about me so dad replied ‘Colin’ ... and the rest, as they say, is history.

However, the story doesn’t end there. No way, Blog. My mother went on to explain that we were so poor, Dad suffering from the effects of the unemployment caused by the post war depression, and mum working part time in the mill, that they could only afford to buy a second hand perambulator as money was so tight. This was not as bad as it seemed; mum told me only one of the twins could be taken out at any one time, as my parents had barely enough money for one single set of clothes, caused directly by the result of the lack of clothing coupons in the austerity conditions prevailing from the war rationing. With hind sight mum said that I must be eternally grateful that my twin was a boy; would my sister be wearing trousers or would I have been wearing a dress as we grew up together?? Shudder!

Because of the clothes situation, only one of us could attend school at a time. But because we were identical twins, the teachers never noticed. Apparently we took it in turns to go to school, I did Monday Wednesday and Friday, Colin did Tuesday and Thursdays. In year two we changed attendance, me dropping to two days, Colin upping his attendance to three alternate days, ‘To give us both a fair equitable start in life!’ mother explained. I must say that she was quite proud that we always won the ‘Attendance Prize’ each year with an unblemished 100% attendance; if one of us was ill, the other simply stood in and did an extra day! Having been told this revelation of a twin, distant memories stirred. It explained why I never got to grips with my 3, 5, 7, 9 and 11 times tables but was absolutely brilliant at my 2, 4, 6, 8, 10 and 12 times tables. It explained why the stories the teacher read to the class never made sense – I only got to hear alternate chapters. It explains why I sometimes got caned at school for things I never did; apparently, the upside was that if either of us got lines to write out as a punishment, we only did half as we shared the task. Having only one set of clothes explains why we always went to a nudist camp for our holidays. It explained why I couldn’t play out when Colin could, he could go to the park and I couldn’t. Mum said the neighbours never knew she had two children because of our strange double (single) life. She told any nosey neighbours who heard me and my brother making a noise while we were playing indoors that I had a vivid imagination and talked to myself a lot. Sometimes she told them I had an imaginary little girl friend whom I called Colleen after my Irish great, great Granma. She (my mother not my great, great Granma from Eire) once had a visit from the Council’s Children’s Welfare Officer because the local shop keeper had reported her (my mother not my great, great Granma from Eire) for cruelty because mum bought so many boxes of Farley’s Rusks; the charge he (the Council’s Children’s Welfare Officer not the local shop keeper) was investigating was ‘cruelty by over feeding’. The Welfare Officer had also visited me at school when I had spots; he was confused so I was examined by the school doctor who tried to explain why the spots seemed to be there one day and gone the next and then returned. Mum told me that she believed he (the doctor not the Welfare Officer) wrote a little pamphlet on the phenomenon and as a result, got a job lecturing at the London School of Medicine on the strength of it.

Mum went on to tell me that by the time we left Infants’ School to start at the Junior School, the pretence was getting too much for her. When I (we) was (were) seven, mum and dad took the decision to have me (him) adopted. She thought it was the other Colin that was adopted but it could have been me, she didn’t really know which one went and which one stayed as we were so alike. Mum said I was inconsolable for weeks afterwards, the reason being that I could not get used to the thought of a life that entailed two extra days at school; mum told me that is what happened at the new Junior School, they went five days a week not just a couple like at the Infants. I must say that I was most surprised when my own children started infant school to find out that they attended every day. Five full days! I just assumed it was one of the new ideas that that lovely Mrs Hatcher introduced into education to compensate the kiddies for nicking all their morning drinks of milk.

All this took me aback, I can tell you Blog. So much so that I didn’t trudge on last Friday, I could not bring myself to put one foot in front of the other.

Please Blog, I am deeply embarrassed by these recent revelations. I haven’t quite got my head round them yet. Please respect my privacy in this matter and not mention what I have just told you to anyone else. Perhaps I will feel differently when I find my long lost brother. If running is in the genes like it seemed to be with me and my grandfather according to my mother, I should not really be surprised to find that there actually is another Colin Kirkham out there trudging in races because he must have inherited the same genes as me. Not only did we share the same clothes when we were small, we shared same genes as well!!

                                          See you, Colin and Colin