Antipodean training programme episode 2 - Heel Job and death-dive
Well, it's all been going quite swimmingly over here, apart from it being too hot after 2pm to risk going outside (or do anything apart from open another cold stubbie - such is life). Slight problem with the last ten-miler I did, caused by setting out a bit too late (8am) and getting far too hot - I distinctly felt another grunty-fen swan-dive coming on, which I add to the ever-growing pile of evidence that it was heat-exhaustion.
Things have taken something of a turn for the worse today, though - up at Coronation Beach (500kms north of Perth, on the edge of the desert, and one of the word's premier wavesailing locations). Johnson stuffs up a spectcular dismount in a breaking monster wave, stamps down hard on the reef , and puts a neat, deep and rather ugly hole in his left heel (see below) - rivalling toe-job's eponymous injury in the Boundary Run this year.
Hmmm, we're thinking - that's going to mess up the Paris training if I keep sailing on it - unless, of course, I can neatly seal it against the ingress of sand, seaweed and other yukky and hurtful stuff. Now, what could we use? Plaster - no, lasted all of 20 seconds. Gaffa-tape? Well, it worked for Robby Naish, but not for me. No, there's only one answer - out somes the superglue from the toolkit, and the Johnson foot is as good as new, (barring it hurting lots, of course).
Right, there's wind and waves a-wasting - let's get out there in the break again. Jeremy leaps on board and races away from shore at 30+kts towards the peeling monster face he's just seen cranking up out to sea. Hits the wave, points board towards sky, and takes off. Rather higher than he expected. In fact, a bit too high for a survivable landing. OK, time to pull the ripcord.. BAIL!
Ed and Jim have doubtless already guessed what happened next...
There is a right time and a wrong time to discover stuff. On the whole, I would have to say that aattempting to bail and kick the board away in a 20 foot jump in a 30kt wind is very definitely the WRONG time to discover that you have just superglued yourself into your footstraps, and are now inseperable from your kit as it cartwheels through the air, dragging you after it and dooming you to land on it as it hits the water.
Hopefully I'll be healed in time for Paris 2008...
Christmas training schedule
There are many aspects to marathon training that are important, and this Christmas I have been concentrating on the correct mental state, plus some acclimatisation (sp?) in the event that that Paris turns out to be warmer as expected. Attached photo shows me deep in this arduous preparation.
Actually by Christmas Eve I was getting decidedly twitchy through lack of exercise and decided I just had to stretch my legs. As I was atop a mountain shortly after dark it was not the ideal time but I did manage a few hill reps. I wasn't observed by many, but those that did looked suitably in awe at the sight of a middle aged white man racing round in red kit with a light tied to his head. Perhaps the Santa legends started in a similar way?
Christmas day we were in flatter terrritory and I managed to get in a 10k through the back streets of the backwaters (Rachel will know what I mean). The passers by shouted out many things by way of encouragement (I think). My replies of "Merry Christmas" seemed not to be understood, even when I tried shouting it slower and louder. They really do need to have a better English standard in these Hindu schoools.
On On to Verkala and some beach training
Underwear
27 Miles is a long way to go
My memories of running marathons are both fond and excruciating. Having run Edinburgh twice and recorded a good time, and succeeding it with a torn calf muscle at mile 11 the following year, I look back with mixed views. Two months of expensive physiotherapy saw me back on the road but with Paris being my first marathon in a few years I can't decide whether I'm looking forward to it or not. On balance, I think perhaps it's best to look forward to it, otherwise one might find training difficult. People who don't know me won't know that I'm obsessive about training, and that I really will do 4:45am every single day if its neccessary, or even if its not. Still, training for that as yet elusive 27th mile has so far, been much more fun then my previous exercising exploits, even if it has been without energy gels! My training partner has so far yet to complain about the program either, so I guess all is good.
Being a relatively new hasher, I look forward to the first really major running event, not counting the mudfest that was the Hereward Relay (I'm never running that again, until next year of course), with much aplomb, and trust that the run will be a nice one through the centre of a lovely city (depending on where you go!).
Here's hoping everyone's training is going well, or better then they expected, and here's to that 27th mile.
Have a good Christmas,
On-Inn
Russ/B.L.
Hello, is that Social Services Direct?
Festive Sunday Hashing yesterday. Very fine morning, very fine turnout of assorted Chrimbo fancy dressing (top marks to Crushy for managing to free associate Christmas and fishnets), very fine trail, only marred by my rather shaky understanding of Sunday hash rules and a regrettable backlog of hash t-shirts waiting to be washed. Apparently my one remaining (marathon) t-shirt that I did wear was a bit of faux pas and was suitably punished. Well, you live and learn.
Certainly it was an educational experience for both The Heir and The Spare, who were dragged along on all the wheeled devices we could muster. The Heir got off relatively lightly with the basis for just a few interesting future therapy sessions (watching the distribution of the back catalogue of various Ann Summers wind-up toys should give him some food for thought). However, The Spare, poor thing, was dragged into the circle and given a baby down down from his father's finger. I understand this is not recommended by 21st century childcare experts but it must be said he was very jolly for most of the rest of the day.
Hashing makes Runners World
Having written this post I realized I need to introduce it by admitting two of my dirty little secrets. The first is that I read Runner's World magazine. The second is that during marathon training I regularly enjoy the slightly camp delights of the gym ski-trainer machine.
This is relevant because I was ski-training this lunchtime, and as I ski-trained I was reading Runner's World, and whilst reading Runner's World and ski-training, I made a discovery. Snuggling in between an article on bootstrapping flagging motivation and people who have won a particular race for oompteen years on the trot there was an article called "Wacky races". The entries in the article advertised some of the more esoteric races in the UK such as the Llanwrtyd Wells World Bog Snorkelling Triathlon and the Cooper's Hill Cheese Roll. In a side pane was a little piece on hashing, which is a good explanation for the casual visitor to this blog: -
No matter how many obstacles, customes or pints are added to anevent, there'll always be someone who takes it just a little bit too seriously; there is always a winner. Unless that event is a hash.
...
You've probably met hashers at "normal" races, but a true hash is very different, the aim being for everyone to arrive at the finish point (a pub) at roughly the same time. Hash House Harriers take their fun so seriously that rules are in place to ensure no-one can "win" a race - in fact it is frowned upon to try to beat the rest of the pack, with faster runners known affectionately as FRBs (Front Running Bastards). Anyone who enjoys drinking as much as (or more than) running would be well advised to visit www.hhh.org.uk.
I'm glad to see the distinction made between hashers and "normal", and also that hashing is generally regarded as even more trivial than cheese rolling. There's a picture of a load of people foolishly falling over all over the place which could be chucking out time on a Monday night or a load of cheese chasers - it's hard to tell.
The Curse of CBS
For some time now, I have suffered from a little known condition called Cold Bum Syndrome. The afflicted are people with nicely covered behinds and a propensity to run long distances in chilly conditions. Sounds incredible, but is in fact true. This evening's run caused a particularly severe bout to come on, resulting in a Very Cold Bum. Personal Trainer was incredulous too. And that is why those passing down the Backs earlier would have seen two runners, one with his hand down the other's pants, providing mid-run diagnosis. Not, Officer, because of any under-age shenanigans. Just to be clear.
That Was Nasty...
Bleurgh. 5 miles. A treadmill. Mirrored reflection. Very wobbly bits - remnants of runners cake, vera lynns and Pride. To add insult to injury Personal Trainer nka Barely Legal has instigated a week long alcohol ban. How long till Paris?
Hash report 11th December 2006
The 132nd biannual bar stewards run.
The trail was kind of a hashing point to point, and gave us an atmospheric beer stop on top of the new maths dept. You could feel all that bleeding edge maths under your feet like a ... what's a good metaphor for a bulging load of bleeding edge maths? Probably there isn't one.
Anyway, the beer (Milton's Marcus Aurelius) was sufficiently strong that a good portion of the pack tried to find the trail in the university athletics track. Guys, it just goes around and around...
A stonking circle with limitless pint down downs finished things off nicely.
Quite interesting fact: 11th December is the anniversary of the death of Llywelyn ap Gruffydd, the last Welsh King.
Hares: Tim, Crabbo jnr.
Buddies: Russ, Julia
Virgins: Russell, Toni-Lynn (sp?)
Sinners:
Pedalphile (new shoes)
Bastard (snitching)
Russ (abandoning a virgin)
Bunter (art criticism)
Welsh convict (vindictively not mentioning the cricket)
Hash naming: Russ shall hereafter be known as
Barely LegalHashit: Tim (attempting to stitch up the GM). Actually, Winston, was it for trying, or for failing? ;-)
News: Christmas day hash at 11am. New Years hash will be around lunchtime, let Underwear know if you want to run. 275 days to Grunty Fen.
Hash report 4th December 2006
Well, it wasn't the shortest trail ever, but a good'un. Good fun afterwards too, although I can recommend
not drinking Nero all night. It's not the same as eating dinner.
Hares: Bastard, Beerstop
Buddies: Pisshead, Underwear
Virgins: Matt, Scott, Heide (sp?)
Sinners: Can't even remember.
Hashit: Cowfooker (interfering with
the children
of fate)
Awkward like Sunday morning
Last run: 5 miles (this morning) Days to London Marathon: 173 (I think)
See, now I'm jealous. I too had noticed the rather fine weather and promised myself that I would achieve one child free run this weekend. Despite an interrupted night (1am calls for water from The Heir, plus 3.45 and 6.35 am milk demands from The Spare) Sunday morning still looked like the best bet.
But....Ed had contracted some upgraded version of the Spanish 'flu that The Heir had kindly imported from school (how do Lemons and Sally do it?) and his parenting skills were a little impeded by the need to lie under a duvet and sweat. So the window of opportunity shrank down to The Spare's morning nap. By 9.15 I had got up, showered, dressed, put a load of washing on, fed the cat, fed The Spare, made some tea, changed two sets of nappies and admired several generations of lego spaceships approximately 74 times. The Heir had been bribed into good behaviour by a promise of hot chocolate when I returned. Now, the only thing between me and my run was getting The Spare to go for a nap.
There we stood.
Eyeball to eyeball, mano a mano.
Ladies (possibly even gentlemen) when you were a girl did you ever have one of those dolls with weighted eyelids so they would automatically shut when it was laid down? Well, I'm here to tell you that's a BIG FAT LIE. It's propaganda put about by someone with a vested interest in you not knowing the truth about babies. What actually happens is this: you lay them down (in the pram in this case) and their little eyes fly open and fix you with a beady stare that means 'I know your game'. They don't even blink, which is rather unnerving. I move onto phase 2, which is wheeling the pram round the block for five minutes, during which The Spare still hasn't blinked, let alone shut his eyes.
Fortunately I had the nuclear option. The key thing in these situations is not to panic, but to pretend not to care. Whistling casually, I left the pram and occupant in the hall and positively sauntered off to do the washing up. I tickled the cat. I boiled the kettle in a relaxed kinda way. I made a leisurely shopping list. And sure enough when I looked in the pram again he had drifted off - silently, obviously, otherwise I might have noticed.
At which point his mother, naturally, ran away.
And I wonder why he's afraid to go to sleep.
What a beautiful sunny Saturday and Sunday morning for December! However we cunningly planned our first training run for Sunday afternoon by which time it was cold, grey, and decidedly windy. Stuart, Rachelgolightly, Limpdick, Julia and I met at the Green Dragon and decided to mark the occasion with a few photos on the mobile phone I had brought along. We tried to get a passer-by to take a group photo, but they ran away as soon as we approached and we were forced to resort to our own photgraphic skills.
I must admit I have taken better team photos than this one
But my second attempt was rather better
And definitely better than Rachel's attempt which looks like this:
[ ]
[Yes, she apparently forgot to press the button]
Winston's shiny new red and white Mizunos shone like a beacon as we headed off down the tow-path to Clayhithe, and we managed a 9 mile route back through some fine shiggy with no casualties except for a small puncture (but fortunately Julia had remembered to bring her puncture repair kit along). Which, let it be said, was more like 12 miles for many of us by the time we got home.
Bring it on!
The Fun Has Begun...
Wot splendid news the fun has begun...
Marahashers registered - 24?25?
Training runs contemplated - 7
Training runs actually completed - um 2 - a dash to Grantchester & St Neots Half (thanks to Susie who talked me round!)
Personal trainer - 1 (note to self: refer to him as my MAN and dissuade use of Winston's label, note to trainer: don't complain it will only end in a hash naming, multiple down-downs and tears)
Training sessions with personal trainer - many ;-)
Training sessions at Rad this week - 2 (apologies to Hotlips who I fear I insulted badly last night in my vera induced haze by telling her I didn't think of her as an American)
Room at Andrea booked - 0 - fear there will be no rooms left when I try to book tomorrow
Flights booked - 0
Folksworth 15 race entries - 0
Bury 20 race entries - 0
Training balance so far: About right, but would benefit from fewer runs and more Rad/personal training.
Confessions of a bad mother
Last run: 5 miler (yesterday) Days to London Marathon: 165
Well, after a long quest on Ebay, the dark green
babyjogger dream machine finally arrived at the beginning of december, so I am now free to run around looking like a demented entrant in some sort of Mothercare version of supermarket sweep. Seriously, first impressions are very positive: the thing is light, responsive and copes well with rough terrain without giving its occupant whiplash. Of course, the plonker factor is sky high so I doubt I shall be bringing it hashing - I couldn't face drinking a down down from it.
The Spare is a fan, too. After 9 weeks of being flat on his back in a carry cot, Supernanny stylee, he can sit up and look around as mother pants along behind him. I can't see what he is doing - only the back of his head - but from the reaction of those people who we approach I suspect he might be perfecting the semaphore for 'please call the NSPCC urgently'.
First time for everything..
Contrary to what might be a popular belief, held in good steed no doubt by the comparison of my age to the average age of the Hash (ooer), and indeed despite having a long and illustrious association with the modern PC, I have never once 'blogged'. And, having been instructed to Blog, I have had to contemplate what could be construed as worthy material.
As I sit here hard at work (read gazing out of the window over fields topped by increasingly dark skies), looking forward to a few quiet Vera Lynn's in the Rad tonight, I recall a sad incident last night.
Walking amongst the golden-paved, refrigerated isles of Tesco's, Rachel and myself bumped into Mr Russon. Not a single incriminating item lined his trolley, indeed the apparently underwhelming stack of healthy foods would make even Dr Gillian McKeith wince, and not because Chris hadn't yet paid (CF: Recent news regarding C4's latest health 'guru'). The Tesco's on Newmarket road really is the meeting place for "anyone who is anyone". I literally cannot recall a visit there where I didn't meet someone I don't know.
Regardless, one must keep up appearances and make like one is working.
I trust the more dedicated amongst us will be training in the Rad this evening with Madame Vera Lynn..
On-Inn
End of the 2006 dogs, and Antipodean training programme
Well Saturday was probably my last dogs run for 2006 - a fun, muddy and muddy 13-mile affair of near-immersion in ..er.. well.. mud, and School fetes - out to Anglesey, Horninsea and back via Fen Ditton Primary School, with Chris and Anna. Bright and sunny, and enlivened by encountering hung-over harriettes fumbling their way from their deep red haze of sleep to Fen Ditton along the towpath. Oh, and shouting at the Radegund first boat as they failed to either balance or keep any kind of time on the way home. (Mmmmm... did I mention the mud?)
Right: as today's collapse has conclusively proven that England's cricket team are congenitally unable to defeat the Antipodeans this year, I am shifting my marathon training to Australia. It will be instructive to see if running amongst people with their feet installed backwards improves my race-times at all, but at least it won't be as muddy. Probably.
At least I'll be leaving having nearly beaten Jim in an 11.7-miler! Wedding preparations obviously sap your strength, and The Day approacheth.. - we.. shall... seee...
Marathon training starts on Sunday, sort of .....
Bondi to Bronte Oceanswim - Sunday 3rd December 2006
"The Bondi to Bronte Ocean Swim has become one of the classics on the Sydney Ocean Swim calendar. The swim runs between the first two Surf Life Saving clubs in the world. The course starts in front of Bondi Surf Club, runs out from Bondi, around McKenzies point and down the coast into Bronte Beach, a distance of 2.2 - 2.5km (depending on the positioning of the buoy off McKenzies point)."
Have you seen documentaries about the great African wildebeast migrations ? They cross these enormous rivers that are full of giant crocodiles and it all gets very messy ..... I expect something similar on Sunday. Anyone who drops off the back of the pack gets picked-off by the sharks.
