The loneliness of a long distance hasher

Down and Out in London and Paris

2011-04-18T00:33:00.000+01:00

Congratulation Marahashers, so how was it for you? From what I can work out:

Paris
http://www.asochallenge.com/us/classement.html
Jesus 03:16:08
Jeremy 03:21:04
Chris 03:24:48
Steve (Australia) 03:43:30
Winston - No chip, no time, allegedly 3:50 - 3:59 ish but who can tell.
Miri 04:52:29
Mike 03:59:06
Josie 04:42:06
Sarah with the little dog 04:04:49
Nat 04:07:28

Rotterdam
http://www.abnamromarathonrotterdam.com/report-2011/results-2011
Julia Forman: 4:04:24

London
http://results-2011.virginlondonmarathon.com/2011/
Hannah: 3:15:20
Chris R: 3:52:07
Hermione: 3:49:24
Owen: 4:08:50
Simon R: 3:57:49
Dave Timney, 3hrs, zero minutes and 47 seconds
Neil Bailey 5:51:42

There was some really great performances there - PBs despite the heat. And Dave Timney takes the hash record for closest PB to 3 hours without actually dipping under - that takes real talent.

How was it for me? - bloody awful - biggest car crash on the banks of the Seine since er....

Can't the French organise some nice cool weather for marathon day? I just don't do heat, I get so far and my body says nope, too hot, stop, and I have to stop. Mid 20s, scorchio sun, I got to 28km and that was that - lots of walking from there on in. But to be fair, I hadn't really done the training. The only bit of my training plan that I'd done enough of was long runs, and because I hadn't put the miles in in between, I was wiped out for days afterwards.

It got me thinking about what training has worked in the past.

As did Vernon, at the Blue Ball run on Friday, who asked, which Monday night hasher has the best marathon PB? I know for sure that the winner of that particular accolade is a very, very long way ahead of the pack, even if I don't know by how much exactly.

Tim Johnstone was slightly disappointed by his big marathon race in 1968. Only 2:28, and 8th, but it was in the high altitude Mexico Olympic Marathon. I think his marathon PB was around 2:13 - and around 61 minutes for the half - records for Monday night hashers that won't be beaten for a while yet.

When I first started hashing (15, cough, years ago), Tim was running with the Monday night hash, and I remember taking part in the occasional mid week training run... The pace would start at something that seemed impossibly slow and relaxed - the temptation was to push on ahead. But as the run went on, somehow without noticing, the pace got faster and faster, until half way round, it was quite competitive. Except the pace just got faster and faster, until you struggled to keep up, and then pushed yourself that little bit further. On one training run, I comfortably beat my half marathon PB... Tim's best advice to me for the marathon was to start slowly. But he also alluded to the level of training that was required to be competitive at the very top of athletics, and just how much difference this can make to performance at all levels. Tim left Cambridge to do something lawyer-like in Den Haag, but has been back in Cambridge since - maybe will be back on the Cantab hash one day!

Searching the web I came across this interview that I found quite interesting:

http://www.chosenrunning.com/blog/2011/1/6/tim-johnston-qa.html

Tim's advice for aspiring champions: "move to Addis Ababa and train with your head not your computer"

For the latter, I quite agree - my best marathon performance came when I didn't follow any type of plan, just had huge motivation, and sufficient time to run whenever I wanted to - and you then run as hard and as far as you body tells you is sensible. As for the altitude training - must get round to buying that ski appartement in Val Thorens...

The moral of the story is that there is probably still a long distance between marathon PB to date, and what might be possible. That will take a perfect training schedule and weather on the day that isn't hotter than, er, Paris any time I've tried running there... Amsterdam in October anyone?

Quantum mileage

2011-03-20T20:09:00.000Z

So...I ran 18.5 miles this morning, in perfect weather, spot on my correct pace for long runs and with the last 4 miles at what felt like race pace. Thanks to liberal doses of vitamin I and some genius stretching advice from Gosia, even my comedy exploding pelvis seemed content.

So I am happy, right?

Am I b*ggery.

Everyone knows that marathons are as much about the mind as the body. What I tend to forget is that truism is almost irrelevant by the time you get to the start line, but massively significant over the last 6 weeks of training or 'zone of fretfulness' as I think I shall now christen it.

It's becoming a familiar pattern to me after a few marathons. If things are going normally, you enter the zone in a state of crushing over confidence - in my case, seriously contemplating following the 3.30 pace group, 'just to see what might happen'. Then you look at the calendar and realise you only have 4 weeks to go until taper and suddenly every run becomes Deeply Significant: miss a mile, or (God forbid) an outing and you are doomed and will spend the whole of your marathon cleaning up after the runners dressed as Pot Noodles.

Usually at this point you pick up a minor niggle or your life becomes hectic and you are forced to miss not one but several outings. So now you exist in an interesting state of duality: on the one hand you have a good outing and everything is magnificent and you are convincing yourself you should invest in a special racing vest. On the other hand, a sneaky little voice is saying: 'but you didn't run a yard last week while you sorted out your hip...and you haven't actually done a proper, honest-to-God, non stop 20 miler yet this time round...and woman you're getting old.'

Of course, until I open the box of marathon day itself I can't know which voice is right. Am I a wave, or am I a particle? And which is quicker?

More importantly, which would look better in that racing vest?

The Ring(road) Cycle - a torture of Tuesdays in several parts

2011-03-08T13:20:00.012Z

Of late, young Kristy has been getting dangerously fast. As part of her increased athleticism, she has been instrumental in setting up an evening run around the ring-road, of about 8 miles. This usually hurts, because everyone does it about a minute-per-mile faster than they say they intend to.

The run is retty basic, and easy to follow:

http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/?r=4293385

Simple, right? Hard to get lost on? Well, it would be if we weren't hashers. The hashing element has led to a number of variations. In order of increasing deviance, these are:

1) the Kristy "oh dammit was that the turning for the hospital?" run:
http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/?r=4293380

2) the Gus "I'm too hairy to run that far" run:
http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/?r=4293389

3) The Hermionie 6-minutes-per-mile special:
http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/?r=4293392

4) The Winston "Where IS everybody?" run (increased scale) :
http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/?r=4292769

and finally,

5) the Chris Howell "shortcut" run (familiar in principle to anyone who has ever been running with Chris):
http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/?r=4293396

Doubtless new and exciting variants will be discovered in future. We await them with some trepidation...

From our foreign correspondent

2011-02-24T12:44:00.000Z

Some overseas news from Fumel AC. I'm confused about one word of the french - I did think 'assidument' meant assiduously, but that can't be right - anyone know a better translation - 'alcoholically' perhaps, 'randomly', 'laxidasically'...

L’HOMME EN FORME :

Impressionnant début de saison de Steve ,avec un podium sur un 33 Kms trail,

Il prépare assidument le marathon de Paris qui se courra en avril.

Mud-wrestling dykes

2011-02-21T18:19:00.026Z

A little to the East of Cambridge, there exists a seven-mile-long, 20-metre high scratch across the fens called the Devil's Dyke. Made largely out of shiggy and brambles, in the summertime it is a lovely place for a stroll across Anglia with views out to the gently-curving fenland horizon as it rises to meet the blue of the sky.

In the winter, however, things are... different. The shiggy-component rises to the surface and lies in wait for passing marahashers, whispering sotto-voce to the brambles of victims to be snagged and brought down into the mud. Which is why Chris Howell (renowned for his sense of humour in this respect) decided it would make the perfect February training run. A carrot was, however, presented - in the form of lunch at the Dyke's End afterwards.

After protracted email faffage, a division of the bravest (ie stupidest) hashers met outside the pub in Reach on Sunday, at more or less completely different times based loosely around the theme of 10:15am, there to tackle the run. Approaches differed - Hannah equipped herself with lycra, gels and performance electronics, Winston with a bolshie 11-year-old on a bicycle and the fond hope of getting at least a couple of miles of running in before the cries of "I'm COLD and TIRED and BOOOOOOOORED!!!" forced him to turn back (in the event, we managed to keep Hermionie quiet until we reached the A14).

There is something particularly satisfying about starting to run towards a distant horizon through a fine mist of freezing drizzle, discovering almost immediately that the previous day's rain has turned the path to something resembling over-thickened gravy. If anyone discovers exactly what it is, I'd appreciate knowing, because within 500 yards, most of the marahash suicide squad looked like someone had fired cow-dung at their legs from a blunderbuss.

The Dyke consists of a number of uphill sections of narrow path, separated from more sections of narrow uphill path by abrupt and steep descents into deep ravines, the better to appreciate the forthcoming crawl up the muddy side of the ongoing dyke. The comedy aspects of these were only be enhanced by the need to get an 11-year-old on a bicycle down one side and up the other without using violence or a helicopter.

After the A14, the Dyke crosses Newmarket racecourse. Then again. Then again. Newmarket, in fact, appears to consist largely of racecourses connected by dykes. On the whole, this is none too surprising really. A few of the troops decided to take advantage and pretend they were horses, but abandoned the effort when they saw the odds being offered on them.

After crossing the railway line using one of Network Rail's super-safe pedestrian crossings (a small white sign by the rails saying 'err... take care now..'), the going changed from thin gravy to thick slimy axle-grease with embedded tree-roots. The terrain also decided to add 100m in height over two miles, and best of all the path proved itself to be attractively cambered in the adverse sense, providing the faster runners with the opportunity of skidding off the path into the 30-foot ravine beside it. Chris Howell forged ahead at 7m30 per mile through the tree-roots and slime, and provided the best (witnessed) comedy moment, only narrowly avoiding a spiky plunge by scrabbling in the mud like a roadrunner cartoon and JUST regaining traction in time. Nat apparently went one better on the return trip, managing a full face-plant into the shiggy, but this was only witnessed by a couple of locals that referred to her as 'the young lady'. Fortunately, we understand that her concussion isn't permanent.

At the far end, Chris and Jeremy forged ahead into Woodditton across a field of what Chris refers to as 'quality shiggy' - the kind of mud that can add a kilogram to each foot within four strides. The intended loop through a farm track was thwarted by the presence of barbed wire and CCTV, - it appeared that the locals had been warned about us in advance. The marahashers resisted the temptation to visit the Three Blackbirds for a pint, and headed back to catch the rest of the pack on the return trip. Blood was drawn by the Dyke on the return, when it lured Jeremy into a patch of brambles by sharpening a corner unexpectedly. Brambles 1, Jeremy 0.

On returning to Reach, some of the less sane members of the contingent decided to head off down the lode towards the river to 'add a couple more miles'. Chris R., Jeremy and Hannah were justly punished for this by being refused service at the Dyke's End on their return, on the basis that the pub was 'full' - a decision that probably had more to do with the fact that they were covered in shiggy and blood, smelled truly rank, and worst of all, happened to be accompanied by Chris H's wardrobe selection for the afternoon - oversized brown docs, tight lycra pants and a dodgy bomber-jacket, which made him look like an escapee from a re-run of 'The Sweeney'.

All in all, the Dyke can be recommended as an excellent training-run, if you happen to be entering any event where mud and peril are prominent. For the foolhardy or deranged, the trail can be found at http://connect.garmin.com/player/69264748, and for those of strong stomach, the full pictorial horror may be found at https://picasaweb.google.com/jeremy.johnson4/DevilsDykeRunFeb11#slideshow/5576264775513795682

A modest proposal

2011-02-10T21:45:00.000Z

So this morning I was getting dressed when I remembered that I had to take our PR agency out for a nice lunch (PRs, like toddlers, behave much better when well fed). The first thought that crossed my mind was: 'Oh bugger, I wanted to do those hill sprints at lunchtime.'

This is what is known in the trade as a Prioritisation Fail. Something that marahashers seem particularly prone to.

The classic example is, of course, spending sunday morning redistributing shiggy up and down the fens north of Bottisham, rather than lounging in bed with a pain au chocolat and a loved one, but I have observed many other manifestations of the phenomenon over the years - purchase of ill advised lycra over much needed sensible trousers, choice of holiday destination by availability of flat, off road routes and/or decent physiotherapists, a tolerable level of child neglect.

This year, uniquely, I am experiencing Prioritisation Fail by Proxy. The mysterious arrival of an entry for the London Marathon 5 months after the less mysterious arrival of child 3 (provisionally labelled The Dowry Problem) can only be attributed to someone waking up and genuinely thinking: 'I know what Hermione would like more than anything right now. More than, say, a week at Babington House or a free pass around Rigby & Peller's more avant guarde collection, what she really wants an entry in the London Marathon!'

Sigh.

Still, I am not alone. I know there are a number of marahashers out there, doing the marahash thing over the next few months. Maybe it's time to pull up the chairs into a supportive online circle and start the talking cure?

Is there anybody out there?

2010-10-02T19:22:00.000+01:00

The magic links are:

www.firenzemarathon.it

http://www.parismarathon.com/

Obviously nobody would be silly enough to sign themselves up, so I believe the standard approach is to sign up someone else...

Spring has sprung, and so a young man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of ....

2008-02-12T22:18:00.000Z

Here in 'la France profonde' something strange has happened to the weather. It hasn't rained for weeks, and every day dawns brightly without a cloud in the sky. Daffodils are in profusion and butterflies are a common sight. The prospect of a little light training seemed quite attractive, so I slipped out of the house this afternoon planning to spend about an hour trotting through the surrounding forest. I headed south initially, and after 30 minutes I spotted an interesting looking chateau high on the hill above me. I figured a short hill climb wouldn't do me any harm so I ran up to have a quick look. Just another fairy tale castle, one of hundreds in the region but still an impressive piece of engineering given its antiquity. I didn't want to run back the way I'd come, but I figured I could drop into the next valley, and heading east and then north I'd be home in about an hour. It was such a beautiful setting, so quiet, no cars and no people, that I slipped into a sort of a trance .... hello sky, hello trees, hello sun ... hello sun ! I was running towards the setting sun. Having lived in Australia for a while I sometimes get a bit confused about the sun, because at midday in Australia the sun is in the north, which takes a bit getting used to .... but it still sets in the west ? ... which is the same here in the northern hemisphere right ? I'm running west, and I need to run east ... and the sun is setting and it will be completely dark in less than an hour. At this stage I was running through thick forest with tracks leading off in all directions. I figured the best thing to do was to head downhill ... so I did, and after about 30 minutes I found myself back below the chateau (I later discovered that I had run a 10km loop). Now the sun had set it was getting cold. I was wearing a tee-shirt, shorts, and fortunately a light-weight fluorescent vest. I wear it all the time over here because it makes it less likely that the regularly inebriated local gun club will mistake you for something edible. There was no way I was going back into the forest. The shortest way back to the house was along a fast 'D' road that hugs the side of a steep sided valley. Dodging the traffic in the pitch dark was no fun but I managed to avoid any major conflict. I got home after 3.5hrs (about 35km) and I hadn't realised how cold I was until I found that I didn't have feeling in my fingers to turn the key in the lock. Now feeling much better having consumed half a bottle of local plonk, but I might need a bit of a lie-in tomorrow morning.

Suffration

2007-12-28T18:27:00.000Z

Somebody, please help. I have a bad case of suffration. I've got my flight to Barcelona and I've got my entry. I've promised myself (and widely publicised) no shiggy or dykes this year. Also, I thought I'd bribe myself with some shiny new kit. I've been doing calf exercises semi-seriously since September, and I've even been for the odd jog. The overall conditions are good for March 1st, but suffration has set in: I am suffering from the frustration of vaguely wanting to run Barcelona, whilst actually I simply can't be arsed.

I've been through many marahashing ups and downs before, but this one is proving more tricky. It's 2 months to the day. The training schedule says I should have run 50 million miles this week. Instead, I have just recovered from my Christmas Eve hash hangover and eaten a hundred weight of food.

Anyone got any suggestions as to what to do next? I was thinking about starting on the After Eights forthwith.

the Howell Half-Marathon

2007-11-29T12:10:00.000Z

Since the marahash blog appears to have spontaneously risen from the dead, and more than a couple of the denizens of the St. Radegund have unwisely admitted to signing up for spring marathons, it seems only fair that some kind of atheticism makes an appearance. So, to kick off this winter's tales, here's what happens when you volunteer to go for a quick trot with Hannah and Chris of a Wednesday evening...

1. Turn up at Chris's house. Store bike safely in garden, locking it to the splendidly-kitch collection of garden-gnomery next to the shed. Note inwardly that Chris is obviously very houseproud, compared to his carefree persona.

2. Stand outside waiting for Hannah.

3. Return to rear of house. Remove bike from next-door's garden and transfer to correct garden, shouldering open the unique one-hinge gate. Note inwardly that the correct garden in fact indicates a dangerously revolutionary character, as it appears to have been used as a training-ground for the kind of environmental protest groups that live under soggy bits of plywood and lock themselves upside-down to earth-moving equipment.

4. Set off in the dark towards Granchester.

5. Via Cherry-Hinton and Fulbourn, it appears.

6. Oh, and Trumpington too. Dissuade the ex-Army girl from attempting the Clay-Field assault-course to Trumpington Waitrose in the dark, and head on down Long Road.

7. Ignore screams of pain from legs, press on across Granchester Meadows. Fondly imagine this means a return via Brooklands avenue.

8. Or Chesterton, as it turns out. Run past appealing smell of food at Restaurant 22. Ignore stomach-rumblings.

9. Thunder over green-dragon bridge. Head in general direction of airport. Question self as to whether or not have actually completed a will recently.

10. Notice strange ache in right knee around the Big Sainsburys. Decide to forgo the joys of running back past Addenbrookes in an attempt to avoid a more permanent visit there.

11. Arrive back at Chris's. Consume standard recovery diet of picallili and jaffa-cakes.

12. Try to pedal home. Slowly.

For those with more masochism than sense, the Howell half-marathon may be found here.

http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/?r=1476258

Herd instinct

2007-11-20T21:27:00.000Z

Due to a frantic hunt for some keys - any keys - I was rather late to last night's hash. Which gave me ample opportunity to admire the size of the circle (oo-eer missus) as I locked up my bike.

Wot a lot of folks. All enthusiastic in their pursuit of the good things in life, like, er, flour. This works in our favour as we charge across town, intimidating local scallies and bewildering new undergraduates with aplomb, but once we reach the on-inn, the atmosphere changes. Thoughts of the inevitable lengthy queue for the bar become uppermost, and the resulting sprint home is rarely pretty, as our on the spot photojournalist can attest:

Still, it means I can ignore all those annoying entries in my training schedule saying vague things like 10 x 1 min fast, 2 minute recoveries. I have a much more serious test for a Monday night: 1 x 5 minutes near death, 1 week recovery. I am confident that once I have worked out a means of reproducing the Radegund's bar every 10k around the Barcelona course, I shall be on the verge of a famous victory.

oops

2007-11-15T18:53:00.000Z

Terribly sorry- posted that on the wrong blog!

...and please don't ask about my recent interest in Freemartins...

B

some twin links, other blog comments

2007-11-15T17:29:00.000Z

http://www.nature.com/news/2007/070618/full/news070618-3.html

http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/sites/entrez?db=pubmed&list_uids=15885443&cmd=Retrieve&indexed=google

'Summer makes me drowsy, Autumn makes me sing, Winter's pretty lousy, but I hate Spring'

2007-11-08T22:28:00.000Z

(With apologies to Ms D Parker)

Fireworks night is over.

The Hash has a new king (queen).

Geese are travelling south.

Or any combination of the above. Anyway, all of these seasonal cues make me look forward to spring and wonder whether there isn't something missing from my life.

[Pantsonfire pauses. Thinks]

[Runs upstairs]

[Returns]

No, I did remember to pick the children up. So what could it be?

Anyone?

Supergeniusitude

2007-11-07T21:32:00.001Z

It’s great what you find when you google marahash. Last year’s Matyrometer has been referenced on the really rather marvellous wordslustitude, along with such must learn phrases as nutsopath (a less clinically exact relative of the psychopath), cluster molestation (a cluster fuck that’s even more disturbing than usual) and the batshitometer (a precise, whacko detecting instrument).

Google also dug out Jim’s dirty little secret. Maybe it’s time for the blog to live again, if only to provide the world with further obscure rinking terms?

Now she tells us..

2007-04-27T14:26:00.000+01:00

Having written to say 'sorry I missed you' I've just received this email from a chum in Paris, who is doing a surgical internship over there:

'No worries about the marathon - in the event, I wasn't really up to company afterwards! Ed did well to get so far - I saw two people intubated (i.e. essentially dead) in the Bois de Bologne (at which point I largely gave up trying to run!).'

Never underestimate the health giving properties of running and sunshine...

Race of the Living Dead

2007-04-23T15:03:00.000+01:00

Days to FLM: -1
Last run: 26.2 miles
Alert status: flatline

It would appear every other marahasher has suddenly come over all shy and retiring and unwilling to write about the great deeds done in Paris. Luckily, I am not afflicted with any sense of modesty or decorum and shall instead pretend that you, gentle reader, are actually interested in what happened me yesterday, rather than reading this because you are at work and would rather dig your eyeballs out with a teaspoon than spend another minute contemplating that project plan.

So, in true managerial style, we move onto the key lessons learnt from the ‘PantsonFire FLM 2007’ campaign. Which are:

1) Don’t try to run marathons in shoes older than your children
2) Don’t try to run a marathon when your training has amounted to three runs in the whole of the preceeding month
3) If you are dumb enough to try, don’t call your husband the moment you get one mile further than he did in his last marathon attempt and gloat, because a) this will piss him off and b) you will find that your own legs pack up 5 minutes later
4) Try to avoid men carrying their own karaoke systems who have ‘Eye of the Tiger’ on a loop between mile 6 and 11. Remember, you will be carrying nothing with which to kill him.
5) If you have to run around Bubbles De Vere more than once it will add miles. Try and lurk in her shadow instead

Truly though, it was carnage: a huge group of people shambling along moaning like a slightly higher speed version of ‘Shaun of the Dead’ in fancy dress. People started walking as early as mile 13 and by mile 20 probably only 30-40% were still running. Now this might be normal form for the 4.45-5.00 finishers but there were also quite a few bodies on stretchers and every wall available was being leant on by people stretching out cramps, so I’m guessing it was more to do with the heat.

Funnily enough the atmosphere was great. We may have been zombies, but we were happy zombies and the crowds seemed to find us amusing. They even offered us treats. (Is there anything in this world less appealing than a square of melting chocolate offered on the slightly grubby hand of a child at mile 21 of a 23˚ marathon? I took it anyway – the child was cute and it tasted better than a gel). Spurred on by the threat of being deluged with jelly babies and other assorted 'assistance' if I stopped for an instant, I kept the walk breaks to a minimum and dragged myself home in 4.43. There's nothing like a nice low benchmark to measure future improvement against...

So that's all, folks. Next stop Grunty Fen, and possibly a brief diversion to Berlin in the autumn. But much more importantly, we will shortly have a regular sitter for The Heir and The Spare so my hashing career can resume.

On on!

The Ely Biathalon (or What Springtime Does To Boys)

2007-03-31T21:21:00.000+01:00

So at 9:30am on Saturday, I get a phonecall from Ed. He opens with "I haven't got any pants on, and I think we should go up to Jim's now". That kind of logic, it turns out, is surprisingly difficult to argue with, so fifteen minutes later, I find myself in the front seat of Ed's family sports-coupe doing 85MPH in a bus-lane whilst we discuss lunch plans. Fortunately, we arrive without dying, and I gratefully unclamp my fingers from the door-handle and kiss the Waterbeach tarmac in a Papal fashion.

The disorganisation for the run to Ely in the preceding few days had been awesome to behold. If all the emails and texts were to be believed, there was every chance that we'd all end up running to Kings Lynn, very probably in different directions. Departing from Jim's, the three of us ran via Bottisham lock back into Cambridge, meeting up with Chris, Russ, Winston and a visiting American runner just before Bate's Bite, before turning around to join them in an Ely-wards direction. Behind us all somewhere were Tony R. and Liz. Ahead of us a baker's dozen more miles of shiggy, and (more importantly) a pub lunch. Plus a few unforseen adventures...

It was shaping up to be a beautiful sunny spring day as we passed Bottisham Lock for the second time that morning. Tony and Liz caught us up (top running, chaps) just as we reached a decision-point, leading to all but Jim, Ed, Winston and myself deciding to "do the dogs backwards and finish in the green-dragon", as Chris had so suggestively put it the night before, and head back to Cambridge. Or so we thought... The four of us pressed on on the distaff bank through Upware, reasoning that it hadn't really rained in a while, so surely it couldn't be that muddy? Oh, couldn't it? The rutted but more-or less dry riverbank, and the lovely brideway north of Upware lulled Jim into a false sense of security... as we approached the road, he scorned the thin layer of shiggy at the bridleway entrance, running over it to reach the the verge. The first and second steps suggested it was less than a centimetre deep, making his third step into a full nine inches of evil-looking shoe-sucking black shite all the more comical. Ed picked up the cue just in time, dancing pixie-like over the drier-looking lumps to safety.

And now, it begins... we'd decided to increase the pace to maximum for the remaining seven miles into Ely, so Ed, Jim and I dutifully pushed the effort up, hitting about 7min/mile. Winston decided to ignore the macho competitive urge, and maintained a much more sensible pace that didn't turn him purple. Following the high-speed footbridge scramble a few miles later, Ed announces that he's winding it down a bit and stops for a breather, leaving Jeremy and Jim still in greyhound mode. Half a mile later, Jim and Jeremy encounter a notice saying the riverbank is closed and we must follow a torturous diversion, which (like all good hashers) we take absolutely no notice of whatsoever and carry on. Ed, a few moments later, makes the same decision.

Still in race-mode, the three of us (now seperated by a few hundred metres or so each) approach the cutback towards the railway that the riverbank path makes towards the railway before the final run into Ely.

Jim, as ever, is in the lead.

And Jeremy, in second place but accelerating, is thinking... "hey, that's not bad - 350m ahead of Ed... might not be able to catch Jim in the last mile, but it's worth a try..."

And Ed, in third, is thinking ..."I bet Jeremy is feeling really pleased with himself about being second. Wonder what can I do to stuff that up for him?".

I round the cutback and head back towards the river, seeing Jim just approaching the corner and Ed approaching the turning on the other side, and I think "hmm... Ed's going a bit quick to make the corner, isn't he? He's going to have to.. he's not... surely not.. NO! NO!!! THAT'S..." (as Ed runs down he bank at full speed and makes a flying dive into the freezing muddy water to cross the inlet mouth and scramble out of the water ahead of Jim to take the lead) "...CHEATING!!!".

Boys.

It took me most of the remaining 2km to overtake the now damp and somewhat chilly Ed, but I think he'd definitely won on points by then.

After about 20 minutes of waiting for Winston, we decided that he must have got lost, so after a quick backtrack to check for bodies, we positioned ourselves on the strategically-located terrace of the Cutter Inn by the river to look out for him, taking the opportunity to refuel with Woodford's Wherry and steak-and-ale pie. Fortunately the sun was relatively warm, so Ed managed to stand the outdoors.

A good half-an-hour later, Winston arrives. Not knowing which way we had taken at the diversion, he had dutifully followed the posted path all the way to the exact centre of a muddy field, where all the signage promptly vanished. Navigating by the seat of his pants, he eventually found the A10 and had tried to hitch to Ely, but these days he's not as pretty as he used to be, so he ended up running into the city via the ring-road, adding a few unwelcome km to his total. Seconds later, we were all surprised by Tony, who had decided to run to Ely after all, and solo'd the entire river-path, also making the hasher's decision at the diversion. Top banana!

Sausage-and-mash ensued in celebration.

Ed was by this time in the early stages of hypothermia, so we returned to Waterbeach on the train, to be greeted by Phillippa.

After the traditional Jubilee Close beer-barrel worship and one-legged Hokey-Cokey ceremony, we all made an attempt to return to normality. Until Monday, that is...

Well done everybody! Can I have my knees back now?

Skirting around Sciatica - a guide to undertraining

2007-03-28T20:23:00.000+01:00

Days to FLM: 24

Last run: sunday 25th, 21 miles

Alert status: Rectory Red.

There’s a thought – I think Farrow and Ball are missing a trick by not sponsoring the Government’s terrorist risk status. Not only would it be more soothing to be upgraded from, say, Radicchio to Eating Room Red but the number of colours available would make for a much more subtle gradation of terror. Must give them a call.

They are lacking a Panic Pink, however which would be most helpful for the PantsonFire alert scale. Shall we just say that this spring’s training has not been textbook (unless there is a textbook on the Idiot’s Guide to Ballsing up your Knees). The optimistic 5 outings a week schedule is now down to two: an insane Sunday run, three days spent recovering, an outing on Wednesday or Thursday to check if joints will ever bend again and then another three days spent ‘being busy’ until Sunday rolls around and the whole charade starts again.

Still, I have now got away with it for so long that a sort of defiant apathy is taking hold. I laugh in the face of ITB, I tweak the nose of shin splints. I even, occasionally, slap the arse of groin strain as I edge past it.

I nearly got my comeuppance on Sunday, however, when I unwisely tried to squeeze in an extra ¼ mile at the end of 21 miles and encountered a 5mm ‘trip hazard’ on the board walk by the river. I promptly staged a truly spectacular ‘shes-falling-oh-no-she-isn’t-oh-yes-she-is-oh-no-she-isn’t-the-crowd-are-on-the-pitch-they-think-it’s-all-over-ah-but-she’s-back-on-her-feet-oooooh-noooo-Bryan-that’s-gotta-hurt’ prat-fall, involving huge amounts of arm windmilling to ensure the attentions of the largest possible group of Japanese tourists as I lay winded and staring up at the clouds. I swear one took a picture.

My luck holds, however. I have one bruise on my hip and a bruised and grazed elbow, no show-stoppers. If you’re gonna face-plant, face-plant on springy wooden boards, I guess. Maybe I could bring a few with me on the 22nd April. Just in case.

Hash minutes 12th March 2007

2007-03-27T14:35:00.000+01:00

From Ed:

Hare: Peanut

Virgins:
John (Friend of Tom Corbin)
William (Friend of Vernon)
Anne (From Dublin?)

Visitors:
Rachel Fenton (though now apparently married)

Sinners:
John Boy - for setting out with 3 virgins, having his way with them and then dumping them at various locations around town.
Gobbler and Lisa - Holding up traffic whilst fornicating in the street
Dave the rave - 'pissing in Bunter's pocket' by declaring that he could get three pints at the Rad for the money he was asked to to pay for 3 halves at the Earl of Beconsfield
Imogen - For leading some young innocents astray to Mill Road with a 'follow me I know where it's going' call
Ewan - renamed left handshandy - for breaking his arm on the Hash Ski and failing to get off with the very attractive nurse - Dave the rave has photographic evidence.

Training ?

2007-03-09T03:49:00.000Z

Realised recently that there is less than six weeks to the main event. Have resigned from full-time employment to focus on an intensive training programme and will now be flying to London ( from Sydney ) on a one-way ticket. If anyone knows how I might find a cheap apartment in Paris, please let me know .....

Antipodean Training Programme - Episode 6: Jacob's Ladder

2007-02-27T18:33:00.000Z

Not far from the Johnson residence lies a unique feature of the Perth landscape known as 'Jacob's Ladder'. It was erected by Perth city in order to teach hasheletes the meaning of the words 'unfit' and 'knackered'. Consisting of several flights of concrete steps leading from Mounts Bay Road up to King's Park, set into the 60-degree slope of the Mount Eliza escarpment, it is used by almost every athelete in Perth as a means of wearing themselves out in short order.

On an average weekday morning or evening, there are maybe fifty people running up and down it, in various stages of distress. As a means of hill-training, it is without equal - eight rounds of the ladder is enough to make your knees feel a million years old, and your calves feel like they've just been microwaved. Breathing is usually a problem at the top...

Jeremy usually manages three rounds at double-step sprint, before collapsing in an exhaused heap at the top, and taking the other five lot more gently. As a means of putting you in touch with your own mortality, it can't be equalled. Castle Hill is going to be a piece of piss after this..

Not Again!

2007-02-25T23:20:00.001Z

Arse.

Bugger Nietzsche. That which does not kill us makes us knackered and walk a bit funny.

Yes. Baboon Bottom 2 - Just when you thought it was safe to go back into the underwear.

Pants: Bad
Vaseline: Good
Bury 20: Ouch!

OoooOOOOooooOOOOOooooOoo.

What would you do?

2007-02-22T23:09:00.000Z

Official physio of the Cantabrigensis Par-Marahashing team, Raoul, had his way with me last week (ahem). In fact it sounds like he's having his way with half the team at the moment. Following a tired 18 mile trot with Winst and Stuie, my calf went twang. When it hurts, the obvious thing to do is run it off on a Monday hash, right? So by Thursday last week I felt compelled to let Raoul get his thumbs in. It started OK, Raoul was gentle on the calf compared to Barely Legal. But then he happened upon my secret shin splints. And wandered up my legs to my lower back, and eventually saw to kneading my buttocks with his elbow.

Why am I telling you this? I don't know. The trauma I expect. I was in bits. Apparently I have no core strength, am overpronating through my uber-anti-overpronating trainers, and am horribly lop-sided. Which is all very well, but I've got a marathon to run. So I did the sensible thing and listened to my inner laziness and did nothing for 5 days. Then I tentatively went for a run, and here I am a week on. Calf is fine. Shin splints fully outed and back still sore. But I'm OK really.

So this afternoon I spoke to Raoul and told him my plan to run Bury 20 on Sunday. And he laughed, and I felt silly. And we negotiated, and he said I could do the 10 miler and see him again on Monday. And I thought, oh OK, what am I always telling BL...better to rest and get better than make things worse. But then I went to the gym and did some speed training and I feel fine!! Great in fact. So....what would you do?

H-villages, leek soup and Brad's pub trail

2007-02-22T14:52:00.000Z

The H-Villages 2007:

-Great SHelford
-(H)Addenbrookes
-NewHam
-GrancHester
-Bar(H)ton
-Haslingfield
-Harlton
-Haslingfield
-Harston
-Hauxton
-Little SHelford
Great SHelford

The "Villages Beginning With H" route was March 2006's Last Big One.

It was 20 miles that time, but has since been corrupted to become a quality-not-quantity (my running motto) 12.5 miles of villages (red shortcut), only some of which have an H.
However, Ed, as is usually the case, had his own ideas about the route, the pace and what might constitute a biomechanically efficient running style. I guess the same style worked well for Morcombe and Wise, and the mud splatter goes out sideways like a boat's wake rather than back and up like a bicycle back wheel. So a loop featuring Barton, Haslingfield and Harlton (including a tour of the clunch pit) made it 16.5 miles.

The best bit of the H-villages was, as with most running; stopping. Stopping was all the better as Sarah had made a really big pan of Leek and Spud soup.

Without the soup I'd never have made the other endurance event of the day:

Subject: [radc] Brad Memorial Hash Crawl (today!)
I expect Brad will be too pissed to answer his mobile by 3pm, so here's my number: **** *** ***
To recap, The Brad Memorial Hash Crawl:
-1pm start at Rad
-Invitees: All hashers, non-hashers, rowers, bar regulars, irregulars, Aussies, women of questionable virtue, and bar keepers. Canadians need not apply.
-Point: To usher Brad gracefully (but firmly) out of Britain
-Theme: Make Brad cry
-Motto: Get back, get back, get back to where you once belonged
Cheers,
Bloody Barbie

To be a top Marahasher you need to carefully balance training, nutrition and recreation.

So long, Pedalphile!

2007-02-20T14:07:00.000Z

There are some people in everyone's life who take up a special place as an emotional touchstone, moral compass and ever-steady confidante.

Brad, on the other hand, has been drawling and God-bless-America-ing at us all for three years now, and the powers-that-be have decided that enough is enough and are redeploying him to the middle of a large desert in Nevada. Last night he laid a trail to commemorate his passing on.

I've never seen such a large pack on a February night (Winst counted 95 in the circle), and I've never seen the entire pack unilaterally add a beer stop. Warmed t'cockles of me'eart.

The circle featured: -

Pedalphile: Hare and celebrated septic

Virgins: Welcome to Hubertus, Mitzi, Jade, Steve, Matt and Rene! Hope you all had a good time and hope to see you again soon! Thanks to Sonia, Zam and Indra for being buddies and taking care of the virgins.

Welcome back and goodbye again to Geraldine! Hope you don't stay away so long this time.

We were pleased to host "When I ..." and "Quilty arse"; visitors from Tavistock.

Sinners: - Bloody Barbie (leading the hash unstray). Barely Legal (not seeing to his Leaky Boiler). Hash rename!: Leaky Boiler (nee Sausage Slipper). Bunter. Abi ([something undecipherable]). Wifebeater (probably short cutting).

Next week the hares are Jellybean and Barely Legal.

On on
TK

South Downs Way

2007-02-13T12:08:00.000Z

It was about 6.30pm last Friday when Talking Bollocks rang.
Where are you?
Crawley. (Nice)
Are you coming home tonight?
No, I’m off to Brighton – the South Downs Way run.
Bugger thought TB, as he looked at his car at Ely station, and wondered how he was going to get into the house or lay the bash trail the following morning, when his car and office keys were safely locked away in his office in Peterborough.

It did not look promising, as the train journey to Brighton on the Sunday morning was accompanied by torrential rain, thunder and lightening. Undeterred, a small but perfectly formed pack of three met at Brighton Station, and set out through town, then up and up past the racecourse and onto the ridge. As we hit the South Downs way, spirits were high. There had been nothing more than a few spots of rain, and the wind and clouds were with us, giving fine views of Lewes and the sea. Bliss.

I think the first inkling that my 14 mile estimate may have been slightly out was as we approached the village of Southease (complete with ye olde church) after coming off the ridge for the first time, and the GPS was already recording well over 10 miles. I was reasonably sure this was about half way - must be some mistake.

Watching Breezeblock and Whippet sprint into the distance up the 217m climb between Southease and Firle Beacon, I dropped back to a brisk walk, and was reminded of the Talking Bullocks joke.
The young bull says to the old bull, ‘lets run up that hill and screw one of those cows’.
Says the old Bull, ‘no, lets walk up and screw them all’.
Not that I fancy cows or anything. Or the sheep that were waiting at the top of the hill.

The Breezeblock strategy of keeping up with Whippet proved to be a poor one, as legs got tired along the ridge. With my parents and Mrs Whippet waiting at the pub, I had high hopes as we came down off the ridge again at Alfriston that we would be back within the revised timetable of 3 hours, after a short run along the river in the beautiful Cuckmere valley. Unfortunately, we hadn’t counted on the bastard shiggy from hell that was the levee next to the river. Think bad day at the Somme after a heavy downpour. Every step was a struggle, until finally we decided to abandon the river and head back along the road.

Whippet and myself agreed the final GPS reading was 21 something. Bugger. But at least we have calibrated the Howell mile – it appears to be about 50% more than your standard British one, and the Sussex Best and Roast Beef tasted fantastic.

8.50am Tuesday morning. Legs still tired. Shouldn’t have even attempted the hash last night. Now where’s my keys.
9.00am I must have had them last night to get in from the hash.
9.05am Bored now. My keys must be here somewhere.
9.10am F*ck, F*ck, F*ck, I do not believe how inanimate objects can hide themselves whenever you are in a hurry.
9.15am Ring Talking Bollocks.

Hi Rob, how’s things going in Peterborough today?
Fine, yourself?
Fine, going really well – have you seen my keys?
What do they look like?
Front door key, bike key, locker at work with laptop inside it key, that type of thing…
Redmayne Arnold and Harris key fob?
Yes – how did you guess?
Mmm, they sound exactly like the spare set I borrowed from the agent on Saturday, currently sitting in this envelope I’m about to post back to them…

Snow......

2007-02-12T17:22:00.000Z

Thursday cross training.
Easier on the knees than Mt. Shelford, more fun than 8 miles of slippery snow covered riverbank - build a large snow feline.

The real training part starts when you decide to drive home and discover that your car keys are not in your pocket. Having selected the acre of snow most likely to contain the keys, shuffle and kick systematically for an hour with a torch and wet feet.

I've been back since, with my spare keys, to collect my car. My current hypothesis is that the keys are somewhere inside a ton of still melting snow cat. Bugger.

Snow......

2007-02-09T10:38:00.000Z

After last week's scaling of the North and South faces of Mount Shelford, this week's 8 miler required something a bit flatter, so a run home from work to Waterbeach along the river was in order.

This looked like a good idea till Wednesday and then the snow came!!

Running in the dark and only being able to see the snow on the path ahead glowing in the moonlight made me constantly nervous of losing concentration and ending up very wet.

Well I managed to get home without falling in the river, but I'm not sure I'll try it again without trail shoes as it was pretty damn slippy.

At least on Saturday we'll be running in daylight, double summer time can't come in soon enough..

Speed training

2007-02-08T07:53:00.000Z

If you're feeling masochistic, try this pyramid I came up with yesterday. You do speed sets of 30s, 1m, 2m, 3m, 3m, 2m, 1m, 30s. On the way up the pyramid you take as much rest (jogging) as you've just run. On the way down you take as much rest as you're about to run. Throw in 10mins warm up and cool down at either end and you've got a good 43 minute session.

If you're not feeling masochistic, I came up with another (probably non-novel) idea, whilst doing the stupid pyramid scheme: - it seems like speed training would be more fun if it were more like speed dating. Perhaps you would warm up, go and look at some training for a minute, and then decide it wasn't for you. Repeat 5 or so times and then go to the pub.

Hills, Curry and Woodfords Wherry

2007-02-02T17:18:00.000Z

Great Shelford hill training with a warm up to Scotstsdale's garden centre - 5.5 miles of high altitude Cambridgeshire. Does training get tamer than this?

Stuart's marathon plan required 5 miles of gratuitous knee wear. Both of us being bored with treadmills we thought we'd try out one of the (only?) available hills in Cambridgeshire. Rachel had to "entertain clients". Hermione was "on a marketing course". Ankle deep in excuses, Stuart and I were on our own.

Given the severity of the expedition we had carefully scoped out an emergency recovery facility - The Railway Tavern - convieniently situated on the return leg of Hinton way.

So on Thursday night at about 7.30pm we set out to storm the South West and North East ascents of "Hinton Way". It rises from 15m to >45m at the summit. We stormed the summit twice, just to check it was really there.

Our planning prudence was entirely justified. We got very thirsty. The Woodfoords Wherry and Thai food afterwards at the Railway Tavern was just what was needed.

What we learned:

We learned that treadmills could benefit from being sited near to well selected pubs
The ropes we took weren't necessary - you can be too careful
And the hills? we can handle hills.

By God ! ..... I've finally figured-out how to hack into the old blog.

2007-02-01T06:45:00.000Z

I kept getting sucked into some sort of parallel universe, (a new Google based blog space perhaps ?). If it was a vision of the future, the bad news is that all evidence of our existence has been erased... it was horrible !

The weather down here has been a bit crazy lately .. very hot, very dry, lots of enormous bush fires ..... its apparently all Al Gore's fault. Australians are currently very upset because the government is telling them they will have to start drinking their own (recycled) effluent.... not likely ! Most agree that the solution is obvious .... more beer !

Paris looms large, and I can tell that I haven't been doing enough running because I have far too many toe nails (9). Hope to go for a quick run tonight, but Sydney is so damned hilly (remember hills ?). Its really hard to find a flat course, and hills make me a bit weepy so I end-up running round and round Centennial Park (n x 3.7km = ?). After about 3 laps it gets very boring.

Remember the Alamo

2007-01-22T21:24:00.000Z

Pacing, that's the problem. My usual training rate is around 3.5 pts/hr, but only for the 3 hrs after the hash on Monday night.

Some context: I'm in San Antonio this week for a conference and thanks to Pukes of Hazard managed to get out to the hash yesterday. The weather here has been unusually cold recently, but yesterday was gorgeous (said with the thickest Mancunian accent you can muster). The San Antonio H3 is an old hash, and are looking forward to celebrating their 1069th run next week.

Good live trail with plenty of off road stuff, and nice weather. The SAH3 take their hash religion seriously, and the circle was good fun, with many many songs. The downdown beer of choice is Lone Star Lite, which is like sex in a canoe, and tastes awful if it's not ice cold. Give me a pint of habit every day. I mean any day...

Then it was off to a local bar for some quality hashing. Quite a lot, as it turned out. I started drinking at lunchtime and finished, erm, don't really know when, but I feel like hammered sh*t today.

Worth it though - hope you all had a good time under Winston's masterly Mastering. See you next week, and to the San Antonio H3: CHEERS!

Wrestling my Demons

2007-01-21T20:19:00.000Z

Been a bit quiet of late, because I've been busy wrestling with my demons. The demons being various textures of shiggy...now re-named "f***** mud'. In the soon to be infamous word of Esra - recent training runs have been utterly 'shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit'. With apologies to Breezeblock and Limpdick who kindly organised said runs and seem to be totally immune to the devil's spawn.

This week however has been a shiggy free week with a fine trip around the Folksworth 15 with Personal Trainer. Managed not to tantrum at him and in return he egged me on to an 8.30 final mile including a dirty great hill (wow the power of the Garmin nerdometer and all the new kit I've bribed myself with in the past few weeks).

All of this was secondary, of course, to the main event, the post race runners' cake. The Yaxley runners had laid on a veritable cornucopia of handmade delicacies, and for this they will be receiving the highest race commendation I can deliver through the runners world website.

As for my mental state going forward...roadrunning it is for me, and the formation of CAMNAS (Campaign for NO ARSING SHIGGY). Anyone wishing to sign up will be welcome to contribute to a book containing fine shiggy free runs, need not have a beard and should like beer.

On on.

Zen and the Art of Marathon Training

2007-01-21T19:30:00.000Z

To: Winston
Subject: Flatline
Woke up feeling crap, so no pulse for me today... :-(
Have a good weekend!
- J

To: Julia
Subject: Re: Flatline
Beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee...................
Clear!...........Phhut!.........
.........bip...............bip................bip........
There. Pulse restored. But take it easy anyway.
That was fun. I think I'll go and defibrillate the cat, he's been a bit lethargic today.
W

To: Winston
Just make sure you shave a patch first or you'll have to deal with that singed cat smell...

So I spent the entirety of saturday in my pj's, following Winston's advice instead of the training schedule's prescription. And it was lovely! I ran the washing machine four times (look Hermione, I'm writing about washing too!) and completed a thorough excavation of my desk. And I thought:
Oh but I should really run.
But I feel crap.
But I haven't done a long run since...
But I'm running because I like it!

I am hereby officially ambivalent about running this marathon. For now, I'm gonna train when and because it's fun. Maybe I'll run on April 15th, and maybe not. Either way, Paris is still the most lovely place to spend a long spring weekend.

Right now I like this plan. It has the potential to be more relaxed than the spring '06 plan (train for a marathon, write 40k words, and secure employment/immigration status).

And it's a new year - a good time for new plans, dancing in the Rad, and trips to the southern hemisphere (4 weeks tomorrow!).
Ommmmm...

Happy Birthday Steve (Where are you?)

2007-01-17T19:21:00.000Z

Steve's birthday is 18th January. "Fat and Old" is how Julia told me he described himself on the morning of last year's marathon, despite being svelte and younger than me.

How's it going now? Happy Birthday!

Steve last blogged just prior to his attempt at the Bondi to Bronte Ocean Swim in December. I did hear that it was a bit rough and only 50% of the 1600+ entries finished. The report didn't say what happened to the rest. So, eaten, rescued or smashed to bits? Has your running suffered? Still training with the Sydney Striders? Cold you chuck in a few references to mud, snakes maybe, cold bottoms or nappy changing.

On the training front, I see that a certain botty-fondling element appear to be, err, "mounting" an attempt on your 27th mile trophy. I think you're safe, they're doing it all wrong, their training regimen (Runner's World?) is entirely lacking in abstinence, Yorkshire tea and wholesale toenail removal.

Go Velma!

2007-01-17T17:13:00.000Z

Apologies to BabyJogger

Stream of consciousness

2007-01-14T12:41:00.000Z

Days to FLM: 98

Last run: sunday 14th, 10 miles

Alert status: Coooool blue.

Now, that was more like it. A beautiful pale blue morning, temperature just right, and ten flat dry miles done just under the pain radar. Nicest run I've had this year, in fact.

So I got to thinking. Which in itself is remarkable, as anyone who has seen me running or tried to hold a conversation with me while running could testify. Generally, my state of mind while running could most accurately be described as 'near catatonic' - the simple question of what to have for a post run breakfast can take up to 1.5 miles and needs to be considered near the end of a run, or I will forget by the time I get home. Mostly my runs consist of several hours of poor mental arithmetic. Let's open a window into the world of synaptic meltdown:

'Hmmm, there's that funny shaped bush which marks the 2 mile point and it's....oooohhh, he really shouldn't be let out in a scull...anyway, it's now 9 minutes 15 secs since the last mile marker or is that 10 minutes 15? Yes, 10 minutes....ooofff, he's quick, why is that really quick runners always blast past you with millimeters to spare? Anyway, 10 minutes 15 but I should take off 30 secs for the shoe lace incident and that means I should get to the next mile marker at 31 minutes - is that the where the drain meets the river or where that funny boat was moored yesterday? If I run the whole thing in 10 minute miles that will be.....what did I want for breakfast again?'

I have tried varying the topic over the years: I spent a considerable amount of time while training for the Paris Marathon attempting to hold conversations with myself in french, but since these conversations largely consisted of me explaining to myself, in french, that my french was very poor, and since carrying a dictionary proved impractical, the wheels soon came off that drive for self improvement.

However, this morning my brain was remarkably co-operative, so I fell to pondering the vexed question of running for charidee. Recently, this is something I have avoided, largely because there is something that irritates me about the predictability of the question ' who are you running for?', following from a conversation about marathon entries. Selfish as it is, I'm running for me, actually - fund raising is not a compulsory part of any training schedule. Pestering friends for sponsorship is also a miserable activity for a reluctant saleswoman, and I'm wary of doing it too often.

Still, since I was in a positive frame of mind I gave myself a stern talking to and came to the conclusion that my squeamishness about pestering people is not very significant compared with the chance for someone to innoculate their baby, build a school or even die in dignity and comfort. A little bit of leg work and occasional embarassment is a small price to pay.

Plus, I get an opportunity to dress up as Velma Flintstone and run 26.2 miles. Now that's irresistible.

The mile, definitions and usage

2007-01-07T21:23:00.000Z

Statute mile, about 1609m
Nautical mile, 1852m
Irish mile, about 2048m
"Chris running mile", highly variable, but likely to be much longer than any of the above.

The original plan was to start at Fulbourn, run up Fleam Dyke to Balsham, back down the roman road, and then into Cambridge in time for Sunday lunch at the Burleigh Arms. Chris claimed it be around 15 miles, Rachel and Hannah and I were foolish enough to believe him. Rob however had enough sense to bring a mountain bike.

I was feeling a bit lazy and didn't really want to run that far, so I decided to shortcut back to Fulbourn, and in the end everyone else followed suite.

It started off innocently enough with an enjoyable run along the top of Fleam Dyke and across a couple of fields to reach Balsham. It's fair to say that Balsham was not a high point of the day, with people variously suffering from mud, navigation difficulties and punctures. There followed a good few miles of Hereward Relay grade shiggy, some of which can be seen here modelled by Hannah. Fortunately the rest of the roman road was much better, with the large hill (yes really!) proving especially popular.

Total distance, with shortcut back to Fulbourn, 16.3 miles. Oops.

Fortunately, the Burleigh Arms let us in despite the mud, and provided a Sunday roast of awesome proportions.

Finally, apologies to Barley(?) Legal for being an hour late at the Burleigh Arms, which wouldn't have been quite so bad if Rachel didn't have his wallet, leaving him unable to buy beer.

Antipodean Training Programme - Episode 4: The Friday Hash

2007-01-05T14:56:00.002Z

So, time for some proper high-intensity land-based training at last! Perth was the first place outside of KL/Malaya to sport an hash, and as a result it has over 20 hashes, catering for pretty much all the various different varieties of hasher* All of them follow more or less the same rules, although the songs are different. I ran with the Friday Hash yesterday, who were running in Greenwood (out near Joondalup, in the northern suburbs). Fine bunch of hashers, about a third of whom came here from overseas somewhere. About 40 mins of gentle running through streets and parkland in the glowing sunshine found us back at the beerstop, where a vast array of food and cold drink suddenly appeared out of the hash trailer

(now this device would be a useful innovation for us, if only to provide somewhere portable to keep Brad locked away). Much banter and hash-sinner-reporting ('charging') ensued, with the familiar penalties. However, Perth is fairly spread out, meaning people have to drive to get to hashes, so the downdowns are 'splash' (Beer and ginger-beer) rather than proper beer. Probably a good thing, since Jeremy was fined at least twice for front-running and competitiveness, plus the obligatory visitor downdown. Oh, and yes, I got lots of stick about the cricket!

Not sure it did much for my Paris training programme, but it was fun! If I'm not crewing at the RPYC again on Wednesday, I'll be investigating the Heave-Ho Hash House Harriers and Harriettes in Fremantle / Wireless Hill.

*Except for Poofters. Obviously. Read the Australian Hashing Rules...

Mea Culpa, Mea Maxima Culpa

2007-01-05T14:56:00.001Z

Last run: 6 miles (this evening)
Days to FLM: 108
Alert status: Amber (Don't panic, Captain Mannering)

It has been pointed out to me that my contributions to this blog may be a little, ummm, tangential to its main point. However, 'write what you know' is a sound maxim in life, and since what I know at the moment is mostly a) the arse end of a baby and b) the inside of a washing machine, you lot are getting off lightly.

Still, I like to rise to a challenge and as it happens, Christmas marked a bit of a running related milestone when I looked at the Runner's World intermediate marathon schedule and realised that week 1 was suddenly relevant. Unfortunately this revelation coincided with three weeks of inactivity which have largely put me back to square one as far as base fitness is concerned, so I need to proceed with some caution. Which provided me with a splendid excuse for avoiding the frankly unappealing combination of 70mph winds, hail and 1:4 sheep tracks when in the Lake District, in favour of a warm fire, Jim's excellent pate and another viewing of Audrey Hepburn's bizarre 'Cockerney' accent in My Fair Lady.

Back to Cambridge and time, and my excuses, have run out. Once again Runner's World shall become my bible, I shall obsess unhealthily about the exact distance between two points on the river, and not only will my brain be writing cheques my body can't cash, but my knees will be maxing out their credit cards and my hips filing for bankruptcy.

And once again I shall spend much of my life stuffing dirty kit into a washing machine. Which is sort of where I came in, really....

The tyrrany of numbers

2007-01-02T17:18:00.000Z

Third time out I shouldn't be so surprised by this, and yet once again I've drawn up a training program based on the FIRST program and spent the afternoon comtemplating it with a dull ache of dread in my guts.

The time until the race (15 weeks) seems short, as does the time before I'm meant to be training fast over 20 miles; less than 3 weeks. Holy shiggy!

On the other hand, the total mileage involved (almost 400 miles, about equivalent to running to Paris from home and then running the marathon twice) is pretty daunting, as is the time it will take me - between now and April 14th I'll spend over 48 hours running. This doesn't include hashing, or cross training, for which you can add another 30 hours.

Right, I'm definitely not doing another one. Again. Again.

Antipodean Training Programme, Episode 3: Nautical Training Plan?

2007-01-02T08:33:00.000Z

Well, looking at the RW week-2 training schedule, it says I should be doing a warmup followed by "3-4 miles at a brisk pace" today. The only problem is that I'm supposed to be crewing the foredeck of a J24 in the New Year handicap out of the Royal Perth YC tonight, and there's a big prize at stake...

Combine the two? Not very windy, so bound to take ages to sail the course... brilliant, Jeremy! So, let's see - a J24 is about 7.5 m long and 3m or so in the beam... makes it about 25m round the gunwales. A 4-mile run is about 6.5km, and Jeremy's training route will be: along the port cockpit rail, over the companionway, swing out past the side-stay, over the rail onto the foredeck, round the fore-rail not putting too much weight on the dodgy stanchion, hang on for grim death to the forestay, back onto the foredeck, round the starboard sidestay, down the other side of the companionway and cockpit, over the transom-rail (stepping on the helm's head on the way), along the port cockpit rail, over the companionway, swing out past the side-stay, over the rail onto the foredeck, round the fore-rail not putting too much weight on the dodgy stanchion...etc...

errrrmmm.... 260 times.

You know, I don't think the skipper is going to be too happy with that. It could well be the first case of crew being hung from the yard-arm in WA for 200 years.

Hmmm.. Best make today a rest-day then...

Oh! What a luvverly New Year!

2007-01-01T19:36:00.000Z

Just back from winter altitude training in the Lake District. Plenty of great quality hash training got done - those long dark nights combined with 144 pints of Milton beer to form an explosive combination.

Ed and I went and let the side down by going for a trot up the hill, along the ridge and back. Unfortunately we didn't take any photos, but if you imagine standing on an open top bus at 70 m.p.h. in a rain storm you'll get the picture. Particularly amusing was working hard to get down a 1:4 slope against the wind.

Have a hashy 2007!

Gee it's great to be back home (not!)

2007-01-01T17:49:00.000Z

Well, on the positive side the weather was pretty good this morning for the New Years Day hash. And Santa (aka Bloody Barbie) has brought me a shiny new pair of Asics Nimbus on his duty-free sleigh (c/o USAF).

On the negative side I've just found the training schedule on the runnersworld web site. Gulp. And much as I enjoy jogging along the Cam towpath, I can't see it measuring up to the trails I was dawn running in India (pix below).

Hoppy New Year

Underwear

Antipodean training programme episode 2 - Heel Job and death-dive

2006-12-29T15:14:00.000Z

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

2006-12-27T06:35:00.000Z

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

2006-12-22T09:24:00.000Z

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?

2006-12-18T22:45:00.001Z

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

2006-12-18T11:28:00.000Z

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

2006-12-17T23:06:00.000Z

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...

2006-12-13T23:08:00.000Z

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

2006-12-13T10:04:00.000Z

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 Legal
Hashit: 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

2006-12-13T09:59:00.000Z

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

2006-12-10T20:52:00.000Z

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.

2006-12-10T18:28:00.000Z

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...

2006-12-09T17:53:00.000Z

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

2006-12-08T17:48:00.000Z

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..

2006-12-08T16:21:00.000Z

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

2006-12-05T22:28:00.000Z

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 .....

2006-12-01T03:07:00.000Z

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.

Mufty lays a blinder

2006-11-28T10:35:00.000Z

Great trail last night, real quality.

Virgins: Abhishek, Chrissie, Jamie, Sophie, Tim, Jonathon, Greg and Arathi.
Buddies: Hannah, Chris and latterly Pedalphile.
Visitor: Brock (chap from Texas)
Sinners: Indra (jay walking), Sally (Jellybean's whinging), Bloody Barbie (moaning), Ed and Neil (trail abuse), Hotlips, Breezeblock and Russ (bringing the hash into repute)
Hashit: Teenage Kicks. Again.

Seriously Sedate Sight-Seeing Segue

2006-11-13T09:21:00.000Z

Aaaaaaaand I'm back in the game!

After saying there was no way I'd run Paris 2007, history repeated itself; I was delayed by lethargy and then hijacked by work, missed the entry for London and then didn't want to miss out on the 'fun'.

It's been an age and a half since I ran further than the odd double-trail (when haring in the summer), but broke my duck yesterday with the help of Strapatitome, Ken and Cow Botherer (these are modified hash names, to protect the guilty). The route is a nice 10 mile circuit that's mainly off-road but firm underfoot, without any soul destroying lode following, so it could become something of a standard route from here.

Underwear calls his standard routes past the kennels the Long Dogs and the Short Dogs, so what should we call this one? My kick off suggestion is "The Short Dogs of Waterbeach". Someone has to be able to do better...

2006-10-31T22:21:00.000Z

Nothing remotely running-related to report, but I notice that the organisers of Interhash 2008 have inexplicably similar taste in music to Jim....
...speaking of which, only two more pointless space-fillers needed before we're rid of it...

Failure to launch

2006-10-31T08:53:00.000Z

Last run: 2.5 miles. Days since last run: 16. Days to London Marathon: 173

Hmmmm. This is not looking like potential PB territory, is it? In fairness, I have been a little preoccupied in the past month, what with producing and maintaining The Spare (latest baby). More importantly, it's been five months since I've been able to hash, and until The Spare develops a reliable bedtime routine, I may find it difficult to capture a babysitter.

So I shall just have to substitute marathon training. My theory is to concentrate on developing a consistent 4/5 outings a week routine pre-christmas and worry about speed and distance for outings later. A few practical issues of combining motherhood and running: a) I'm reliaby informed that leaving The Spare alone at home while I go for a run consitutes neglect, and not, as I was hoping, a reasonable parenting tactic designed to foster independence, so it appears some sort of running buggy is in my future. Feel free to laugh at the high speed baglady appearance this will create. b) I now have the top half of some completely different woman so I need to buy more running bras. Preferably made from hawsers. c) In order to afford this outlay I shall probably have to sell either The Heir or The Spare. On a bad day both could be on the market on BOGOF.

Anyway, once I have overcome the cashflow crisis and the national sleep debt then I hope to be able to post some real running progress. Expect to see me reach the dizzying heights of a 3 miler soon...

The pain starts here...

2006-10-30T00:26:00.000Z

Well, if that's what it takes to get rid of that blooody fanfare!

15 miles today, luvverly warm sunshine, the company of the University Hare and Hounds, and the entertainment of watching Ed blow up after 8 miles of chasing 22-yr-olds at a silly-old-pace. I doubt the weather will be as kind to us until next spring, so glad we made it out. I shall remember today when we're slogging through the freezing fog in the general direction of Ely...

Long live this Blog

2006-10-29T01:11:00.000Z

Rumours of this blog's death are greatly exaggerated.

Paris 2007. Bigger. Bolder. Beerier. Is that a word? It is now! 1966. Nobby Stiles danicing. Jumpers for hash marks. But that's hashing. Isn't it?

Marvellous.

What is he on about? Well, there are, to date, about a thousand Cantab hashers signed up to do the 2007 Paris marathon. If they want to give their thoughts a vehicle, this blog will readily vehicularize.

The Blog Is Dead - RIP

2006-07-28T03:33:00.000+01:00

2006-05-10T08:29:00.000+01:00

I flew to Melbourne last week and ran in the 2006 Great Train Race (that's me in the white singlet on the left). The weather was terrible (pouring rain, cold and windy) but I wore the magic 'ruby slippers' and they made all the difference. They seemed to run up the hills by themselves ! I managed a little over 61 minutes ( over 13.2 kilometres ), which is about a minute over my PB but still better than I expected. The train 'ran' 54 minutes, which is a lot quicker than usual. I think it must have been 'race tuned' during the off season. I didn't even get close to beating it, though about 260 runners did ( out of a field of 3,000 ).

Sydney Marathon, Sunday 17/09/06 . Anyone interested ? I've already entered online. Have a look at ; http://www.sydneymarathon.org/

If we had the numbers, it would be a great time of year to subsequently charter a yacht in the Whitsunday Islands ; http://www.rentayacht.com.au/au/

Have we got any sailors out there ?

Paris 06 Was Fun!

2006-05-07T15:53:00.000+01:00

4 weeks on and I still haven’t quite recovered! The memory of the event is growing rosier by the minute, and I’d recommend the Winston approach to training to any serious marahasher – surpassed my own expectations by finishing and much quicker than I would have imagined. Highlights for me were; setting off with Julia and Cecile plus crowd (great atmosphere and beautiful sites), losing any sense of decorum at the half way point and bearing my bum in the Bois de Vincent (every French bloke on the course seemed to get his willy out at some point, so it didn’t seem that bad), the weirdness of running through Paris to the Pink Panther tune, the man with the loudhailer shouting ‘Gateaux’ by the Seine (Runner’s Cake!), Marathon de Medoc’s kind gift of red wine at mile 24 and lastly the male cheerleaders just near the finish who gave me a big laugh at a point when I imagined it to be impossible. Miraculously no injury or niggles, so I compensated by dropping a book on my toe in the bathroom when I got back – think I broke it, it hasn’t been quite the same since! So thoughts have been turning to next year, and I’ll hope to be there. This week-end I’ve been laying the ground for the training plan - Big Hands has been to visit – he’s still holding out on the booty but I’m hopeful that with 11 months in hand, I may be able to persuade him to crack the abstinence factor in time for Paris ‘07!

Thanks to the supporters club (I counted 16 in total - pretty good huh!). On on to the pub marahashers!

Back in the jug ....

2006-04-30T07:27:00.000+01:00

If there's anything good about long-distance air travel I've forgotten what it is. I suppose its quicker than sailing, but really .... its almost agricultural. I spent the entire 24hr trip back to Sydney wedged in economy next to a 120kg gorilla who I swear was some kind of Serbian mercenary. After a while the right side of my upper body went numb, but I was too scared to say anything because much of the time he was engrossed in what appeared to be the East European equivalent of 'Soldier Of Fortune'. Such is life.

I landed at 5.30am Wednesday morning, two days after I left London (you lose a day on the way back), had a quick shower and was in the office by 7.30am rather than drop another day's annual leave (Winston, I'll explain how this works later). I had hoped for a quiet day, but it was not to be. I worked through until about 6pm and somehow managed to avoid losing money, felt sick with fatigue so went to the local pub where we have a regular table at the weekly trivia quiz. After a couple of beers I felt much, much better and we won the jackpot for the first time( about $500 !). I was in bed by about 9pm, but that morning and every morning since woke at 4am feeling quite bright and sparky. Very strange.

I haven't run since I got back, but looking forward to putting the 'ruby slippers' through their paces during 'Pain In The Domain' on next Tuesday. Its now a lot cooler in Sydney than it was, so heat exhaustion won't be an issue. Thanks everyone for making Paris such tremendous fun ..... what's the plan for next year ?

A Happy Ending

2006-04-11T17:25:00.000+01:00

Ladies and Gentlemen; the Paris Marathon. Parm parm paaaaaaarm.

And so the heroes return, etc etc.

Paris gave us perfect conditions for the marathon; ~8C, no wind and sunny. Apart from a hosiery incident at the start (less exciting than it sounds) I had a great run and am v. pleased with my time (2h54'15").

My tactics this year were impeccable - I opted for the official post-run massage tent rather than the impromptu massage operation run by the Scientologists last year. The official masseurs were just as pretty and smiley as the scientologists, you got one to each leg, and they knew their stuff.

It was great to go out with everyone on Sunday night, although a whole night on Heineken made the Sackcloth taste really good last night!

Please forgive the embedding of the official marathon theme tune. If you didn't get the music, try here - most uplifting!

Je prévois une émeute

2006-04-05T21:26:00.000+01:00

Par les chefs de Kaiser

It's traditional for the British to their bowel movements and the weather at the forefront of their minds at all times. No less so the Brit about to do a marathon.

My eyes are going to be glued to the BBC weather pages for Paris for the next couple of days. It's looking extremely promising so far (aside from the fact that 4 day weather forecasts should largely be given the same factual credence as Dan Brown novels).

As for the other, well, the nerves are beginning to get to me.

It'll be a riot

2006-04-04T18:06:00.000+01:00

I have a confession to make as my plan has failed. Having trashed Steve's taste, judgment and ethics over the red shoes, I fully intended to turn out on Sunday wearing exactly the same ones. Sadly, it turns out that real athletes (who need 200g shoes) have narrow feet, so my pair have been sent back to the shop. At least I now know that my inability to run a 3 hour marathon is attributable to my size 9 flippers. I knew there must be a reason.

KangaRuse

2006-03-27T14:38:00.000+01:00

ruse

noun

An indirect, usually cunning means of gaining an end. A crafty stratagem; a subterfuge.
I hear they have Ruse in Aus.

Cross training

2006-03-23T14:04:00.000Z

In conversations about running training, people are often impressed at how much I know about the subject; "Jim", they say, "you're full of it!". Sometimes they can't keep up with some of the advanced topics and cry "Enough! I can take no more.".

So.

The topic of how to incorporate the festivities associated with March 14th / 20th and the latter stages of marathon training came up in the course of things. Now I normally don't eat meat (although my girlfriend does), but I thought I'd look into the subject out of professional interest.

Looking for the champion's approach I tried Paula Radcliffe's book. A whole chapter on her fiery relationship with her husband, but nothing on this subject. Next the website: nothing. Even in promisingly titled diary entries. In any case, I'm pretty sure that Paula's ice baths would render me incapable of enjoying the benefits of the March festivities and the long compression socks would make it unlikely that I should get the chance.

If the best in the business have no potted wisdom for us, we need to go back to first principles (i.e. make it up), so I referred back to the training plan I'm following, that advocates "running only 3 days a week, following a specific training plan, and cross-training" and found some pearls.

Well, jig-a-jig certainly isn't running, so it must count as cross-training, and so we have Rule 1: Planning. Spontaneity is all very well and good, but you don't want to blow your chances by failing to limber up properly beforehand, or to stretch afterwards.

Looking further down the Furman plan we find Rule 2: "intensity is the most important factor for improving the physiological processes that determine running performance" and that you should aim to cross-train for 30-45mins. This might leave you with a training shortfall; one idea is to keep a rowing machine handy in the bedroom for the other 25-40mins.

OnOn!

The last big one

2006-03-22T09:57:00.000Z

Ed, Winst and I grumbled our way out on to the last (for me anyway) big run of this year's campaign. Excuses were cheerfully exchanged as we agreed to a 19 mile route through several villages that begin with H, and then up to Madingley and back across the fields to Grantchester.

Turned out to be a great run, and we all went variously over 20 miles (shuttle running + navigational hiccoughs accounting for the difference), and were rewarded by a fantastic lunch chez McKeon.

Time to get your mind right.

2006-03-20T07:26:00.000Z

To describe the agony of a marathon to someone who's never run it is like trying to explain color to someone who was born blind - Jerome Drayton

Marathon running is a terrible experience: monotonous, heavy, and exhausting. - Veikko Karvonen, 1954 European and Boston Marathon Champ

You have to forget your last marathon before you try another. Your mind can't know what's coming - Frank Shorter

Marathoning is like cutting yourself unexpectedly. You dip into the pain so gradually that the damage is done before you are aware of it. Unfortunately, when awareness comes, it is excruciating - John Farrington, Australian marathoner

There is the truth about the marathon and very few of you have written the truth. Even if I explain to you, you'll never understand it, you're outside of it -Douglas Wakiihuri speaking to journalists

We are different, in essence, from other men. If you want to win something, run 100 meters. If you want to experience something, run a marathon - Emil Zatopek

ASICS Gel MarahashRacerBot

2006-03-13T17:27:00.000Z

I have to agree with Steve, training is tough and time is short, it's easier to buy really loud high tech running kit. I've got an insert for my shoes that should outdo those dainty red racing flats of Steve's (and people said mine looked gay). It's the ASICS Gel DS RacerBot mk.VII. I just have to put my number on it, thwack it on the baboon and, if I've put enough pasta in it, job done. No more painful training for me.

2006-03-09T22:21:00.000Z

With less than a month to go, I have decided it is too late to do any training ..... instead, I have placed an order to buy my first ever pair of racing 'flats'. The ASIC's Gel DS mk.VII - TN620's ( see left ). These things are so light that when you're not wearing them you have to weight them down to stop them floating away. Of course they don't have much in the way of shock absorption so there is some risk that you might punch your lower leg though your knee joint, but that seems like a small price to pay. In any event I figure this will probably be my last marathon so what the heck. Guys on crutches always seem to get a lot of attention from the girls.

Science Park or Mine Field? You Decide.

2006-03-08T13:07:00.000Z

So yes, I too was very much enjoying the Boundary Run, all that sunshine and fresh air, until an unfortunate encounter with a land mine around mile 18. Stumbling upon said ‘area denial munition’ denied me the rest of the run and left a rather messy hole in my left foot. Fortunately (?) I was already dosed with veterinary strength antibiotics for a previous injury, so now I’m hobbling, healing, and shopping for kevlar-reinforced running shoes -- no more exploding feet for me! Oh, and enjoying two lovely side effects of the gorillacillin: an ‘altered sense of reality’ as detailed in the Patient Information Leaflet, and my teeth tasting like a Habit/Fairy Liquid cocktail.

The foot, Monday

How to out geek Winston...

2006-03-07T20:27:00.000Z

The results are in for the boundry run. The placings and photos do nothing to convey the pain and misery that comes from running x miles chasing Jim. Hence herewith I submit my log:

Suffice as to say it was not a natural experience.

Following Alex 'marathon' Ho for the second half was definitely a powerplay even if it did leave me only running the full planned distance and missing out on Jim's unplanned sightseeing tours of the car burning corners of Arbury and Cherry Hinton. Much respect to the man though for an excellent time for 27 or was it 37 miles?

Late aching news

2006-03-07T09:17:00.000Z

As you can see from the boundary run results, Ed and I are both partly guilty of bringing the hash into repute, whilst JJ and Cecile left the bad name of the hash sullied by dodging the marshall's clipboard.

In related news, later today I'm hoping for a post from a ringer whose exploding feet should secure a martyrometer swing back to the left.

Two bounders and a cad

2006-03-05T19:40:00.000Z

That is, Ed and I ran the Cambridge Uni Hare and Hounds annual Boundary Run, whilst Winston SMS'd me last night from Munich to say he was snowed in at the airport. He's not really a cad (as far as I know), but I had to pick someone to make the headline.

The website says it's 23 miles, but they added an extra 2 "for fun", and my run of bad luck hashing kept going, and I got lost a couple of times, adding about a mile (yet to be googlemap pedometered). Still, all miles in the bank.

The weather was absolutely wonderful - bright and sunny, and the prevailing wind was on our backs on the way home.

Ed had a good'un, Julia set out for the return leg (Julia - how did you get on?) and JJ broke his grunty fen curse and made it around the half without incident. All in all, a good showing by the Rad Running And Drinking Club.

P.S. Just googlemapped my diversions - I added about 1.2 miles all told. Doofus!

Ed & Jim's Historic Run Series II

2006-02-27T07:55:00.000Z

The second in the series of historic marathon training runs around Cambridgeshire started just the other side of Newmarket racecourse in a village called Woodditton, in a snow shower, yesterday. The route we intended to take would have seen us run one defensive earthwork, at least two roman canal routes (Reach Lode and Car Dyke) and another two lodes I don't know the history of (Swaffham Bulbeck Lode and Bottisham Lode).

The weather soon turned fair, and although there was a brisk and chilly NE wind, we were treated to some stunning sights of Devils Ditch (or Dyke). Devils Dyke is an Anglo Saxon defensive earthwork from the 6th/7th century. In places it's ditch character is more obvious and it's more of a haha than a wall, in other places it definitely a big wall. Looking on the map you'd think it was another defense to keep the wild fen types out of the civilized central lands, but it's immediately obvious when you're running on it that it was built to stop the Britons (on your left as you're running North) from attacking the Anglo Saxons.

Photo courtesy of Burwell Village website.

At the end of the Dyke is the historic village of Reach. From Reach we ran up the east side of Reach Lode, a Roman navigation canal. If you study the route we actually took, or an OS map, you'll see why this was an error; at the end of Reach Lode, we realized we were about 5yds of cold water / 6km of track away from where we wanted to be. The romans, apparently, didn't believe in bridges.

Ed felt the emotional blow of having to retread our steps more heavily than I did. That's the blow that was heavier, not our steps retrod. In either case, Ed pulled at Upware and stowed himself away in a strange pub, leaving me to fly downwind back to Waterbeach, with a little wiggle down Bottisham Lode (that Winston described weeks ago) and a diversion up Car Dyke, another Roman canal built to bring Clay from Clayhithe to Waterbeach and pottery back the other way.

Legs recovering?

2006-02-23T17:24:00.000Z

Just did a longish pace run - 16.67km at 4'12 min/km. Pretty chuffed about that, and the shin splint behaved itself admirably.

Another positive result: I can now confirm that Lucozade carbo gels do taste marginally better going down than coming back up.

Half way!

2006-02-20T14:55:00.000Z

48 Days (7 Weeks) left, of the 98 days available from Jan 1st. 2006.

A good juncture, I feel, to expose myself to ridicule by raising the skirts of my spreadsheet to give you a giggle at what lies therein.

Click on it for the full glory:-

What's that you say? Is that all there is? It's like a training schedule, but shorter!

Yeh yeh, but I bet you wish you had one half as pretty (yes, the blue does match my asics). And besides, I've shown you mine, show me yours.

Like last year, I reckon I'm right on course to run a good half marathon.

Hout Bay - Land of Treadmilling

2006-02-19T21:11:00.000Z

Recipe for a long run in the Republic of Hout Bay:

Leave Athol’s house very very early (thus avoiding heat which would make any self respecting Englisher faint). Go down very very steep hill. Turn right at the township. Continue to beach. Here you have two choices: if the wind is down, gambol as if on the cover of Runner’s World. If the south easter is blowing, grit your teeth and remember that this kind of full body sand exfoliation would cost you a fortune at home. From beach, join Chapman’s Peak Drive. Go up, round bend, up, round another bend, up. Repeat until you hit the land-based treadmill. Pray for small break in the wind to allow you to get off treadmill and continue round the next bend and on up. Once at Chapman’s Peak, wonder at the beautiful views, feel very pleased with yourself and retrace your route home. On leaving the beach for a second time, if you are Jim, revel in the now insufferable heat and steep hill back (it’s all money in the sub-3 hour bank), if you are Winston remove as much clothing as possible, and check in for breakfast at one of the beach front cafes to nurse your baboon bottom (heat, sand, distance…need I say more!), if you are Steve think it’s a bit chilly round here and these hills are a bit flat, I’ll just nip up Chapman’s Peak again.

On on to Jo’burg and the prospective pleasures of Blondie…

Running Repairs

2006-02-15T12:56:00.000Z

I'm determined not to drone on about niggling injuries, but I've just come back from the physio so I'm feeling on the up. Basically on the longer runs my left leg would seize up painfully starting at the ankle and working up the leg. Turns out to be shin splints (always wondered what they felt like) caused by my over-pronation that could have been prevented by doing up my shoelaces around the ankle better.

Right, I'm off to gird my loins (or least relace my shoes) and prepare for a big old run this weekend. Woo hoo!

Going all the way

2006-02-13T14:56:00.000Z

Sarah has rationed Winst to talking about running for only 10 mins a day, so I'm going to make sure this only takes 1min to read.

Yesterday I went out for a long, long slop through a lot of mud and rain with the Uni H&H. The route would be a nice one in the summer. With a days worth of rain, on the other hand, it turns into a 40km ordeal. If there are bits of that map that look too straight to be believed it's because we were too deep under the mud for the satellites to pick up Alex Ho's GPS and my mind has blocked out the wiggly details.

Anyway - some lessons learnt by myself and others on the run. Don't expect to do 40km cross country in the rain without: -

3+ gels
Water
Two sticking plasters
Suffering at some point

Winter Training Camp

2006-02-08T22:40:00.000Z

It's been a mixed bag the last couple of weeks. The step change from no-training to training to no-training to training has taken its toll. Not to mention the recent transition to old age and of course the abstinence (come on everyone knows abstinence good for boys performance, bad for girls performance...and Big Hands isn't delivering...although despite an important sporting engagement on Saturday he made time to enquire after me, and he's also kept me up to date with his travel arrangements to Rome this week-end - clue Winston clue!). First it was ITB trouble, which I alleviated with stretching and the services of my new sports masseuse, Kelly. Now it's lower back pain, which Jim advises me could be due to tight hamstrings. With Bury 20 and now the Boundary Run on the near horizon, something must be done and I think I have the answer...if it's good enough for Dame Kelly it's good enough for me...I'm off to South Africa for two weeks of winter training camp. On On Marahashers.

The Histon Railway Run

2006-02-06T13:04:00.000Z

It's been two weeks since the Folksworth 15. Since then I've only done short runs (~5x4 miles) and circuits (x2). Sunday was arse on the line time again (or lines on the arse, never again!).

I met up with the University Hare and Hounds at St.John's porters lodge to do their 14 mile "Histon Railway Run".

There were 11 people running. Some of the faster people were away as it was the BUSA competition weekend, but a good core of their Marathon training group were running. A good route, except for the 2-3 ankle twisting miles on railway ballast near Histon. It keeps me off the treadmills. The lack of a knob to dial up 14.1 km/h is a great advantage. How long would you stay on if the treadmill had a rock ballast and railway sleeper setting?

Who wants to do this? 2006 Cambridge Boundary Run: 23 miles or 1/2 Marathon Sunday 5th March

Lastly, Rachel's email proposing tonight's cross training schedule:

Subject: [hashers] for the beautiful, brave and Monday Hashers..
A reminder that tonight equals run...beer....run...beer....beer....beer.....DANCING AT THE FEZ!!!!!

Happy birthday Rachel!

The 27th Mile

2006-02-01T17:51:00.000Z

"..Silvio Berlusconi says he will not have sex until the election... on April 9th." (The date of the Paris Marathon)

"...though he is a multibillionaire, and therefore not unattractive to certain avaricious tastes, Berlusconi is also a bald 69-year-old married man. For most men of his age, 10 weeks without sex qualifies as a typical interlude rather than heroic denial."

The BBC looks at the training implications. "Use it or loose it", says Dr Roy Levin (a former employer of mine in Sheffield, who used to warn that chart-recorder ink is really hard to get out of bedroom carpet, "it goes everywhere", he said, during departmental coffee.) :

"It's not a fantastic exercise, but for people who don't have any, it will help to maintain their cardio and respiratory functionality."

Does anyone want to make a declaration of "heroic denial"? Has it begun? Is this the loneliness of the long distance hasher?

Jim's FIRST marathon programme is silent on the issue, but the treadmill has been whirring, lots. A Big Hand to Rachel for pioneering the Drink/Flirt/Swoon/Metabolise technique. Ed, Hermione? Sleeping with the enemy may raise issues for our competitive couple. Marathons two weeks apart (Paris & London) means never being on the same page of the training schedule.

But I'm still perplexed.

Steve, we remember from last year, used the pull of "the 27th Mile" to help him steam toenail-less through the finishing line, but what was the training regimen, Berlusconi or bonking? Does it only work for Yorkshiremen?

Death and Taxes

2006-01-31T16:31:00.000Z

Taxes: Still haven't blogged about the Ely Epic that Ed and I ran on Saturday, mainly because I've been filling in forms for Her Majesty's Revenue and Customs. Finally got all the figures for the tax returns and handed them in this morning, trying to assuage my resentment at giving Mr Brown more of my hard-earned with a warm feeling of goodwill at fulfilling my social responsibility.

Death: Went out with the CU Hare and Hounds for their long reps speed training session, and got completely buried. On the plus side I got to run with the ladies but couldn't complete the session because my left achilles started giving me gyp. Still, I think I managed to get around the corner with my honour intact before I started limping and hobbling.

Scrummy

2006-01-31T01:22:00.000Z

PhotoFit created from info. gleaned from Rach at Monday's hash.

Big hands big tackle, as they say in rugby circles.

Marahashing versus Athleticism

2006-01-28T20:47:00.000Z

What a glorious day! I was quite inspired at the prospect of a long run. Sadly, my body wasn’t. I’d spent a delicious Friday evening flirting wildly with Big Hands ((swoon) a rugby man who gave me all the inside information on Johnnie (double swoon)) and had consumed rather a lot of fine St John’s wine in the process. The twin prop taxiing down the runway at the airport did little for my pounding head, and when I bumped into my fellow running Hyper-twiglet Jonathan in Cherry Hinton I was trying very, very hard not to yunder. I summoned my inner reserves, pressed on and by the time I was on top of the Gogs, the hangover had passed and I felt fantastic. It was at this point that I realised what sets us marahashers apart from other mere athletes. Do you think Paula has to run and simultaneously metabolise last night’s booze binge?? I don’t think so.

On on marahashers.

The seamier side of running

2006-01-25T13:38:00.000Z

The seamier side of running laid bare: Baboon backside.

It's behind me now, thank you for your concerned comments.

So no more "OoooOOOOooooOOOOOooooOoo", baboon noises please. Just when I thought I knew all the seams, and the places that they rub.

As Rachel said, the Folksworth 15 course had hills. I can't compete with the telemetry and graphics that Jim and Ed have posted.....

....However, to experience the erratic cardiac patterns that these hills induced, mouse along this accurate Winston-Earth graphic of the terrain:

Start~~~~~^/\^/\^~~^/\^/\^^^~~~~Finish

- while applying your tongue to the bare wires of a live kettle flex. If you do this while sandpapering your bottom in a refrigerator, then welcome to my Sunday.

Back in the game

2006-01-24T13:36:00.000Z

I had been getting towards worried about the whole marathon thing - I haven't managed to get out for a long run for a fortnight, what with having man-'flu and drinking copiously. I hadn't been for Sunday mega-sprints like Ed, cake climbing expeditions like Rachel, and I didn't even have a sore ring to show for my troubles like Winston.

My dander was finally lifted this morning, when I left work for an early lunchtime trot out to Hardwick. The route didn't actually get me to Hardwick, as I stuffed up, turning North too early. Fortunately I spotted my mistake, and so did a Queen's Rd-Grange Rd loop at the end as penance. I tried a new (to me) energy gel; High 5 Citrus Burst. Whilst you wouldn't eat them for pleasure, it didn't make me want to retch, unlike the toffee flavoured ones I've tried before. So that's all good.

I generally eschew (forget) modern fandangalances such as wrist watches while I'm running, so I can't draw pretty graphs, but it took me 110mins to cover the 24.8km, which I'm happy with.

It seems that the vogue is to moan about hills this week, and I'm not one to break a trend. The hills, Oh God, the hills! (Notice the use of the plural there - there were two!!!). If only I had a GPS to show you! Instead, I've produced this multimedia animation of the route's height profile, just mouse over to start the animation, it lasts about 20s.

(Scale: x - 1:5,000,000,000. y - 1:1)

By the way, fellow marahashers, if you don't already have a feed reader, why not get one, and set it up with the feed address at the bottom of the right hand bar, then you can see when people post here without having to load the site. Try googling for "atom feed reader" or something like that for software.

The Week That Was Part II

2006-01-23T22:44:00.000Z

With 24 hours to go to the start of the most important race of January, I sensed that my training needed a boost. With so little time to work with I had two choices - find a way to emulate an existing base of 100 miles or focus on my tools. So tools it was and I took my tootsies off for a much needed luxury spa, massage and pedicure down Mill Road. It did the trick and sporting my new haute couture thermal regulator (or bin liner as some people know them), there was a spring in my step as Winston and I stood on the start line of the Folksworth 15. Unfortunately the spring didn’t last long, as within 2 miles of the start the ‘undulating course’ turned out to be ‘distinctly hilly’. Would you believe it, one must have been as steep as 1 in 100! Thank goodness for hill camp, it really stood me in good stead, and allowed me to beat my old nemesis ‘Mr Ely Runners’ (last trounced on the mountains of 2005 Bury 20). Sadly Winston didn’t fair so well, and the martyrometer must surely swing his way as he now has a bad case of Baboon Bott. On On Marahashers.

The Week That Was Part I

2006-01-23T22:39:00.000Z

Hill camp had set me up well for the rigours of the second week of my training plan. This week it said cross training. I took it at its word and decided to try some different runners cake. Waitrose tropical fruit cake had served us well at altitude, but for day to day training it transpires Duchys Original Dundee Cake wins hands down. Insistence on runners cake cooked by HRH may be considered decadent by some, but I have no doubt it made all the difference to my ability to go lightly at the Folksworth 15.