Perusing the shelves in the mens department of M&S I happened upon some bottles of aftershave. Being the freeloader that I am, I removed the top of the sample bottle with casual nonchalance (is there any other type) and sprayed some on my wrist and proceeded to wipe it across my chin. I inhaled deeply all the heady perfume. I walked off in a fragrant cloud of volatiles. When the effect wore off and I came to, I realised that my old reliable bottle at home had lost all its pazzazz. I checked this when I returned home and having had my suspicions confirmed, I found myself back in said store buying the overpriced fragrance and binning my 14 month old half bottle of whatever it was called....something like Caddisfly....or Spinmonkey or something. Lee Mack does a great sketch about perfume adverts. Anyway, where is all this going?
It was the Royal Signals Relays on Saturday. Clubs only. 4 men to a m50 team. Probably the biggest event for North East clubs other than perhaps the Elswick Relays at Easter. It was wet. It was windy. I had shaved 'specially first thing to ensure my chin was as dynamic as possible, and not forgetting to 'splash it all over'. I was in the team and on the third leg. It's a two lap affair around a lake in a park. Just over a mile per lap. I was happy to be running and decided on the gloves and arm warmers, but no tights, just shorts below. I have some new trainers. They are a metrosexual pale blue. I was quite keen to get them mucky and had a lap or two warm up playing in the puddles.
Anyway, after the first lap (leg 1) of the race we were in 7th place and there was a one minute gap from our first leg runner to 3rd place and the dizzy heights of a podium place. After 2 laps the gap had widened. Paul W went off on the second leg and pulled one minute back on the runner from Crook AC who were 6th and within reach. I readied myself at the start knowing we were not in the medals, but that I needed to do something decent. As Paul finished, I set off into the headwind. It took ages for me to get into any sort of pace and my heart rate and breathing were all over the shop. I passed the lad from Crook at the end of the first lap, but regretted it when I realised he could spend the next lap tucked in behind me. Thankfully that didn't happen, and during the second lap I passed Mrs Mac who was in the womens vet team. With my initial hard effort out, I found myself dying on the way back and tried to look strong as I came in to hand over to the 4th runner Neil. I knew that I hadn't run very well, however. Catching my breath I did a couple more laps in reverse to support Neil before heading back to the tent. We finished 6th. My time was 14:09, almost a minute down on previous times. However, everyone else's times were also down, so no big deal. And as I got changed and wiped the slaver off my neck, I knew that even if I wasn't the fastest, at least I smelled the part. You won't , however, find me facing down a buffalo and burying bangles and jewellery in the desert with my shovel. In the words of Derek Zoolander, I am slow but happy to know that I'm still ridiculously, ridiculously good looking.
Sunday, 16 February 2020
Sunday, 9 February 2020
Scottish Master XC Championships 2020
I thought I was well prepared for the Scottish Masters Cross Country competition, but I was deluding myself. The day before I had checked out the train times and cost rather than take the car. The Trainline website now shows the cheapest price. It was a fifty quid return to Glasgow and the venue at the McMaster Sports Centre in Johnstone was eminently walk-able from the rail station. The forecast wasn't the best with Storm Ciara sweeping in late afternoon, but I considered I would be well finished by then.
As it was the biggest race I've entered for a good wee while, I laid out all my stuff on Friday and with new spikes and shorts I was in business. An excellent massage from Sean Maley on Thursday and a rapid four mile 7 min/mile training run later in on the Friday was just the tonic to boost my confidence.
I got to Glasgow in good time and had soup in RBS in Argyle Street. Yes, soup and roll in a bank. crackers. Actually, it was carrot and coriander and the roll was warm. very nice indeedy.
There was a bus replacement from Paisley to Johnstone and a fair bit of muppetry was observed from those dis-organising the seam-filled transport arrangements. No matter, I arrived at Johnstone and began the mile walk to the venue. I was intercepted some way along the route by a car driver who turned out to be Susan Ridley. No slouch; a formidable runner. She offered a lift and I accepted. Saving my wee legs..just the job. I thanked her and we tried to work out how to get to the hall from the car park.
Entering the hall, I took my number from the envelope and changed my spikes from 12mm to 6mm. 'Nothing too arduous out there' I mused. Just before the womens race I warmed up for a mile on the course and came off with a left heal that was cutting up badly with the new shoe. No-one in the Hawks had any Compeed and I kicked myself for not packing some. Utter buffoonery on my part. My only option was to find a chemist and buy some, or risk severing my heel over 5 miles. I took off through the local housing estate and asked directions. The chemist was in a small group of shops a mile away. It was, of course, shut. I improvised and bought 3 large fabric plasters from the corner shop for the princely sum of 60p each and galloped the mile back to base and slapped them on under my sock. It was back on with the spikes and then up to the start.
Around 200 set off and I had to remind myself that I was one of the older types. There were, however, several m55's around me and I began the 5 mile run toward the back of the pack. I failed to move much more through the field and after 3 miles I was tiring, no longer making any ground on anyone. I looked at my garmin and realised I had failed to start it. More muppetry. I also realised that I hadn't bothered to check whether it was 3 or 4 laps of the tortuous and contrived course. Seeing the string of oldies around me, I wondered what joe public would make of the spectacle. As we circled the football field (within which a game was taking place) I lost around 6 places as runners came by. It was all a little slow motion; the guys passing me didn't fly by, but crept past almost incrementally and minutes later they were still only 30 metres ahead. On a normal day I could have attempted to bridge the gap, but I was scunnered. Not so much the wheels 'falling off', more of a 'muffled slow puncture'. I was resigned to 4 laps when I was confronted by the finishing line as I came around a bend and shot off at high speed to fend off those that would seek to push me further down the rankings. Scoundrels. 'The results', I hear you ask....'the results?' 117th and 15th m55 and no cigar. I was a counter in the Hawks team, but as we finished 10th, it was all a little academic.
I met Susan at the end and we exchanged experiences. I suspected she did alright and turned out she won her age group. She was returning to the hall for the presentation.
As I walked back to the station I felt sanguine about the performance, but very happy that the impromptu plasters on my heel had worked and that a few beers awaited me in Glasgow. My train was booked for 7:45, so I had plenty of time to experience the delights of the Drum and Monkey and then Maxs Grill on Queen Street where I was joined in the best seats in the house by cat and ant. All in all a most enjoyable day out.
As it was the biggest race I've entered for a good wee while, I laid out all my stuff on Friday and with new spikes and shorts I was in business. An excellent massage from Sean Maley on Thursday and a rapid four mile 7 min/mile training run later in on the Friday was just the tonic to boost my confidence.
I got to Glasgow in good time and had soup in RBS in Argyle Street. Yes, soup and roll in a bank. crackers. Actually, it was carrot and coriander and the roll was warm. very nice indeedy.
There was a bus replacement from Paisley to Johnstone and a fair bit of muppetry was observed from those dis-organising the seam-filled transport arrangements. No matter, I arrived at Johnstone and began the mile walk to the venue. I was intercepted some way along the route by a car driver who turned out to be Susan Ridley. No slouch; a formidable runner. She offered a lift and I accepted. Saving my wee legs..just the job. I thanked her and we tried to work out how to get to the hall from the car park.
Entering the hall, I took my number from the envelope and changed my spikes from 12mm to 6mm. 'Nothing too arduous out there' I mused. Just before the womens race I warmed up for a mile on the course and came off with a left heal that was cutting up badly with the new shoe. No-one in the Hawks had any Compeed and I kicked myself for not packing some. Utter buffoonery on my part. My only option was to find a chemist and buy some, or risk severing my heel over 5 miles. I took off through the local housing estate and asked directions. The chemist was in a small group of shops a mile away. It was, of course, shut. I improvised and bought 3 large fabric plasters from the corner shop for the princely sum of 60p each and galloped the mile back to base and slapped them on under my sock. It was back on with the spikes and then up to the start.
Around 200 set off and I had to remind myself that I was one of the older types. There were, however, several m55's around me and I began the 5 mile run toward the back of the pack. I failed to move much more through the field and after 3 miles I was tiring, no longer making any ground on anyone. I looked at my garmin and realised I had failed to start it. More muppetry. I also realised that I hadn't bothered to check whether it was 3 or 4 laps of the tortuous and contrived course. Seeing the string of oldies around me, I wondered what joe public would make of the spectacle. As we circled the football field (within which a game was taking place) I lost around 6 places as runners came by. It was all a little slow motion; the guys passing me didn't fly by, but crept past almost incrementally and minutes later they were still only 30 metres ahead. On a normal day I could have attempted to bridge the gap, but I was scunnered. Not so much the wheels 'falling off', more of a 'muffled slow puncture'. I was resigned to 4 laps when I was confronted by the finishing line as I came around a bend and shot off at high speed to fend off those that would seek to push me further down the rankings. Scoundrels. 'The results', I hear you ask....'the results?' 117th and 15th m55 and no cigar. I was a counter in the Hawks team, but as we finished 10th, it was all a little academic.
I met Susan at the end and we exchanged experiences. I suspected she did alright and turned out she won her age group. She was returning to the hall for the presentation.
As I walked back to the station I felt sanguine about the performance, but very happy that the impromptu plasters on my heel had worked and that a few beers awaited me in Glasgow. My train was booked for 7:45, so I had plenty of time to experience the delights of the Drum and Monkey and then Maxs Grill on Queen Street where I was joined in the best seats in the house by cat and ant. All in all a most enjoyable day out.
Sunday, 2 February 2020
Lanzarote
Its been a good week with 55 miles clocked up. Most of these were in the sunny climes of Lanzarote; Club La Santa to be more accurate where we had got a good deal. Speedy Joe, Ant and the dark destroyer joined us. Five in an apartment with thin walls. An exercise in discretion.
A 4 hour flight to and from the resort for those with sporting inclinations was the only down side. I'm not a good flyer. Halfway through the holiday we discovered the trail north which took us off the familiar black sand and gravel onto burnished tan sands that extended 6 miles to the north to Caleta de Famara, all of it runnable.
We ate pasta or risotto on most nights. We were tucked up by 9:30pm. This had the distinct disadvantage of being rudely awoken by the shouting hoo-haas that echoed around the corridors of the hard surfaced complex. No matter, the sun was up every day and we did a bit of tennis and a bit of running most days with some yoga and aerial relaxation thrown in for good measure. We even got a morning out mountain biking. All of it was included in the facilities and they were very good. I booked myself in for a deep tissue massage with 'fingers' and he had me biting the towel as I peered down to the feet if the table through the peekaboo hole. Excruciating. I hope it was worth it and my performance next Saturday at Johnstone will be worth the pain.
We returned on Thursday to Blighty. The plane had two attempts at landing in the 50 mile an hour gusts and I can tell you I sat bolt upright trying to be brave, but mostly failing even as my bum got squeakier and squeakier and my palms damper and damper. There was a burst of applause when we landed, but were then subjected to 2 hours on the aircraft marooned on the tarmac in a wind too strong to allow the doors to be opened.
I've been doing a 7 mile route through the woods during the last few days. It used to be a sleepy wood strewn leafy path, but over the last 10 years it has become more and more frequently used and the romance of padding through an obscure trail has been partly lost. Everything being well this week, I'm looking forward to wearing my new spikes and pulling on the Hawks vest for the first time in a long time.
I made very good progress through Gorky Park over the week and its been the best book I've read for some time. 550 pages for £2.50 from the charity shop. Now that's good value.
A 4 hour flight to and from the resort for those with sporting inclinations was the only down side. I'm not a good flyer. Halfway through the holiday we discovered the trail north which took us off the familiar black sand and gravel onto burnished tan sands that extended 6 miles to the north to Caleta de Famara, all of it runnable.
We ate pasta or risotto on most nights. We were tucked up by 9:30pm. This had the distinct disadvantage of being rudely awoken by the shouting hoo-haas that echoed around the corridors of the hard surfaced complex. No matter, the sun was up every day and we did a bit of tennis and a bit of running most days with some yoga and aerial relaxation thrown in for good measure. We even got a morning out mountain biking. All of it was included in the facilities and they were very good. I booked myself in for a deep tissue massage with 'fingers' and he had me biting the towel as I peered down to the feet if the table through the peekaboo hole. Excruciating. I hope it was worth it and my performance next Saturday at Johnstone will be worth the pain.
We returned on Thursday to Blighty. The plane had two attempts at landing in the 50 mile an hour gusts and I can tell you I sat bolt upright trying to be brave, but mostly failing even as my bum got squeakier and squeakier and my palms damper and damper. There was a burst of applause when we landed, but were then subjected to 2 hours on the aircraft marooned on the tarmac in a wind too strong to allow the doors to be opened.
I've been doing a 7 mile route through the woods during the last few days. It used to be a sleepy wood strewn leafy path, but over the last 10 years it has become more and more frequently used and the romance of padding through an obscure trail has been partly lost. Everything being well this week, I'm looking forward to wearing my new spikes and pulling on the Hawks vest for the first time in a long time.
I made very good progress through Gorky Park over the week and its been the best book I've read for some time. 550 pages for £2.50 from the charity shop. Now that's good value.
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