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+--- Thread: October (/showthread.php?tid=2423)
October - Sweder - 06-10-2015
Yet another re-launch. No fanfare here, though, this is simply a return to regular running, egged on by the fact that I've laid a marker, just here.
I covered a slovenly 5.4 kilometres this morning. Light rain out of leaden skies, warm air, slippery underfoot, a tortured tour of the Chalk Pits and a return through sheep-strewn Landport Bottom. After an appalling September - 6 runs for bugger-all - topped off with the Snowdrop Inn beer festival (featuring some stunning ale from Burning Skies Brewery) this was never going to be pretty.
Imagine my surprise, then, when, paused at the sheep trough for the dogs to drink and my lungs to reinflate, a sporting legend sprang to mind. It's not every day a run makes you feel like one of your heroes. Hopefully it'll be a while before it does so again.
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RE: October - glaconman - 06-10-2015
Oh my word. The notes at Burning Skies have got me thinking about squeezing in a pint this very evening. How we balance the task of training with this burgeoning glut of new beers and breweries is totally beyond me. (Never mind work and a slowing metabolism) But this is the task at hand. Keep on Sweder. You can turn this baby round sooner than you think.
RE: October - El Gordo - 07-10-2015
Hmm, interesting sounding brewery (a conclusion reached after 30 seconds or so with those Google chaps). I may have to seek an urgent appointment with this enterprise to conduct some important research.
(06-10-2015, 04:45 PM)glaconman Wrote: Oh my word.........How we balance the task of training with this burgeoning glut of new beers and breweries is totally beyond me.....
And apart from new brews, this is already a particularly heroic struggle for anyone living in the shadow of the great Timothy Taylor brewery.
RE: October - glaconman - 07-10-2015
(07-10-2015, 06:38 AM)El Gordo Wrote: And apart from new brews, this is already a particularly heroic struggle for anyone living in the shadow of the great Timothy Taylor brewery.
Indeed. They say Taylor's doesn't travel well (and that's only those in the next valley) so imagine how it tastes in Keighley itself. Then there's Goose Eye ....
What's the craft beer scene like in Switzerland EG? I noticed there were some new breweries bubbling up in the French Alps this summer. In eastern Switzerland you'll be in pale lager country I guess; any diversity with brewpubs etc?
RE: October - Sweder - 14-10-2015
Panama City, 5am.
I'm about to head out into the city for a modest plod with some journos from World Cargo News.
Take me down to Panama City
Where the air is thick
And the girls are pretty
Oh won't you please take me home ...
RE: October - Sweder - 15-10-2015
Jesus wept, that image of Steve Bruce is brutally close to home.
We kid ourselves - or, I should say, I kid myself - that we're making inroads, working on fitness, staving off the inevitable slo-motion tumble into a world of brittle bones creaking under layers of solidified lard. The veil of self-delusion was whipped away this morning by a hot, thick wind straight out of Hades.
I joined the small but merry band of Exhibitionists in the hotel lobby at 07.30 sharp. Mike and Paul, sales manager and lead journo for the esteemed soon-to-be-on-Have-I-Got-News-For-You organ, World Cargo News, a large (similar size to me) chap I'd not met and Ted Sheldon from Power Pools Plus. Ted and I have history following a rather awkward standf-off twelve months ago at this very event, albeit in Cartagena. Ted, a seemingly decent chap of diminutive stature and Jewish-American descent, took exception to my (completely valid) scale of charge for what he saw as 'a bit of shipping'. Having received his cargo he then welched on the deal, not only refusing to pay but telling anyone not swift enough to drop a shoulder that I was scalping him in broad daylight.
The impass was addressed by the event manager (who sided firmly with me) and a deal - one of those that leaves all parties with the lingering taste of Old Ashtray - was brokered. The Gods had had a chuckle and sat us in adjacent rows on the flight to Miami. Silence has never been stonier. Now, here we were, at stupid o'clock, two of five about to run through the streets of Panama City towards the old town. Ted stared at the floor as I tried to bore holes into his unfeasibly large nose from ten yards. Introductions were made, hands shaken. And lo, a few minutes later, the soothing balm of a shared run had us shoulder to shoulder. Not, as I had imagined, trying to shove one another into the snarling fenders of on-rushing traffic, but chatting happily about running history and, if you can believe it, our families. Funny old world.
Our route took us through the filthy backstreets, across hot lanes of nervous vehicles and on a crazy slalom through a stream of barely-awake rush-hour pedestrians, lost in a web of earphone cable and tired resignation. Once over a series of walkways we hit the ocean front. Since my last visit, in 2011, this has been remodelled to reflect Panama's improved fortunes. Brick-paved paths denoted walk/ run/ cycle lanes as they swept us past the statue of Balboa, past perfectly precise shrubberies and lawns, all the while affording us a glimpse of the city's spires sparkling in the morning sun.
With the obstacles removed we upped a gear or two, and that's where I started to really flounder.
Large Man had disappeared. I breathlessly enquired where he'd gone.
'Oh he wasn't going far' quipped Mike, apparently beathing through the top of his head, so level and coherent was his reply. I swallowed hard and knuckled down. It wasn't that we were flying - far from it. But a lethal combination of lack of run-time and a raft of disasterous dining choices had me in Big, Sweaty Trouble.
To lighten my mood yet further it turns out Ted 'Nemesis' Sheldon has less body fat than Kate Moss and a spring in his step that would trouble Tigger. 'Tall' Paul Avery, as laconic a Kiwi as you'd wish to meet, is a 3:10 Marathon man, Mike Forder a habitual ParkRun enthusiast. I was doomed. Paul and Ted pulled away, leaving Mike and I to chat along behind. I say chat, it was very much a one-way conversation, interupted only by the occasional gasp and a fair aount of wheezing. Mike didn't get where he is today by being short of a word or two. He set out his manifesto for the remainder of Tottenham Hotspurs' season as the weight of liberated sweat started to pull my running shirt off my shoulders.
We slogged on for another half mile, Mike seemingly oblivious to the fact that my legs were slowly sinking into the paving. I was running on empty.
'Mike, mate, hold up. I'm going to stop in the Old Town, do a bit of sight-seeing, grab a coffee'
This was mostly true. I could see the faded pastel facades of Old Panama ahead. I quite fancied a stroll through the skinny streets, perhaps a cafe con leche or two, snap a few shots whlist I drip-dried and my face returned to something approaching human.
'Oh, right, yes of course. Well, I've got to get back and open the stand. Catch you later.'
And there he was, gone around the corner. I could have wept, would have wept if I'd had any fluid to spare. Mine was all running freely out of my hair, cascading off my nose and into my revolting rag of a top. I pulled up to a gentle stroll, making exaggerated stretching motions with my arms just in case anyone (Ted) happened to see me. As I recovered a modicum of composure I took notice of my surroundings. I was still on the pedestrian causeway, just outside the Old Town. Ahead lay a treasure-trove of dark, twisted streets, cracked facades and swarthy folks, loitering in the shadows like ghosts of a bygone age.
[attachment=3020]
The obligatory cujos and a fair number of feral cats littered the pavements. What struck me right away was the change since 2011. Almost every building was at some stage of renovation. Steel girders propped up a wall here, rudamentary scaffolding held men scraping off old paint there. Few buildings had glass in the windows. Every now and then I'd spy a completed building. A boutique hotel, a handsome coffee shop, a well-stocked florist, a snazzy Bistro. Like a chameleon, the town was changing it's colours, from impossibly decrepit to new age retro chic. Well well. I thought of the swarthy ghosts and the homeless beasts. What next for these street-walkers? Surely they won't be part of the New Wave. No sooner will wealthy businessmen out-number toothless juice-sellers than the authorities will round up the flotsam and ship it off to the real barrios on the edge of the wilderness. The animals will be beaten, driven away or just shot. My heart felt as heavy and limp as my shirt as the shiny penny dropped. How long did they have? Not long, I'd wager. Needs must when the Devil drives, and there's nowt so swift and ruthless as the Demon Dollar. Another corner of the world stripped and plastered for our delectation. Fuckers.
After a coffee and a bottle of agua - I always stuff a Twenty in my sock, just in case - I set off for home, enjoying my own pace and the sights as I returned to the Metropolis. Through the fish market (ripe as all hell), past the gangs of coal-black vulture-like seabirds dabbling in the oily mud and onto the shiny brick road to the land of steel and glass. My Run Keeper flatly refused to fire up on the outward leg but I managed to clear it's boggled mind in the Old Town cafe. 5.9 kilometres back for a round trip of 11 and change, with a good 30 minute half-time break.
The Exhibitionists, high on bullshit and niche banter, have screamed off into the night. Not I. I'm sat at my desk in an ice-cold room having scarfed an acceptable chicken ceasar salad and necking a botte of water. The war on sloth and blubber starts here.
RE: October - Bierzo Baggie - 16-10-2015
Wonderful stuff! Love these travelogues with a little bit of running thrown in. Didn't recognize Steve Bruce from the original photo .... maybe he's lost a few pounds.
RE: October - Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man - 17-10-2015
Man that's good writing. And good running. And just in general really good goodnessicity.
I am so looking forward to your further running adventures. Let's get cracking.
RE: October - Sweder - 27-10-2015
Well, this is a pretty picture. I set off this morning intent on putting in a decent shift.
Running has been easy of late. No major niggles, no heaving collapses at the end of a session, no cramps. Perhaps I'd cracked the secret to the perfect regimen. I must write this down ...
But then, today. I set off at a fair clip. My RunKeeper tends to buzz more or less around the same spot every time I take this route - the trail along the bottom of The Bottom, right around the little dip before the side gate. Not today. I'd reached and passed the side gate. Blimey. The second buzz (they're every five minutes) usually arrives as I'm climbing the slope towards the racecourse road. Not today. I'd crossed the road and entered the next field, unleashed the hounds (no sheep in this field) and started the first of a series of thirty-second sprints. I flogged myself back up the Moyleman start, working hard, cheeks puffed out, sweat running freely, arms pumping. I hit the sheep field again, this time at the top, and set off on another series of sprints. This was tough!
As I pulled up outside the house I felt a real glow, like hot metal pulled from a forge. Sweat poured off me. My Runkeeper informed me that my average pace was a shade over six minutes per kilometre, a good thirty seconds better than usual. And then the penny dropped. The scales fell from my eyes and I looked back at the last couple of months, a cold shadow falling over my tracks.
I've been dialing it in. Knocking out junk miles, ticking off days on the calender without form or purpose. Run for run's sake, mileage for God's sake, as 10cc might have put it. Running hasn't become easy, it's become lazy. The reason CharlieCat is over the hills and far away is not just his own, undeniable improvement.
I've turned into a sloth.
There's a half marathon with my name on it ten short weeks away. If I carry on as I am my running 'base' will be so wide I'll be lucky to get my ample buttocks to the start line. Ten weeks. Time to get real.
RE: October - Charliecat5 - 28-10-2015
(27-10-2015, 08:41 AM)Sweder Wrote: The reason CharlieCat is over the hills and far away is not just his own, undeniable improvement.
I've turned into a sloth.
There's a half marathon with my name on it ten short weeks away. If I carry on as I am my running 'base' will be so wide I'll be lucky to get my ample buttocks to the start line. Ten weeks. Time to get real.
The Cat's running is suffering at the moment. I need to be eating up more miles... and decent miles. Running with the herd is doing me a world of good, but work means I miss more sessions than I attend. I haven't been out on the Downs since I marshalled the JS20. It's time to get out there again... otherwise my lead on you is in real danger of deteriorating.
What half marathon?
RE: October - Sweder - 29-10-2015
(28-10-2015, 08:46 AM)Charliecat5 Wrote: What half marathon?
Key West. Unfinished business ...
RE: October - Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man - 29-10-2015
(29-10-2015, 09:34 AM)Sweder Wrote:(28-10-2015, 08:46 AM)Charliecat5 Wrote: What half marathon?
Key West. Unfinished business ...
Ah yes. Looking forward very much to that race report!
RE: October - Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man - 12-11-2015
Ahem.
And I wouldn't mind hearing about the training, too.
RE: October - Sweder - 12-11-2015
Really? It's rather dull fare just at the moment. A summary, perhaps. And in a new thread.