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+--- Thread: There Is No June (/showthread.php?tid=2454)
There Is No June - Sweder - 04-06-2016
Actually, there is, even in a running sense.
So far I've managed a pre-breakfast 5k in the western hills, nothing too strenuous, you understand. This morning I joined Tom Roper, OutAlongTheRiver and is progeny, Felix, for the Beavendean Parkrun (the off-road, hilly affair). I did fairly well, bagging 5th spot (out of 30), albeit a good 5 minutes behind the winner, a svelt young man of antipodean extraction who barely broke sweat clocking 22 minutes.
I've plans for a Twittens Plus tomorrow, perhaps a trip to Blackcap. I've not been there in a while. I'm due a hernia op in early August but my surgeon, a jovial chap with an infectious laugh, assures me that running should not be affected.
'So long as you run pretty much upright' he declared followed by a guffaw that would have shaken Brian Blessed.
Thank goodness he's not seen me run.
There's talk of Almeria amongst the runnerati. I presume there's no news on a confirmed date?
On, on.
RE: There Is No June - Antonio247 - 05-06-2016
I hope your operation will be successful, S. Antonio G. is going to have a herniated disc operation next week too.
As to Almería half marathon date is not confirmed yet. I'm afraid that until September they won't be able to confirm it. Probably the first Sunday in February or the last one in January but it'll depend on the soccer calendar. By the way, UD Almería has managed to remain in the second division. Unfortunately, SD Ponferradina has been relegated to second division B. I'm sorry, Bierzo Baggie.
Greetings from Almeria.
RE: There Is No June - Bierzo Baggie - 05-06-2016
(05-06-2016, 07:11 AM)Antonio247 Wrote: By the way, UD Almería has managed to remain in the second division. Unfortunately, SD Ponferradina has been relegated to second division B. I'm sorry, Bierzo Baggie.
Greetings from Almeria.
Yeah, on the last day of the season as well. it was Ponferradina or Almeria to go down, Almeria scraped a draw and Ponferradina lost 1-0 at home, so segunda B next season...
I had a ticket for the game actually but was so knackered after the Aquilianos (long route this year, ughh) we watched it in a bar with Estrella Galicia 1906 plus pinchos!!!
RE: There Is No June - Antonio247 - 06-06-2016
Looking forward to reading your Aquilanos report, BB. You must be quite fit to do that tough race one more year.
RE: There Is No June - Sweder - 20-06-2016
A prophetic title, as things panned out. There really was no June to speak of. Aside from a couple of Twitten runs, a Parkrun and a memorable hill climb with the Cat in a lightening storm, this month has seen little action. Unless you count my nose-dive off the shed roof on Saturday.
What was I thinking? After a week of long days and beery nights in Hamburg I was pretty much shattered. Hedge-trimming at height, with a powerful new (and heavy) petrol-driven Husquvana was nothing short of madness. I managed to trim the bulk of the hedge along one side of the garden before climbing onto the slightly sloping shed roof in order to reach the higher fronds. I walked forwards, giving the front edge a refined look, before reversing with the blade extended across the hedge top. Sadly, the gap in which the shed resides is not entirely filled, and so it was that I moon-walked straight over the edge.
It's an eight foot drop onto York flagstone, a certain trip to casualty (or the morgue) for anyone dumb enough to fall off. Happily for me, several things happened in that moment. The raging tool in my left hand (easy now) swung away from any body parts that might be easily severed. My other hand instinctively reached for the top runner of the fence, which, faced with a large man falling fast, instantly gave way. I was saved by two things. One, the honeysuckle laced around the nearby trelice snagged the falling fence-top and held firm; two, the church pew, now residing in the gap previously occupied by our decrepit barbecue, provided a soft-ish platform on which to lower my dangling form.
The roof edge saw fit to tear the shoe off my right foot and impart a collection of lacerations down my lower calf and ankle. I took a whack on the back left ribs (now swollen and bruised) and my left elbow is turning purple. Most worryingly, my right hamstring appears to have 'done something' in all this. It feels raw and tender, hence the lack of Twitten run yesterday. I'll take it out for a speculative meander later.
All this a year almost to the day that I drank 8 pints of triple-filtered honey-beer and walked into a tram in Rotterdam. I'm 55 this year. It may be time to moderate my behaviour. Or not. We'll see. Here's to a better end to the month and a cracking July.
RE: There Is No June - Charliecat5 - 20-06-2016
(20-06-2016, 08:39 AM)Sweder Wrote: I'm 55 this year. It may be time to moderate my behaviour.
[attachment=3090]
Who do you think you're kidding!
RE: There Is No June - Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man - 21-06-2016
Hmm, a parallel here, to the day, it seems, as I fell off a ladder whilst prepping our bathroom for repainting. Tiles and porcelain left their mark but mercifully no real harm done except to my pride. Even that may have gone unremarked but for the staggering (I use the word advisedly) coincidence of our accidents on the same day. We also both turn 55 around the same date later this year.
Bovril, anyone?
RE: There Is No June - marathondan - 21-06-2016
Be careful, boys!
RE: There Is No June - Sweder - 22-06-2016
Popped out in the gloaming to test-drive the buggered hamstring and lacerated calf. It was one of those nights you get after a sunny day and a warm, muggy evening. A Solstice run.
I took the hounds, intending to plod up the race course and double back through the sheepless field. This time of year the woolly grass-munchers get moved on to allow Landport Bottom to blossom. Wild poppies peep from the high straw-grass, wild flowers lay scattered, yellow, purple, like flecks of paint from a careless artist's brush as skylarks frolicked high above their hidden nests.
So beautiful was the scene, and warm the night, I kept on. Past the stables, along the Moyleman track, up onto Mount Harry, past the beacon and on to Black Cap. Knackered, sweating like a bookie on EU referendum day, I ploughed on. It was like running in a sauna. All in all nine kilometres and change, some staggering views from the top fair reward. Land met sky in a haze, tinted blood-orange-pink by the last kiss of the setting sun. Long shadows spread, purple bruises on the hills, the high-domed Cliffe above the town a huge shrugged shoulder.
[attachment=3091]
I was in a right old state whern I got back. Breathless, soaked, grining from ear to ear. Hamstring and calf survived, as had my wobbly middle and other post shed-fall wounds. A good outing.