July 2013

[Sweder]

Wobbly. No other word for it, really.
Three weeks of sloth coupled with feckless consumption have fed the monster behind my belt.

Not long landed in the palm-lined sweat-box that is Orlando, gazing in horror at the ugly mass beneath my chest, enough was enough. I hauled on the Five-Fingers and set off around Cornonado's sculpted lake. A mile later I was back at my door but I pushed on for lap two. Sweat poured freely, soaking my 2013 Almeria finisher's shirt. Led Zeppelin did their best to carry me around, ably supported by Motötrhead and the excellent rock n rock classic Limb From Limb. The climax drove me to up my pace in the final stretch. I careered past the door once more, only to slump to pedestrian pace as the music changed.

The last lap was a struggle, yet again my iTunes Shuffle kept me going. I chuckled even as I fought for breath in the clammy darkness, scaring a Disneyfied family strolling, goggle-eyes and Mouse-eared, back to their room. The irony in the lyric was poetic, the link to a film about facing an impossible fight prophetic. I'll need a few more of these ugly flogs if I'm to avoid paying excess baggage on the flight home next Monday. Pray for me.

[Sweder]

Not much to report here. Big Weekend Part 2 (part 1 was last weekend with the massively successful Gentlemen Of The Road festival, featuring Mumford & Sons and the Vaccines, in Lewes) is upon us. MMLCMan and Junior in the house, beer and Never The Bride gig tonight then it's a headlong plunge into some all-too-serious abstinence and P2P training. Another online post-it note to myself: this race is a beast. Do NOT underestimate what's needed to be ready in November.

   

[Sweder]

Another excellent weekend in Lewes involving music, beer and ribald camaraderie has just flown past. Of more import, a run was involved.

I say a run. The flop-sweat flog undertaken by MLCMMan and myself does not warrant the epithet. And yet there we stood a-top Black Cap, shirts soaked, grins as wide as the valleys before us. The effort taken to reach that point was undeniable. After an afternoon sampling Dark Star's Hophead and Nottingham's Olde Trip at the George in Alfriston, we'd undertaken an intense Harveys quality control exercise at the Con Club. The ale stood up rather better than we, or at least, I, managed. Inspired by UK Athletics' decision to rekindle Olympic glories past, SP and I had persuaded Never The Bride to revisit the triumph of our joint 50th celebrations of 2011.

The crowd was smaller. A combination of the Gentlemen Of The Road Stopover Weekend just seven days before and the arrival of the school summer holidays had depleted local time and money. There was plenty of beer, much of it bought for me by friends, including Clan MLCMMan, Ladyrunner, Moylebird and several Lewes FC cohorts. Like the band I was rocking way before the end. When it came, that end was somewhat ignominious for both of us. Plagued by sound issues in the warm-up the band had started some forty-five minutes late. As had happened two years ago they stormed on way past the 11:30 cut-off. Unlike two years ago the sound man, having received a verbal battering from the band all night, pulled the plug. Ugly scenes ensued, soothed somewhat by the arrival of Tequila shots for the players.

You get the picture. By the time MLCMMan and I set off into the hills on Sunday afternoon we had recovered just about enough. Sweat flowed freely under a smiling sun, the zephyr at our backs doing little to cool our jets. Walk breaks were taken along with a considerable stop at the summit to soak in the vistas. Blanched, white-gold grasses waved beside lush green gallops, trees and shrubs defining fields crisscrossed with white chalk trails. MLCMMan confirmed what I've always felt, that my ten years of posted images do little to convey the majesty of the place.

We scampered homeward, the prospect of a table full of fresh salad, spiced couscous and, in all probability, a beer or two, driving us on. As so often happens that zephyr from behind became a roaring wind in our faces, yet we sneaked home in just under the hour. It was an honour for me to share my local plod with such a venerable member of our tribe.

A restorative visit to the Pelham Arms, just before a splendid curry at the Spice Merchant, saw me sup my last beers* for a while. With P2P hoving into view I need to shift some timber and unfurl those running sails. Grog, bread, stodgy carbs, be gone.
This creaking ship is set fair for Hobart.


*Hopping Hare and Tanglefoot

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

My "last beers" are a little while off yet I'm afraid. Here in Chez Big Cheese in Horgen in the land of cuckoo clocks and gruyere we are making mercy killings of Valentins Hefeweissbier due to a "lack of space" in EG's fridge. Oh well, someone has to do it.

This creaking ship will creak for few days more, I fear. Well, maybe "fear" is too strong a word... to quote Sweder, "on on"!

[Sweder]

The mojo wire carries tales of a softly spoken Englishman bestriding the Swiss hills with staff and silver countenance to the fore. New pictures painted in shimmering prose adorn the entrance to this site. Welcome news as the autumn battle-lines are drawn.

In other news I slipped put for a cheeky four miles this evening. MLCMMan would not have recognised Sunday's trails. Hilltops shrouded in low-slung cloud, tall grasses glistened after morning's skyfall. I staggered into a swirling wind laced with rain ripped out of the swaying trees. This was an ugly slog, but one which bodes well for the new campaign. It would have been all too easy to duck out, given the poor weather and my overwhelming tiredness. But these are critical days, the 'get-back-on-the-horse' days. There's no room for whimping out. These tough runs, way harder than they should be given the modest distances and sluggish pace, are important.

On, on indeed.

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

Better to have gotten the ugly ones out of the way early, OM. You still have plenty of time ... and I feel this year will be a corker of a P2P for you. As I write this, I am sitting on EG's balcony admiring the view over the lake as the sun goes down and drinking my way through his cellar of Cru Bourgeois ... doubly reprehensible of me as the big man himself is on the wagon, looking trim and fit and a little ill at ease as I plough through his diminishing cellar. But more of this later ... for now there is a cheese board to munch through. Ciao!

[Sweder]

P2P Entry confirmed

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

P2P Entry confirmed

Ditto us!

[marathondan]

doubly reprehensible of me as the big man himself is on the wagon, looking trim and fit and a little ill at ease as I plough through his diminishing cellar. But more of this later ... for now there is a cheese board to munch through. Ciao!

Just one of the many coaching services you provide, MLCMM - let's call it "active weight management"! And prepared to travel the globe to visit your client, too.

[marathondan]

But these are critical days, the 'get-back-on-the-horse' days. There's no room for whimping out. These tough runs, way harder than they should be given the modest distances and sluggish pace, are important.

There's a lot to be said for consistent, year-round training, but the old boom/bust cycle certainly keeps life interesting!

Tally ho!

[Sweder]

But these are critical days, the 'get-back-on-the-horse' days. There's no room for whimping out. These tough runs, way harder than they should be given the modest distances and sluggish pace, are important.

There's a lot to be said for consistent, year-round training, but the old boom/bust cycle certainly keeps life interesting!

Tally ho!

Quite so, Dan. Like you, I have a lot of 'life' to squeeze into a year, this year more than ever, it seems. I would love to keep things ticking over gently. Imagine being able to up the ante a few weeks out from a race, without all the guilt, sweat, radical lard-loss and abstinence! C'est la vie, and on we go.