Definitely a good idea to meet up post-Brighton 10K and discuss tactics.
LR, any suggestions other than Alfresco's? Reason we've gone there in the past is its
a) easy to find
b) fairly quick service (for a Sunday)
c) reasonably priced
d) open to sweaty blobs after the run
e) quiet enough to hear yourselves think and hold a conversation
Proud to report a return to moderate dining this lunchtime. Despite the fabulous opulence of Scott's I eschewed temptation and stuck to carbonated water througout the meal. Started with a delightful parsnip and chestnup soup before the main event, a beautifully cooked smoked haddock with smashed potatos and a poached egg. Light and delicious.
Badminton tonight should see the last of yesterday's Harvey's/ Guinness debauch wrung from my groaning carcass. Now it's back to some seriously good behaviour. The Rowdies host the Queen's Celtic tonight (have you ever heard a more defensive preamble than that of Wee Gordon Strachan today? Money on the Hoops to snatch a 0-1 shock ). I'll be alcohol-free whatever the outcome.
Time to knuckle down and shed some before the 10K :o
ps: SP at that time of day, even fully-clothed, is no oil painting
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Need to confirm with Gary but I believe that he has been planning a get together meal after the 10k for somewhere in Hove on Western Road (the name of the establishment escapes me). About 200m west of where the old Debenhams was.
It seems silly to have two meals in seperate places especially when it would be good to all meet up before Almeria.
I'm seeing Gary tomorrow so I'll speak to him about it and let you know. Think he was planning on inviting JSJ's, and some B&H and Running Sisters.
I'll be bringing my van down to Madeira Drive for the 10K so we will have somewhere warm for shelter before and afterwards.
I don't think I'll ever understand this running lark.
Must've picked up my running shorts half a dozen times this morning, each time looking out the window at the gathering foulness, muttering darkly about how a day off couldn't hurt (even though I had one yesterday). In the end conscience won the day and I threw myself out, dogs in tow. My legs felt heavy, joints rusty, it was cold, windy, thick blue-black clouds were muscling in from the west, heavy with menace like a gang of playground bullies looking for sweets. I couldn't have been less happy about being out there . . .
. . . and then I go and rattle off my quickest run for half a year
Go figure. 44:21 for the 'hard' route - a full four minutes faster than Tuesday's 'easier' route, almost identical distance . . . just weird.
Maybe I wanted to 'get this one out of the way' - who knows.
Track du jour was Aerosmith's excellent Living On The Edge. Lyrics written decades ago yet never more appropriate than right now.
There's somethin' wrong with the world today
The lightbulb's gettin' dim
There's meltdown in the skies
If you can tell a wise man
By the colour of his skin
Mister you're a better man than I . . .
We're livin' on the edge . . .
Here's some data from my Garmin from Tuesday and then today.
The main difference seems to be around the 20 minute mark - that's descending the western slope of Wicker Man Hill and climbing Blackcap.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Sweder Wrote:...heavy with menace like a gang of playground bullies looking for sweets.
You shouldn't still be hanging around playgrounds at your age Sweder. If you want sweeties you should just pay for them like all the other grown ups. :mad:
A Special Guest joined me for a wet splosh across the Downs this morning.
Niguel (formerly of this Parrish, now virtually domiciled at Roads of Stone) arrived around nine clutching a sportsbag and a wry smile. The weather could certainly be described as 'inclement' though I confess to enjoying these wind-swept, rain-lashed outings more than most.
We took the tough route to avoid the inevitable quagmire on the heavily-used, liberally soaked South Downs Way, chatting between gasps as we climbed out of Lewes. Despite the buffeting we managed a conversation of sorts in a fairly respectable outward time, reaching Blackcap amidst swirling mizzle to survey the cloud-cloaked hills around us.
The homeward plummet proved perilous, slick flint and loose mud offering treacherous footing on the downslopes. A round trip of a shade over 46 minutes, prett ydarned good all things considered. After taking turns under a revitalising shower we sipped coffee and swapped recent histories before taking separate paths off to work. It was good to see the big man in such fine form; I'm looking forward to a further reunion at the Brighton 10K in a few weeks and, before long, a return 'down your way' tour of Niguel's own North Downs trails.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Sweder Wrote:It was good to see the big man in such fine form; I'm looking forward to a further reunion at the Brighton 10K in a few weeks and, before long, a return 'down your way' tour of Niguel's own North Downs trails.
Excellent, good to hear El Niguel is still smiling through the gloom. As for a possible reunion on away territory, I do have this event earmarked. I haven't wanted to mention it as it's rated BB (Beyond Brighton), but as the subject has arisen.... It's an 8 miler in Guildford with a supposedly fearsome hill included. Not normally my sort of thing but I need to get hilly just in case certain spring races materialise....
Cracking weather for the BH marathon, and not too shabby for the BHTT 5K either.
A depleted field, what with BH and the Goodwood Cross Country event today. Still, you can only trail in woefully behind what's put in front of you and I dutifully did so, albeit considerably less slowly than last Saturday. 33rd place in 23:20, 1:37 quicker and 24 places up (though still around a minute short of my PB). My pace was pretty good for the middle lap (first full circuit). I couldn't keep it going for the last lap though, tiring badly towards the end as I struggled to fill my lungs. It's definitely aerobic fitness that's needed as I'm still feeling the effects of recent indulgences that I'm far too embarrassed to admit to here :o
The fitness is coming back steadily. I'm planning a 10 miler tomorrow, a steady lope past Blackcap to Ditchling Beacon and back again. It's time to start cranking up the long runs. My focus is now Almeria. I'd like to be up to half marathon distance by mid December, perhaps a couple of hilly 15 milers in January to help build some stamina.
Congratulations to Simon who PB'd for the second week runnning, this time sub 19 minutes. The man's flying, though still a way short of the mountain biker who turned up a few weeks back to clock 15:40
[SIZE="1"]Pace chart shows the drop in pace on the second full lap, even though I put in a dersperate effort at the death.[/SIZE]
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Fantastic effort Sweder - hate to think how fast you'd run this if you didn't do whatever it is you're too embarrassed to admit to here but which we can guess thanks to the indiscreet ramblings of he-who-shall-not-be-mentioned but who seems to share your indulgences with you gee this has been a long sentence i wonder if i have the aerobic fitness to finish a BHTT 5k too seeing how i can write for so long without a breathe should my fingers be turning blue at this point someone call an ambulance please oh never mind too late.
Woke up this morning (dah dah-duh dah-duh - yes, set my clocks back OK) intending to hit the trails early only to be met by unconfined chaos.
A beast of a storm had risen up in the night and was systematically smiting the hills outside my shaking bedroom window. Huddled under the duvet I reached out for the radio only to learn that up to 1000 runners are missing following even worse conditions on a fell-based two-day Ultra near Borrowdale. I offered my own Runner's Prayer (for those in peril on the hills) that all would be found safe and well before listening wide-eyed to the news that 'Arry Redknapp has taken the Spurs job, vacated in the wee small hours by the Special Juande and his cronies after one of the most calamitous starts since Custer decided to get jiggy at Little Big Horn.
What happened in that missing hour? A rift in the space/time continuum?
One thing's for sure (but is it?) - the prospect of Sol Campbell and Tony Adams moving to White Hate Lane will set the tongues a-wagging this morning.
What price Ian Dowie to Pompey?
More chance than my solitary text-bet at last night's Dog meet. I received a text whilst watching the thoroughly enjoyable (if slightly implausible) Micheal Clayton. The link takes you to El Gordo's review which I agree with in the most part (I didn't like Atonement - far too bleak for my blood), though this being my living room on a Saturday night I was perhaps rather more willing to suspend disbelief than I might otherwise have been. I was left with the over-riding feeling that Clooney really is a talented bastard and that Tilda Swinton is unnervingly attractive even when playing a scurilous corporate shitbag.
The text I received read: Will be backing Race of Spades in next race
Confused I texted back.Eh?
The origin of the message, and the unsubtle Motorhead connection, were revealed. Ooh! Tennner to win!
Sure?
Yep!
Came in third, a timely reminder on why I never, ever gamble. Doh!
Ten apocalyptic miles, five into the teeth of a vicious maelstrom, or a fry-up?
Decisions, decisions . . .
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Round one to the fry-up; round two as well, as by the time my guilt came to out-weigh the amalgamation of assorted pig-flesh, beans soaked in sugar and salt and two fried chicken embryos nestled in my generous pouch I could only manage a stately eight Ks. The rain abated, leaving a fine moist veil hanging over the hills. I donned a rainjacket but there was more precipitation inside than out, at least until half-way when the heavy clouds returned to rain on my homeward parade.
Still, four runs in four days can't be bad. No sign of complaint from the errant knee and, wobbly bits aside, everything seems to be working as it should. There's no pressure with only the B10K booked for this year and Almeria Half at the end of January so I reckon I'll up the long run mileage nice 'n' easy to reduce the risk of injury.
Sorry to see Chelsea perform so woefully this afternoon
Liverpool deserved their win, playing solid, 'grown-up' football as Scolari's men huffed and puffed to no avail. The adage about Lampard and Gerrard not being able to play on the same pitch applied here, the former being relatively anonymous whilst Gerrard strode around Stamford Bridge like he owned the place. Good enough to win the title? Of course they are, so long as they can play every match from now until May as a Champions League final. Chelsea? Lots of work to do. Anelka's a passenger in these big games; their best player by far was John Obi Mikel, a holding midfielder. Says it all really.
I stand by my pre-season assertion that the Rowdies will win nowt this time. He still looks decidedly off-colour. Can't ever say that about Lord Ferg can you?
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Sweder Wrote:33rd place in 23:20, 1:37 quicker and 24 places up (though still around a minute short of my PB).
The fitness is coming back steadily. I'm planning a 10 miler tomorrow, a steady lope past Blackcap to Ditchling Beacon and back again. It's time to start cranking up the long runs. My focus is now Almeria. I'd like to be up to half marathon distance by mid December, perhaps a couple of hilly 15 milers in January to help build some stamina.
Well done Ash on your great improvement yesterday. 1:37 quicker that's a big chunk off!!
After reading your 'mumble mumble' post on the BH thread and your running plans for today I hope that still managed to get your 10 miler in today.
It was a great feeling this morning waking up and hearing the rain and the gales, knowing that I didn't have to go running today. Couldn't have done it even if I'd tried - I'm in need of a few days rest now:RFLMAO:.
Sweder Wrote:The text I received read: Will be backing Race of Spades in next race Confused I texted back Eh?
The origin of the message, and the unsubtle Motorhead connection, were revealed. Ooh! Tennner to win! Sure? Yep!
Came in third, a timely reminder on why I never, ever gamble. Doh!
You will be glad I didn't text you about the other name related dogs (which I backed and lost!):
Pumpkin Ash & Fivestar Ash!
Some traitor was going to back a dog called Phoenix!
Sweder Wrote:Round one to the fry-up; round two as well, as by the time my guilt came to out-weigh the amalgamation of assorted pig-flesh, beans soaked in sugar and salt and two fried chicken embryos nestled in my generous pouch I could only manage a stately eight Ks. The rain abated, leaving a fine moist veil hanging over the hills. I donned a rainjacket but there was more precipitation inside than out, at least until half-way when the heavy clouds returned to rain on my homeward parade.
Still, four runs in four days can't be bad. No sign of complaint from the errant knee and, wobbly bits aside, everything seems to be working as it should. There's no pressure with only the B10K booked for this year and Almeria Half at the end of January so I reckon I'll up the long run mileage nice 'n' easy to reduce the risk of injury.
Sorry to see Chelsea perform so woefully this afternoon
Liverpool deserved their win, playing solid, 'grown-up' football as Scolari's men huffed and puffed to no avail. The adage about Lampard and Gerrard not being able to play on the same pitch applied here, the former being relatively anonymous whilst Gerrard strode around Stamford Bridge like he owned the place. Good enough to win the title? Of course they are, so long as they can play every match from now until May as a Champions League final. Chelsea? Lots of work to do. Anelka's a passenger in these big games; their best player by far was John Obi Mikel, a holding midfielder. Says it all really.
I stand by my pre-season assertion that the Rowdies will win nowt this time. He still looks decidedly off-colour. Can't ever say that about Lord Ferg can you?
There's something about a crestfallen John Terry that warms the cockles of my heart, and today he didn't disappoint. Agree about Gerrard; what a good game he had, along with Carragher. Right up until the last kick of the game I was convinced Chelsea would ruin the day for all of us, and I can only thank and congratulate them for doing what they find so difficult -- losing. Cheers lads, it's appreciated. I still find it hard to see Liverpool winning the title, though there are plenty of relative neutrals who would be happy for it to happen.
As for running, I applaud you for being able to get out there after your animal massacre of a breakfast. I munched a solitary banana at 8 a.m., and went for a 5 mile plod in the drizzle a couple of hours later.
El Gordo
Great things are done when men and mountains meet.
Managed a frosty five on Monday - boy were those hills chilled!
I love frosty morning runs, the steam pluming from my nostrils and later rising off my hunched, quaking shoulders. It's as close to a racehorse as I'm ever likely to get, figuratively and literally given my distrust of live horseflesh. The downs had their finest sequinned togs on, all sparkle and glitter in the weak wintry sun.
The run was a modest affair. I was still burdened with the aftermath of Meatfeast Sunday (rounded off with a succulent beef joint I'm afraid); everything felt just the wrong side of heavy. Still, another five miles, fifth run in as many days and no sign of knee gah! or other worrying ailments. A day off today, partly due to my late night activities in darkest Barnes. I attended Nikki Lambourne's (insert kindly number here) birthday at the Bull's Head. My, what an array of talent was set before we lucky few!
I'll whizz through the performers - all this mind for twelve quid and it's a Young's pub - as I appreciate raving about a one-off gig might be a little annoying. Not as annoying as phoning SP with a live feed at around eleven pm, but still.
First up delightful new singer-songwriter Lottie Mullen. This wistful angel sang of love and betrayal, but mostly betrayal. Think Alanis Morisette without the razorblades. She has a dazzlingly bright future and I hope she grasps her opportunities with both hands.
Next the excellent Elysium Divas (who'd appeared last time I saw NTB) with their a capella rendition of *Effervescents' Wake Me Up and a cracking operatic version of Aerosmith's Don't Wanna Miss A Thing. Three gals - one Welsh, one English, one Kiwi - stunningly attractive, hugely talented, belting out thunderous harmonies in a very small jazz bar behind a pub. Wonderful.
And so to Never The Bride. These guys are brilliant; gifted songwriters, unfairly talented musicians and as an ensemble simply intoxicating. They wrote for and performed with Dame Shirley Bassey The Living Tree. The album got to number six in the charts and forged a life-long link between NTB and the Dame. The story goes NTB were in the same hotel as Birley, had just recorded the song and thought it might interest her. In true rock n roll fashion they, er, slipped a demo disc into her gym bag. Weeks later a phone call and the rest as they say . . .
Tonight they had a host of guests to join them on stage. Stevie Vann Lange, perhaps best known for her glass-shattering vocal on the Bodyform advert - Whoooooooooaah! Bodyform . . . - OK, suit yourselves - crashed straight into a heart wrangling song of such power and beauty that even the half-soused reprobates from South West London stopped chattering. After rapturous applaus Nikki annouonced that Stevie hadn't recorded the number - hard to believe; I can't imagine it wouldn't do extremely well. YouTube clip to follow soon as I get a chance . . .
Not content with one historic rock chic next up was Rietta Austin. Rietta has played with a catalogue of talented artists over many years and has a four octave vocal range. I don't know what that means, but I can tell you the walls were shaking.
Never The Bride knocked our socks off between these powerhouse performances with a note-perfect 'unplugged' session. No less a rock diety than Roger Daltry said recently on hearing Nikki Lambourne sing 'the finest female rock vocal since Janis Joplin' As the witching hour approached and the fastidious patron poised, stubby finger over the 'off' button, none other than Richard O'Brien, author, songsmith and creator of the fabulous Rocky Horror Picture Show (and erstwhile host of Crystal Maze) jumped on stage for the tumultuous climax. Of course they did The Timewarp (again); it was fantastic, truly a moment to savor. I got to shake the great man’s hand afterwards as he recovered in the bar. He is a charming man, quite brilliant and quite possibly insane. I recorded some of Timewarp on my 'phone and will try to upload to YouTube when I get a chance - you lucky, lucky people.
Brilliant gig. Never The Bride are back (though most likely with different support/ guests) at the same venue on 24th November.
I’ll be there, and I would urge others to try.
[SIZE="1"]* I know it's Eminescence, I'm just wicked and I'm lazy :p[/SIZE]
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
A wicked nor’ westerly wind sliced through my protective layers this morning, a real soul-chiller permeating all layers, rendering my Thierry Henris redundant. I plodded westward, digesting the latest details of an absurd ‘row’ that’s blown up in recent days regarding the BBC and that phone call.
Two popular entertainers (Mr Jonathan Ross and Mr Russell Brand) conspired to make a lewd and profane prank phone call to Mr Andrew Sachs, a 78 year old actor best known for his portrayal of Manuel, the put-upon Spanish waiter in the classic BBC sitcom Fawltey Towers. It's an interesting aside that Mr Sachs made his name portraying a highly racist stereotype which at the time apparently drew no complaints.
The call apparently detailed Mr Brand’s carnal knowledge of Mr Sach’s grand-daughter, herself a 23 year-old member of burlesque performance outfit known as the Satanic Sluts. If this all sound rather puerile and sordid it undoubtedly is. What has occurred since this alleged piece of ‘cutting edge comedy’ was broadcast – late at night and no, like most of the complainants and sabre-rattlers filling the airwaves today I didn’t hear it – is a mighty furore whipped up by that bastion of right-minded thinking and morally acceptable behaviour, the Daily Mail.
To illustrate their part in this at time of broadcast (and in the hours that followed) the BBC received precisely two complaints from listeners unhappy with the nature of the item. After the Mail on Sunday published a puce-faced, outraged-of-Croydon tub-thumper about misuse of licence-payers money the Beeb received upward of ten thousand calls from ‘irate’ readers.
The Daily Mail is a woeful rag. Swollen with lazy, scaremonger journalism it preys on the conscience and anxiety of its mainly older readership. What last week was deemed by an ‘expert’ as good for us will this week send us into terminal decline and end civilisation as we know it. The Mail should have one standard daily headline: DON’T GO OUTSIDE! I can’t abide it’s self-congratulatory, all-seeing all-knowing nose-in-the-air smugness . I condemn Mrs S for buying the damned thing as she does from time to time 'for the horroscopes'. Distraught of West Sussex is calling for vocational decapitation and the masses are responding. The outcome is of course a good deal of free publicity of the young lady and her band (whom few of us had heard of before this became the lead story on a BBC newscast that also features global recession, job losses, wounded and killed in war-torn parts of the world and an amusing tale about a drunken giraffe) and a nice chunk of change for that doyenne of disaster, publicist and serial celebrity apologist Max Clifford.
I do have an issue with all this. It’s not that Messrs Ross and Brand are paid considerable sums of money to entertain us – I’m sure we as a nation get the broadcasters we deserve. By–and-large Mr Brand is a witty and in many ways unique talent. Mr Ross commands a salary, paid via the BBC licence fee, reputed to be in the neighbourhood of six million pounds per annum. I reckon we’re entitled to something a little better than a smutty recorded ‘phone call in which Mr Ross screams foul and abusive language over the top of Mr Brand as the latter explains in some detail how he once deflowered Mr Sach’s grand-daughter. The truth is that Ross’s on-screen/ radio persona is largely built on free use of foul language and sexual innuendo, all very funny on occasion but hardly unique or indeed admirable comic talents. His interviews consist of a few pertinent questions (followed by one or two impertinent ones) which the interviewee is given less than no time to answer. Ross then rides roughshod over their attempts to speak, playing the ugly pinstriped ape to their unwitting straight man or woman. It's peak time trash but there it is; the man is apparently very popular.
But that’s not it either. No, what has me up in arms this morning is the appalling case of double standards at the BBC.
If I were a depressed Crystal Palace fan and I were to have called Danny Baker on his 606 phone-in show last night (broadcast live between 10 and 11pm) to complain in bitter and impassioned tones about the ineffectual nature of the overpaid monkeys I support in falling to lowly Nottingham Forrest, and in the process use just one unholy swearword, or perhaps suggest that Alan Green is a rampant and unashamed Liverpool fan , I would be instantly cut off. There would then follow a solemn and hush-toned apology to ‘any listeners offended’ by my ‘obscene language’. Indeed I have heard callers on the BBC ticked off for casual use of the unacceptably loathsome ‘bloody’. Same goes for the excellent Stephen Nolan weekend phone-ins when topics are a good deal more hardcore than mere sport, where temperatures can and do reach boiling point. At around the same time, down a series of dusky hallowed halls in Shepherds Bush, Mr Ross – or indeed Mr Frankie Boyle, a Mock the Week regular who has a brand of foul-mouthed and unsettling humour that’s actually quite funny - would be recording his latest masterpiece including no end of expletives. So what is it BBC? It’s OK for so-called comedians to hurl profanities and sexual innuendo at various ‘soft targets’ watched or listened to by millions but woe betide any of the great unwashed who throws a few fucks into a lively debate?
Frankly speaking Auntie, that’s bollocks.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Sweder Wrote:Aye . . . since I posted that he's been suspended along with his bird's nest-haired accomplice.
Ah, the power of Running Commentary. I actually used to enjoy Wossy. That was before his embarassing descent into junior school purility.
So busy ranting I forgot to mention my track du jour.
The Boss was on with Born to Run, an excellent if predictable former TdJ. But the winner by a country mile this morning were those wags from King Crimson with 21st Century Schitzoid Man. What a fabulous piece of music that is.
I remember seeing King Crimson at the Marquee club in around 1972... And coincidentally, I had a Springsteen day today, and heard Born to Runtwice on my run. Always reminds me of setting off in the Chicago marathon, when it was playing as I crossed the start line.
El Gordo
Great things are done when men and mountains meet.
El Gordo Wrote:I remember seeing King Crimson at the Marquee club in around 1972... And coincidentally, I had a Springsteen day today, and heard Born to Runtwice on my run. Always reminds me of setting off in the Chicago marathon, when it was playing as I crossed the start line.
Born To Run twice on your run eh?
That's pretty impressive - BTR is quite a long track . . . :p
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
). I'll be alcohol-free whatever the outcome.
. 
