(14-01-2012, 11:07 PM)Bierzo Baggie Wrote: Hi Sweder,
Just to comment on the Luis Suarez debate. "Negro" in Spanish can be translated as "black guy" and certainly doesn't have the implications that the word might contain in English. Notice that from the dialogues between Colombians and Brazilians of all shades who live in my own neighbourhood.
"Neegro" in English sounds offensive. It might sound like some reference to slavery. "Negro" in Spanish with the short "i" sound is just a reference to colour. Context and tone is everything but most of the time it's no big deal. Would be interested to hear Antonio's opinion on this one.
Glad to read that you're back on the trails!
I think that "negro" has some connontations that can usually be considered as offensive by the person to whom it is addressed in spite of the fact that the person is black. It all depends on the tone it is said. Actually, according to the Royal Spanish Academy dictionary this expression in some areas in America and even Andalusia -which I ignored- it has a very positive connotation among married or engaged couples and people who are fond of each other. It could be translated into "honey". Of course, the tone would make the difference.
16. m. y f. And. y Am. U. como voz de cariño entre casados, novios o personas que se quieren bien.
(15-01-2012, 12:29 PM)Bierzo Baggie Wrote: Suarez pisses me off more with his whining and diving.
I'd like to see more done to stop the ugly taunts re: Hillsborough/ Munich whenever the two sides meet. There's no place for that.
As a diver Suarez is far from alone in the EPL. Nani (though a little better this season) has been dreadful as was HIM, and that's just at United. Ref's have a tough job, which is why I'd like to see technology lend a hand. Extra officials behind the goal-line is just UEFA window dressing bollocks. More muppets with half a view of what happened IMO.
The racism v banter debate is a can of worms. Most people appear to be pleased that the FA are taking a stand on the one yet in one on one conversations many are worried that the game is losing its edge. Yesterday the Kingstonian manager was sent to the stands for using foul language. It was pretty comical as he set 5 yards behind the dugout telling Martin Tyler (yes that one) what to yell at his players. Lewes are trying to encourage families to come along (we had 711 hardy souls in yesterday) but that approach clashes horribly with the ribald cut and thrust of lower league football.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
(15-01-2012, 02:46 PM)anlu247 Wrote: I think that "negro" has some connontations that can usually be considered as offensive by the person to whom it is addressed in spite of the fact that the person is black. It all depends on the tone it is said. Actually, according to the Royal Spanish Academy dictionary this expression in some areas in America and even Andalusia -which I ignored- it has a very positive connotation among married or engaged couples and people who are fond of each other. It could be translated into "honey". Of course, the tone would make the difference.
16. m. y f. And. y Am. U. como voz de cariño entre casados, novios o personas que se quieren bien.
Saludos desde Almería
Thanks Antonio. It's also interesting that within some Black cultures - including in western society - the use of 'negro' or ' nigger' between two black people is accepted as a term of endearment or at least mutual acknowledgement. In the case of Suarez the panel decided that used seven times within a two minute spell it was intended to cause offence and not, as the player claimed, an attempt to be friendly.
It seems that language only becomes insulting if the recipient is upset or offended by its use or those within earshot are offended. In a recent case a television programe - Sherlock - received around 100 calls/ e-mails to object to there being partial nudity in the show. When the story was repeated in a National newspaper the number of complaints doubled. This suggests the second 100 people were offended just by hearing about the nudity, not by seeing it for themselves.
In Lewes we have a designer who produced a chair covered in images taken from Playboy in the 1950's. The pictures were 'risque' but not overtly offensive. The chair was on display in a shop window. One person complained to the police that this was offensive and the police asked the shop owner to remove the chair from sight.
In both these cases a small minority are having a say in what the great majority are allowed to see/ experience. The issue of offence or perceived offence is not a balanced one. In the case of Luis Suarez the only person he offended was Patrice Evra. Did this require such a grand act by the FA or should it have been dealt with privately? I'd say probably so given, as EG says, the amount of print and screen devoted to it.
I'll shut about this now. I just wish Liverpool would too.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
(15-01-2012, 02:23 AM)Mid Life Crisis Man Wrote: Weren't you going to get some road miles in Sweder? I seem to recall you saying some tarmac training ahead of the spring marathon might be a good idea. Given the state of your hill trails at the moment, maybe now's the time? Bit of an issue with the hounds, of course I suppose.
(15-01-2012, 02:23 AM)Mid Life Crisis Man Wrote: Weren't you going to get some road miles in Sweder? I seem to recall you saying some tarmac training ahead of the spring marathon might be a good idea. Given the state of your hill trails at the moment, maybe now's the time? Bit of an issue with the hounds, of course I suppose.
I - ahem - 'missed' this (honest) in the melée. A good point well made. Funnily enough I got a good 5.2 miler in this morning ... in the hills. I know, I know, but, but ... it was Narnian out there; an impossibly white and fragile hillscape, sunshine, bone-chilling wind and, and ... ah hell, if I'm going to run I'm going to bloody well enjoy it otherwise what's the point? I LOVE these conditions. The low, watery winter sun teasing the frost out of the bare branches, shadows clinging furtively to their icy veil, puddles coated in a crunchy topping. Heaven.
The hounds are an issue. I take then out every morning, the perfect time for a run. I can't take them through urban areas as a) they will drag my sorry arse all over creation chasing cats and b) on frosty mornings the pavements around here are lethal. I can see myself ending up in the ER. And yet I do need to chuck a few road sessions in there don't I? Opportunities to run at all between now and Almeria are disappearing at an alarming rate. I'm off to Geneva this week, Aberdeen next and then we're there.
So here's my pledge. Almeria gives me 13.1 road miles, a handsome start to my 2012 Brighton Marathon Road Miles Campaign. At worst I will add one evening session per week thereafter. Taking a leaf out of BB's Aquilinos manual I'll run sections of the BM course - the long, boring sections - so as to get a feel for the challenge. How's that?
Oh yes, jumped on the bathroom scale this morning after my shower. 89.8 kilos. I'm very happy with that, though I'll have to see sub-90 every time I step on it from now until BM to be truly satisfied.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
(16-01-2012, 12:51 PM)Sweder Wrote: Oh yes, jumped on the bathroom scale this morning after my shower. 89.8 kilos. I'm very happy with that, though I'll have to see sub-90 every time I step on it from now until BM to be truly satisfied.
If you stay on the wagon I've no doubt you'll manage that without too much difficulty. Once you break that barrier it's hard to not want to stay there. Good work!
In keeping with recent comments elsewhere I tucked away a slow, deliberate plod this lunchtime. Five miles at never much below nine minute miling, very gentle. It was refreshing to stay at an easy pace, taking in the views, feeling like there's still something in the tank. I noticed some discomfort in my thigh (left, high up) and my right knee, but nothing too serious.
I'm not sure what good pushing on would have done anyway. For one thing I appeared to be running in a wind tunnel set to 'Max' for much of the session. For another I've been on the verge of some sort of generic lurghie since before Christmas. The authorities popped 'round this morning to daub a cross on our front door, such has been the cacophony of sneezing and coughing eminating from Chez Sweder in recent weeks. I'm bored 'of' (what's all that about) it now, just wish the damn thing would break so I can have a good sweat-up before we leave for Almeria.
A couple of nights ago I attended a Residents' Association meeting, a gathering of blue-rinsers and do-gooders from our estate, chaired by a remarkably positive and enthusiastic fellow in a robust, home-knitted sweater and chunky brown walking boots. My interest here was specifically in the access paths to the downs and the fact that horse riders are using all of them in bad weather resulting in every path becoming a quagmire. Well, horse riders of Lewes, we're mad as hell and we're not going to take it any more! Heads were nodded, chins stroked and all manner of stern admonishments to the powers that be seriously considered.
A benefit of attending this tut-tut fest was hearing about plans to mark the 750th anniversary - in May 2014 - of the Battle of Lewes. I've referred to this clash in previous posts, noting that much of the fighting took place in Landport Bottom, the sheep field behind our house. The Battle of Lewes marked a pivotal point in the ongoing struggle between King Henry III and the rogue Barons over how the country should be governed. It was the second of two such clashes in what became known as the Second Barons' War (1264-67). De Montfort's victory in the Battle of Lewes allowed him to displace the power of the King and to become the de facto ruler of England. Perhaps more significantly the following peace settlement allowed De Monfort to call England's first ever representative parliament.
One of the reasons for De Montfort's victory was the fact that Lewes Castle, as undoubtedly stout and defendable as it appeared, did not afford views of all parts of the Downs. Indeed, at the three quarter mile point in my morning run, where the sheep field ends and the Old Racing Stables begin, there is a fairly pronounced hump. It was behind this hump that De Montfort hid his cavalry. As the King's men enagaged with the rebels (cue Star Wars soundtrack) in Landport Bottom (sheep field) the cunning Baron unleashed four-hooved hell to win the day in record time.
All this gave me food for thought as I chugged along, imagining the clash of sword on shield, the screams of men impaled on pikestaffs and the braying of terrified steeds spurred into the fray. Another tasty tidbit imparted at the meeting was the fact that sheep had occupied the field since this time. Not only that but this particular breed of sheep sired the very animals despatched on ships to populate the Southern Hemisphere. Yes MLCMan, the very same woolly bleaters I run through most days share direct ancestry with your common or garden Aussie sheep. Strewth!
Golf tomorrow, ParkRun on Saturday and another Snakelette early on Sunday. On, on!
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Golf went well (I didn't lose a ball. That constitutes a major success at the moment), Park Run less so. One of those days I'm afraid, listless, no energy, my get-up-and-go had got-up-and-went long before I tumbled out of bed to walk the Raptors. As per usual I struggled to make the start line before the gun, abandoning my car on the perimeter road before jogging the length of the park. I was too late to drop my kit bag under the tree by the finish, nipping across the grass after the start to hurl my rucksack into the pile.
The first lap and a half was a battle of wills; will I pull over to limp back to the cafe and an un-earned cup of coffee or will I stick it out and drag my sorry self across the finish line? My mood was darkened by a hop on the scales before leaving the house. 91.5 kilos, a gain of almost 2 kilos since my last weigh-in. Clearly this is entirely random, unscientific measurement, yet I can't help but feel down hearted at such a set back. After a lap and a half of wanting to stop my countenance was positively pitch black.
Of course I opted for the latter. Quitting in the middle of any race is a bad habit to get into and besides, staying the course turned out to be a good decision. Starting the second full lap (at around 3k) I seemed to speed up. I didn't feel particularly strong yet I reeled in and passed a number of fellow flounderers on the hills. I even managed a bit of a sprint at the end, coming in 140th out of 400-odd in a shade over 24 minutes. On days like this anything under 25 minutes is a bonus.
Up with the lark tomorrow to join the East Brighton mafia for +12 miles in the windy, slippery hills. Almeria looms large, just another (hard top) training session on the long road to Brighton.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Quick message -- in the middle of Sat morning 'domestic workout' and have to get to the gym and back before the footie starts.
Don't be disheartened about the weight measurement. I'm going to post something about measuring weight in the next day or so. I'm something of an obsessive in this area, and can offer you some insight and, I hope, encouragement. Must admit, I was a bit worried about your sub-90 elation, a measurement that came (I think) the day after your long run. Very often a misleading measurement in my experience - and I did wonder about it. But your weight will certainly be drifting down. Stick with it.
The Parkrun experience? Ha ha! I'm a specialist at starting in those circumstances. Can be disastrous as you well know. We all need at least a few minutes of peace before the off - regardless of elite or plodder. But sounds like you recovered well - good man. Anyway, you will also know that crap runs tend to precede the good ones. Chances are, you will start your long run tomorrow still on the black cloud, but will end up on the number nine version. That's the crazy logic of this activity. You will be fine for Almeria, I'm certain.
Must dash. Or try to,
El Gordo
Great things are done when men and mountains meet.
I'm in a 'glass half empty' kinda mood. Work's been tough (in a good way) and I have few other irons in the fire. Amongst these one of the more painful is a disturbing lack of sleep. A good night's kip is as important as training in my view. Tired limbs are harder to control. And with that I'll eschew MotD (until tomorrow morning anyway) and crash early.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
(21-01-2012, 05:30 PM)Sweder Wrote: I'm in a 'glass half empty' kinda mood. Work's been tough (in a good way) and I have few other irons in the fire. Amongst these one of the more painful is a disturbing lack of sleep. A good night's kip is as important as training in my view. Tired limbs are harder to control. And with that I'll eschew MotD (until tomorrow morning anyway) and crash early.
Funny you should mention sleep. On a whim, a couple of weeks ago I started keeping a record of how many hours I was sleeping, and giving a mark for 'quality'. Eye-opening, as it were. Not enough hours (5.30 - 6) but worse is that I haven't had unbroken sleep once in that period. You're right -- a decent night's sleep seems to be an often overlooked but vital part of not just training, but good health in general. If you tend not to sleep well, you really notice just how much difference a good night's sleep makes to the way you work or train the next day. Worth some thought.
El Gordo
Great things are done when men and mountains meet.
And so to the long run, a planned 12 miler in the East Brighton hills. A cool, crisp start at 8am, the usual suspects gathered above Brighton marina, a strong westerly wind shoving us rudely along the cliff tops on our 3 mile warm-up. I knew we were in for a some rough treatment later when I clocked the distance a good minute and a half quicker than usual. 'Start slowly' is our mantra but this was by comparison one of the quicker openings to a downland session.
The groups divided up at the Saltdean rest stop. Lycra Tony and Sam would take the main group on an easy eleven mile loop, finishing back into the wind to batter their tired legs and set them up for an increase in challenge come February. I had my heart set on a straight shot Snake, 12+ miles. Adi, Claudia, Jack (who I thought was called Jonty but everyone else calls Jack) and a new chap - Marco, wrapped up as if for an arctic expedition replete with rucksack and thermal everything - were planning 15 to 17 miles to include Old Snakey so I tagged along with them.
I surprised myself with a decent pace up Telscombe Tye, matching the sprightly Claudia stride for stride as we reeled in the 'quick' group. Grabbing a slurp of juice at the top I learned that Adi intended adding mileage both in the middle and at the end of the run. His 'middle' addition was going to be the North Face and Yellow Brick Road, two old friends I've not encountered for well over a year. I thought about it for a second or two. I was feeling good, I had plenty of water ... why not? So off we loped, leaving Jack to carry on the straight route. Turning west at the top of the Tye we felt the first harsh slap of a wicked wind. I walked part of the North Face, not wishing to push my undercooked hamstrings too much before taking on what was going to be a brutal slog up the YBR. So it proved. Cruelly exposed to the elements this mile and a half on badly cracked concrete was the toughest section I've run since the end of P2P.
From the summit, looking down over Kingston Village and away to Lewes in the distance, we turned right, taking the track along the top of the Big W before dropping left into the back streets of Death Valley. Here we met the Official Brighton Marathon TM training group, all decked out in their Hi Vis windcheaters, chugging their way up the heavily churned mud track. I saw MSilv ahead and we opened our arms in warm embrace before pushing on in opposite directions. I reached the foothills of the Snake at 10.45 miles, legs tightening, lungs working hard, aches and strains appearing in various sections of my legs and hips. It was tough going and I lost ground to the impressively economic Marco and the ever effervescent Claudia. Adi, carrying a long-term injury, trailed behind.
I said hello to Moyleman at the appointed place, reminding myself to bring a purple ribbon with me next time to mark the spot where Cam scattered his ashes. From there I struck out for home. Claudia and Adi wanted more (I'm shaking my head even now) so Marco ran with me. I studied his style up close, amazed to see he had more than a touch of the Tarahumara about his conservative, semi-shuffling gate. It dawned on me that no-one else had spoken to him on the run. We'd swapped tales of races past, he taking a keen interest in my Ultra experiences and yet, thinking back, even at the drinks stops, he'd not said a word to the others. I was reminded of the Naked Indian in Wayne's World II (the one who takes Wayne to meet Jim Morrison to discuss Waynestock) and wondered wryly if this fellow, who I'd never seen out with the group before, was perhaps a runner from the Id, sent by my subconscious to remind me of the principals that stood me in such good stead in the hills of Connemara. Surely not.
As was the case two weeks back I plundered some fast miles at the end, nudging under 8 minute miling for fifteen minutes or so. Marco stayed right there on my shoulder, breathing easily, never changing his form. We pulled up at the Marina, shook hands and vowed to meet up in two weeks.
'I'm off for a hot shower and a big Sunday lunch' I grinned.
'I'm going to cycle nine miles home into the wind' he grinned back.
Fucking hell.
15.27 miles in 2:23, total climb: + 447 metres. That'll do. Next up: Almeria.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Wow, that's an unexpectedly big number - very well done. Sounds like those breezy hilly miles will have blasted away any disappointment left over from yesterday. As predicted.
The references to Moyleman get me every time.
El Gordo
Great things are done when men and mountains meet.
(22-01-2012, 06:53 PM)Bierzo Baggie Wrote: Didn't understand a word of that Wayne's World clip.
Ah, right, now i get it, Marco was Italian.
He was (or possibly Spanish. His command of English was, of course, excellent) but I can't pretend to be that clever. The clip I wanted (above) is not available in English : (
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Fantastic work Sweder. They don't come much tougher than that in half marathon training. No doubt there will be even greater things from you post-Almeria.
I'm often reminded of those Jim Morrison scenes, and the famous line taken from Field of Dreams, when reflecting on the magical process by which methodically completed miles eventually turn to fitness: if you bank them, it will come.
Took a pleasing sojourn across the hills this morning. 3 degrees celcius, a bone-chilling wind, driving rain, mud ... lovely. I wanted to spin the legs easily after Sunday's efforts, scan for problems, that sort of thing. Other than a general air of fatigue there's nothing alarming to report. I ran easily, well within myself, and felt really good, so much better than I had this time two weeks ago.
I tuned into Planet Rock, hooting aloud when they played Asia's Heat Of The Moment. The irony! I was drenched, hands frozen, battling into a fierce headwind and already turned for home. This afternoon I took a break from the e-mail slog to make my first batch of MLCMan endurance cookies. I stuck to his recipe until, enthused by my first ever venture into the world of baking, I lumped in some raisins, an extra banana and a soupcon more maple syrup. The results are fabulous; moist, tasty biscuits, not sweet but flavourful. I'll make a batch for Almeria. I can't see this lot lasting until the weekend.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
(25-01-2012, 11:49 AM)glaconman Wrote: I wonder if chia retains it's ability to absorb liquid, and slowly rehydrate the body, after it's been baked?
That is a very good point. Hard to measure given the other ingredients ... I'll carry on taking chia fresca before a long run as well. Can't see any harm in that. I don't normally take it on route (but perhaps I should on Ultras/ long training runs).
To be honest I'm not entirely sure how chia seeds work (though you've given me a big clue there) or of the period of time between ingestion and maximum benefit. I don't really notice the effects when running aside from a general increase in stamina. There's no descernable feeling of a 'boost' as there is with caffeine or gels.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
