I just don't agree with that analysis at all, Nigel. The great majority of posts on this forum don't get a direct response. I've given up responding to your pieces on your own forum just because I think they stand on their own, and it seems trite to feel it necessary to say "great post" all the time. Most of them are self-evidently interesting and thought-provoking pieces of writing. It seems almost better not to reply to them. I suspect most people felt that way about Sweder's.
In fact there wasn't a silence at all. Very unusually, 4 people acknowledged it. Compared with the average, that's a major reaction.
As for whether we felt "embarrassed" or not, that's something only we can answer as individuals. I didn't.
Re the British stiff upper lip and all that. For one thing, I'm not really sure what's meant by "the British". We're a pretty diverse lot these days. I suppose we mean the white suburban middle classes. But a bigger question for me is whether the lack of public caterwauling over Sweder's piece is a good or bad thing. I actually found the muted response itself quite touching. You detected a sense of communal embarrassment; I detected an air of commiseration and reflection; an opportunity to check a few of our own memories and experiences. For me, it was a respectful silence.
As for the contrasting response to the dog story, wasn't that just that like the moment when the referee blows his whistle at the end of a minute's silence before a game? We all shout and cheer and clap. Business as usual.
I was rather heartened by it all.
El Gordo
Great things are done when men and mountains meet.
Sweder Wrote:It's not gels that has me worried this morning, MLC Man, but my favorite running topic, sore nipples. Having delivered Mrs S's ritual morning tea I proceeded to dress for what looks to be a chilly yet beautiful seaside jaunt. Having plastered liberal amounts of petroleum jelly over my battered, crusted teats I struck on the idea of carefully pressing a piece of tissue paper over each Areole, so as to preserve the Vaseline and protect my running vest from oily stains.
Why not just a couple of plasters? (Or Band-Aids, for the benefit of the White House spiders -- ooops, a further stirring of the cross-post casserole...)
They've always worked for me. Vaseline is too messy. The only drawback (apt word) is when you rip them off at the end you usually take a few hairs with them which can be painful -- but not as painful as sore, bleeding nipples.
El Gordo
Great things are done when men and mountains meet.
Not wishing to unduly heat up the ladies (ahem, straightens tie) I am reasonably hirsuit in the chest region (I think it's migrating from my head ).
I've considered shaving around the nipples but the thought of slipping . . . I don't want to go there. The Jog Shop actually sell nipple guards (a unisex item, I'm informed). These are hexagonal plastic caps that sit over the protruding nub. They have a mildly adhesive edge and remain in situ long enough to do a job. I tried them last year and they were OK. But I think the plasters idea is the best.
The other suggestion, helpfully offered by Mrs S amidst a good deal of chuckling, was to wear a sports bra. I think that's just plain unkind.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
I’ve rarely felt such a lardy swine as I did this morning.
A blood-red sunrise lit up a cloudless sky as I sat sipping coffee pondering my run. There’s been a lot of ‘talk’ around here about gloomy prospects and bad runs, and my bloated feeling did little to lighten my outlook.
With Almería on the horizon I was concerned at pushing my luck. I’d considered a step-back run (8 or 12 miles) but settled for a full run (14.5 miles as it turned out) at modest pace. To do this I’d have to overcome my instinct to run at the front of the group. Keeping up with the bounding Paul last week had been hard going, but in order to refrain from a repeat I would need to settle in with the mid-field and hold position.
The first three miles to Saltdean went to plan. I chatted comfortably with Laurence, a strapping copper who’d trained with us last year to run in Paris. Jill joined us and we idled into the rest point where I snapped a few phonecam shots of the group (below). Another easy-pace strategy was to let the hares get off early and move on with the last group of runners. Again this worked well, and I plodded up Telscombe Tye a good quarter mile behind the leaders.
A-top the ridge heading west I paired up with Clare. Clare also ran Paris last year, and I quizzed her about the race. The conversation was very much one-way, and I realised that Clare was struggling. Our pace was modest at best, so I asked her if she was having a bad day. She was, and we (I) talked about bad runs and how everyone gets them. After a mile or so her breathing settled and she offered more thoughts on running ‘rough’.
After a couple of silent minutes, during which my gaze had drifted to the north and the cliffs around Lewes, the shimmering hills reflecting the wintry sun’s best efforts to warm the ground, I was startled by Clare’s next remark.
‘I’ve found a man’.
I gulped, mind racing. A man? Had she spotted a body? Was she talking about her love-life? I actually considered that she might be worried I’d planned to chat her up! I swallowed hard.
‘Er, sorry?’
‘I’ve found a man . . . on the internet’.
‘Oh, I see. Um . . . you mean a boyfriend?’
‘Yes. That’s why I’m moving house’.
‘Er, right, I see. And you were looking . . . for a man, I mean’.
‘Oh yes, I’ve signed up to quite a few internet dating sites. I’m really chuffed’.
I have no experience of such phenomenon, so, as gently as I could, I pried.
‘So, how does that work then?’
‘Oh it’s very easy, I just sign up, fill in a profile, whack a photo on there and wait for the e-mails to roll in. I’d fallen out with my bloke last year but we’re still living together. I wanted to move on.’
‘So, this chap then, he, er, he sent you an e-mail . . .’
‘Yes! We exchanged e-mails and he was really nice, made me laugh a lot. But he didn’t have a photo on his profile, so I thought ‘Blimey! He might be a two-headed geek or something!’ So, we went for a drink on Monday.’
‘And?’
‘And it’s great – he’s really cute!’
Really cute. I don’t know about you, but I’ve always hated that expression. ‘Cute’ in my book is for Teddy Bears and Puppy Dogs, not red-hot lovers or future life-partners. I think I’d prefer two-headed geek . . . but then, I’m a grizzled old misery-guts. I glanced across at Clare; she was beaming. We chatted about the likely outcome of such a romance, and we agreed that it probably held more promise than the traditional pissed-up, bumping into each other at a pub/ party/ police raid method. Although it worked for me, but that’s another story . . .
‘After all’ enthused my running partner, ‘we knew a lot about each other before we met. So there was every chance we’d get on.’ Another huge smile, and I felt a surge of warmth in the chilled sunshine. I mulled over what Clare had said about ‘meeting’ people on the internet, and my thoughts turned to Running Commentary. In a funny sort of way we’d done exactly the same thing last January, when a group of people connected by the ether came together and forged golden friendships in Almería. I told her the story.
‘There you are! You found out about each other before you met. It didn’t matter what each of you looked like or anything.’ Well, no, but then again our purpose was a little different to Clare’s. I left it there.
This exchange took us to the foot of the snake. Clare seemed to be running well, and here, at last, over 7 miles in, my running legs decided to show up. I left Clare with Jill and set off up the Snake with renewed vigour. No heroics, just a steady pace up the winding two mile climb. The gel I’d gulped down 3 miles back had done it’s job, so well in fact that I didn’t pause at the summit. I plodded on, a lone figure on the hillside. Double back down the adjacent hill for a mile, then cut across towards the Reservoir and down into Rottingdean. I thought about running up the disgustingly steep hill at the Rottingdean Windmill, but again common sense won out; I walked it.
By the time I’d past Roedean, the marina finish in site, I was running strongly. I could see the hares stretching out against the concrete parapet, so I stuck my chest out and gave it just a tiny bit of wellie to the finish, just in case they were watching :o
14.5 in around 2:25, feeling much happier than last Sunday.
It’s funny how runs can turn out OK despite one’s best efforts to doom them with gloom and pessimism.
Here’s to a week of modest, injury-free plodding and a rendezvous with Antonio and the good parishioners of Almería.
[SIZE="1"][COLOR="RoyalBlue"]PHOTOS:
Group at Saltdean (3 miles); Clare heading down ploughed field; Group head up the Snake; Ridge top of Telscombe [/COLOR][/SIZE]
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
I can edit all posts in my diary.
I thought everyone could do that.
I don't think you can edit my posts, at least not in my diary.
Or can you? (raises one eyebrow a la Ron Burgundy)
Yes I can (just edited your code to italicise properly for instance). I'm omnipotent.
I guess you could 'chat' by clicking 'refresh' to see if the other guy posted yet?
Can you edit posts in other forums/diaries?
I don't see what your ability to procreate has to do . . . oh, sorry. OMNIpotent . . . I'll get me coat
El Gordo
Great things are done when men and mountains meet.
Talking of innovation (as I probably was somewhere else), and taking the lead from that video of the FLM, I've just had an idea. How about uploading a post-race video report from Almeria?
El Gordo
Great things are done when men and mountains meet.
Crikey, that's brave . . . I mean, you, me, Antonio, a bar, SP with a video camera . . . (shudder).
It sounds like a marvellous opportunity.
We can always over dub if the sound should become slurred . . .
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
andy Wrote:Ah good, the thumbnails seem to be working. I was doing a bit of fiddling earlier.
Yep, they look pretty good. I guess they save page load time too.
Hey! This is a form of chat, although you won't get notified when I edit the post - that wouldn't matter if we were doing this 'live' though.
Ah, just edited the post?
Hang on does this mean that we can edit each other's messages? Not a good idea...?
Er that's all rather confusing. And um, there does suddenly seem to be a problem with the pics on page 3 of this thread - the images on this page have loaded OK, but none of those on the previous page have.
Mid Life Crisis Man Wrote:And um, there does suddenly seem to be a problem with the pics on page 3 of this thread - the images on this page have loaded OK, but none of those on the previous page have.
It's the same with other pics elsewhere too. I presume that the change has reduced to a link all previously loaded pics, and offered the thumbnail facility to new posts only. Not ideal, but I think it might be a reasonable compromise for a rosier attachment future. Let me know if it you think it isn't.
El Gordo
Great things are done when men and mountains meet.
Andy, does the thumbnail feature mean we'll be able to upload larger file sizes in future? That would be fairly handsome, eh? It would certainly break Nigel's monopoly on structuring excellent pictures within the current limits
MLCMan, sorry about the weird posts earlier - Andy and I were messing about with a form of chat - basically if you post on my thread I can edit the post by adding to it - but the system is flawed in that some edits disappear when God (sorry, I mean Andy) alters the post. I'm also not sure that you (as a common visitor) can continue to edit posts in my diary, even if you posted it originally . . .
. . . ooh, my head hurts . . . it's Monday morning for goodness' sake . . .
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Not sure. I know the default max is 100kb. I'll check to see if this can be increased, though the trouble is that that's the default max for good reason: everything that's posted here, including image files, gets stored in a database, and this will quickly become bloated and slow (a bit like... oh, nothing) if we start posting pics straight out of a digital camera for instance, where files are usually > 1 mb each. So I'm torn between the two. How big a problem is it to keep files under 100kb? (Not a leading question.) I wouldn't want to make it unlimited size, but could possibly push it up a bit if there was enough demand.
El Gordo
Great things are done when men and mountains meet.
It's not really a big issue (or rather, it is an issue of big . . . blimey, my head really is very very small today).
It's dead easy to keep files under 100mb. But what it does mean (as I just found out by replacing one of Sunday's photos) is I can exceed the width of the forum page. I like to edit photos into landscape/ strip-style images, especially shots of the countryside where I can eliminate a lot of sky and muddy field.
Which is cool.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Once again perfect running conditions seem to coincide with feelings of illness. There's a lot of it about just now, most inhabitants of Chez Sweder have a cough or sniff of some kind.
With Almería in mind I scrapped plans for a gentle five miler through the frosty streets of Lewes. Perhaps a day strapped to my desk will entice me out this evening.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Got stuck writing copy for our new corporate brochure. Staring at a blank screen (and several bits of paper covered in scratch-outs and scribbled notes) I realised I needed another approach.
My sniffles appeared to be dormant so I head for the hills, dogs in tow. No plans for anything major, just a spin of the legs and some clean, crisp air through the lungs. My muddled mind cleared, and I began to re-write copy in my head as I loped comfortably across the downs.
Wound up banking five chilled-out miles, coming home refreshed and sporting a game-plan to get this brochure wrapped up.
Another gift from the Running Gods
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
Nasal foulness has won the battle, but will ultimately lose the war.
I've been confined to a single modest slouch over the hills this week, but awoke this morning with the merest hint of a lifting of the Seige of Mucus.
Definately very excited now; just got to negotiate the unholy awakening tomorrow . . .
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
I'm planning on a gentle 4 mile loosener today as I've got a day off work, then nothing more till Sunday. Hope my step-back week will have me rested for the race. Fortunately mine has been voluntary. Hope you're fully recovered by Sunday, Sweder.
Or are you getting your excuses in early???
El Gordo
Great things are done when men and mountains meet.
Worried that Tuesday being my last outing before Almería might be too large a gap I took the hounds out for a walk/ run over the local hills. Plenty of rust in the legs, but the airway seems fairly clear. I'm not claiming the miles as effort-wise I barely got over 50 percent; still, a useful spin and, more importantly, a very good stretch session at the end.
Time to pack my whale extract detector and get some shut-eye.
Of course, this whale sperm/ excreta malarkey can be infuriating.
Imagine coming across :o a cluster of congeled aquatic mammal ejaculate, only to discover it's olfactory value is slightly less than that of a Mars bar. Apparently it has to originate in the large intestine of a Sperm whale or it's useless. What I want to know is; how can you tell?
Do you have to witness the act of expulsion to be sure?
A person could waste a whole lifetime trying to capture that moment.
I've got bigger fish to fry.
The harder the conflict, the more glorious the triumph
).
