January Jollies

[Sweder]

Hey, I had one of those, too. Great, aren't they?
My teacher, Mr Shreeves, had a wonderfully engorged nose, festooned with a labyrinth of purple veins. He had a caustic wit and a penchant for use of the cane - he kept three of varying lengths and whipidity (he'll definately be spinning at that one!), and used them enthusiastically at every opportunity.

He picked on me from day one, and to be honest I loved it.
'Watch it Head - or you'll lose it!' was his favorite retort.

We had those old pull-down blackboards, the ones that work like the disgusting old rotary towels in mens' toilets. I got in early one morning and created a masterpiece on the board, rolling it back up to be next in line.
Shreeves always started a lesson by yanking down the next board and chalking visciously on it in a sort of sword-fighting style, great slashing movements to create headings for the topics of the day.

The movie Jaws was recently out. My creation, an homage in the style of MAD magazine, consisted of three cartoon frames. The first depicted ocean waves with a slight protruberance breaking the surface. Under the picture the words Dum-Dum, Dum-Dum, Dum-Dum in fairly small script. In the next box, the same picture with more of the rising creature revealed - a large blunt snout with two black nostrils. Same sub script only larger font with excalmation marks.

The final frame had the unmistakable visage of our literary Tutor attached to an outrageously large proboscis, eyes wide, hair strands slicked back over his shiny bald pate.

Shreeves reached for his chalk, focused on the cluttered desktop as this storyboard rolled around on the blackboard. The class errupted. Giggles and snickers exploded into unabashed hoots, howls of derision followed by tears of belly-stretching laughter.

Sadly there were only two in our class who doodled in this fashion on a regular basis. Steven Cox, the other possible perp, was absent.

I felt the wrath of Big Bertha that day, I can tell you.

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

Yes he sounds very familiar. Mine was a sadist who force-fed Shakespeare and Dickens on an unruly, lower class group of boys in a shabby government school in the heart of the industrial wastelands. It was not a recipe for literary success I can tell you. But, he was an enigma for me. I'd often heard strange mythical stories of boys seeing this monster out running the roads, miles from anywhere, and didn't believe a word of it until I saw it for myself. There he was, running strongly a good 15km from home on a miserably wet day, still heading down the highway away from home. You didn't see many road runners back then, and to see a late-middle-aged English master doing something that seemed so alien made quite an impact on me as a young lad. It was kind of appropriate in a strange way, as he was forever telling us that "irony is the highest form of wit", and then caning anyone who couldn't remember what the lowest form was (which of course is the pun - the only form we seemed to appreciate back then).

I tried to persuade my Dad (who was driving at the time) to run him over, but he wouldn't take me seriously.

Which was a pity really, as my "Great Expectations" book review was well overdue.

I still hate that book to this day.

I do like running though. And I still like puns.

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

I think it was Nigel who said recently that there are simply days when you are going to have a bad run, no matter what. Today's long, slowy was like that. Never got into, and it was tough, slow and even somewhat painful. But it got done, which is the key thing. Just a slow 7.5km in 50 minutes - nothing to write home about except that it's another important step along the recovery road. Each time I lengthen my "long" run a little further (farther?) my confidence boosts a little, even when it's a bad one, like tonight's.

I am also pleased that despite numerous distractions - notably the triangular one day cricket series currently in full swing, and the Australian Open tennis (some great matches happening there!) and the usual round of summer barbecues and drinks sessions - I am getting my scheduled runs done and being a whole lot more disciplined about my running in general. Keeping the distances manageable, and doing some proper stretching and strengthening exercises seems to be making a big difference, and that in itself provides great motivation, so even without a major race goal concreted in for this year (though I have a few in mind of course), the mileage is growing and I am feeling a lot better for it.

I have another week in Adelaide coming up in a few days - temperatures there are currently in the low to mid 40s Celsius, making running either a very early morning affair or else an air-conditioned gym somewhere. Still, I can handle that

[Sweder]

Hats off to you Old Boy - you've certainly cracked the motivation nut. It's one thing to have missed running all this time, but you've grabbed the bull by the horns and there's just no stopping you. The Evil Rebecca has worked wonders.

I actually like the tough runs - just completing them, when every fibre of your being screams this is a really bad idea; get home and drink beer now! is really satisfying. I'll drink a cold dark one in your name this afternoon

[El Gordo]

Yeah, well done MLCM. You'll make that marathon one day, I know it. Hope I'm there to see it, or perhaps the 2nd or 3rd one at least.

Talking of motivation and all that, the sun is shining, it's past midday, and I have a long haul up the canal to think about. More than think about. I need to do it. It says here 18 miles, but I don't know if I shouldn't be stepping back a bit the weekend before Almeria.

I'll play it by ear. Literally. If the new DAB radio spurs me on, I may just go for the biggie. Otherwise, I might cut my losses. All will be revealed...

[Sweder]

I see you're back. How'd it go?

[Sweder]

To elaborate, I'm having similar thoughts about my long run tomorrow and Almeria next weekend. I know I'll want to do the 15 tomorrow, but my head says perhaps a quick eight or a medium 12 would be better.

[El Gordo]

I see you're back. How'd it go?

Hmmm.

Am I in a bottle-half-full mood or bottle-half-empty?

I made a miscalculation today. I travelled nearly 19 miles on foot, the first 15 of them running. Then I crashed, spent a mile or so run-walking, then 3 miles walking in the cold and dark. I was still 3 miles from home when I gave up. I was in no state to carry on. Didn't have my phone with me, so when I finally spotted a call box I phoned M who came and picked me up.

I'll flesh out the detail when I do my diary entry, but that's the bare bones. It was great for 10 miles, OK for the next 5, and terrible for the rest. If I'd been more sensible I'd have teated this weekend a step-back week and probably aimed for a good quality 10 or 12.

Man, I'd love to go and sink a few beers now but I mustn't. As a rather poor second best, I'll go and peel a swede instead. (No Sven jokes please.)

Will write it up in full later.

[Sweder]

It's weird, I have a bad feeling about tomorrow, too.
Well, that's a bad run out of the way - better to have one this weekend than next

A pint or two - sounds like the right remedy. I managed three or four (OK, it was four) dark ones yesterday after my golf outing with the Mayfield Society. Not sure it was the best preparation, but it was only my second foray into beerville this year, and man it did feel good :o

[El Gordo]

A sacriligeous thing to say on the great brewer's forum, but I've had no alcohol for 3 weeks, and plan to remain dry till early next Sunday afternoon.

Let's hope they have enough in stock to satisfy our thirsts.

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

It's a little hard not to be melancholy at the moment. On the back of Sweder's excellent piece of introspection on his thread (Jan 17), I coincidentally ran across the story of Jim McLaren, who took up running after losing a leg in a car accident. With the aid of a prosthesis he completed the New York and Boston marathons in a little over 3 hours, only then to have a car crash into him during a race and leave him a quadraplegic. Far from being bitter about it, he says:

"Whenever I find myself frustrated with my handicap or looking at envy at an able-bodied man, I ask myself this: If I could get out of this wheelchair right now and walk across the room, would that really get me to the place I most want to go with my life? Because let's be honest here - the other side of this room is not my ultimate destination. My ultimate destination is self-knowledge and enlightenment. Do I have to get there on foot? Or can I find some other path."

This then got me thinknig about Dick and Rick Hoyt again, a father and son combination who have been inspiring me for a couple of years now. If you don't know their story, please do yourself a favour and visit http://www.teamhoyt.com. Here's part of their story:

...if they’re not in a marathon they are in a triathlon — that daunting, almost superhuman, combination of 26.2 miles of running, 112 miles of bicycling, and 2.4 miles of swimming. Together they have climbed mountains, and once trekked 3,735 miles across America.

It’s a remarkable record of exertion — all the more so when you consider that Rick can't walk or talk.

For the past twenty five years or more Dick, who is 65, has pushed and pulled his son across the country and over hundreds of finish lines.

Made all the more remarkable because Dick had a heart attack last year, but is still out there, every day. If you ever get the chance to see their video, be warned, it makes all but the most hard-hearted of grown men cry. Certainly if you're a father or ever had a father, it can't fail to move you at your core.

Andy has mentioned the story of Yates and Simpson before too - the two friends on a remote mountain in Peru who got into trouble, and Simpson had to cut a rope sending Yates to his death to save his own life, yet miraculously Yates survived and crawled down alone. Their thirst for life and finding (and going beyond) human limits is an astounding story. I had the privilege of hearing Simpson on the lecture circuit a couple of years ago, and was astonished by his (their) voracity for life.

One more - I also heard a lecture ("lecture" is far to severe a word) by Yossi Ghinsberg http://www.ghinsberg.com/ whose struggle for survival while lost in the Amazon jungle is simply one of the most astonishing stories of human endeavour I have ever heard anywhere. Yossi says: "It’s not about what happens, it is about the way you perceive it and act upon it."

Like Sweder, I'm not sure why I think about these things - but I do, and I'm writing it here because it's what I think about when I run. It's also part of the reason why I run. My life is pretty mediocre by the standards of many, but if within my mediocre limits I can extend myself, I at least come to understand that my troubles are few, my problems small, and life is still pretty wildly spectacular and wonderful if you can just rise above the unimportant things that conspire to drag us down.

And if that all seems rather precocious for an arrogant Aussie, at least have a look at Dick and Rick Hoyt's story

[Sweder]

I was wondering how they managed the swim part of Triathlons . . . and then I read the article.
Amazing story, amazing people.

[Nigel]

A heart-warming story, MLC Man.

I came across these guys in the Abingdon Marathon last October - they finished just a few minutes behind me, and there was an article on them in Runner's World UK recently, too:

http://www.micknphil-marathonlads.co.uk/

It makes those 'hard runs' of ours look so much easier now, doesn't it...

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

Yep, I remember a great piece of writing by Joe Henderson in which he tells of how he ran a deliberately slow marathon to run with the guys (and girls) at the back of the pack, and discovered that "that was where the real heroes were" - people who not only pushed themselves to their limits, as the front runners did, but who often had overcome amazing adversity just to be there at all. The overwhelming anonymity of their placing just made them all the more heroic as far as Joe was concerned.

Whilst the Gebrselassies and Radcliffes of the world are certainly inspiring and worthy of their status, personally I find the Dick and Rick Hoyts and Mick and Phils of the world so much more humbling. As you say Nigel, they give those hard runs a whole new context.

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

I dragged the treadmill into the living room yesterday in order to watch the 4th round Hrbaty -v- Davydenko match from the Australian Open tennis whilst doing my scheduled run... without going into detail, yes it was actually easier to move the treadmill than to move the TV, and in any case provided a welcome change of scenery

Anyway, I jump on the tready just as the third set is getting under way and immediately things are looking grim. It's tough going, and I'm thinking "oh no, not two bad runs back to back" I'm struggling along barely above long slow pace, contemplating aborting the run when I realise - doh - that in moving the treadmill I've managed to put it into "incline" mode, so I'm actually doing a four degree hill climb :o

So after quickly getting things back on the level I'm off again and it turns into a brilliant run and despite the very slow first half kilometre I traverse the 5 km in 28:55, which is significant for me as it's easily the fastest 5 km I've run since before viral pericarditis put me in hospital 16 months ago. So very happy I am!

And despite losing the first two sets, Davydenko went on the beat Hrbaty in five sets - an excellent match, and one Hrbaty deserved to lose, wearing - as he was - a ridiculous pink shirt with two enormous holes cut out of the back.

Bring on the next run, I say!

[Sweder]

. . . I realise - doh - that in moving the treadmill I've managed to put it into "incline" mode, so I'm actually doing a four degree hill climb :o

So after quickly getting things back on the level I'm off again and it turns into a brilliant run . . .

I reckon that just shows the value of a nice controlled start.
Had a similar experience meself yesterday, although my warm up was a little longer being over 7 miles.
Nice one mate

. . . one Hrbaty deserved to lose, wearing - as he was - a ridiculous pink shirt with two enormous holes cut out of the back.

Surely you Aussies should have made her wear that back to front . . .

. . . or is 'she' a bloke? Not too big on tennis . . .



. . . I'll get me rain coat . . . :o

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

Hmm, sometimes I amaze myself at my own stupidity, although I understand others find it somewhat less amazing, but those people are just rude

I'm too embarrassed to mention that I made the same treadmill/incline mistake twice in succession, so I won't. Suffice to say that after an initial difficult start to the run, the rest of it went very well!

However that was two days ago, and this morning's run was even more troublesome. It's a glorious day here in Adelaide (where I'm spending a week) and currently a delightful 25 degrees - the air is crisp and still and full of the sound of galahs and lorikeets and a squillion other parrots feeding in the eucalypts. The creaking in my knees and the rasping in my lungs tells a different story however. Forced into an early morning run by hot weather and other committments throughout the day, and still restricted to "soft, level" surfaces (and having neither treadmill nor beach at hand), I took to the local Athletics Club grass track for what should have been 21 gentle laps for a slow 8.4 km, as scheduled.

Well that was the plan at least. There's a gazillion reasons why I couldn't complete this run, but I concluded finally that I had badly underestimated my hydration levels and in combination with a slow, wet track yielded only 10 laps before I pulled the plug. My heart rate was way above normal levels, so whilst I considered resting, hydrating and maybe continuing after a breather, I didn't consider it for long. Sometimes you just know when the game is up, and while yes, I may have got through it ultimately, it was going to be a miserable time in doing so, and so I took an unscheduled "step back" week instead.

This is the third time I've run on that particular track, and each time it has resulted in an aborted run. I think it's jinxed. Certainly it seems to be almost a self-fulfilling prophesy of aborted running now. Next time I'll try elsewhere.

Still, the consolation is that I did actually get out of bed early in the morning and attempt it. It might not happen again for a while, mind

[Seafront Plodder]

I've taken so many step-back weeks in succession that I'm not running at all at the moment.



:o

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

I've taken so many step-back weeks in succession that I'm not running at all at the moment.



:o

Why do I feel jealous?

[El Gordo]

...currently a delightful 25 degrees - the air is crisp and still and full of the sound of galahs and lorikeets and a squillion other parrots feeding in the eucalypts.

Minus 5 here at the moment.

Bastard. :mad:

OK, not quite parrots, but as I munched through breakfast this morning, it was nice to watch the two robins sliding around on the frosty birdtable just the other side of the window, grateful for the suet ball I'd put out for them.

Yes, it's cold and miserable here at the moment, but nothing that a good race, and a few glasses of Rioja and some tapas in southern Spain won't help to fix.