Murderous March

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

What a day. Brilliant!

Being a rest day, I settled down to watch the Commonwealth Games triathlon, happy in the knowledge that I had no exercise of any kind to be done, and was therefore free to indulge without feelings of guilt, and without the tedious planning of runs/walks etc etc around more important duties such as patriotically cheering our Aussie guys and girls home in their respective events.

However, first of course one must prepare with the right ingredients. To watch a triathlon, it seemed appropriate to have a triplet of suitable beers at hand; to which end:


...did the job nicely. And as we won the gold medal (and the bronze too), it seemed appropriate to celebrate with a beer rapidly acquiring legendary status here in Oz, and which I had never previously encountered... the Grand Ridge Brewery Supershine, bow down, tug forelock etc.

Now to be fair, I had seen this beer before and thought it a nonsense. How on earth could you brew a beer this strong and actually be serious about it? I thought it alcoholic for the sake of being stupidly, ostentatiously, ridiculously alcoholic. And yet, it proved to be a "wow" beer. It smelled almost varnish-like, yet was amazingly elegant for something stronger than a lot of wines. Complex, yet smooth, full of immense flavour and dignity, this is a beer to savour at special times ... um, such as a nice day, or on the occasion of a particular thirst.



And yes, that says 11%. God, that's strong. As strong or stronger than some of that stuff those mad Scotsmen drink. But man was it nice.

Now all I have to do is learn how to brew something similar :o

Easier said than done pehaps, but where's there's a swill, er, will, there's a way...

Cheers, fellow runners.

[glaconman]

I forgot you were a Plastic Paddy Andy.

I spent a couple of weekends last year in Ireland with relatives for the first time. Co. Offaly and around. Lock-ins drinking Guiness to die for with Paddy & Red chasers; young girls with angelic voices singing at the bar; grown men reciting 30 verse stanzas whilst staring intensely into their glasses. My Uncle Brendan smiling at me whilst he removes his nicotine patches and telling me he's an addiction councellor. An old aunty telling my Dad: 'It's all drink related Jimmy! Aaallll drink related'. Old Ireland may be dying out but there's still a strong flavour of the place if you know where to look.

Do you ever get back to 'The Old Country'?

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

A rare privilege today with not one, but two marathons on the telly, with both the womens' and mens' Commonwealth Games marathons being televised. Of course we were stoked that local defending champ Kerryn McCann won again, but what a finish, with she and Kenyan Cherono-Koskei changing the lead six times inside the last km and a sprint finish!

It was a pity Paula Radcliffe had pulled out, but the other English lass Liz Yelling (how can that be a real name?) did well, leading early and holding on for bronze.

The bloke's marathon was also exciting, with the Tanzanian Isegwe breaking away from the pack in the first 200 metres! He set a crazy pace, with only the Kenyan Fred Mugaka Tumbo (how can that be a real name?!) staying with him. However, after hitting 20km in 1h and a few seconds, Isegwe pulled up with a hammy. He later (after the entire field had passed him) took off again, and I confess to wondering if Paula was watching this courageous act of "finishing the race for my country". However Paula was vindicated from her Athens pull-out when Isegwe gave in after 35km, having probably done much more harm than good.

The 2:08 Tanzanyan runner Ramadhani moved through the field nicely to win in 2:11:29 from the plucky Mogaka Tumbo, who hung in there with him until the last couple of hundred metres. And another marathon bronze for England with Dan The Man Robinson running a fantastic race, moving steadily through the field to take third comfortably.

The crowd favourite though (apart from the Aussies of course) was St.Helena runner Errol Duncan, who came in stone cold motherless last in 3:11. He also happens to 45 years old - just a few months older than me

My own run today was somewhat more modest - another relatively slow 5km. This really is getting a tad boring, but it's doing the job I think. Tonight's run was good actually - felt really strong and I upped the pace every half a km to finish fast and strong, with a solid negative split.

The surrealism thing still plagues some RC minds here, with one reader suggesting (appreciatively, I think) that I was becoming "Kafka-esque". But for the moment, the endorphins are flying way too thick and fast to concentrate on such lofty thinking, so that will have to wait for another beer night.

[Sweder]

A fabulous piece of patriotic Aussie radio commentary got some airtime on the beeb yesterday.
The Man at the Mic was in a real lather, making our own Alan Green sound positively pedestrian.
He was calling the closing stretch to one of the endurance events at the aforementioned Commonwealth Games, a meeting that it has not escaped my notice has enjoyed no small amount of success for the Home Nations.
An example of his banter:
(in a very loud, high-pitched squeal-come-yell)
'Come on, mate! Aw, you beauty! Go Aussie, go - this is fantastic, awesome, stand up and cheer this Australian hero! . . . (ad nauseum)'

The BBC Five Live reporter, in a stone cold voice, would only say
'and that particular athlete finished 27th.'

Priceless.

[Sweder]

I forgot you were a Plastic Paddy Andy.
Do you ever get back to 'The Old Country'?

Don't get me started on Oireland. My first ever visit last year, as briefly documented on here in the Madness of Macroom. Perhaps we need to find a nice little 10k or a half down in the south west later in the year . . .

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

(in a very loud, high-pitched squeal-come-yell)
'Come on, mate! Aw, you beauty! Go Aussie, go - this is fantastic, awesome, stand up and cheer this Australian hero! . . . (ad nauseum)'

The BBC Five Live reporter, in a stone cold voice, would only say
'and that particular athlete finished 27th.'

Priceless.

Um well, yes, so our commentators tend to be all "fervour and cliches". However, as cute (and perhaps even as embarrassing) as it may seem, you only have to look at the Games medal tally to see what a bit of rabid support for your athletes will actually do.

And, knowing Five Live presenters just a tad, I suggest the "finished 27th" comment was probably a sarcastic understatement. Nicely put, but.

Speaking of commentators, I have been really impressed with Steve Ovett who's over here doing commentary at the Comwelf Games track events. Bloody brilliant! Can we keep him?

[Sweder]

Speaking of commentators, I have been really impressed with Steve Ovett who's over here doing commentary at the Comwelf Games track events. Bloody brilliant! Can we keep him?

Of course you can. We've got Seb Coe . . .

I agree on Ovett as a pundit. He's doubling up for the Beeb on their broadcasts home. Ovett is very un-PC, direct, insightful, calls a spade a spade - no pussy-footing about; 'that guy's just not pulling his weight- he shouldn't be out here.' - cracking stuff.

On the jingoistic support front I confess we're just as partial, albeit a smidgeon less demonstrative. With that in mind I'd just like to big up the swimmers from these shores; our medal tally is unexpected and extremely heartening, even if Grant (can't) Hackett and the Thorpedo are unable to get wet this time. Interesting to see how close we'd be to the mighty Green & Gold as Team GB . . .

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

Interesting to see how close we'd be to the mighty Green & Gold as Team GB . . .

As team GB you'd be doing very bloody well! Beijing shall be very interesting in two years time. Hope you managed to catch the mens 5000 metres - absolute cracker of a race! Now that was a race call - Steve Ovett nearly wet himself, and he's not even an Aussie. One of the really great middle distance races (even though Buster Mottram didn't actually win)... I'm still excited, two hours later :o

[El Gordo]

I forgot you were a Plastic Paddy Andy.....
Do you ever get back to 'The Old Country'?

I do, to be sure, though not as often as I would like.

If you visit http://www.runningcommentary.net/2004/2004sep.htm and scroll down a bit, you can read about my last visit, and see some snaps of the house my mother grew up in.

Perhaps we need to find a nice little 10k or a half down in the south west later in the year . . .

I would definitely be up for it. I keep looking at races in Ireland. Some year, the Connemarathon perhaps, though it's in April (and includes a half, which is probably more suitable). I have trouble finding a good Irish race calendar. If someone knows of one, perhaps they could let me know. Cheers.

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

What the hell was Neil Diamond rabbiting on about in "Crunchy Granola Suite" anyway? Have you ever listened to the lyrics? Crazy guy.

What I was really trying to say was "crunch time", but I've had too much Sweder Brew to be making sense at this time of night, so this becomes a Neil Diamond thread instead.

But before talking about the rapidly balding Neil D, I will mention that after a 6km run yesterday, and subsequent inflammation of the oft-mentioned shins (boring MLCM - talk about Neil Diamond instead - Gad, what am I saying??)... er, anyway. What? Oh yes.

Ocelot spleens. But then everyone does...

So yes, I'm off to see the lovely, but evil Rebecca for the dreaded appointment I had hoped to avoid - the one where we talk about prescription orthotics, for the truth of the matter is that whilst I have managed to maintain my running, the shin splints (boring boring boring) haven't gone away. Not at all. So something must be done.

In truth, the only fear I have of orthotics really is in going back to square one and starting again, but to do otherwise will probably end up in the same place, but with added repetitions of knee/shin complaints, so it is indeed, crunch time. Hence the reference to Mr receding hairline Neil baby.

Meanwhilst, it's business as usual, and bugger the pain. It really isn't much, it's just that it's so damn persistent.

Sigh.

This Sweder Brew really is very good.

Sweet Caroline, I Am I Said, A Solitary Man's Song Sung Blue.

Stupid man...

[Sweder]

Ocelot spleens. But then everyone does...

. . . don't forget otter's noses . . . get 'em whilst they're hot, they're lovely . . .

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

A painful run today. Off to seriously chat orthotics with the lovely but evil Rebecca tomorrow. Will report back then.

Only thing of mild interest with recent runs was one of two days ago, which happened to coincide with the running of the final of the womens' 1500m at the Komwelf Games... I couldn't help but notice that during the running of that race, while the women covered 1500m, I covered just 640m. But then, of course that's hardly a fair comparison, as they had a crowd to spur them on

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

I saw a TV programme recently - one of those where they train an ordinary Joe Blogs to see if he can reach an elite level in their chosen sport. In this case it was a middle-aged cyclist who wanted to be part of an elite relay team for a long distance race across the USA. The coaching staff gave him every opportunity and he put in a decent effort, and the documentary makers did an excellent job of capturing every aspect of the training - the determination, the torment, the fatigue, the jealousy of rival riders and so on.

In the end, he qualified for the squad and travelled to the USA but couldn't make the final team. The poignant moment was powerfully and beautifully captured by the film maker when the team coach called this guy out to the hotel car park and had him sit in the team mini-bus for a few minutes, before sitting beside him and telling him the sad news that he'd failed to make the team.

It was like watching a man go to the gallows. As soon as he was called out to the car park he sensed what was going to happen next. By making him sit in the bus by himself for a few minutes, he had time to compose himself for what was to come, but that didn't stop the whole gamut of emotions being displayed when he was actually told - a mix of bitter disappointment, disillusionment and anger that months of probably the hardest work he had ever had to do had come to nothing. Not just come to nothing, but had firstly come so close to succeeding before finally fading away to oblivion.

I was thinking of that whilst thumbing through old copies of Sports Illustrated in the physiotherapist's waiting room this afternoon. I knew what was coming, and to be fair, the comparison is completely inappropriate. In reality, my chances of success are still pretty darn good; and the delay caused by my now having to visit a sports podiatrist for orthotics is just that - a delay, but one which will (apparently) allow me to move on and reach my running goals after all, as Rebecca (the physio) is full of confidence that the problem is 100% bio-mechanical and "easily" remedied with a prescription orthotic.

It does however, mean a reduction in running for a few weeks (she was asking for a complete cessation, but realised that simply wasn't going to happen). She was so sympathetic however that she didn't even hurt me this time, instead giving my feet and shins something much more akin to a massage than the usual Hades Torture Institute Entrance Exam treatment.

Since then, in typical style my knees and shins have given me a right old "told you so" bollocking, flaring up with self-satisfied fervour, safe in the knowledge that I won't be pounding them into submission quite so much for a while. But their Waterloo is approaching, mark my words. It will take longer than we hoped, but it will happen.

The good news, as delivered by Rebecca, was that the damage (ie callousing) to the shin tendons is minor and won't require any other special treatment than time and orthotics.

So my appointment with the podiatrist is next Thursday. In the meantime, I will continue to run a little, but it will doubtless be with more than a little muttering and cursing.

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

Must tell you of this weird piece of real life that happened to me yesterday, seing how we were discussing surrealism earlier.

After my visit to the physio, I was walking along Salamanca Place, the trendy waterfront area here full of bars, galleries, coffee shops etc. (and which is the Spanish connection of the title).

Standing in the middle of all this was a woman with one of those trainee seeing eye dogs. You know the thing, the labrador puppies with "L" plates on their backs being made accustom to human society. So anyway, they were just standing there and people were walking up to them to admire the dog which was just sitting there soaking it all up and looking pretty happy with everything, when quite suddenly...

...a man came along the footpath walking a llama.

This is true.

The funny thing was that the poor lab puppy went berzerk with fright at the sight of this strange animal and many weeks of training went instantly out the window!

I told you the world is surreal.

[El Gordo]

Llamas aside (I suspect that's a phrase I've never used before), very encouraging news about the orthotics. I know people whose lives have been transformed with orthotics (runners and others with severe back pain problems, for instance). Hope it's that simple.

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

This was worth searching for. Australia doesn't make anything quite like this. Very nice!

[El Gordo]

Ah, my standard draught beer. The pub over the road from me is a Fuller's house, so I usually manage to absorb a few pints of Pride on a Sunday afternoon when I pop over to watch the football. Yes, a decent ale. Brewed in Chiswick, next door to my football team, so we have a special bond......

[Mid Life Crisis Marathon Man]

:mad:

I'm not blaming the podiatrist. He was just doing his job. And he IS a runner, so he fully understands why I was less than enthusiastic about his diagnosis. But there it is. Not much to be done about it except go along with the expert's advice.

The diagnosis was this:

Advanced osteo-arthritis in the metatarsal-phalangeal joints and over-rotation of the talus, which is a result of splayed feet, causing premature patella degeneration and chronic anterior shin splints.

Orthotics may overcome this problem, but he wasn't as optimistic as I had hoped, although he was certainly keen to get me fitted with orthotics as quickly as possible and get me back out there running the streets, especially the hills. The only thing he suggested was definitely out of the question was any sustained downhill running. Which is fine by me as I hate downhill.

Until the orthotics are ready (about two weeks) he has prescribed zero running

I said, "What do you mean, zero running?"

He said, "Nil, nada, nix, none, N-O-N-E."

I said, "What? You mean stop?"

He said, "Yes, do not run anywhere, anytime, NOT AT ALL."

When I came to, they were waving an open bottle of stout under my nose. When I had revived sufficiently, he then told me the bad news.

"The orthotics will seem very uncomfortable at first, and you'll have to go back to the start just running a kilometre or two and building up very, very slowly."

When I came to the second time they had opened a bottle of bourbon, and I felt much better.

Next week they make plaster casts of my feet. I'm hoping I get to keep them. The plaster casts, that is - I'm keeping my feet no matter what.

In the meantime, a total lack of running means it's open season on ...

Sweder Brew!

... of which I've already had two or three. Okay, four then.

But it's been a bad day.

Talus. Pfuh, it's a stupid bone.

:mad:

[Bierzo Baggie]

Bad luck MLCM ...have you ever thought about cycling? That's what I'd probably do for a while in your situation.

[stillwaddler]

Wow, you must be going absolutely stir crazy MLCM but cycling sounds a good idea, you could maybe doing some swimming too - 2/3s of a triathlon? Here's hoping that the orthotics do the trick, how long will they take to make?