Shalom England. I’m in that state of mini culture-shock in reverse that you get when you return home after being somewhere very different. It was another interesting day yesterday. I took a minibus from the hotel to visit some places in the south of the country. There were three of us to start off with this time: an earnest young Hungarian guy, a garrulous South African lady, and me. First, we headed down to Jerusalem again where we picked up a totally silent Japanese guy. As the trip proceeded he just sat there, grinning contentedly. Reminded me of the Red Indian Chief in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. It’s only a mile or so beyond Jerusalem that the … …
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A remarkable day. I’d booked a bus tour to Jerusalem, but when I met up with the organiser this morning, I found that there was just one other person (a clean-cut, young South African called Stephen) who’d arranged a trip today. So instead of the expected ancient bus with no suspension, we had a roomy, air-conditioned Mercedes saloon and our own personal guide, a chap with the improbable name of Israel Rodrigues. We spent an hour meandering south-west, being shown where David slew Goliath, where Abraham went to slaughter his son, where Samson and Delilah lived… that sort of thing. We also talked a lot of politics. I’d say it was best summed up by one of our guide’s many … …
Any lingering doubts that Paula Radcliffe is stalking me can now, surely, be dismissed. FLM 2002, Chicago 2002, and now the Great North Run 2003. Heard today that she had risen to the Running Commentary Challenge, and will be there on the 21st after all. The record books show that I usually bring out the best in her, so I would get along to the bookies soon if I were you. On Tuesday I continued the run-walk experiment, this time with a ratio of 9:1 running:walking. I like it. It’s my best hope of getting from Newcastle to South Shields in one piece. In fact I’m feeling worryingly optimistic. I haven’t run the distance since Reading, six months ago, but … …
Another long and tiring working day, but at least I managed a decent-ish run early this morning. After yesterday’s fizzle-out, I decided to go back to basics, and ran-walked from the start: 5 minutes running, 1 minute walking. I did this for 40 minutes, then stopped, feeling I’d had a good workout. Perhaps this is how I should approach the Great North Run on Sunday week. Perhaps a 10:1 run:walk ratio? Hal Higdon reckons he (or was it his son?) once ran-walked a 2:28 marathon. It’s great to be out between six and six-thirty. The tide’s coming in at that time, and it doesn’t take much of a breeze to whip up the waves. Running along the Promenade you’re liable … …
“Revenge is coming. Israel has opened the doors of hell”. These are the latest comforting words from Hamas, following Israel’s attempt to kill a Palestinian leader yesterday. The other big local news is the resignation of the Palestinian PM, Mahmoud Abbas, which is adding to the uncertainty round the city. This morning’s Jerusalem Post was a gloomy enough breakfast read, but the real litmus test of public opinion came with my taxi ride to work. If you want to know the word on the streets, wherever you are in the world, ask a cabbie. This one had no doubt. “Arafat is the problem. He cannot move from terrorist to be a real leader of his people, and this is stopping … …
What does Eyal Berkovitch look like? Answering this question is my best hope of working out which team is Israel and which is Slovenia. And what was that announcement about “Anglia” and “Dav-eed Beck-ham”? He’s either just scored against Macedonia or been caught stealing an old car. Earlier, I toyed with the idea of popping up the road to Molly Bloom’s (yes, even Tel Aviv has an Irish bar), but a rare burst of common sense has kept me in my hotel room this evening. I’m working, but keeping one eye on the Slovenia – Israel game on TV. The Hebrew commentary doesn’t mean a great deal to me, but it provides a bit of atmosphere. Just like the Russian … …
Pointless Activity No. 317: Neatly folding clothes into a suitcase before flying with El Al. It took the Heathrow security team less than twenty seconds to transform a morning’s work into something resembling a clothing bin at a jumble-sale. Alongside this act of vandalism was a Stasi-like forty-minute interrogation by a couple of earnest officials. Somehow, I got the feeling that my answers were not really the ones they wanted to hear. I even had to fire up my laptop and show them my recent emails. So if nothing else, at least they’ll be able to hold their own in conversations about life in the Second Division. They then phoned Israel to talk to a variety of people to … …
Why me? It seems that no sooner am I back on my feet, some new disaster strikes. Last weekend’s running plans were scuppered by the combination of a sore throat and a sudden, unexpected attack of drunkenness; then yesterday, when I was just 1.384 miles (SDMs are wonderful things) into my planned long run, I tripped over on an uneven canal towpath, and gouged lumps of flesh from my right knee and both palms. Horribly embarrassing, and very painful. Sometimes, do you wish you were a kid again, and could just wail away your traumas…? You do? Blimey, how pathetic you are. I try to take a more manly approach. After struggling to my feet, hoping that no one had … …
For weeks now, I’ve been clinging by my fingertips to the Dublin marathon fantasy, but I think I’ve finally faced up to the reality of the situation. I could enter, and I could jog half of it and hobble the rest. But I don’t want to do that. Even if the recent good progress is sustained, I’m just not going to get through anything like enough long runs before mid-October. Too bad, but well, there’s always next year. I’m still hopeful about the Great North Run on September 21st. I received a large envelope from them a week or two back, and I finally opened it this evening to find a magazine and my number (44647). Mmmmm, race numbers. They … …
Today I worked from home, but popped out at 6 for a run, to try to wipe all traces of XSL-FO from my mind. If those initials mean nothing to you, fall to your knees now and praise the Lord for your good fortune. And on no account be tempted to go to Google and do a search. That’s how we all started. A quick look won’t do any harm… But alas, the genie won’t be tempted back into the bottle. Just say no, or you could be in for a lifetime of profound wretchedness. Er, where was I? Ah yes, pounding along the canal on a pleasant summer’s evening, chomping mouthfuls of flies and desperately wondering how I might … …