Month: December 2004

I woke up this morning, realised in a panic that I hadn’t been shopping for hours, and had to spend the afternoon worshipping at the supermarket when I should have been running. One task bled into another, and eventually it was 20:45 when I got out. Dark of course, but not cold. The 3½ run was more of a struggle than I expected.… READ MORE.... …

I got up this morning and jogged up and down the stairs a couple of times to test my toe. The signs were bad. It was a major disappointment. I’d hoped to start the week with some positive news, but it wasn’t to be. Yes, the toe felt absolutely fine, and I had no excuses to stay away from the race.… READ MORE.... …

— What sort of pizzas does Good King Wenceslas like? — Deep pan, crisp and even. Some words have magic attached to them. Take “gout”. In French (admittedly with a circumflex hovering over the u), it means “taste”, and is a rather mysterious word. Le goût du terroir, the taste of the earth, is a mystical quality not just attached to, but actually giving rise to, the individual character of a wine or an olive oil or a cheese, and very probably to an Eric Cantona or a Thierry Henri too.… READ MORE.... …

There is, as my work-colleague, Paul, commented, “something indefinably… foreign about Holland”. He’s right about most things, and he’s right about this. It’s undeniable, and it’s part of the charming enigma of the Dutch. It’s only because they are so similar to us in almost every other way that the difference between us is so distinct. But what is that difference?… READ MORE.... …

An undeservedly good run this morning. It’s supposed to be a dry month of course, but on Friday I had some good news, and had to absorb a couple of pints to cool down. Then yesterday, I met up with my old varsity mate, James. Our ostensible aim was a trip to the Reading – QPR match, but it was always going to become a convivial pre-Christmas session.… READ MORE.... …

4.2 miles along the canal this afternoon. One has to practise that 0.2 mile appendage. Apparently it’s Christmas soon. I asked the greeter in Halford’s why they were playing a dub reggae version of Auld Lang Syne, and he told me. You heard it here first. That’s almost it for today. It’s late, and I am sleepy. Instead of my stuff, treat yourself to some real running writing.… READ MORE.... …

A Guardian journo is planning to run his first marathon in London next year, and has asked for advice. I was scanning the cerebral replies, and this one stood out: “Ideally, don’t bother. A Marathon run is a cultural construction and is not worth messing up your knees and/or ankles for, in my opinion. If, as a journalist, your income depends on doing these things, and you’re going to anyway, don’t compete, with yourself or deadlines (or other runners, many of whom may be “colleagues”).… READ MORE.... …

Ahead of schedule already. Instead of my required 3 miler today, I managed a rather grey and drizzly 3.7 miles. This marathon training lark is easier than some folks claim. I was, however, slightly perturbed by a description I read today of the Cliveden cross-country on December 27th. I decided a while ago that it was time I entered a cross country race, and this one seemed, as they say, a good idea at the time.… READ MORE.... …

Did the recent silence signify the visitation of some new gluttonous catastrophe about which I had to keep quiet? No. Just the opposite. Since last Tuesday’s gloomy plod through the twilit backstreets of the running universe, I’ve had three great runs including a peaceful 6 miles yesterday – my first trip back along the canal since last month’s train disaster. Nothing remains to remind us that it happened.… READ MORE.... …