I like a good link. I heard this exchange on Radio Four’s Start The Week yesterday morning:
Andrew Marr: Well, it’s not often we can bring you breaking news on this programme, but I can confirm that Andrew Roberts has at last arrived in the studio.
Andrew Roberts: And it’s all due to the sterling work of Geoff, my taxi driver, and his skill in dealing with the London traffic, for which I strongly commend him.
Andrew Marr: And it’s precisely that kind of magnanimity towards one’s… subordinates (for want of a better word) that you say, in your new book on Leadership, was not one of Winston Churchill’s greatest skills. How do you think this affected….
Tuesday’s good for running. A relatively short run, following a couple of rest days = a good day for a speed session.
Hmm. Everything is relative. A speed session for me means something around, or preferably just under, consistent ten minute miles.
Running fast is easy. It’s running fast for several miles that’s hard. A few weeks ago, running half mile splits, I ran one at around 9:10 mile pace. The results were near-fatal. Even running a minute per mile slower than that is tough after 3 or 4 miles, though it’s what I have to aim for if I’m going to reach some of my race targets this year. To knock my half marathon time down to 2:10 I need to be running just under 10 minutes a mile for the full 13 miles.
Spring isn’t far away. I was out in late afternoon while it was still bright. Wet and fresh, but not cold. The rain was a fine spray, but strong enough to soak through my London Marathon T-shirt, pulled (previously unworn) from a bottom drawer this morning. I also wore my Brooks Addictions again. I keep thinking they must have donated all they have to give, but still I squeeze another few miles out of them.
These faithful trainers have been moribund for some time, but how can I determine the exact point of expiry? Is there one? Is it just a gradual sinking, deeper and deeper, into a sludgy pond of uselessness, or is there a solid line between redundancy and usefulness that just appears one day? The Brooks have lost some of their bounce and vitality, but does this mean I shouldn’t be wearing them? People talk about the midsole ‘going’, but I’m not sure how you tell that’s happened. Maybe like many good things in life, you can’t identify and appreciate your midsole till it’s gone.
Confession time. I now have six pairs of running shoes. Apart from my brick-like Brooks, which I wore for the London Marathon last year, there are two pairs of Asics, and three of New Balance. My first ever shoes, Asics Nimbus IIs, are now relegated to garden duty, and the Nimbus IIIs give me blisters if I run more than about five miles in them. For Chicago, I used New Balance 854s, which I still regard as my main shoes. They’re comfortable and stable, and the brand has a friendlier face than Nike or Adidas. I do my long runs in them.
Imagine my distress when, last month, I heard that the 854s were being discontinued. But my despair was soon assuaged when I found that the New Balance factory shop in Cumbria were selling off old stock for £25, a third of their normal price. Sadly, they didn’t have the exact size and width I wanted but I’ve gambled on one pair that’s the right size but slightly narrower than the current pair, and another that’s the right width fitting but a half size larger than the current ones. I’ve run in both, and I think they’ll be OK.
I’m not sure what you do with old running shoes. You’ve shared too much emotion to just discard them like… like an old pair of shoes.
And with that, I’ll hand you back to the studio…
