It’s a curious thing. You’d
think that the longer the run, the more there would be to write about,
but it doesn’t seem to work that way.
A 15 mile slog up the canal today, but I’m struggling to find anything
interesting to say about it. The most notable aspect was probably the
debut of my new portable DAB radio. I’ve tried running and
radio-listening a couple of times, but the hissy signal is frustrating.
It was like being permanently stuck on Radio Hattersley.
Then Sweder of this parish mentioned that he runs with a digital radio,
reporting good reception. I looked into it a couple of times, weighing
up pros and cons. Could I really justify the expense?
I forgot about it for a while, but then yesterday, I sort of bought one
by accident. I was in John Lewis after the football, hunting for a
wife. Preferably the existing one, but… b-but sometimes sentences are
left uncompleted.
I passed someone filling up an open display case, and noticed that the
box in the man’s hand was a Roberts DAB radio — the one used by
Sweder. I stopped and had a chat with the sales guy. Yes, the Roberts
was very good, he said, but if it’s for running with, why not consider
this newer one, the Nevada, which is even smaller and lighter, has a
rechargeable battery, and is twenty quid cheaper to boot?
He slipped the shiny beauty into my eager hands. Gadget Fever instantly
began to sweep over me. It was hopeless. No point in fighting it. I had
to have it.
I got it home and went through the normal three-phase routine attached
to the acquisition of a new toy:
1) Oh bugger, it doesn’t bloody work.
2) Oh hang on, hmm, yeah I can see what you do now. Tsk! It doesn’t
work very well though, does it? I wonder if they’d take it back?
3) No wait, I’ve sussed it. Wow! That’s fantastic!
I knew that gillet, with its radio-sized pocket, would come in useful
one day. Today was that day. In honour of the man who set me on this
audio path, I set it to Planet
Rock and trotted off towards the canal. And it worked a
treat. The reception was crystal clear, virtually CD quality. I’d been
led to believe that Planet Rock played Motorhead’s “Ace Of Spades”
every 15 minutes or so on this station, but no, I heard just a snatch
of it in a trailer (repeated frequently, admittedly). The genre would
be called something like “Classic Metal”: Def Leppard, Van Halen, Black
Sabbath, Iron Maiden et al, but there was also a sprinkling of the more
delicate — David Bowie, Yes, and Dire Straits. I enjoyed it.
Approaching the halfway point of my run, it was “Love Her Madly” by the
Doors, then Bruce Springsteen’s “Born To Run”. With the latter, and in
particular that 13 or 14 note guitar riff, came technicolor memories of
Chicago 2002. Crossing the start line with thirty seven thousand
equally lumpy-throated runners, that song was belting out over the PA. Read about it here.
It wasn’t going to get any better than this, I realised, so I switched
over to Gardener’s Question Time, and spent a more sedate hour with Bob
Flowerdew’s mulching tips.
15 miles is the furthest I’ve run since Hamburg in April last year. I
managed to keep plodding the whole way apart from two or three brief
walks in the final 4 miles or so. It’s good to be knocking out the
distances, but the main concern remains my snail-like pace. That said,
the idea of long weekend runs is to build stamina and endurance, and
we’re positively advised to slow it right down, so perhaps I’m worrying
about nothing. I need to keep running with my local group on Tuesdays
and Thursdays. They aren’t super-quick, but they are a good 90 seconds
a mile faster than I’m used to, and 5 miles at that faster pace pulls
me out of my comfort zone.
I mentioned recently that we should revisit our prejudices from time to
time, and I’ve done just that with my drink problem. I’ve long had a
thing about carrying fluid on long runs. It never felt right, whatever
I tried. Those hollow, hand-held bottles that, over a period turn your
Lucozade Sport into a hot drink; the bouncing bottle belt; the
rucksack-type bladder. Been there, done it, rejected it.
Well, I tried again with a bottle belt and sure enough, it suddenly
works. The bad news is that gels have gone in the other direction. I
used to find these things tolerable but…
I experienced my first energy gel for some months today, and finally
realised just how disgusting these things are. It’s like sucking
sweetened snot out of a plastic hankie. There must be a better way than
this of receiving a jolt on a long run. A banana would probably work
just as well, but last time I went for a run with a banana in the
pocket of my shorts, I was arrested.
Is there a healthy, natural alternative to gels? I would love to know.
