They’re already calling it the Race of the Century.
Scanning RW for likely local races last night, I happened across the Oxford “Town & Gown” 10K, May 20. Researching further, I glanced through last year’s results as I usually do, to get an idea of how many take part, and how close to the back I’m likely to finish. And there I spotted a name I’d not seen in ten years — Mark M-W. An old wine trade friend.
Twenty years ago, I worked with Mark in Wimbledon. The irresistible combination of testosterone and alcohol gave our friendship a competitive edge, and I instantly recalled a slurred conversation we’d had over a few glasses of Champagne after work one evening. He was bragging about his athletic prowess, to which I responded, somewhat disrespectfully, by guffawing loudly. “Right then,” he said. “There’s only one to settle this. I bet I could easily beat you in a running race.”
Eh? I would have lit another cigarette and laughed again. The idea of doing anything more aerobic than walking to the pub at the end of the road had no meaning for me. “No problem,” I said, with the swagger of a man who knew he’d never be called to account. “Anytime.”
I’d not seen or heard from Mark in ten years. So this afternoon I made a few phone calls and tracked down his work number. Hmm. Still working in the wine business. Good. Probably still chucking down the claret, and being invited to far too many fine dinners. Even better news, from a competitive perspective, was that he was laid up at home with a ski-ing injury. He’ll have to bottle out of it. The moral victory is mine.
So I called him at home. Yes, he was off work with a broken shoulder. “A shame, because I was going to challenge you to that race you suggested all those years ago”.
“Which race?”
“The Oxford 10K”.
Without hesitation, he said: “Yeah OK, I’ll be there and I’ll beat you…”
Oh.
At least I had the presence of mind to suggest he gives me a ten minute handicap. He did 51 minutes last year, nearly ten minutes faster than my 10K PB. Brighton in November, my first proper run in months, was a horrendous 70 minutes. But it’s about time I had a proper challenge. It’s all very well boasting about being a grinning back-of-the-field jogger, but if I’m to have any chance of lining up in a GB shirt at the London Olympics in 2012, I need to start taking my training up a gear. Oxford, scene of the first ever four-minute mile, could be about to witness another significant athletic landmark.
B-b-brring it on.
This afternoon I took my clothes off and ran up the road. It’s been a while. I think I managed two brief lunchtime jogs in the week after Almeria, but since then, the only sweat I’ve produced has come from a heavy, 9-day cold. The most exercise? Probably the 10-minute wander down the Dock Road in Limerick in search of Dolan’s, and its paradigm pint of Guinness.
Today wasn’t pretty, but at least I did chalk up 3½ miles with only the briefest of walks halfway. I can’t think of a truly strong and confident run since the early miles of the Zurich Marathon, 11 months ago. Come on, let’s get that back.
A good start would be to shed a few more pounds. The previous anti-lard campaign began well enough last November/December, but it never recovered from the deft blow to its kidneys delivered by a gluttonous Christmas. As it writhed on the ground, groaning, along came Almeria to stamp on its nuts. Since Monday I’ve been saintly once again, chiselling away at the lard mountain with five frugivorous, low-carb days. Five pounds down, at least thirty more to go. Chocs away.
At least the weather is turning, with exercise coming more naturally. Maybe the bike will be out again this weekend, and those vegetable beds need digging over. Spring at last, and it’s all waking up again.
One other thing. Who else knows about Phedippidations? Just me?
Steve Walker, otherwise known as SteveRunner (geddit?) produces a weekly podcast, Phedippidations, designed to be downloaded and listened to on your long run. I like this guy. Discovered him a few weeks ago, but he became submerged by my three weeks of slothful demotivation. Time to have another crack at the archive of 85 or so podcasts. It’s where I first heard the Marnie Mueller verse I liked. Steve describes the podcast as “Thoughts, opinions observations, rambling diatribes composed during distance long runs”. An arbitrary cocktail of earnest philosophy, gentle humour, occasionally bland music, and more — all designed to keep you occupied and motivated and entertained. I doubt I’ll manage to work my way through the entire back catalogue but if you want to give it a go, you’ll find the main website here: www.steverunner.com and the podcasts here: www.steverunner.com/podcast.htm.
For a quick blast, here’s a random episode I listened to this afternoon, and enjoyed. OK so he calls Alan Sillitoe “Alan Stiletto” but I’ll cut him some slack on that one: Phedippidations 34 – Loneliness Of The Long Distance Runner.
I tend to think he’d fit in pretty well at RunningCommentary. I’ll drop him a line.
Enjoy, or otherwise.
