One of the many excellent aspects of redundancy is the chance to dig out my favourite quotation. Popularised by JFK, its origin is unclear. Google research has everyone falling over themselves to attribute Better to light a candle than curse the darkness to that sagacious Chinese guy who seemed to do little but generate minimalistic wisdom in memorable one-liners. One site even reproduces it in Chinese characters, as if this makes the attribution unarguable.… READ MORE.... …
Blog Posts
The Dubliners were part of the soundtrack to my childhood, and I hated them. It was the music of my parents, and I couldn’t relate to it. Much better were the other musical strands: the ones that came from my older brother and sisters. The Beatles and the Rolling Stones were cool; traditional Irish folk music wasn’t. I’ve had a strange relationship with Ireland.… READ MORE.... …
Nottingham. I wouldn’t normally stay in a Premier Inn for work, but opted to do so this time, as there’s a Virgin Active gym next door, which opens its doors to hotel residents. But once I’d checked in, and discovered that I could watch the Arsenal-Porto Champions League game only in the bar, my plans began crumbling. Instead of two hours of noble sweat and saintliness, it was two hours of beer and pizza and televised football.… READ MORE.... …
The green shoots of recovery may have been sighted at last. It’s not the economy, stupid. It’s me. In my runiverse, nothing much has gone right this year. Just eleven hours into 2010, during the Hyde Park 10K, my injury troubles began, and they’ve not let up. Four weeks later came a failed Almeria half marathon, and since then, another desolate month has passed. … READ MORE.... …
People of Shepherds Bush, rejoice! Flavio Briatore waddles away from Loftus Road for the final time as chairman, and I can once again come out as a QPR fan without blushing. Signore Briatore fitted my club as comfortably as I fit my wife’s jeans. His awkward tenure summed up much of the ills of modern football ownership: a rich foreigner with no appreciation of the soul of British football, and particularly not at a level below the summit, lumbers in to conjure a revolution in the fortunes of the team, promising to heal a variety of ailments we didn’t know we were suffering from. … READ MORE.... …
Welcome to the new WordPress home. The minimalism isn’t intentional. All efforts so far have been directed at importing the content from the old, hand-coded, HTML site, and only now can I think about addressing the decor and spartan furnishing. What’s really needed on this red letter day is a sustained, sonorous note of optimism. Ah. Instead, I offer up the absolute opposite: the thought that I’m staring at the possibility that my running days may be over.… READ MORE.... …
Almeria 2010 begins with the customary pain of a 4 a.m. alarm. Barely 40 minutes later, it’s terminal chaos: part of the submissive throng oozing through Gatwick security. Flying used to be part of the pleasure of an overseas break, but no longer. It’s now a penance; a punishment for trying to escape from the prison of daily routine. We queue.… READ MORE.... …
Well at least I had the good sense to insert a caveat into this statement in the last entry: …How does this bode for Almeria? Barring unexpected events this week, I’m confident I can get round in one piece… Today an “unexpected event” did occur. Just a few days ago it wouldn’t have seemed unexpected in the slightest, but intoxicated by the success of last week’s 30 miles, I forgot that the unlikely movement away from running misfortune might have been nothing more than the swing of a pendulum.… READ MORE.... …
When I talked to Phil last week about my chances of making the Almeria Half, he mentioned one of his metrics. He reckoned that if you can run twice the distance of the race during the penultimate week, you should be fine. So I set my sights on 26 miles this week. Not a huge total in times of plenty, but these haven’t been times of plenty.… READ MORE.... …
Better news. Last Wednesday’s ailing calf opened the door (….did you know a calf could do that?) to a dissolute weekend. I fear I take rest and recovery all too seriously. An excess of low living followed: beer and saturated fat outside the house, and Chianti, spicy turkey casserole, sausages and blue cheese within. On Friday, something useful did happen: a visit to Phil the sports therapist for a half hour of painful, but helpful, calf manipulation.… READ MORE.... …