Dear Blog, (Sunday after my recovery snooze)
What trudging did you do this morning, Blog? Did you go out with any other Blogs? Have you any races coming up in the near future. I went out this morning over my hilly ‘10’; I call it ten but it is a bit short and quite frankly, who’s bothered?? Answer ... many joggers and runners are. Well , they are about the accuracy of their own runs, the distance they cover. What a load of cobbles. I have noted before that I can see no point in wearing a garmin to measure what distance you have sweated over. I think it’s as crazy as those joggers who wear a watch in races and then click when they cross the finish line. Instant gratification?? Don’t trjuhst the race organiser and timekeeper?? Don’t want to run too fast in a race?? They never question why they don’t improve radically. Take a chance, take a chance on my advice! It is obvious from what I have just said to you that I do not weigh my left arm down by carting a huge clock around with me. Nor weigh down my right by lugging a drinks bottle along as my comfortor. How do I know how far I have run, then?? Who’s bothered? I’m not and never have been. I have stated to you before, dear Blog, that that was not the way I worked my training. I used to reckon that I ran 140 miles per week for quite a number of years ... 12 miles from Durham to Sunderland in a morning, 12 miles from Sunderland to Durham in the evening, a short sharp 3ish at lunchtime to the local folly on the hill, race Saturday, long run on a Sunday when I contemplated my first marathon race. Years back, I was curious about my estimation of distance, so I measured a few runs ... all were under stated, so my actual mileage must have been a bit more than six score and ten? No wonder then, that I am five inches shorter than when I was eighteen. On the trudge this morning, I was over taken by two cyclists who almost cause a death by shock! I didn’t hear them approach and nearly jumped into the ditch. (OK so I’m going deaf!) They did speak and thought it I looked funny sitting in the ditch. Fair enough! A few minutes later the same thing was repeated but with no comment from the peddler and I avoided the sitting bit! He said nothing to my greeting. Then I met a jogger trundling towards me; he said nothing in reply to my greeting. Then I met another jogger trundling towards me; he said nothing to my greeting. Last Thursday, I was overtaken by a runner from my club; he said nothing. Last Thursday I was overtaken by a group of eight from my club; they said nothing. AM I BLOODY INVISIBLE , BLOG??? Are they scared I will sit them down in front of a computer monitor and force them to read our little correspondence, surf boarding to them must be worse than water boarding? My faith in the club runner was restored however, when one of the runners, off the back, did speak. Thanks N. I appreciated that. Near the end of my trudge, one of the local clubs was having a handicap race, the competitors running towards me. Each one, EACH ONE, replied to my words of encouragement. Funny old world. Trudging has been a real pain in the neck this last week. A real pain. Literally. A pain in the neck. I must have strained my neck muscles when I was doing all the scraping, up a ladder two weeks ago while I was decorating.
I was asked why I did not call our correspondence colinkirkhamsvirginlondonmarathontrudge, Blog? Well, if you have the ear of Richard Branson, and he has a few quid notes to spare for charities Tiny Tims Children’s Centre and Newlife, I am sure the Rich and I could come to some mutually satisfactory arrangement. You may give him my telephone number, Blog. I’ll stay in all week, sat by the phone, just in case. (I don’t have one of those mobility things)
Yours, The invisible Trudger
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