Marathon Training Tip

Photograph Quiz:

Photo no 44:- Why did this group have their photograph taken? Where was it taken? What competition had they won? Why was I missing from the photograph? Who are the four Olympians? Who are the two world record holders?

Dear Blog,

                   Went out on Thursday for my trudge in the beautiful sunny weather. Back in shorts. Part of the trudge took me down along the river bank. Growing on the bank sides was the tall (4 or 5 foot) plant with the attractive mauve flower similar to a snap dragon – I did know it’s name once upon a time. When we were young, a long long time ago, we used to break the plant down and snap off part of the stem. The stem was hollow. This was used as the tube for a pea shooter. The ammunition was the green berries of the elderberry tree. We used to strip the tree of its bunch of berries; presumably into some sort of bag (did plastic bags exist then???). The bunch of berries was stuffed into our mouths and the bunch stalk pulled out, leaving a mouthful of ammunition. I am sure we must have swallowed tons of the things. Getting back home, I did a few stretches in the greenhouse ..... which reminded me of my marathon training tip number 4. Dehydration can be a big problem in marathon races, more so years ago when water stations were very limited indeed. To adapt the body, I used to train in excessive kit (obvious ploy), or a full wet suit in summer, (not so obvious ploy) but end a session doing an exercise session, or a weights session, in the greenhouse where the temperature was very high and the humidity excessive. (most unusual ploy). Sweat used to tipple off me in summer; on a hot day the heat was unbearable. But at least, I believed it enabled me to cope better than most other competitors with heat in races. I followed this routine for many years. The downside was that I now find it very difficult to cope with cold. I wonder if the two are related?? Have I upset the natural temperature tolerance of my body?? This week it was a bit crowded in the greenhouse as all the varieties of tomatoes are coming to fruition. This jogged my memory as I sweated away. As kids, the only holiday we had each year was to visit my granny in Nottingham. And of course during the course of the week, we had to do the rounds of all of dad’s brothers and sisters. One brother, who we regarded as rather posh, had an allotment. He was posh because he lived in a council house with a garden!! A garden with a lawn, which we could only tread on if we were careful not to damage the grass. I kid you not, Blog. The joke in the family with Uncle Ted was his tomatoes!! No double entendre, Blog! Whenever we visited him, we were regaled with tomato sandwiches. I didn’t appreciate it at the time, but now I fully understand his passion for the fruit. Thin sliced white bread tomato sandwiches with thick butter and excessive salt. My wife makes all our own bread, cakes etc. so in the normal course of events, I never see white bread. Except when the tomatoes come on stream ... it’s just got to be white thin sliced bread tomato sandwiches with thick butter and excessive salt, if only to evoke the memories of the hot sunny holidays in Nottingham. It always seemed hot and sunny when we visited each year during the Keighley holiday works fortnight. We couldn’t afford to travel by train so it was a major exercise to travel by bus from Yorkshire to my granny’s house. First bus out of Keighley to Leeds at about 6.15am which meant a mile trek into town at the early hour carrying (dragging) our suitcase with us. First in the queue meant we could sit at the front seat on the upper deck, a real treat. If it was a single decker, we could sit directly behind the driver. A bonus was having my granddad drive if he could get on the early shift. At Leeds we had a small trek to get to the bus stand which contained the connection bus to Doncaster. By late morning with the temperature getting warmer and warmer, we were faced with a long route march across Doncaster from one bus station to the other in order to catch the Nottingham bound bus. It seemed like miles and miles with my parent’s temperature rising with the thermometer. By now there were stacks and stacks of passengers all waiting for the Nottingham bus. Duplicates had to be put on, which meant an additional wait until the extra bus, or buses, turned up. Luckily, granny Swift’s terraced hovel nearly backed onto the Huntingdon Street bus station, so the final drag with the suitcases was short. I say hovel, because living conditions in the inner city Nottingham were appalling. Our house in Keighley was poor, but Gran’s was worse. But she did have electricity which we didn’t ... and the toilet was at the bottom of the yard not in the next street like ours! As a six or seven year old, Nottingham meant a week of unbridled freedom, wandering the city streets with all my cousins. We were all of a similar age, so it was a week to savour. One of my cousins was a crook then, became a professional crook later and died a crook after spending some time in prison. But she was great fun!  The city kids variation of hide and seek was an inversion of the usual game. One person was ‘on’, but went off for the count of a couple of hundred, and the rest chased to find them. However, to complicate things, the person who was ‘on’ set off armed with sticks of chalk. At each road junction, they were supposed to draw an arrow on the pavement to indicate the direction of travel  .... however, the arrow could be multi directional, pointing in several different directions, one of which had to be correct by the rules of the game. So, at every junction the chasing group had to split up with each person forced to go to the next junctions to determine the correct route. If it was a long street, this could be a strategic delaying tactic employed by the person ‘on’, as the chasing group had to re assemble before the pursuit could be resumed. A star on the pavement indicated that the chase was over and the chasers had to find the quarry who was hidden in the immediate locality.  Perhaps that is why I liked running when I was older. Of course the game didn’t work in Keighley, because there was not enough streets, because there was a lack of variety of foot paths and ginnels which did not afford the same opportunity to make the chase interesting, and because my parents would not allow us to wander off ... in Nottingham they just thought we were playing in the street at one of my cousins’ houses, blissfully unaware of what we were really up to. Uncle Ted’s tomato sandwiches was usually accompanied by sugar sandwiches, a staple at home as well. Again, thin sliced white bread, caked in butter (was there margarine then??) and doused in sugar, eaten as an open slice. Healthy or what??? And of course. Sweets were on ration, so sweets were home made, a sherbert dip with no sherbet but cocoa and sugar mixed together in a paper bag. Question; if sweets were rationed, was not sugar? And if it was, how come we always seemed to be eating sugar sandwiches? So marathon training tip number five:- Sugar white bread sandwiches as your pre race meal, Blog. P.b.s all the way!!!

                             Colin